#(and drawing on the bench like it was a desk LOL)

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

shenanigans 24-karat Harrison will do:

- steal a man’s moped

- sleep in a church

- chase after a man he thinks might be lonan

[dem-obscure-imagines]

The Way it Was Before

Bernard the Elf x Reader

Fandom: The Santa Clause

Summary: Something is VERY wrong this Christmas, and it seems you’re the only person in the world who remembers the way things were before. Well, almost the only person. It’s up to you and the Head Elf to save the day before Jack’s wish becomes irreversible.

Note: I was literally possessed by the spirit of Christmas to write this. I still don’t understand how I whipped this up so fast. Also I have a few ideas kicking around for a sequel, so let me know if that’s something you’re interested in! Additionally, I will be uploading this to Ao3, so if you see it on there too, don't worry hahaha

Warnings: Language, a lil violence as a treat (nothing major just literally a few punches lol), a lil angst but a very happy ending <3

Word Count: 14k

Reader is: Female, 23

Well, that was it, then. It was over. You couldn’t help but feel a little torn up about it. You just weren’t cut out for the job, or maybe you didn’t have the magic for it. Whatever the reason, Mother Nature had made it clear. You were not the Spring Enchantress, and this would be your last foray into the Magical Realm for a very long time, if you ever set foot in it again.

Mother Nature had to visit Santa at the North Pole. You weren’t sure why, she didn’t tell you what she was there to pick up, but she did give you some time on your own to explore the Workshop for the last time.

Wanting to get away from the wandering eyes, you found a secluded nook and sat down, resting your head in your hands. You loved the Pole. It was so intricate and beautiful and whimsical and you would never see it again. You’d never step foot in Mother Nature’s Grotto or the Summer Isles, or even Halloweentown.

It hit you all at once and the tears came flowing before you could stop them. You just hoped none of the elves were around to find you. You didn’t want to worry them when they were already so busy.

“(Y/N), right?” a voice asked, drawing your attention to the doorway where he was standing. Bernard, the Head Elf. Your eyes wandered over his shoulder to the sign on the door. Of course, your crying spot had to be directly outside his office. Figured.

“Right. Yeah. Sorry.” You wiped at the tears, trying to compose yourself. You motioned to the door. “I didn’t realize…”

He shook his head. “That’s alright. Is something wrong?”

“I didn’t mean to bother you. I’m sorry, I can—”

“No, you’re no bother at all. Come on in. My couch is a lot comfier than that bench there.” He motioned you forward and you hesitated, but got up and walked into his office, a large, cozy room with forest green walls, hardwood floors, a small fireplace, a cozy couch, and a desk facing it. There was a shelf of snow globes on one wall, a shelf of old leather books on another.

Bernard motioned to the couch and you took a seat while he perched himself on the edge of his desk. He plucked a tissue out of the box and handed it to you, empathy etched in his brown eyes.

“What’s going on?”

“It um…Mother Nature…” You spoke slowly, composing your words. “She said I’m not the Spring Enchantress like she thought. So um…I’m getting my memory wiped and heading back to the Mortal Realm. Tomorrow, I think.”

“Wiped? Like entirely?” Bernard said, horror in his voice.

“I mean, I’ll still know who I was before I started training under her, but…all of the magic stuff, all of this…” You shook your head. “I knew it was all too good to be true.”

“I am so sorry this is happening to you.” He shook his head. “It’s not fair.”

“Yeah…” You nodded, wiping your tears on the tissue he’d given you. “I’m just glad she brought me here one last time. It’s so beautiful here.”

Bernard smiled softly. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a small snow globe, waving a hand over it before handing it to you. “Even if you won’t remember this place…I’d like you to take a piece of it with you.”

You took a shaking breath, more tears flowing at his words, at the sincerity on his face, at the beautiful snow globe he’d given you. You stood to accept it and found yourself hugging him instead, seeking comfort from the most powerful elf in the Pole. His arms wrapped tight around you, comforting you at your most vulnerable.

“Thank you. So much. Even if I don’t remember it, I…I think I’ll still know. That it’s real. That all of this is.”

“Believing is Seeing.” Bernard said, meeting your eyes. “Someday, you’ll remember that.”

You hoped he was right…

THREE YEARS LATER

Leaving your Irish Folklore class, you were absolutely buzzing with ideas. It had been an amazing lesson. Your professor was very knowledgeable on all sorts of legends and fantasy creatures, where they’d come from, how stories about them had started. You, as a writer, were planning on using this knowledge to write an epic fantasy romance. You weren’t sure what exactly it would be about; you were still waiting for it to click, but you were sure it would eventually.

You walked to your favorite coffee shop, a little ways from your apartment, and grabbed a hot cocoa with extra whipped cream, your favorite around this time of year, sitting down with your work at your favorite table in the corner of the shop.

You took out your notebooks, comparing the notes you’d taken in class to the ones you had left over from…before. The inklings, few though they were, that had lingered in your mind, even after Mother Nature, yes, that Mother Nature, had supposedly wiped them all from existence. Granted, there wasn’t very much left from your time with her, just a few things: the Northern Lights dancing across the sky as you…as you…no, see, there it was. Nothing.

That was all that was left, pieces. And the snow globe on your shelf that you knew was more than just a snow globe, but you couldn’t remember why. Or who’d given it to you.

Sometimes you felt crazy, pushing against the walls of your memory, begging it for just one more detail, but that was how it had been for the last three years. You knew you weren’t making it up, that it was more than just fantasy, but you couldn’t tell anyone. Not even your therapist. The looks wouldn’t be worth it.

So you kept these things to yourself, jotting them down to get them out of your head. Or, rather, keeping them safe in case someday Mother Nature came to finish what she started, wiping it all away for good.

You worked on an outline for a short story for your creative writing class, but you didn’t feel all that confident in it. You sipped your cocoa some more, which had cooled to perfection, and opened an article you were supposed to read for your Folklore class. Something about elves. Festive, you thought with a chuckle. It was indeed the season for that, especially since that had been your last class before Christmas. A perfect send-off for the end of the semester.

Once you’d gotten a decent amount of work done, you packed up your stuff and headed back to your apartment, setting your bag in your room. You checked a few things off of your To Do List.

Gleaming on the shelf, your snow globe caught your eye. “Believing is Seeing.” You whispered to yourself, eyebrows knitting together when you did. It sounded familiar, but…you weren’t sure why. Or what it meant.

Down in the living room, your roommates were watching Christmas movies. In a few days, they’d both be headed home for the holidays and you’d be left on your own for a few weeks. You didn’t mind all that much. You did well on your own, in the quiet. You were kind of sad about spending the holidays alone, though.

Maybe you could find a community event to attend. A holiday party or something. Maybe your college would be doing something for the students who were staying. You hoped they’d let you attend even though you were a grad student.

On the TV, a cheesy Hallmark movie played out, the city girl deciding the small town she’d stumbled into was actually the perfect place for her and the handsome lumberjack that worked at the Christmas Tree Farm at the edge of town was actually her soulmate. You chuckled. You didn’t believe in soulmates. Not like that, at least.

“Hey, we’re going to a party tonight. Down at the Kappa House. You want to come?” Your roommate, Cindy, asked.

“Oh! Thank you. I’m alright, though. I’ll order some takeout or something.”

“Alright.” Megan, your other roommate, nodded. “How was your class?”

“Good! Yeah, I’ve just gotta finish this essay and then I’ll be good for the semester.”

“That’s good.” She grinned, sitting cross-legged on the couch.

You sat with the two of them until they got ready to leave, dressed in short red dresses, fishnets, and Santa hats. “Call me if you need a DD.”

“Oh we will.” They giggled, stumbling out the door, each armed with a bottle of cheap wine, leaving you on your own in the apartment. You did as you’d said and ordered some takeout, cranking out the rest of your paper and turning on some Christmas movies. Elf, Home Alone, all of the classics were on.

You felt something in the back of your mind, a little tingle. You froze, staring at the screen. You expected another little piece, a sliver, anything, but the feeling faded as quickly as it came. You sighed, setting your container of Lo Mein on the coffee table. Suddenly, you were tired. Maybe some sleep would help. So, after putting your things away and cleaning up after yourself, you changed into your pajamas and headed to bed.

You stared at the ceiling for a while, trying desperately to jog your memory for the little inkling that was about to emerge earlier, but to no avail. You shook your head and turned onto your side.

Believing is Seeing…

***

The next morning, you felt groggy and decidedly weird. You jotted down the dreams you remembered in your journal and went downstairs to get some breakfast to appease your growling stomach. You poured yourself a bowl of cereal with milk and plopped down in front of the TV, all but dropping it in your lap when you saw what was on the screen.

“Come on up to the North Pole, folks! Christmas Wonderland right at your fingertips! This year, we’re opening our Winter Wonderland Water Park, Hotel, and Resort! Pet the reindeer! Take a photo with an elf! And don’t forget to meet Santa!”

“What the Fuck.”

“Oh! See! I told you! We should go! They have a two for one on the Mistletoe Cruise!” Cindy grinned, hopping over the back of the couch. “Rewind it!”

You did as she said, pausing when the prices were on the screen. It just so happened to be when this so-called Santa was also on screen. Taking one look at him, you could tell something was wrong. His height, his voice, but most of all, his hair, which was frosted and spiked up. He may have been wearing the suit, but that was no Santa.

Chills ran up your arm at the sight of him. No, that was no Santa. That was Jack Frost.

It was coming back to you a little now.

“What…the North Pole…?” You murmured, confused.

“Obviously. What, did your parents never take you as a kid?” Megan asked. “We went all the time when I was growing up.”

“I can’t say they did, no…” You shook your head. No, this was bad. Something was very wrong here. Your stomach sank, veins on fire and chills unending.

You got changed at the speed of light and headed out to town, stopping in the book store next to your favorite coffee shop, where on the front rack was this new Santa’s memoir. It was titled, “Becoming Santa” and you doubted anything in it was anywhere near the truth.

You scooped up a copy of it as well as a book on the history of the Pole. There had to be something in there, some hint, some…someone you could contact. You checked out at the counter and headed next door to the coffee shop, spreading out your books and notes. You grabbed a cocoa with extra whipped cream and a shot of espresso. You knew you’d need the caffeine for whatever lied ahead.

You combed the books extensively, rolling your eyes every paragraph as you waded through Jack’s stuffy memoir. It was…impossible. You couldn’t believe this had all happened overnight. Unless there was magic involved. You cracked open the history of the Pole book, which had pictures, thankfully. You were able to look through and see if there was anyone you recognized. The longer you stared at the pictures, the more it confirmed your suspicions. You had been to the Pole before, but not in the capacity your roommates were discussing. It hadn’t been a theme park, a tacky tourist destination loaded to the brim with money-grabs. No, you had been there when it was a gorgeous, beautiful workshop, full of joy and love and…for lack of better word, Christmas cheer.

A single tear slipped down your cheek and you sat back in your chair, taking it all in. You remembered. Most of it, anyway. There were still bits and pieces that wouldn’t click into place just yet.

“This seat taken?” Someone asked.

You looked up, staring for a long moment as his features came into focus, his kind brown eyes, dark curls, a pointed ear sticking out from under his hat. He was the exact same as the last day you’d seen him, right down to the red tunic embroidered in golden symbols, the tassel necklace around his neck.

You gasped softly. “Bernard?”

Click.

His face split into a grin and a wave of relief swept over him as he all but collapsed into the seat across from you. “Thank the stars. I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

“How could I forget?” You asked, mostly to yourself. You had forgotten him. Well, until now. But it was all coming together. Something about seeing him made everything else, all those loose, scattered pieces, finally come together.

“So far, you’re the only one who remembers.”

“Remembers you?”

“No, remembers…the way things were yesterday.” He lowered his voice and you nodded, eyes wide.

“Okay cool, I’m not crazy. Always nice to know.” You sighed, closing the book and sliding it over to him. “I’ve been looking for…I don’t even know what, to be honest, but I knew it wasn’t right.”

“That’s…yeah.” He nodded, flipping through the book before closing it again.

“So what’s going on?”

“No idea. I was on my way out of the Pole when it hit, which is probably why I was spared. All of the elves…” He shook his head, arms crossed. “I don’t have any magic. I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Why me?” You asked softly, voice breaking at the edges. “How did you find me?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you since everything happened. I’m really sorry. What happened to you isn’t fair and I understand if you want to stay out of it, but I need your help. You’re the only person I have left.”

“I was on your team the second you sat down.” You told him, earning a tired smile. “So I did find…something. Um…Santa. Our Santa, I mean. When did he…?”

“He put on the coat in 1994.” Bernard replied with certainty.

“Okay that’s not good.” You opened Jack’s memoir to his origin story, in which he claimed to have become aware of his Santa Powers in the same year on the same night. “That never happened. Jack…he must have gone back in time and overwritten things.”

“How would he even have done something like that?” Bernard asked, taking the book from you and reading through the section you’d underlined.

“Father Time,” you mumbled. “Maybe he did something to Father Time.”

“Maybe.” Bernard nodded. “He’s in London. Big Ben. We can head there. But first, we need to find our Santa and pray that he remembers too. If not, our goose may already be cooked.”

***

Bernard ordered a drink for himself and the two of you left the shop, sticking a nice tip in the jar on the way out. You led Bernard to your apartment. Your roommates were still there, buzzing about their impending trip to the North Pole.

“I thought you guys were going home to see your families for the holidays.” You said, prying to see just how much they had changed in this new reality.

“Oh right, right, we were, but this deal is just too good to pass up, you know? My parents will understand. We’ll just celebrate…over spring break or something.”

“Yeah, yeah same. It’ll be fine, I’ll just mail them their presents.” Megan agreed, going right back to vacation planning with Cindy.

You gave Bernard a look that he returned before the two of you went up to your room. You pulled open your laptop and sat on the floor, Bernard looking around your room, eyes careful, admiring every detail until he found it, the snow globe he’d given you still sitting on the shelf.

He smiled softly, picking it up and giving it a shake before setting it back. “You still have it.”

“Of course I do. I’ve had it in all of my apartments. I don’t move anywhere without it.” You smiled and paused, thinking. “Did you…use your magic on it when you gave it to me? Maybe that’s what’s bringing my memory back.”

“No, I only used my magic to inscribe the plaque.” He explained, pointing to where the words were inscribed in curling cursive words, Believing is Seeing. “Something else is protecting your memory, even now.”

“Mother Nature?” You wondered quietly. Then again, if she wanted to protect your memories, why would she have wiped them in the first place? It didn’t make sense, so instead, you turned your attention to Google. “Alright, what’s Santa’s government name? As long as Jack didn’t kill him, we should be able to find him.”

“Scott. Scott Calvin.” Bernard replied, sitting on the carpet beside you, leg brushing against yours. “When we found him, he was living in Illinois. He might still be close to there now.”

“Scott Calvin…” You said quietly, typing his name in the search bar along with Illinois to attempt to narrow down the search results. It was common name, but hopefully not too common. You scrolled through hits from Facebook, showing Bernard the profile pictures to see if there was one he recognized. After all, you never saw Santa when he was still human, only as the Big Man himself.

“There! There, that’s him!” Bernard pointed to one of the Scotts. You clicked on his profile and started scrolling.

Marriage Status: Divorced

Employment: Frost Toys, Illinois

“Frost Toys.” You read, sounding deflated. “Even he’s working for Frost.”

“Can you get a phone number? His business phone maybe?”

“Can do.” You hopped onto his LinkedIn and found his contact, punching in the number and handing your phone to Bernard.

He waited while it rang, shaking his head when it booted him to voicemail. There was a long beep and Bernard said, exasperated, “Hey Scott, this is Bernard. If you remember me, remember anything, please call back. We’re going to fix all of this.”

He hung up and handed the phone back to you, looking disappointed.

“It’s okay. It’s gonna be fine.”

“Having trouble believing that at the moment.” He exhaled, frustrated. “This is bad.”

“On a scale of zero to plastic Santa…?”

He chuckled, mood lightening the tiniest bit. “You heard about that?”

“It was the talk of the meeting that month.” You laughed, remembering. Your smile faded when you remembered who else had been at that meeting. Maybe that was where Jack had gotten his messed up little idea of world domination.

“I’d take three of that guy before this.” Bernard shook his head. “What now?”

You thought before shrugging. “I guess we’re going to Illinois.”

“You’re serious? You’re coming with me to get Scott?”

“Or what, let you do this on your own? No way. Help me get some stuff together. I just put gas in my car so we should be good for a while.”

He smiled, getting to his feet and pulling you up after him. “Alright, what do you need?”

As quickly as you could, you gathered up the absolute basics: a pair of pajamas, an extra set of clothes, your toothbrush and toothpaste, your hairbrush, extra fuzzy socks, and a phone charger. Once the two of you were done, you stopped in the kitchen to load up on snacks and drinks for the long car ride, garnering looks from your roommates.

“Hey, who’s the guy?” Cindy asked, having missed him on his way in, apparently.

“I’m Bernard, a friend of (Y/N)’s. We have, uh, History together. History class, that is.” He offered his hand, but neither of them shook it, still too wrapped up in their phones and the cruise tickets they were busy booking.

“Ohhhh, right, I think I remember her mentioning you.” Megan nodded, agreeing. “You two going somewhere?”

“Illinois.”

“Why?” Cindy asked. “What’s in Illinois?”

“We’re going to see The Bean. I’ve heard it’s lovely this time of year.” You shrugged. “Probably cheaper than a North Pole trip, too.”

“The Bean…” Bernard chuckled, shaking his head as he shoved a box of Rice Krispy Treats in the snack bag along with some Hershey Kisses and a bag of Twizzlers.

“Okay, Mr. Sweet Tooth, pack some salty stuff for me,” you muttered, elbowing him.

“Heh, right. Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly, packing a few saltier options that would appeal to your human taste buds.

“We probably won’t be back by the time you two leave, so…lock up good, alright?” You asked, meeting each of their eyes.

You loved your roommates. You knew they weren’t usually like this, dropping literally everything for a vacation. It was something about this timeline. Christmas wasn’t…happy like it was supposed to be. It was a bitter, greedy thing that was pushing these girls, who loved their families very much, away from their loved ones during the holidays. It made you sick.

“You alright?” Bernard asked, noticing the moment you began to space out. The last thing he needed was to lose you, too.

“I’m good, yeah. Let’s go.”

***

Hauling your little suitcase and your bag full of snacks, the two of you walked out of the apartment to where you’d parked your car. Thankfully, it was still there, one of the things the new timeline seemed to have no effect on. You slid your suitcase onto the back seat and Bernard set the bag of snacks on the floor in front of the passenger seat.

You settled into the driver’s seat, turning on the car and adjusting the temperature and the mirrors. Bernard fiddled with the radio, looking for Christmas tunes and finding them, catching the end of White Christmas just in time for an announcement from the radio host.

“We’re playing your favorite Christmas Hits all day, 24/7. That was White Christmas by Michael Bublé, up next, Santa’s new hit single, Come Meet Santa.”

“You’re kidding me.” You groaned as an insufferable song started blaring from the speakers, Jack singing about his fancy new resort at the Pole.

“He’s got the reindeer in a petting zoo?” Bernard asked, disheartened as he listened to the lyrics.

“Oh my god…” You shook your head. “We’ve gotta find Scott.”

You connected your own Christmas playlist to the aux cord, doing away with Jack’s twisted idea of Christmas and set up navigation to the Frost Toys office building in Chicago. You figured even if it wasn’t exact, it would get you close enough to Scott by the time he called you back. Well, you hoped he would. Hope was kind of all the two of you had.

You drove out the front gates of your college campus and started heading towards the highway. “Let me know if you need a bathroom break or anything.”

“Alright.” Bernard nodded, still looking tense.

“Did you…try to call the Pole? I don’t know if there’s a special number for that or…?”

“I did. Customer Service put me on hold.”

You blinked. “Customer Service?”

“Yeah we didn’t have that department yesterday.” Bernard crossed his arms and leaned back against the seat, eyes squeezed shut in what you were sure was the immense stress of the situation. “Sounds like Curtis is in charge up there now, though. It’s like I never existed.”

“Oh.” You said, turning on your blinker to get in the faster lane. “I’m really sorry, Bernard.”

“Yeah, it’s…we’re gonna fix it.” He insisted, repeating your sentiment from earlier. “We have to.”

“We will.” You assured him.

He chuckled darkly. “This whole time, all I’ve been able to think about is how…this…what I’m going through now is what you’ve been going through for the past three years.”

“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t really know what I was missing out on until today.”

“How do you mean?”

“Something about you showing up jogged my memory. Before that, it was just little tiny bits and pieces. If it weren’t for your snow globe, I definitely would have thought I was losing my mind. I remembered Mother Nature and the…role she played in this, I guess, but I could not have told you what she looks like. All I’ve had is the idea of her.”

“And now?”

“Now I remember. Pretty much everything, I think. Santa, the Pole, you, all of it.”

“Well that’s good for us.” Bernard chuckled.

“And when it’s over, I’m sure she’ll just…wipe me all over again.”

“I will see to it myself that that does not happen.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe she ever did that to you to begin with. Lead you on like that just to drop you like nothing happened.”

“Yeah.” You shrugged, letting out a sigh. “I don’t know, I just…like I said to you that day in your office—I think, it’s still a little fuzzy—I always knew it was a little too good to be true. I always felt like I just…I was the puzzle piece that didn’t fit. That there was this big, beautiful, magical world out there, but I wasn’t meant to…be part of it, I guess.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Bernard shook his head. “I’m 1600 years old and I’ve never met someone who doesn’t have a place. And having met you, I can guarantee you do belong. If Mother Nature can’t see that, then that’s her loss.”

You smiled softly. “Thanks.”

“You know, we can always use a hand in the ornament department.”

“I’d work anywhere you stuck me just to be able to hang out at the Pole again.”

“See, that’s the spirit.” He laughed.

The two of you drove for a handful of hours and you did decide to stop for gas, just to be safe. That, and you were really craving a gas station slushee. So, you filled the tank while Bernard grabbed the two of you some slushees for the rest of the drive down.

While he was standing there, there was a weird, floaty feeling about him. For a moment, his hands began to fade, sparkles taking their place, but as soon as you walked through the doors, the bell jingling above your head, the feeling went away and he exhaled a sigh of relief, feeling solid again.

“You alright?” You asked, voice hushed.

He squeezed his eyes shut, nodding before daring to meet your gaze. Never in his millennia and a half had he ever felt so weak.

“Bernard?”

“I’m fine!” He insisted, raising his voice slightly, but softening when he met your eyes again. “Sorry, I’m…fine.”

“Hang in there.” You whispered, standing closer to him. “I can’t lose you, too.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything. The two of you went back out to the car, sipping your slushees and turning the Christmas music back on when it was interrupted suddenly by an incoming call.

You looked at Bernard and he reached over, putting the call on speaker. “Hello?”

“Bernard? Is that you?” Santa’s voice came out of the speakers and you sighed in relief.

“Santa? Oh thank the stars.” Bernard closed his eyes, a long breath working out of his lungs.

“What the hell is going on? Where are you?”

“We’re about an hour from Frost Toys. We did some research and found this, uh, new job of yours.”

“Don’t get me started.” He chuckled. “I’ll send my apartment address. Does this number work? Whose phone is this, I didn’t know you had a cell phone.”

“I don’t. It’s a long story, but I’m with a friend and we’re on the way.”

“Good. Well then, I’ll see you two soon. The sooner the better.” Scott sounded very relieved. He hung up and texted over your new destination, which was just a little ways further than the building you were already heading towards.

With new fervor, you pulled out of the gas station and got back on the highway, reaching Scott’s apartment with speeds even Bernard was impressed by. You pulled into the parking garage, got your little orange slip to put on the dash, and took the elevator into the building. Scott buzzed you upstairs and you met him outside the door of the snazzy, modern downtown apartment. At the very least, this timeline had given him a cushy job. He ushered the two of you inside.

“Bernard.” Scott greeted, hugging his Head Elf briefly before the two turned back to you. “I’ve never been so relieved to see you.”

“Likewise.” Bernard sighed.

“And you are…?”

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N).” You introduced, offering your hand. “I don’t expect you to—”

“Oh! You were Mother Nature’s apprentice for a bit, weren’t you?” He asked, remembering.

“Yeah. That was me.” You nodded, deciding to spare him the gritty details. “I’m here to help save Christmas.”

“That might be easier said than done…”

“(Y/N) thinks Jack might have used time travel to do this. We were planning on going to see Father Time to see if any of this is something he can fix, or…or if Jack did something to him and that’s how he accomplished all of this.”

“It wasn’t Father Time.” Scott shook his head. “Jack tricked me with a wishing snow globe. Made me wish I had never been Santa and…took the coat for himself.”

“Oh.” Bernard murmured, nodding. “The Escape Clause. Well that would do it, then.”

“There’s gotta be some way to undo this.” Scott said. “It can’t just be over. This can’t be it. Carol…she doesn’t even know who I am.”

“Mrs. Claus?” You asked softly and he nodded solemnly.

You’d met her on a few occasions and she had always been so nice to you, relieved to have another human-ish woman at the Pole, as she said, which always earned a laugh from you. And now, she was a school principal again at a public school who didn’t believe in Christmas anymore. Even Mrs. Claus wasn’t safe from Jack’s trickery.

“Okay, so…we go to the Pole, then. Get…plane tickets, I guess. My roommates were planning their vacation there when we left, so if they can do it, I’m sure we can.”

“Definitely.” Scott nodded, searching for tickets on his phone.

“We go there, find that snow globe, and undo all of this, set it right, the way it’s supposed to be.” You said, determined.

“You think it’ll work?” Scott asked Bernard and he thought over it for a long time before nodding.

“It has to.”

***

Scott booked three tickets for the earliest flight in the morning, at five. You changed into pajamas so you could attempt to get some sleep, and Bernard put something on the TV. You emerged from Scott’s guest bedroom, face wiped clean of makeup, hair freshly brushed, and cute little penguins on your pajama pants. Bernard grinned.

“What?”

“Penguins?”

“I thought they were cute.” You defended, shrugging as you plopped down on the couch next to him.

“I never said they weren’t.” He shrugged, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

“Hey, pizza sound good, you two?” Scott called from the kitchen.

“Sounds perfect.” You replied.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Bernard agreed, flipping channels until he found what he was looking for. Ah yes, the Christmas movies. Specifically, the stop-motion Rankin/Bass movies you’d watched during your childhood. Absolute classics.

You gasped, childlike wonder filling your features. “Oh, I love this one.”

“You like these movies?”

“I’ve seen just about all of them, I think. We always used to watch them when I was a kid. These were my childhood. I like them a lot more than the Hallmark movies my roommates are always watching.”

“Rightfully so.” Bernard agreed. “These guys just…got it.”

“Better than anyone else.” You sat criss-cross on the couch. “Riddle me this, Mr. Head Elf, is Rudolph real?”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, (Y/N), but no, he is not.”

“No! What? You’re lying!” You covered your face with your hands. “My life is a lie.”

“I wouldn’t lie about something like that.” He laughed. “Rudolph is not one of our reindeer. The rest all are, though. Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen.”

“Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen?” You asked.

Bernard smiled, proud. “Precisely.”

“Hey,” Scott held the phone away from his face for a second, covering the microphone with his hand, “pepperoni good? Thin crust?”

“Sounds good to me, Santa.” Bernard gave a thumbs-up. He could not, for the life of him, remember the last time he’d even had pizza.

“Yeah, I love thin crust.” You agreed.

“Great.” He nodded and walked back towards the kitchen again, finalizing the pizza order.

The commercial break hit with, of course, an ad for the North Pole Waterpark and Resort. There were clips of miserable elves playing games in the arcade, forced to work as lifeguards in the waterpark, facilitating the reindeer petting zoo.

You frowned, that familiar feeling of dread settling into your stomach again. This was awful.

“That’s Betty, there, in the green. Third in command. Second, now, I guess. She looks…”

“Miserable.” You finished.

“Yeah.” Bernard nodded. He let out a frustrated shout. “I can’t believe this is happening! Look at them! Look at what he’s done to the Pole!”

Bernard took a shaking breath and slumped back against the couch, his lack of magic hitting him once again and that floaty, sparkly feeling returning.

“Bernard?” You asked, voice rising in concern.

“It’s my magic. The magic of the Pole, of Christmas, everything. Elves are…well, we’re basically made of magic, so if we don’t fix this, and soon…” He shook his head, words trailing off into hopelessness.

“Take some of mine.” You said, quiet, but certain.

He stared at you for a long moment. “What?”

“Take some of my magic.” You told him, more confident this time.

“You still have magic?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“And no idea how to use it, but you do. You need it more than I do right now.”

“O-okay.” He nodded, sitting up a little straighter.

You unfurled your legs, turning to face him. You turned his hands so they were in a receiving position and placed your palms on his, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes to focus yourself, tuning into the fragments of magic still inside of you and then pushing them towards him, through his hands, up his arms, into his chest.

He flinched a little at the feeling, the sharp, cold tingle, but his eyes widened when he saw it, your magic, flowing into him. It was iridescent, teal and purple and pink and blue, waves ebbing and flowing, its gentle glow lighting up your features in the dim room, your hair blowing around softly in the gentle breeze it created.

It looked like the Northern Lights.

He pulled away after a few long moments, stopping the flow. You opened your eyes to look at him.

“Do you feel better?” You asked, concern etched deep in your gaze, pulling at his heart strings in a way he hadn’t felt in centuries.

“A lot better. Thank you,” he said. “But save some for yourself. That might be what’s protecting your memories.”

“Right.” You nodded, thinking. “That makes sense.”

It was quiet, the murmur of the TV the only sound other than Scott in the kitchen, getting dishes out in anticipation of the pizzas arriving, their ceramic clattering against the fancy marble counters you’d spotted on your way in.

You looked at Bernard, really looked at him for the first time. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been crushing on him a little bit, back when you were acquaintances, when he was the knowledgeable, responsible, somewhat stern Head Elf with a heart of gold and you were Mother Nature’s apprentice, vying for a destiny you would not receive.

You remembered the way your heart would lurch when he peeked into the meetings you sat in on, with the rest of the Legendary Figures, and occasionally, the Guardians of the Seasons, if their presence was necessary.

One of the other elves, you were pretty sure her name was Abby, had given you a tour the first time you were there, she’d introduced you to him, and she’d also called to attention the way your cheeks went rosy the moment you walked away from him.

You wondered if he thought of you, if he had those memories too, tucked away someplace special, or if you were just another passerby in his long, long life. Sometimes you almost forgot he was hiding a thousand years behind that youthful face.

Sitting there, you weren’t sure if it was him who started leaning in or you, but it stopped as soon as Scott called for you from the other room, like a scratched record in the middle of a sweet, slow Christmas ballad, pulling you both back down to reality.

“Pizza.” You chuckled, standing up from the couch. Maybe it was the lighting, but you swore Bernard’s cheeks were rosier than they had been before.

“Right. Pizza.”

The two of you walked out to the kitchen together and sat on the barstools pulled up to the counter, grabbing slices of the thin-crust pepperoni.

“So, I booked the North Pole tickets. I also booked us tickets from there to London…Just in case.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.” Bernard chuckled.

“Hey, you look better.” Scott noted.

“I’m feeling a lot better, too.” Bernard motioned to you. “(Y/N) here still has a few tricks up her sleeve.”

“Good. We’re gonna need all the magic we can get.”

***

You didn’t get very much sleep before your alarm went off. It had been about what you were expecting. You never slept well when you were stressed.

You did, however, have a dream.

You were sitting in a meeting with Mother Nature and the Guardians, the two of them that were left after the Spring Enchantress’ retirement. Of course, you were training up to fill the position, so it wouldn’t remain empty for long.

Mother Nature led the meeting, held in the giant tree at the center of her Grotto, glancing at her watch every few minutes until finally, he showed up. Jack Frost. Even then, chills ran up your spine, though, at the time, you were convinced it was a side effect of his existence in general.

“Sorry I’m late, ladies. Had quite the hold up in Toronto.” He shrugged, sliding into the fifth seat at the round table, a snowflake embedded in the crystalline mosaic on the table’s surface. “What are we talking about?”

“You, actually.” Mother Nature stated, sitting up straighter. “We were wondering how the search for the Aurora was going, since you’ve elected to take on the task yourself.”

“Ah, yes, well, it’s certainly not easy. Winter Guardians don’t just fall from the sky, you know. But I’ve searched all of the places she used to pop up. Hence my overlay in Canada.” Jack shrugged. “And besides, it’s been five centuries since we’ve had one, I think we’re doing just fine without her.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” The Autumn Witch, a gorgeous young woman named Amber Sanderson, interjected, meeting him with her sharp gaze. Her long, curly orange hair was as beautiful as the autumn leaves, brown skin smooth and ageless, even after her thirty or so years on the council. She didn’t look a day over twenty-five.

“Then what would you say, Ms. Sanderson?” Jack countered, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “If you have a problem with the way I’m running things, I’d prefer if you were forward about it.”

“We have been.” Evangeline Cho agreed, the Summer Sorceress. As her season had just started, she was glowing even more brilliantly than she usually did. “Every year, winter creeps further and further into autumn and spring. And it seems you haven’t done anything to stop it.”

“What, I can’t control that! I’m getting more powerful! It’s merely a side effect.”

“Which is precisely why we need someone on this council who can control their abilities. Such as an Aurora, which you were tasked with finding nearly a century ago, Frost.” Mother Nature stated, her voice cool and even. “If you’d like one of us to find her instead—”

“Oh no, no, that won’t be necessary. I promise you, by next winter, we will have an Aurora again and I’ll go back to managing snow days and frosting window panes.” He drew an X over his heart. “Cross my heart.”

“Excellent.” Mother Nature nodded. “Meeting adjourned.”

You blinked awake in time with Mother Nature’s gavel, staring at the ceiling of Scott’s guest room. That wasn’t a dream. You were certain. It was a memory. You’d have to tell the others.

***

Once your alarm went off, you got dressed and met Scott and Bernard in the entryway of the apartment. Bernard, who hadn’t changed his clothes, had one pointed ear sticking out the brim of his hat, a dead giveaway if there ever was one. You rummaged through your carry on and produced a knitted hat you’d made a few years back, motioning to his ear.

“Oh. Right. Thanks.” He nodded, swapping his usual headwear for the hat you gave him, slipping it on with ease. “Where’d you get this?”

“I made it. I knit.”

He chuckled, checking his reflection to make sure he was covered well. “Well aren’t you just full of surprises?”

“As we’re both learning.”

Scott drove the three of you to the airport and you arrived early, hoping your plane would be a little ahead of schedule, but when you found it was actually delayed an hour, it gave you time to grab drinks at the coffee shop.

“Hot cocoa, shot of espresso, extra whipped cream, please.” You ordered, Bernard just behind you.

“I’ll have the same, but make it a double shot.”

“Coming right up,” the barista nodded, setting to work.

Outside, the sun was just beginning to rise, filling the sky with orange and pink, sunlight glistening on the icicles hanging from the windows. You smiled, appreciating the quiet moment despite the dread looming overhead.

Once your drinks were ready, you joined Scott on a chair near the windows.

“So um, I had a dream last night. I think it was a memory from before.” You said, not sure how else to bring it up.

“What was it about?” Scott asked, curious.

“I was at a meeting with Mother Nature and the Guardians. Jack was there, sitting in for…the Aurora, I guess.”

“The Winter Aurora.” Bernard replied, nodding.

“What is that?” Scott asked, unfamiliar with the term.

“Well, there’s a Guardian for each season, often a woman, gifted with the powers of that specific time of year. They work with their Legendary Figures to oversee the flow of time and ensure everything is on schedule. The Spring Enchantress, the Summer Sorceress, the Autumn Witch, and the Winter Aurora.” Bernard explained. “We haven’t had an Aurora at the Pole in 500 years…”

“Well that would explain why I’ve never heard of her.” Scott nodded, thinking. “So Jack took her job?”

“Yeah, they were talking about his…powers increasing, I’m assuming because he was getting buffed by her powers in addition to his. And how winter is creeping into autumn and spring because of it.”

“That’s not good.” Bernard shook his head. “The seasons have to be balanced. Jack’s hunger for power is messing up the eco system.”

“Mother Nature said he was supposed to be looking for her, and I don’t know…maybe he just…wasn’t looking.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Bernard took a long sip of his cocoa. “I’ll add that to the top of my list as soon as we get everything else back to normal.”

As soon as you finished your drinks, the plane started boarding, so you followed after Scott and onto the plane. Through the windows in the walkway, you could see the plane, giant, winter blue, and emblazoned with a giant picture of Jack Frost’s Santa impression, giving a thumbs-up.

“I’m gonna puke.” You rolled your eyes.

“Ditto.”

The three of you boarded and settled into your seats, all in a row. Scott had brought his laptop along to do some research on the flight. He figured it was better to go in with something of a plan than be blindsided by whatever you found on the other side. You had a feeling the Pole would look a lot different than last you’d seen it.

You settled into the window seat and got as comfortable as you could. For a supposedly luxury flight, the seats were surprisingly stiff. Knowing Jack, you should have expected him to cut corners, even in his power fantasy brought to life.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Bernard asked, voice soft.

“As well as I can, I guess.” You shrugged. “I’m glad I’m not doing this alone.”

He nodded, eyes meeting yours, soft and serious. “I am, too.”

A lady in a flowery dress walked past, her perfume so strong, you caught a whiff of it from the window seat, its floral scent immediately tickling your nose. You tried your best to suppress the sneeze, but to no avail. You sneezed two times, waiting for a third, but it never came.

“Jeez.” You shook your head, reaching for the Benedryl in your bag.

“What’s that for?”

“My allergies. That lady’s perfume was pretty strong.” You chuckled.

“You have allergies?” Bernard asked, eyes narrowing. “Spring allergies.”

“…Yeah?”

“You have spring allergies and Mother Nature thought you were the new Spring Enchantress?” Bernard asked, looking skeptical. He knew Mother Nature. She was an intelligent, almost all-knowing being. He knew she wouldn’t make a mistake that obvious.

“That part never made sense to me either.” You shrugged.

“She thought you were a Spring, but…you’re obviously more of a Winter. I might be a bit biased, though.” He smirked.

Your heart raced when he said it, the realization hitting you that he was flirting. You were getting hit on by Santa’s Head Elf. That was something not everyone could say.

“I mean, I was born in December. The 21st.”

Suddenly, his flirting demeanor was gone, replaced instead by a look of realization, like you had just given him the last piece of the puzzle he’d been trying to solve since the day you left the Pole. “The Winter Solstice…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Let me see that, Santa.” Bernard took the laptop from Scott’s lap desk, clumsily navigating with the mousepad and punching something into the search bar. “Where was it your parents are from, (Y/N)?”

“I grew up in South Carolina. We were supposed to live in Michigan, but Dad got a job opportunity at the last minute, so we moved right after I was born.”

“Whereabouts?”

“Traverse City.”

“Hmm…” Bernard clicked through articles a bit before finding a story that made your heart race. “Is…Is this the house?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s…Oh my god.” You covered your mouth, reading through the article. Three months after your family had moved out, there had been a freak snow storm that took out half the houses in the neighborhood. And your house had been hit the worst, the roof over what would have been your nursery was caved in completely.

“Jack hasn’t been not looking for the Aurora. He’s been killing her every time she’s popped up.” Bernard concluded, a horrified look on his face.

“Wait. So you’re saying…” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I’m…”

“Mother Nature appointed you Spring Enchantress to throw him off of your scent.” He said. “That has to be it. It’s the only explanation.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, fingers shaking as you wiped your sweaty palms on your pants. “I…I mean, wouldn’t I know? I’m not…special. Not like that…”

“Are you kidding me?” Bernard asked, incredulous. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. (Y/N), I’ve seen your magic. It’s the only think keeping me alive right now. It…” He reached for your hand, positioning your palm so it was facing upwards and as soon as he did, a wave of stunning Northern Lights glowed between your fingers. “Do you see that? I’ve seen Aurora magic. This is that. I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner…”

“Woah.” Scott muttered, eyes falling on the scene unfolding between the two of you.

You curled your fingers, pulling the magic back into yourself and extinguishing the light. You sat with it for a moment and met Bernard’s gaze. “He tried to kill me.” You murmured, tears brimming in your eyes. “He tried to kill me for…for power? For a title?”

“We’re not going to let him get away with it.” Scott stated, fire in his gaze. “We’re not going to let him get away with any of it.”

You felt a tingling on your head and watched as white trickled from your scalp down to the ends of the piece of hair at the front of your face. Your heart raced and you touched the hair with shaking fingers.

It was real now. You were the Winter Aurora. And you had a feeling the closer you got to the Pole, the more evident that would become…

***

By the time the plane landed, the three of you were settled on a plan. Scott, Jack’s biggest priority, would cause a distraction, buying time for you two. Bernard would find the elves and try to snap them out of it. You, as the only one Jack wouldn’t fully recognize, would go find the snow globe and get it to Scott so he could undo his wish and fix everything.

Was it a perfect plan? No. But it was all you had, so it would have to be enough.

You walked off of the plane together, hoping the streak of white in your hair wouldn’t draw too much attention. Once you were inside the gates, the three of you huddled, finalizing your plan.

“You’re going to be fine on your own? Do you know how to get to the snow globe room?” Scott checked.

“I’m…being here…yeah, I’m definitely gonna be able to find it.” You nodded, still completely blown away by the powerful waves of magic, hitting you all at once for the first time. “It’s all coming back to me.”

Bernard grinned, hopeful. “Good. Good luck.”

“You too. Stay safe. I…I really don’t trust him. What he’s capable of…” You said warily.

The Head Elf shook his head, confident. “Is nothing compared to what you are.”

“Let’s save Christmas.” Scott announced.

The three of you split off. You watched as Bernard and Scott walked away together, Scott playfully nudging Bernard. About what, you couldn’t be certain, but you had a pretty good feeling it had something to do with you.

Cheeks flushed for more reason than one, you took off, following the swirling feeling around your heart, dodging past security elves with a stealth and speed you didn’t know you possessed. It was like muscle memory, suppressed very deep in the core of your being. A power you had never tapped into, but one that was quick to embrace you. You felt it in your soul, the Pole wanted you there, and it was very glad you’d returned.

Following the instructions Scott and Bernard had given you, you walked briskly down the corridors, slinking past bakery elves on their way to one of the many tourist eating spots. The workshop itself sat big and empty, barely an elf in sight. The few that were there looked tired, sad, working on tacky Santa Claus bobble heads and cheap gift shop pens. It broke your heart.

Distant voices echoed against the cavernous halls. In your mind, you heard echoes, too. Laughter and love and light, elves building toys, creating things together, working to make the kids of the world happy, no matter what it took. The workshop had been wrapped in pine trim and string lights, warm and bright.

Now, it sat dark and empty.

You wiped a tear from your cheek and continued down the hall, to where the entrance to the Hall of Snowglobes was. And at its entrance, was Betty, who stared at you for a long moment as though trying to place where she recognized you from, but quickly shook it off.

“You can’t be back here. No visitors allowed. I can escort you back to the main area, though.” She offered, smiling.

“Your name is Betty, right?”

She hesitated. “How did you…? Nevermind that, you’re still not allowed back here.”

“I have to be back here.” You told her. “It’s important. The fate of Christmas depends on it.”

“Well, the fate of Christmas depends on me doing my job, so if you’ll follow me this way.”

“I can’t do that, Betty.” You shook your head. “And I know you don’t want to either. Don’t you see that all of this is wrong? That what Jack’s done to the Pole, the capitalism, the resort, the gift shops, the reindeer in the petting zoo, this is not what Christmas is supposed to be. You know that. I know you know that.”

Betty’s features saddened and for a moment, you thought you’d won her over until she reached for a walkie talkie. “Security, we’ve got a tourist that needs to be removed from the Workshop.”

“Great.” You huffed, summoning your power to your hand, just as Bernard had shown you. But instead of sending a blast of energy at her, you let it slowly waft over, rainbow colors and dancing lights slowly enveloping her. As the magic hit her face, she blinked through it, eyes awash in the pinks and teals and purples. Yet another streak of white flowed through your hair.

She dropped to her knees and stared up at you, tears in her eyes as it all came flooding back. Her voice fell to a whisper. “You’re our Aurora.”

“I am.” You nodded, feeling confident in your title for the first time. “And I need your help. We don’t have much time.”

“Bernard, he’s gone! He—”

“He came here with me. We have to hurry. We need that snow globe.” You told her and she nodded.

You helped Betty to her feet and she ushered you into the Hall of Snowglobes, carefully plucking the little glass orb that had started all of this off of its pedestal and handing it to you. You held it with careful hands, admiring it. It was beautiful, if not absolutely dangerous.

“We’ve gotta get this to Santa.” You told her.

She nodded, following you out of the Workshop and into the bustling center of town, an absolute sensory overload if there ever was one. Tourists packed the streets, vendors were shouting over the noise, and above it all, speakers were blaring Jack’s Christmas Album, each new song worst than the one before it.

There was a massive stage, covered in fake ice and bright lights, and on said stage, was him, Jack Frost in all of his faux Santa glory, his red suit iced at the ends, hair spiked and ridiculous, like icicles. Behind him, was a row of toy soldiers and in their grasp was none other than Bernard, eyes wide in fear as Jack manifested a blast of snow in his hand.

“(Y/N)!” Scott shouted over the crowd, waving wildly to get your attention.

“Get this to Scott.” You handed the snow globe to Betty, urgency in your voice and your eyes. “I’ve gotta get Bernard.”

“On it.” She took the globe from you and weaved through the crowd expertly. You ran towards the stage as though everything was moving in slow motion.

“This guy isn’t Santa! He’s trying to ruin Christmas!” Bernard shouted, voice cracking as he did.

Jack laughed loudly, and the crowd assembled did the same. “Do you hear him? I am Santa! Without me, there would be no Christmas! What gives you the right to say any of this?”

“I’m the Head Elf!” Bernard insisted, struggling against the toy soldiers. “I’ve seen a thousand Christmases and dozens of Santas! You are nothing compared to any of them!”

“Alright, tough guy, you think I’m not Santa? How about I show you what a real Santa is capable of?” Jack threatened, ice in his voice. He raised his hand to freeze Bernard and you dove onto the stage, tackling Jack to the ground, earning a loud gasp and several concerned voices from the crowd.

“Don’t you dare touch him, you fucking narcissistic popsicle!” You shouted, getting a good punch in before retreating to Bernard’s side, kicking the toy soldier behind him and pulling apart the large ribbon bow binding his wrists. Parents covered their children’s ears, shielding them from the harsh language. Some of the crowd cleared out, retreating to a safer distance, while others pulled out their phones, desperate to go viral on YouTube.

“Come on.” You grabbed Bernard’s hand and he squeezed yours, following you off of the stage and through the crowd to where Scott stood with the snow globe. He shook it and made a wish, but nothing happened.

“What?” Scott asked, trying again. “It won’t work.”

“It’s the Escape Clause.” Bernard closed his eyes, remembering the rules. “Jack made this wish. He’s…he’s Santa now; he’s the only one who can undo this.”

“Oh my god.” A wave of dread flowed over you.

“And those, my dears, are the words I will never utter.” Jack said, dusting himself off and sauntering over to the four of you, his security not far behind, ready to apprehend all of you. “It was a nice try, though. Really valiant effort, all four of you. Scott, Bernard, Betty…and you. I can’t say I recognize you.”

“Maybe if you had half a braincell, you would.”

He scoffed, offended. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. They’ll figure that much out when they get you to jail, I suppose.” He shrugged and the security officers seized the four of you, taking the snow globe and giving it back to Jack. He tossed it in the air cockily a few times before chuckling. “You know, I don’t need this thing. I’m never going to wish all of this away.”

Frost tendrils crept up the glass dome and in a great burst of light, it shattered. You gasped, feeling the magic settle. This was it. This was reality now. There was no way to undo it.

“O-oh.” Bernard took a stuttered breath, faltering. He collapsed to the ground and you pushed away from security, rushing to his side and collecting him in your arms.

“Bernard?”

He shook his head. You raised a hand to give him more of your magic, but he lowered it with his own. “You have to finish this, Aurora.” He said, eyes serious, glimmering despite the pain you could tell he was in. “You’re the only one who can.”

He leaned forward, a hand brushing the hair away from your face, capturing your lips with his own, his kiss soft and tender, tasting faintly of peppermint, and then he disappeared in a burst of sparkles, his silver and gold magic drifting forward into your chest.

You gasped, tears rolling down your cheeks, arms empty and heart emptier. “No! NO! What did you do to him?” You turned, facing Jack.

“The only thing I could. Protecting Christmas from the likes of you.” He shrugged. “What was it he called you? Autumn? Is that your name? Autumn?”

“No.” You told him, rising to your feet, pure magic lifting you from the ground and setting you on your feet.

His eyes widened and he took a step back.

“I’m the Aurora.” You rose into the air, teals and purples and pinks swirling around you in a rush of power. You raised your hand, manifesting the snow globe within it, its broken shards reforming in your grasp, effortless and precise. Once it was whole again, you shook it, magic swirling within its waters, overriding the rules of the Escape Clause with rules of your own.

A voice came out of you then that you weren’t sure was your own. It came deep from your chest, echoing across the pole, accompanied by a wave of power, the same magic you’d used on Betty, but tenfold, fierce and fiery, prickling like static all down your arms as it left you.

“May Everything Return to the Way it Was Before, to the Way it was Always Meant to Be.”

And with one final rush of magic, everything went white.

***

It took a while for the picture to form in front of you, your hearing distorted, the colors slowly coming back one by one.

You were kneeling there in the center of the Workshop, which was full of elves, their work paused as they watched the scene unfolding. Scott was Santa once more, wearing his red undershirt and suspenders, looking jollier than you’d ever seen him. Carol stood beside him, looking confused.

Mother Nature was there, as was Tooth, and, of course, Jack Frost, wearing his signature blue suit as opposed to the red one he’d been wearing moments earlier.

You got to your feet, looking for Bernard in the crowd, but not finding him. Your heart lurched, your search brought to a halt by Jack’s nasally voice.

“Aw, come on now, kid, no hard feelings, right?”

Rather than replying, you wound up and punched him square in the jaw with more force than you were used to possessing.

“OOOOOOOH…” The elves murmured, wincing as Jack fell to the ground, gripping his face.

“I’m going to ask you one last time and you are going to answer me. What. Did you do to him.” You demanded, a fierce power zinging through you.

“I didn’t do anything to him! This is all a big misunderstanding! Right, Santa? Tooth? Back me up on this!” Jack groveled, shielding his face with both hands, cowering in fear.

“Can’t do that, Jack.” Scott shook his head. “You have to answer to her.”

“Where is Bernard?”

“I feel like there are more pressing issues at hand—” Jack deflected, shrinking further away from you.

“What’s that?” One of the elves asked, pointing to a column of sparkles manifesting beside you.

You turned to look, staring at it until it clicked. Reaching into yourself, you let the last pieces of Bernard’s magic flow out of your chest, where it had retreated for safekeeping. Silver and gold glitter rushed out of you, swirling from the ground up until he was standing there again, solid and real.

He all but collapsed into your arms, holding onto you tightly while he found his balance again.

“Bernard,” you sobbed, holding him close, your arms desperate to prove he was real again, that he was solid and wasn’t going anywhere.

“Hey, no need for tears, Aurora. I’m alright.” He grinned, meeting your gaze. His hand rose to your cheek and he wiped your tears away as he took you in for all that you were. “Thanks to you, I am.”

“(Y/N)?” Mother Nature asked, voice soft and warm.

“I…I can explain.” You insisted, turning to face her.

“No need, dear one. I know why you’re here. I’ve always known.” She smiled, bowing her head. “And now that you’re here, we can finish this.”

You looked to Bernard and he nodded, letting go of you to give you a gentle push forward, his eyes proud and supportive.

“Kneel.” She instructed, and you did, dropping to one knee in front of her.

The elves fell silent, desperate to witness what was unfolding for the first time in centuries.

“(Y/N) (L/N), through your bravery and selflessness, you have proven what I’ve known all along. You are the Aurora Borealis, the Winter Guardian, and Protector of the North Pole and all her Magic. For the first time in five centuries, the North Pole has an Aurora, which means…” She looked to Jack, who shook his head desperately.

“No. No way. I am not giving an ounce of my power to that…that…she punched me! Twice! Did none of you see that? She’s violent!”

“After everything you did to the Auroras before her, you’re lucky all she did was punch you!” Bernard snapped, arms crossed. “Not to mention the fact you destroyed her house in an attempt to kill her.”

Jack gasped in faux shock. “What, me? I…I would never—!”

“Jack.” Mother Nature reprimanded sharply. “You don’t have to give her the power. It was never yours to begin with.”

She outstretched a hand and, as easily as turning on a faucet, the power he’d been given, the magical, dancing light, was siphoned out of him and floated straight into you. Your feet lifted from the ground, head tilting back as your body slowly rose from the floor, power greater than you’d ever seen or felt ebbing and flowing around you, changing you into the thing you were always meant to become: the Aurora Borealis.

Your hair fully turned white, glimmering like fallen snow, a few stray streaks of pink and purple and teal scattered throughout. Your skin took on a subtle sparkle, every part of you becoming stronger, right down to your fingernails. Your clothes were replaced with a simple, glittering dress, the color of the night sky.

Gently, you touched down again, fully reborn.

The elves murmured and whispered in awe and you looked around to find a row of proud faces.

Mother Nature stepped forward and took both of your hands in hers, meeting you face to face for the first time in three years. “Dear one, I am so sorry for everything you’ve been through. I should have warned you, I should have done more to ready you, but I didn’t and…I let you feel alone.”

“I am alive because of you. Because you misled him. Everything you did was to protect me. I understand that now.” You told her, voice smooth and confident.

She touched her forehead to yours for a moment before pulling away to meet your gaze again. “Then, dear one, I have one last question for you.”

“I’m ready.”

“Hereby and Forevermore, your duty as the Winter Aurora is to the North Pole. You are tasked with its safety and secrets, to protect all of its residents and the magic they hold. Do you accept the Title of Winter Guardian and all of the responsibilities it holds?”

“I do.” You nodded, meeting Bernard’s eyes for a brief moment, only to find the warmest, proudest smile on his face.

“Then this belongs to you.” In her hand, Mother Nature manifested a small, elegant silver tiara, embellished with glittering snowflakes. She set it gently in your hair, completing your transformation once and for all.

Jack started sneaking towards the door, but you lifted your hand, a wave of power rushing around him, turning him back towards the rest of you and giving him a push back towards the rest of you. He stumbled forward, looking around the group nervously.

“You’re—you’re not gonna kill me, right?” He asked. “You still need me! I’m the one who oversees the snow days and-and the snowmen! Think of the snowmen!”

“We do need a Jack Frost.” Mother Nature said. “Which is why while you were here terrorizing Santa, I was locating your successor. Jack, come on in.”

The doors of the Workshop opened and in walked a much younger man with shaggy white hair. Your best guess put him in his early twenties, and his wardrobe was much more modern than the other Jack’s as well, a blue hoodie adorned with silver swirls. He carried a large stick with a curve at the end of it, somewhat resembling a scythe.

“Nice to meet you.” He waved casually, leaning against his stick.

“My successor?” Jack’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re firing me?!”

“Oh, we’re doing more than firing you.” Tooth chuckled. He looked to you. “Aurora, what do you think we should do with him?”

“He needs to be put…somewhere he can’t hurt anyone else.” You decided. You turned to the Head Elf and he perked up, interested to hear your suggestion. “Do you have a snow globe I could borrow?”

He grinned and reached into his satchel, pulling out a fresh one. “I like the way you think.”

“What? No! You can’t just—” Jack shook his head, looking to Santa, to Mother Nature, to even Mrs. Claus for some other solution.

“This is for all of the Auroras before me, for the elves you brainwashed and the reindeer you stuck in a petting zoo. You’ll have lots of time to think about what you’ve done. And maybe someday, in five hundred years or so, I’ll let you go live a boring human life.” You told him, taking the snow globe from Bernard and focusing.

There was a bright flash of sparkles and then it was done, Jack was trapped in the confines of the little snow globe in your hands and he looked very angry about it, but his complaints were too muffled to make them out clearly. Santa reached for the snow globe, so you handed it to him and he gave it an amused swirl.

“Well done, (Y/N).” He complimented, passing the snow globe to Curtis. “See to it that this gets locked away properly.”

“Will do, Santa.” Curtis nodded and headed off.

“Now, (Y/N), if you are going to be staying here, I suppose someone will have to show you around the place.” Santa smiled knowingly.

Bernard cleared his throat. “I believe that would be my responsibility as Head Elf, Santa.”

“Yes, I believe it would.”

The Head Elf offered you his arm and you gladly took it, letting him escort you up the stairs of the workshop and down the hall so the two of you could have a private moment. As soon as you were out of sight, he turned to face you, his hands cupping your cheeks, nose brushing against yours.

“See, I knew you were more of a Winter.”

“Do I look okay?”

“You’ve never looked better.” He murmured, closing the distance between you and pressing his lips to yours passionately. In your Mortal life, you’d had your fair share of kisses, but kissing Bernard was something else entirely. He was experienced, that was for sure.

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “Now, where would you like to explore first?”

***

Bernard took you around the Workshop, showing you all of the departments, which were full of elves, all of them working hard to ensure Santa was on schedule to leave that night. Bernard checked in with each of them as he did, making sure everything was going according to plan. Tooth and Mother Nature had stuck around to help out, and some of the other Legendary Figures had arrived as well, introducing themselves to you when you came around.

Finally, as the end of your tour, Bernard led you to an ornate set of stained glass double doors. As if by magic, they swung open when you approached, giving way to a beautiful bedroom, tall, arched ceilings, dancing Northern Lights projected across them. Stained glass windows, a large, wooden desk, hardwood floors and shelves and shelves of books. There was a carved armoire in the corner of the room, and against the leftmost wall, on a platform, was a giant canopy bed.

“This is the Aurora’s suite. You can decorate however you’d like. I had some elves from the interior design department get it fixed up for you.” Bernard explained, your arm looped through his, hand resting on his bicep. “If you’ll turn your attention right over here…”

He led you to the desk, dropping your arm and plucking something off of the desk. Your snow globe! The one he had given you three years before, still inscribed with those famous words that had started your entire adventure to begin with, the last remnant you had from this life before it was ripped away from you.

“My snow globe! How did you get it here?”

He shrugged, handing it to you. “My magic came back. Which means I can give this back to you.”

Bernard lifted his hand and you pressed yours against it, palm to palm. Gently, your power flowed from him back into you, a light breeze blowing through the room. He brushed your hair away from your face and pressed a long kiss to your cheek.

“There’s still a lot to do, but…I think we’re going to be able to pull everything together by tonight.”

“Well then you better get out there, Mr. Head Elf.” You smirked, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.

He met your eyes, “You’ll be okay?”

“I’m going to be just fine.” You assured him, setting the snow globe back on the desk so you could rest your arms on his shoulders, his hands resting on your waist. “And after, you and I will have all the time in the world to figure this out.”

“Oh! I didn’t mean to interrupt…” Curtis muttered, standing in the doorway.

“Curtis!” Bernard exclaimed, his voice cracking.

You giggled when he abruptly pulled away to face his number two.

“The tree topper department needs an extra set of hands.” Curtis said, motioning back towards the workshop.

“Can I help?” You asked.

“Oh, Aurora, you don’t have to—” Curtis shook his head.

“Yeah, but…can I?” You asked, eyes curious.

Curtis grinned. “Yeah, of course.” He made eye contact with Bernard. “I like her already.”

Bernard gave you a nudge. “I do too.”

***

At Santa’s request, you met him and Bernard at the stable gates to see him off for your very first Christmas as the North Pole’s Guardian. Your heart was racing. You didn’t know what was expected of you or what you’d have to do, but Bernard was there, his smile ever so reassuring.

Some of the elves that worked with the reindeer helped get them all properly harnessed and ready for the flight, carefully attaching their reins to the sleigh. Bernard walked you through what you’d have to do. As one of the oldest elves in the Pole, he remembered the process well.

“It’s easy. All you’ll have to do is raise your hand.” He was standing right behind you and raised your hand with his own, positioning it just so. “And lower the barrier so Santa can leave. And if you can’t, we have controls for that now. It’s…mostly ceremonial at this point.”

“Well that does make me feel a little better.” You smiled, turning towards him.

“And, um, after, I think you should…check the armoire in your room. I left something for you.”

“Oh you did, did you?”

“Something for the party. You don’t have to wear it, though.” He shrugged awkwardly, cheeks extra rosy.

“And the party starts…?”

“The minute Santa gets back.” Bernard explained. “And then we get three months off and pick back up in March.”

“Alright.” You nodded, smiling. “Plenty of time for you to show me the ropes.”

“I was thinking exactly the same thing.” He smiled, looking both ways, but not risking a kiss, not with all of the elves assembled to send Santa off.

“Everything ready?” Scott checked, donning his famed coat and hat for the flight just as a few elves loaded the famous gift bag, filled to the brim and then some, onto the back of the sleigh.

“All set, Santa.” Bernard nodded.

Scott put a hand on your shoulder, the other on Bernard’s. “We owe this Christmas to you two. Wouldn’t be standing here without either of you.”

“All in a day’s work, Santa.” You smiled.

“I’ll see you when I get back. And then the real fun begins.”

“I’ll see to it that we have enough eggnog at the ready.” Bernard replied with a wink, which Santa laughed at.

“Excellent.” He climbed into the sleigh and gave you the signal.

Just as you’d practiced, you lifted a hand and focused on the barrier protecting the Pole, made of the same magic that flowed through your veins. Effortlessly, the veil parted, making way for Santa’s sleigh and the elves erupted into cheers as Scott flew off into the sky. Bernard cheered loudly, turning to you and scooping you up in his arms, spinning you around in his excitement. You squealed with laughter.

Once your feet were on the ground again, you met his eyes briefly before pressing the quickest of kisses to his cheek and walking over to Carol, who was smiling a proud, maternal smile.

“Let’s get you ready for that party, huh?” She asked, looping her arm around yours. “You’ll have to fill me in on everything you’ve been up to! It’s nice to have a human-ish woman around here again.”

“I missed you, Carol.”

“I missed you too, hon.”

***

The deliveries went on without a hitch and Scott was back at the Pole faster than you could sing the Twelve Days of Christmas. Carol, you, and Betty had gone into your room to prepare. Carol did your hair, perching your snowflake tiara perfectly atop your head. You felt like a princess.

Betty helped zip up the dress Bernard had left for you, an elegant silver gown with a layered skirt, a tasteful slit up the leg, and off the shoulder sleeves, a layer of tule on top that was embellished with silver stars.

“You look stunning.” Carol complimented, resting her chin on your shoulder as the two of you admired your reflection.

“Thanks to you.” You tilted your head. “I’m still getting used to the hair, but…I think it looks nice like this.”

“Makes you look like a superhero.”

“I kinda feel like one, too.”

“Well you should. Scott told me everything that happened. I’m glad you were there to help.”

“I’m glad I was, too.” You said, pausing before asking, “So…theoretically speaking of course, is there a rule prohibiting the Aurora from…dating?”

Betty gasped, smiling. “I knew it! You and Bernard—”

“You and Bernard?”  Carol asked, interested. “I never would have guessed.”

“Never?”

“Well, maybe a little.” She admitted, pinching her fingers together. “Saving the world together is a very romantic first date.”

“So…I am allowed to…date him?” You asked, earning a giggle from Betty.

“There is nothing, to my knowledge, prohibiting either the Aurora or the Head Elf from falling in love,” she reported. “But I can check the handbook if you want me too.”

“That is good to know.” You tapped your temple, laughing a bit.

Downstairs, you could hear the music pick up and the three of you took that as your cue to join the festivities.

Soon, you were standing at the rail overlooking the Workshop floor, where Bernard was standing, chatting with Curtis, Santa, and some of the other elves. As soon as he caught sight of you, he froze, his glass of eggnog halfway to his mouth and eyes locked on you.

You smiled coyly and lifted the skirt of the gown, carefully navigating down the stairs. He ditched his glass on a cluttered table and met you at the foot of the stairs, taking your arm.

He swallowed thickly, admiring you for a long moment before murmuring, “You look beautiful, Aurora.”

“Thank you, Bernard.” You smiled, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You picked a great dress.”

“Would you like to dance?”

“I’d love to.” You nodded, letting him lead you over to where the rest of the elves were paired up, swaying to a slow song. Your arms settled around his neck as he tugged you closer, a hand on your waist, the other finding your free hand.

It was clear in seconds that he knew how to dance, as he expertly spun you out and then back into him with ease, his chest flush against yours, mouth right against your ear. It was one of those moments you were forced to remember he’d lived a hundred lifetimes. He carried them well; he always had.

When the music picked back up, he said, “Let’s go get some air.”

You nodded, letting him lead you back up the stairs to the railing, where a few stray elves were also hanging out, getting some space from the heat of the party. The two of you leaned against the metal, looking down over your new home.

You were quiet for a long while before finally asking the question that had been on your mind since early that morning, in an airplane in another timeline. “Did you know her? The other Aurora?”

He nodded, face serious. “I knew her, yeah. I wasn’t Head Elf at the time, only second in command. She and I were acquaintances, but she was nice.”

“Mmm.” You hummed.

Bernard reached over and touched your hand. “I much prefer what you and I have this time around.”

“And what is it you and I have?” You asked.

“I’m…not sure yet.” Bernard shook his head, tugging you ever so closer, a gentle hand on your waist. “But I do know that in all of my 1600 years, I’ve never felt like this before. Even before, when you left, when I thought I’d never see you again, I was waiting for the day our paths would cross. I wish it had been under better circumstances, but…”

“But, I’m glad you found me.” You interjected, taking another step forward and resting your head on his shoulder.

Bernard leaned in to kiss you, but stopped, noticing all the elves watching. However, when you pointed straight up at a bundle of glowing mistletoe, he knew there was only one thing he could do…

THREE MONTHS LATER

“Ladies, thank you so much for agreeing to meet here at the Pole.” Mother Nature smiled at each of you, seated at the large round table in your office, which was, coincidentally, right down the hall from Bernard’s office.

Around the table were yourself, Mother Nature, and the three other Guardian Spirits, Briar Flores, Amber Sanderson, and Evangeline Cho, each of you dressed for your respective season, but Briar was absolutely glowing, as though a halo of light was positioned just behind her head at all times.

“Thank you for having us, (Y/N).” Briar thanked, bowing her head. “My place is absolutely a mess at the moment. Bunny has paint on just about every surface in the building.”

“Any time, Briar. This place has been quiet since the elves started their break. Things should be getting started up again soon, though.”

“If you need any help saving Christmas this year, you let us know.” Amber chuckled.

“Knock on wood Christmas doesn’t need saving this year.” You laughed, knocking on the table.

“I am serious, though, as soon as Easter is over, we all need to get mimosas and brunch. There is this lovely little island that is just so flowery and perfect this time of year, you’d all love it.” Briar beamed.

The rest of you murmured and nodded in agreement, stopping only when Evangeline looked up at the doorway, biting back a grin.

You looked up to see Bernard standing there, a bouquet of snowdrops in his hand.

“Hello, Bernard. How can I help you?”

“Oh, Aurora, I didn’t mean to interrupt. The guys in foliage need a second opinion when you have a minute.”

“Right, of course.” You nodded, looking to Mother Nature.

“Meeting adjourned. I’ll see you all next month for a progress report.” She smiled, straightening up her papers. The rest of you all stood up from the table and began to exit the office.

Mother Nature rested a hand on your shoulder, glancing back at Bernard. “You look really happy here, (Y/N).”

“I am really happy here.”

“Good, I’m glad.” She gave your shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll see you next month.”

Once the others had scattered to the winds, Bernard walked into the office, closing the door behind him.

You quirked an eyebrow. “The guys in foliage, huh?”

“Partially. Partially just the Head Elf wanting to make sure his Aurora had something pretty to look at.” He whispered, an arm drawing you closer for a kiss that you gladly reciprocated.

“Your Aurora already has something pretty to look at.” You replied, a finger booping the end of his nose.

He shook his head, grinning. “Does the flirting never cease?” “Check in with me in a few hundred years.” You replied, setting the snowdrops in your vase before lacing your fingers through his, your other hand rising to rest on his arm as you walked out of the office and towards the large room you’d been using to train your powers. “Now, where were we with those lessons…?”

Tagged: @madameggroll, @capamericant, @midnightmisses, @five-hargreeves-apologist

[ggomos-maribat]

NMWYCAM [bonus deleted chapter]

This is a scene i wrote out but couldn't fit into the current chapters :)

Originally Damian was going to find out that Marinette knows their secret in another way...lol he was gonna get badly injured as Robin and Marinette saves him but reveals she knows his identity

***

2:51 a.m. Marinette was still awake, despite the kwamis telling her off. She found herself having excess energy that night, so she decided on sketching under the yellow desk lamp with some music on. All was calm and peaceful until her phone buzzed.

Damian: Hello

Damian: Are you awake? Can I call you right now?

Her keyboard popped up for the reply, but more messages came in.

Damian: You're probably sleeping

Damian: ...

Damian: sorry

Damian: I shouldn't have bothered

Damian: sweet dreams, Marinette

Smiling, she went ahead and pressed the call button. When it took him several rings to answer, she pictured a panicked Damian fumbling to answer his phone.

"What's up?" She asked.

"Did I wake you?" His warm voice filled her ears. "Sorry . . ."

"No, no, I was awake. Couldn't sleep." Marinette propped her legs up on her chair, tucking them to her chest. She saw a groggy Tikki peek out of her small blanket but she waved the kwami off to go back to sleep. "Is something the matter?"

"No, I . . . I was just lying in bed and got the sudden urge to talk to you," Damian recounted. "Is that strange?"

Marinette brought the back of her hand to her reddened cheek. This boy. "I think that means you miss me, Damian," she laughed. "How was patrol?"

"It went smoothly. We disrupted a smuggling operation and put Riddler back in Arkham. You? What were you doing?"

"Ah just drawing out some ideas. Nothing too important." Snuggled in her blanket under the calm night and talking to Damian was like a tight embrace, Marinette realized. "I hope you didn't push yourself too hard."

A scoff sounded out from Damian. "Father threatened to bench me when I chased after the Riddler. The others kept watching me like I'll disappear into thin air."

"They're just worried about you, you know. As they should be."

"I only need you to worry about me." A long pause. Then a long sigh. "Sorry, I . . . I don't know why I said that."

Marinette hummed, feeling more heat crawl under her skin. "It's alright. They say your inhibitions are looser at night, especially when you're tired. But it's okay to be vulnerable; it's just me."

"What do you mean by that? 'It's just you'?"

"I mean I understand that you're being honest about whatever you say to me right now. I won't judge you for it. I won't even bring it up tomorrow if that's what you want." She pressed her phone closer to her ear. "I don't want you to feel that you need to keep something to yourself just because it's me hearing your words."

". . . How come you always say the right thing?"

"I guess it's my forte?"

"What if I can't say the right things?"

"Just talking to you like this is enough for me," Marinette said. "I can be the one good with words, and you can be the one good with actions. You always are."

"That's not fair at all. You are also good with actions."

That elicited another laugh from her. "But you are very good at taking care of people through your gestures. Not a lot can do that."

"You're the only one who has ever said that."

"'Cause I'm the only one who notices."

Soon, whilst they talk, Marinette noticed that he was mumbling the ends of his words. Later on when she finished her amusing story about a deal with a client, she didn't hear a reply, but instead, light snoring at the other end of the line.

He sounds so relaxed. Now she had the urge to look at his sleeping face.

"Good night, Damian," she whispered. "I miss you too."

[theanxiousghostartist]

TMA SPOILERS BELOW

(Fanart)

I miss her ):

Drawing of Sasha, that turned more sad than I expected because this song came up on my playlist as I was sketching.

Originally, I was just going to post this as the drawings, but I ended up drawing a Polorid frame and making up a story for the photo (plus making myself sad lol).

The story:

It's June, and the Archives Team are having a bonding day, scheduled by Tim (who forced Jon along) at a local park. Tim brought his camera to take some photos to commemorate the day and was attempting to force Jon into a photo shoot when he left it on the bench he and Sasha were sitting on. Sasha stole the camera and started taking some photos. Tim didn't realize until he went through them the following day and printed this one out as it was his favorite. He had it sitting on his desk, near his computer. That was until Prentiss attacked. After Sasha died, the photo started changing, as well as everyone's (besides Melonie) memory of Sasha. This is the process of it fading into Not!Sasha.

I tried to add a lot of hidden details in these drawings!

The lighting changes from green to red when Sasha starts to fade to represent the Eye losing power over her to the Stranger.

Her jacket is red and her shirt is green to represent the Stranger and the Eye, the entities she was aligned with/marked by.

Her necklace has the pan flag on it as a nod to my headcanon that's she pan.

On the Polorids, the date 7/6/16, references the year she died (2016), and 7/6 references episode 76 - The Smell of Blood, when Melonie first brings it up to Jon that Not!Sasha isn't Sasha, and describes Sasha as tall with long hair and glasses (our only description of her in the series, I believe).

I hope you like her!! :D

🖌 IBIS Paint X (phone + finger)

⏳️ 2hrs 21 min

[odiesbun]

[ 14:22 ]

There may be errors in the text, as my native language is not English. Thank you for your likes and your request!

genre: fluff, romance

warning: established relationship, food references, getting fired from your job, Lee Know is a bit of a cunning feline, lol.

w.c: 600.

It was only the middle of your day at the office, but you were already tired and almost fighting with your boss over the unearned days off you were taking to take care of Lee Know's three cats while he was on tour and his family was away on vacation.

You sighed wearily, your back aching terribly from sitting at your laptop screen for so long, and your eyelids closing in on themselves. Many of your coworkers had gone off on their lunch breaks, while you decided to get on with your work so you could finish it a little early.

As you once again crunch your bones and stretch your back, a small box of food and a note with smiley faces, hearts, and kisses drops on the table in front of you. You open your eyes in surprise, seeing a smiling Minho in front of you, glaring into the window light with himself.

- „How did you get in here!?” - You scramble up from your chair, immediately flustered as Minho hums and kisses your forehead. - Leeno, this place is for employees only, are you aware of that?

- „I know. The evil man guard has told me that five times, but no one gets tired in front of my charm and beauty.” - Lee smirks smugly. You finally open the box of food to Minho's quiet explanations, which he says in an almost whisper.

- „I stopped by on my lunch break because I thought you needed to eat well. You've been looking tired lately.” - He runs his hand gently through your hair, making you smile, and then gently begins to massage your neck, relaxing the tense muscles.

- „Thank you...” - You smile, turning to Lee Know and sending him an air kiss. Your boyfriend pretends to catch it and puts his hand to his lips, but immediately makes a thoughtful face.

- „Have you thought about taking a few days off to rest?” - Minho raises his eyebrows, resting his hand on the table and tsking his tongue.

- „No,” you shake your head negatively. - „My boss already scolds me for the days off I took to take care of Soonie, Doonie, and Dori.”

- „Oh... Then... Then quit your job.” - Without a joke or any hint of it, Minho suggests.

- „What?” You raise your eyes at Minho in surprise, opening here in mute surprise. - „But then, I...”

- „What, you? I work, we have enough money, it's normal for a couple to have someone working alone!” - Minho's voice gets louder and more confident, drawing the attention of the remaining staff, but he doesn't care at all. You sigh, pursing your lips and realizing that Minho has a point.

***

A few days later, you proudly look at the resignation letter that will soon be placed on your principal's desk. Today, Leeno offered to meet to talk. Naturally, it wasn't about your relationship, but about your work.

- „Hi!” - Minho appears behind you, covering your eyes with his hand. - „Guess who I am?”

- „Kitten, I know it's you~” - You giggle, instantly rolling over and gently kissing his cheek. He juts out his lower lip resentfully, begging for a kiss, which you give him a moment later.

- „So, what did you want to talk about?” - You smile, locking your fingers together. Minho pauses for a moment, choosing the right words.

- „There's a spot open in our company... Wouldn't you like to be my manager? Then we could talk more often and you could even go on tours with me!” - The boy claps his eyes enthusiastically, splashing his hands and talking about all the advantages of such a job. You rub your chin thoughtfully.

- „What if I don't get the job?”

- „Nope, you will, you will! And besides... I can get the boys to ask them to pick you.” - Minho smirks slyly, dragging you to the nearest bench to sit down.

- „But that's not fair” - you smile, making Lee Know's heart melt and his knees buckle.

- „But we'll be together~” - Minho stretched out sweetly, kissing you.

[le-trash-prince]

Do I know how perspective or rendering work no I fucking do not. Anyways here’s Perihelion’s student bunkroom.

I’ll be honest, I initially envisioned two-tier bunk beds because I assumed that’s just what all bunk beds were. But after reviewing the text, it didn’t seem to fit the description, and it turns out a bunk bed can just be a bed that’s attached to the wall. We learn something new every day. So here’s the foldout beds I came up with instead.

This is a room with four beds, intended for the students. We know there’s rooms with at least three beds, based on the scene with Amena/MB/Thiago in the bunkroom. It’s possible there could be more, in which case a door would be needed between every four beds. But I think it would be unlikely to have that many per room.

Anyways these activate via feed-switch. The platform at the bottom slides out from the wall. There’s drawer compartments built into the platform for storing clean bedding packs or whatever else ppl want to put in there. I wanted the platform to feel like a bed frame because the implication I got from the text is that these don’t get folded back up during the day—it’s just the unoccupied rooms that have all their furniture folded up. So I wanted it to feel like a space that people could settle into.

There’s little glass shelves that slide out from the wall once the bed is deployed, where students can keep personal items. And the shelf cubby is lined with a programmable LED strip, so students can still have some light when their privacy screen is engaged. Because of the way the mattress hinges up into the wall, the bottom shelf conceals a small space. I imagine that when some students realize this, they use it to stash certain personal items, even though ART can see them doing it anyways and has probably asked some embarrassing questions in the past.

To the right of the bed is a small, concealed wardrobe. The door of the wardrobe slides into the floor. Also the wall panels are steel plated, so students can hang personal items with magnets, like the fabric wall hanging below.

The text only mentions “furniture” aside from the beds, so I took liberties here. I considered putting a desk for each student, but bevause the university is anti-capitalist, I thought they might be opposed to all-nighter cram culture, so I went with this seating area instead. Students could use this for eating/tabletop games/whatever it is the kids are doing these days. Of course they could also study here if they wanted, but it’s optional rather than being built into the design that “your room is a place for exam prep.”

I don’t know that I’ll design the classrooms at this point as there’s been zero description of them, and I probably won’t design the lab module at all (because I have zero experience with labs lol), but I like to imagine there’s places in those areas of the ship where students can study if/when they need to.

The bench slides out from the wall, and there is again a storage compartment inside it, where the bench cushion goes along with maybe cushions for the stools as well. The table folds out from the wall, along with two legs that, when folded up, blend into the grooved panel design of the walls. The stools pull straight up from the floor. And the bronze pole light hanging over the table slides in and out of the wall when the furniture is deployed.

I designed the rooms to be darker than the rest of the ship so that they would feel cozy by comparison. But I wanted it to still feel like a university spaceship, so it is much more cold and minimal than my own idea of cozy lol. Please envision the dining area as being more brightly lit than the rest of the room. Also I did not draw them but the ceiling is lined with the same indirect lighting as the rest of the ship.

There’s also a concealed compartment on the left for laundry/recycler stuff.

I included the bathroom in the layout but I am going to spend a long time thinking about fixtures and space toilets before I do anything with that.

Anyways once again thank you if you have read this far. *meme voice* interior design is my passion.

(previous post in this series)

[marichat-verse]

Mist Memories

Leo Valdez x reader for his birthday ahhhh (even though it's angsty) with a platonic/developing jason x reader cameo at the end (lmao im sorry i couldn't help myself 😭)

Based on this picture I found in pinterest + also [kinda] based on traitor by olivia rodrigo and omg i really recommend u guys listen to this edit because it reminds me so much of this fic that's been stuck in my head for MONTHS also kind of a run away with me prologue lol

Your POV

I nervously made my way across the forest until I reached a limestone cliff. I knocked on the iron door, not really expecting to get an answer.

My boyfriend has been shutting himself in Bunker 9 for the past few weeks. I stood there counting up to seven before knocking again. I knocked again two more times, until he answered in the middle of my last knock.

He removed his goggles and winced as sunlight hit his eyes. He'd grown thinner and paler, making the dark circles in his eyes more pronounced.

"Oh, Leo..." I reached out to brush a few strands of hair away from his face, but he moved away.

"What are you doing here?" He said in a monotone voice.

I moved to walk inside the Bunker, brushing off his hesitation to let me in. "I'm your partner, remember? And I'm really concerned because you're shutting yourself out lately. You know everyone's starting to worry about you. Percy asked me to check on you because you missed pegasus riding with him. Oh, and I'm pretty sure Jason's coming back from Camp Jupiter soon. I was hoping you and Annabeth could be with Piper while Percy and I hung out with Jason because it's been a little awkward since their breakup. Plus Piper wanted to tell you something—"

"Please," he said forcefully causing me to stop and look at him. "Just... Get out."

Normally, he'd shut himself from the world for a few days to work on an important project or because he was feeling really sad and he needed space. But this was getting out of hand. He had never locked me out of his life when I offered to help him. He was never this mean when he asked for space. I was not having this attitude of his.

"Okay, Leo. I tried to play nice. What is so important that you blow off all your friends for nearly a month that you can't even tell your partner, or maybe say hi to your best friend who's coming back from the other side of the country?"

He didn't say anything. He pursed his lips and avoided eye contact. I scanned he room for any signs.

It was messier than usual with all the crumpled paper scattered on the floor, especially on his desk. He could have been drawing up new plans. Something in my gut told me that something wasn't right. There were no new unfinished projects, indicating that he wasn't starting a new invention. Harley's helicopter lay on his bench in the same state it was weeks ago. Huh, not even his siblings could enter the Bunker.

I turned and Leo was already changing Festus' oil. I took this moment of distraction to pick up a few pieces of crumpled paper on the floor and on his desk. I had to process the words a bit longer—too long that Leo took notice. Damn dyslexia.

I heard footsteps speed up behind me, but it was too late. I read enough and got the gist of what he had been trying to do these past few weeks.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He yelled at me. Small embers started to erupt between his curls.

I laughed dryly. "So this is what you've been up to?"

His fists tightened, further crumpling the paper in his hands. His eyes flashed with anger, despair and confusion.

I sighed and focused my eyes on his desk, not daring to look at him any longer. Under some pieces of paper were old photographs of him and Piper from Wilderness School. Yup, those definitely were the mist memories she had with Jason. I read the latest draft he'd been writing:

Dear Piper,

Remember the mist memories from boarding school with Jason? They were real, but they were with me.

I miss you. I miss when it was just us. I miss the night on the roof.

Yours truly,

Leo Valdez

I tried to keep my voice from cracking. "How long?"

I heard him sigh. "Three weeks."

I balled my fists. Tears started to fall and smudge the ink. I wiped them away as fast as they came.

"How?"

"In a dream," his tone softened now. "Hera came to me in a dream and told me to check an old drawer in Bunker 9. I found the photos and the memories came rushing back."

"How long were you dating back then?"

"Two weeks."

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

Silence; then a deep breath.

"No."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Why?"

"Because I knew you'd get upset like—"

"I meant why would you throw away months of our relationship for a couple of weeks of your relationship with her? And without even bothering to tell me? Gods damn it, Leo. We've been together since you've first arrived at camp. And what about those promises you made when we were sailing to Greece? You've been keeping these feelings away from me and you've been lying to me, making me believe that there's still something between us and—"

"Oh, calm down," he said with an annoyed expression and tone, which only infuriated me more, "it's not like I did anything were her yet! I didn't kiss her or tell her how I truly felt for her! She just got out of a relationship with Jason around the same time I had that dream. I had to figure out how to talk to her about it. I've been alone in this Bunker for three. Fucking. Weeks. I didn't cheat on you."

"Oh, and that makes everything better?" I countered. "Being in a relationship isn't about not cheating, Leo. It's about being honest and communicating with each other."

"Oh, like you've been communicating with me? After the war, you take go back to Manhattan for school, and you take a job. I haven't seen you much during the holidays because work has been keeping you in the city. And you won't tell me what you even do for a living!"

I took in a deep breath. "I told you I needed to have a life outside of camp! I needed to know first that I could handle myself in the mortal world as a normal human being. I needed this demigod part of my life to be separate as much as possible! I've been in two wars, Leo. I needed time to myself, too. And I was about to tell you guys in a few more days. But I guess now, I'm glad I've kept you out of that part of my life. At least I have an escape from all of this. And now, especially from you."

I took another deep breath and walked to the door, about to let myself out. I turned back again, both our tear-stained eyes meeting each other.

"If it makes you feel any better," I said softly, "I would've hated the idea of us breaking up. But if you really love her, if you really feel like you have this special connection to her and she makes you happy, then I won't get in your way. You could at least have had the decency to talk to me so we could have left on a good note."

He looked at me with wide eyes, clearly regretting his actions. I sighed and looked around the Bunker, possibly for the last time. Lots of memories were definitely created in this room; all just as grand and meaningful as the inventions they made here. But just like some of Hephaestus' contraptions, some of them were flawed and dumped in his scrapyard, no matter how much potential it could have had.

"Goodbye, Leo."

I sat on a rock on the beach that gave me a beautiful view of Long Island Sound. To my left, the sun started to set, casting an orange filter on everything. My heart broke, remembering how everything glowed orange in the Bunker. Leo always left the fires burning when he was working. The sunlight twinkling against the sea reminded me of how small bits of flame peaked through his hair earlier. I remembered how mad he was at me. Or maybe he was mostly mad at himself.

"Hey."

I jumped when someone sat—or rather, landed—beside me. I turned and smiled, seeing one of my good friends back at camp.

"Hey, you're back," I said weakly. "How long have you been here?"

He smiled at me, although he could maybe sense that something was wrong. "Half an hour, maybe? I saw Annabeth making plans to expand camp to have a city. She made me do an aerial inspection and I told her I'll get back to her tonight. That's when I saw you."

"Mhmm," I mumbled, not really knowing what to say. It was silent for a few minutes before I spoke up again, knowing he was just waiting for me to open up.

"I broke up with Leo."

His head quickly turned to me. I guess he wasn't expecting it to be that bad. "What?"

"Oh yeah," I laughed dryly. "Turns out the mist memories Piper had in Wilderness School with you? They were real. But not with you."

His eyes widened. "Oh... With Leo."

"He locked himself in the Bunker for weeks trying to write a letter. It was heartbreaking. Like, truly heartbreaking. He wanted to tell her how much he missed her and how much he missed them. Then he said how much he missed that night with her under the stars and... It hurt. Like hell."

"Oh," he said. "I guess Piper didn't tell me everything then."

"She knew all along?"

He shook his head. "Maybe not everything, but she told me she's been confused about her feelings lately and she'd been having visions or dreams of possible old memories that were messing with her head."

"I'm sorry about you and Piper," I said.

"Don't be," he said. "I understand her. It did hurt, though. But I think I can get over it some day. We're still awkward around each other, but at least we left on a good note."

I scoffed. "Leo couldn't even give me a good ending to our relationship."

"Hey," he said as he put a hand on my shoulder. "You're a great person, y/n. You've done so much, especially for him. It's his loss that he was stupid enough to let go of you."

"I know that."

"Do you really?"

"I do!" I said. "I'm a great person and I know that. But that doesn't mean what he did doesn't hurt me."

"I know," he said. "You'll find someone who'll treat you like the queen that you are. You're a great person, and I'm not just saying this to cheer you up. I truly think you're amazing."

I smiled at him. "Thanks, Jason. And you'll find someone great, too. Maybe not as great as me but, then again, who is?"

We both let out a laugh. The conch sounded in the distance, signaling dinner. I moved to stand up before hearing Jason speak up again.

"Hey, do you maybe want to just grab a couple of plates and eat out here?"

I smiled. "Yeah. That sounds good. I don't really want everyone else hounding me about the breakup right now."

I don't know how long it was going to take me to get over Leo. We really did gave something special. It was cruel how the universe gave me something so good, to make me have hope that something was finally going right, then have it yanked away from my arms just as suddenly as it came.

He never cheated on me, but that didn't mean he didn't betray every promise we made to each other. I should have known it was too good to be true. Life has always played cruel jokes on me.

Then again, who's to say that things won't turn out for the better, right?

•••

Tagging: @drvrslcense @bubblybubbubs @dreamerball @quteez @aesthetxcimagines @chasingpj @beingleft @wadewilsonsgreatestfriend

[dont-you-dare-imagine]

Lila with a female s/o that like to try and impress them. Thats it. I'm just gay for lila-

lila with a gf who just wants to impress her

summary: the request! she/her pronouns for the reader!

words: 1,220

warnings: some lying?? they kiss once? it implies that the reader isn’t good at art and there’s definitely some self-doubting, but nothing super warning worthy. let me know if you catch anything that should be added!

a/n: okay okay okay… so i’ve had covid like a million times in the passed few months and my mental health has been pretty ass so i’m so sorry for not being active! but i swear, i’m back now and better than ever (kinda lol)

You’d had a massive crush on Lila for so long. You were madly in love. Head over heels. So when SHE asked YOU out first, you were shocked. She was so perfect in your eyes, and it baffled you that she had chosen you when she could literally pull anyone she wanted to. Now, you’d been dating for a couple weeks, and you’d never been happier! Lila was the girl of your dreams. You couldn’t ask for anything more. But you often found yourself wondering… could SHE ask for more? Did she deserve more? You weren’t the richest, or the most talented, or the coolest, in your eyes at least. So you often doubted yourself. You decided at the very beginning of your relationship that you just needed to impress her. Her opinion was one of the only ones that mattered to you. She needed to think you were good enough.

One day you and Lila were walking through the halls at school, and there was some art work on the walls near the art room. “That art is lovely!! Don’t you think, babe?” Lila asked as she stood there admiring the different shapes and colors. It was abstract art, it couldn’t have been that hard to make. That’s when an idea struck you. “Yes! This artwork is okay… but I’m pretty good at this kind of art too! It’s called… abstacks?” You said. More like asked. You weren’t in to art! But she was obviously impressed by art. So now, you were an art expert. “Don’t you mean abstract, dear?” She asked, giggling. “Right! Sorry, I just can’t talk today!” you exclaimed as you nervously laughed. “I didn’t know you were into art! Maybe after our date tomorrow when I drop you off I could come inside and see some of your pieces! If that’s okay with you, of course.” She said, taking your hand and starting to walk again. “Um… sure!” you said through your teeth, wondering what made you think it was a good idea to say yes. “Great!” Lila said, squeezing your hand. “Well, my rides here! I should get going. I’ll see you tomorrow!” She exclaimed as she started to walk towards her car. You simply waved, scared to open your mouth again incase you decided you could sculpt too, or something.

After Lila had left, you were sitting alone on one of the benches inside the school, left to your own thoughts. The same one kept repeating in your mind- What. Were. You. Thinking. You made your way to the door of the art room again, staring at all of the art on the walls. Even though it was abstract, you knew it took some talent. Just a couple weeks ago in art class you’d learned about it, and it wasn’t as easy to make as it seemed. You went inside the room, and sat down at one of the easels. You started drawing shapes and lines, coloring randomly. When you stepped back to take a look… it was terrible. Not good enough for Lila. So you tried again. And again. And again. And again. Until you sat down at one of the desks, and fell asleep.

You woke up a couple hours later to the ringing of your phone. It was dark outside now. You picked up, and it was your mom, wondering where the heck you were this late at night. You glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was almost 10 o’clock at night. You gathered your things, grabbed the first canvas you could, and started to run home. When you got home, you went straight to bed and lied there, scared for tomorrow. You know that none of your pieces were good enough for your girlfriend. You didn’t even know which of your pieces you’d grabbed.

The sun came up the next morning, and you sat up quickly in your bed as your alarm clock started going off. You thought last night had been a dream, until you looked to your bedside table and saw a canvas leaning face down against it. You had to hurry to get to school, so you still didn’t get to check which canvas you ended up grabbing. You grabbed an apple for breakfast as you walked out your door, shouting a quick good morning and goodbye to your family.

All day at school, time had seemed to pass slower than ever. Instead of eight hours, school felt like it took eight years. Finally, the last bell rang at around 3 o’clock, and you walked to the front of the school to meet Lila. You sat on the same bench as last night, worried about how your date would go. When you saw Lila walking down the stairs, you shot out of your seat and ran to meet her. She hugged you, asked you about your day, and then the two of you were off to find Andy’s ice cream cart.

After eating your ice cream, the two of you caught a movie, and took the long way back to your house so that you could watch the sun set and the stars and moon appear. When you finally reached your front door, you prayed that Lila had forgotten about the whole art thing. Just when you thought you were in the clear, she piped up. “Oh! Didn’t you have some art you wanted to show me, love?” Dang it. “Oh, um, yeah! Just, um, let me go get it!” You stumbled over your words as you ran up the stairs to your bedroom and quickly flipped over the canvas. What you saw was almost worse than one of the paintings you’d made. The canvas was blank. You had no art to show Lila. Now, she’d think you were lame AND a liar.

You ran back downstairs and saw Lila still on your front porch. “Where’s your art?! I cant wait to see it!” She said, jumping up and down. When she saw you were empty-handed, her face dropped and she stopped hopping. “What happened?” she asked, seeing the frown on your face. “Lila, I’m not good at art, okay? I’m sorry that I’m not good enough. Maybe you should be with someone who’s more talented, okay? I can’t do art.” You hugged her tightly as you started to cry. “Are you okay? Why would you have to be good at art for me to be with you?” She questioned, laughing a little in shock. “Because! You said the art was cool yesterday so I tried to make some too and tell you that I was good at it so that you’d think I was cool because you’re so cool and you deserve the best and that’s just not-“ She cut off your rambling with a quick kiss, and then started speaking. “Babe, you don’t need to be something you’re not. You might not be good at art, but I don’t care! I don’t care what you’re good at. You’re a good person and I enjoy being around you! Not because you’re good at art, or something, just because you’re you! Okay? You are the best. If anything, I don’t deserve YOU.” She hugged you again, and you took a deep breath. Maybe things were going to be okay after all.

anddd that’s a wrap! thank you so much for reading and please feel free to request something!! my inbox is empty! i write for miraculous, encanto, marvel, descendants… go check out my pinned post for the full list!

[infjsnightmare]

How You Met: Guild Style

A/N: Hello! This one was so much more difficult to write. I think maybe I just don't have as good a grip on the personalities of the guild so much. Lol. So, this might have a bit more OOC than the other two. Also, I flip-flopped for a while and decided not to include Francis since he is canonically married, but if anyone wants me to, I can probably include him on the same one that I include any other extraneous characters on. With that out of the way, I sincerely hope that you like this! Feedback of any kind is always welcomed and appreciated.

John: You were scanning the aisles of the convenience store, looking for any food that was on sale. Your eyes lit up when you found a tuna salad sandwich for only 99 cents. You should have enough change for this at least. All your money went to rent since being laid off and you actually hadn't eaten in two days. This was like a holy grail. Placing the sandwich in front of the large man at the register, you turned your change purse inside out. Meticulously counting each coin, you realized you only had 87 cents, which was 12 cents too short. The man scoffed taking the sandwich away as he chastised you and told you to "get a job". You were on the brink of tears when a hand came up from behind you and dropped the remaining needed change on the table. An angry looking young blond man glared menacingly at the employee as he spat at him, grabbing the sandwich and placing it in your hands.

"Why don't you get a life, jackass?"

Lovecraft: The sun was beaming hot as you lay back in the sand and let the warmth overtake you. The smell of the ocean and the distant cry of seagulls relaxed your body. You sighed, sitting up to watch the waves crash against the shore when you saw something dark begin emerging from the water. At first it looked like seaweed, but slowly a tall lanky man in a suit slowly walked up out of the water, absolutely drenched. Your eyes widened in fear as it looked like something straight out of a horror movie. You watched intently as the man walked up on to the beach aimlessly. Then he turned his head at an unnatural to look straight at you.

"Where can I get some ice cream?... It's too hot."

Lucy: You were at work, scrubbing the floors by the cash register even though your shift ended over an hour ago. You weren't going to get paid for this overtime either, but you knew you needed the job to make ends meet. Your boss also knew this, unfortunately, and took advantage of it. The manager lazily eyed you as they were laughing with a friend of theirs who had stopped by. "Put some more elbow grease into it!" You heard the teasing chirp from the idiot. You felt like a dog. Gritting your teeth, you scrubbed furiously, imagining the spot on the floor to be your manager's face. Until you were interrupted by a the voice of a young girl with a slight blush adorning her face, almost the same shade of red as her hair.

"It's really none of my business....and it's not like I care or anything...but, you shouldn't let your employer treat you like a slave."

Edgar: You were perusing the mystery section of the library and had finally settled on which book you would like to read next. Pulling it of the shelf, you tucked the book under your arm and made your way to the sitting area to give the first few chapters a quick read before deciding to borrow it for the week. When you got to the desk, you noticed that there was a printed manuscript left on the table. You set down the book you were holding in favor of the paper-clipped pages. You were delighted by the writing. It was a magnificent mystery. You were smiling from ear to ear as you read each page with fervor. You were slightly take aback at the light tugging at your clothes, looking down to see a raccoon. Followed closely behind him was an adorable man with tousled dark hair and a crimson blush over his whole face.

"Ah! My manuscript! I must have left it here, I'm so sorry!"

Mark: You were walking through your usual peaceful trail in the woods, following the path of a small creek. The crunch of dead leaves underfoot and the crisp autumn air made the atmosphere serene and enticing. You could've have lost yourself to the sounds of nature if it weren't for the the whooping and hollering that you heard further down the creek. As you drew closer, you could hear the shattering of glass breaking, followed by another victorious yell. You finally came to a small clearing, seeing a vivacious young man with bright orange hair shooting rocks at glass bottles with a sling-shot. He looked at your direction and aimed the sling shot towards you. You opened your mouth to protest when he released the stone. It whirred past your head, hitting a bottle strung up on a tree branch behind you. The man beamed with glee.

"Boom! Nailed it!"

Nathaniel: Looking out your window this morning, you felt giddy at the light dusting of snow you saw. Snow was a rarity in December and here it was, on Christmas no less. Placing your jacket on, you dashed out of your apartment to walk and see all the lights around town and the couples holding hands. It was a joyous atmosphere despite it being a minor holiday. You stopped in your tracks when you saw a tall man dressed in priestly garb, sitting and reading from a book that you could only assume was religious in nature. You'd never seen a priest before and were rather awestruck as you watched his silver hair fall in front of his glasses as he poured over his book. You didn't even look away when he stopped reading to stare back at you. Or when he cleared his throat with his brow lifted in irritation. Or even when he stood up and walked the few steps closing the distance between you. But, once he spoke, you finally felt embarrassment as your cheeks felt hot against the winter air.

"You do realize that it is particularly rude to stare, right?"

Margaret: The vending machine whirred as you selected your drink. It was sweltering out and you definitely needed the cool liquid to combat the heat during your break. You'd been moving containers off the ships all morning, so you were pretty beat by the time your break rolled around. You sat on the edge of the dock listening to the squabble between two passengers on a boat. One passenger was dressed in religious attire and seemed apathetic towards the argument. The other passenger was a tall woman dressed in a large frilly dress with a rather robust petticoat. Her honey-hair was pulled up under a sun-hat like a true southern american belle. In opposition to the man's apathy, she seemed quite fiery, eyes steeled and jaw clenched. In a huff, she marched down off the boat. The ramp led next to where you were sitting, eyeing the woman as you drank your beverage. Her eyes snapped towards you as she noticed your watchful gaze. She relaxed her her face ever so slightly meeting your eyes as she motioned towards the man on the ship.

"Bless his heart, but I swear some men just aren't raised proper."

Herman: The rain was was all you could hear as it pitter-pattered against your umbrella while you made your way back home. Your feet were walking along the slippery cobblestone sidewalk with a practiced gait. You always took this path home. The same scenes, the same faces- nothing to shake you from your daze. However, the faintest glow of white caught your attention. You rubbed your eyes with your free hand to confirm that you were, in fact, seeing a small white whale happily floating through the air and rain. You followed it in wonderment until you came across an older gentleman sitting on a bench smoking from a pipe, umbrella propped against the back of his seat. You watched as the whale twirled around. Compelled, you sat on the wet bench, next to the sun-tanned man drawing him out of his own thoughts. He gave you a wry smile as the whale danced between you.

"Care to sit and chat with a tired, old man?"

Louisa: It was a busy day. You were run ragged as you tried to complete all the errands you had scheduled for yourself today. You had already dropped off a few packages at the post office. Renewed your insurance for the year and now you were in a hurry to pick up your dry-cleaning before the store closed for lunch. You picked up your pace, reaching for the door. Only, when you opened it, an armful of bagged clothing came tumbling on top of you. With it, fell a small-framed young lady with round glasses and the cutest flustered expression you'd ever seen. Her eyes widened in shock as her face turned scarlett.

"Oh n-no! I'm so so so so sorry! Please do-don't be angry!"

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep 14: So If You Put a Fraction Into a Duel Disk, the Card Explodes

We left on quite the cliffhanger last episode, so I’ll fill you in:

I did not get the haircut.

Like I seriously considered getting a Zigfried for a cool 3 or 4 minutes there, but then I decided to wait a couple of days and I basically forgot.

But, back to the arc finale, Seto has decided to walk, not run, to the Kaiba lab in order to fix the virus rapidly eating his entire company.

I just want to point out that Zigfried went through a LOT of work to get Seto Kiaba to go “uggggh” turn around, and pretend to calmly walk away. I’m used to Seto losing his nut kind of a lot and blowing things up but this season he’s like “be chill be chill be chill” so that the entire world doesn’t think he’s a spaz on TV.

And little aside about Seto’s design choices here, I fell down a hole of interior design videos, and can I just say: apparently these wood frame things on the wall are back in style? Good on you, 2002(3?) Seto Kaiba. Don’t think that current designers are painting them purple but...we’re halfway there to Yugioh fashion.

Meanwhile, Pharaoh decides to remind everyone that these stakes are hella low. The worst that happens is that Zigfried deletes the plane that Yugi needs to fly home...which would be an impressive virus.

Like it’s hard to tell if Yami even has a solid concept of “capitalism” and whether or not he cares about or understands the makeup of Seto’s company (which up till now has operated like a small country and not a business...which is a little more Pharaoh’s understanding. Either way...hard to tell if Yami would shed two tears for the loss of Kaiba corp.)

And, despite what I say in the caps, I feel like Leon and Zigfried are the first villains we’ve ever had that Yugi and Pharaoh didn’t unintentionally disclose that they are 2 people to. Zigfried and Leon are just...completely oblivious to how effed up Yugi’s bean is. They think that’s just a normal kid and lol no dudes...y’all got distracted by Seto Kabia but you have a literal Egyptian God just hovering around in the background and dating 3 people by accident.

Like when the show shelves the main storyline, it is very funny how it’s all “And we’re gonna put the Pharaoh crisis on hold--just put a pin in it. No one will notice this child is two nervous wrecks stitched together” and then Yugi and Yami just kinda hold it in and watch all patiently until it’s their turn to get off the bench.

(read more under the cut)

In the giant computer tower, Seto Kaiba shouts out a string of orders and numbers, admired the many sonar detector looking windows open on every monitor, and then sat down at his desk to like...check the firewall, I guess?

The virus is past the firewall. It’s um...it’s inside the firewall, pretty sure that was the point, but youknow, it’s a kid’s show so they’re just throwing out computer stuff that has no meaning to the writers of this show.

Mokuba thinks fondly of how Seto Kaiba has never screwed him over (which I mean...maybe not on purpose, ((except for that one time he did screw him over on purpose to get Gozaburo Kaiba to accidentally give Seto Kaiba the company, but you could say that was a grander scheme that he knew Mokuba would see through, which...)) but Seto certainly has screwed Mokuba over accidentally. At least once.)

And meanwhile, Yami fixes everything through card shenanigans.

So here’s the shenanigan this episode: I don’t go over cards here but this one requires a limited amount of explanation.

So every round the golden castle deletes half of Yugi’s cards. So he was like...I’ll just draw down to one card. They can’t delete half a card...so that means the card must delete one of the two cards on the field which means it must delete itself.

...which is like the closest Yugioh will probably ever get to abusing a glitch to do a speedrunning tactic like GDQ.

Anyway, like I stated in the title: there are no fractions allowed in Yugioh. If you do that to your priceless one-of-a-kind card you got from winning one of Pegasus’ murder tournies, it will irreparably bust the card.

I’m sure at least one of you will correct me with the proper way to insert a fraction into your duel disk. Cuz like...as I say multiple times so we never forget, I barely pay attention to this card game and I’m just flying by the seat of my pants.

I want to say Seto and Mokuba were in the hacker chairs for like...3 minutes maybe before they realized “oh...Yugi fixed it...” and walked the half a mile back to the duel arena.

and also, as I’m looking at Seto’s glasses here, I just realized...all of Kaiba’s team wears sunglasses all the time. Inside, outside, night, or day...

They haven’t outright said this...but what if those aren’t sunglasses?

Is Roland and that other Roland wearing fancy cyber glasses? They are, right? Because they wear them indoors?

Damn, they can’t take a piss without being on call with Kaiba Corp, can they?

Now the problem is...Yugi played all of his cards (he has two in front of him face down, but none in his deck) and after milling himself, this means he’s now basically a sitting duck for Leon to take the title of “King of Games.”

Leon insists that he defend whatever scraps are left of his card honor and not duel a person who is carrying no cards and Yugi was like “COME AT ME BRO THIS IS THE ONLY WAY I KNOW I’M ALIVE.”

He didn’t even have to do a horror on Leon, he just...played cards good? I skipped it, I’ll be honest, but overall Leon’s card honor was...saved? Maybe? I mean he also go destroyed when his competitor had not a single card in his duel disk so...

...Leon will have to work on his card honor off screen because he’s pretty well humiliated at this point.

But stumbling onto the playing field like he’s half dazed/daydrunk, Zigfried is like “You forgot I already won, bastards!”

Which is when we find out that Zigfried’s “delete all” virus failed to press “enter” and deleted basically nothing. Just like when my Mom attempts to send something in Gmail but doesn’t press “Send” and tells me that Google is down and broken.

Sorry my bro has informed me that he ALSO has had to help my Mother locate the “Send” button and I just...I know she absolutely did that but I’m in denial that this Riddle of the Sphinx has happened to her multiple times.

Honestly, the pep talk we get from Leon at the end to cheer up his bro was a whole lot of “we will pick ourselves up and we’ll do better next time. Together.” and sure you can translate that as “we’ll be honest next time” or you can translate that as “next time we will be not nearly as obvious about inserting a virus into their computer until it is done doing the job, bro.”

Just like Dartz, we didn’t really get a whole lot of retribution or closure when it comes to Zigfried. But, unlike Dartz, Zigfried didn’t do too much murder, so I guess this is fine. He tried to cheat in a card game...

...and I guess tried to delete Kaiba Corp but youknow...

...people let him have that. The police saw the ticket of “this man tried to delete Kaiba Corp” and they just...didn’t arrest him. The judge saw that ticket and didn’t put out a warrant. They just let Zigfried have this, almost like “better luck next time, ya?”

And then Roland clocked out for the day and went home, thus ending this arc.

Look at all these characters, most of which we never saw duel even one card.

We also got one shot of Mai for some reason although she was not in this arc.

AAAHHHH. Every time I’m like “the show is done screwing geography” we get another freakin geography spook!

But we went back to California in order to get a scene of these guys in an airport to get a flight to Japan...

which means Rex and Weevil just...were they shipped home by the Kaibas? Because way to ditch getting arrested by the American Government, hot damn. They are...literally terrorists who destroyed a Caltrain in a plot to kill everyone in the world so like...really surprised Rex and Weevil are in public...but maybe all the FBI were dead at the time so they just didn’t know?

Meanwhile, Duke has to go back to Death Valley and call a tow truck for his car, RIP.

I sure hope he got PTO during this stunt and isn’t going home to a pink slip.

I’m not sure of Dukes life or anything going on with Duke. I’m sure the thing about Serenity is him joking because we have all forgotten about that girl by this point...but also...is Duke...still living in the Tenderloin? The crime rate is very, very high and the ground isn’t solid, so it will liquefy if there’s an Earthquake, but it is one of the few places in the Bay Area that doesn’t light on fire every year. He has that going for him.

I just really hope Duke moves out of the Tenderloin one of these days, he needs a better life.

Meanwhile, Rebecca does one last crime.

This is like a post-epidemic reaction to a hug, but in 2002(3?).

I don’t think I’ll miss Rebecca too much. Wanted to like her more, but she was under-utilized, like most of the characters on Yugioh. Not even just talking girl characters here--most characters on Yugioh are super under-utilized, just Tristan Wallflowers doing nothing, but also being selectively OP as hell about very specific things they never, ever need to do.

Speaking of the devil:

Yugi...just saved his entire company...

But Mokuba is just has to make sure to make it seem like they owed Mokuba and not the other way around. Just in case.

So off they go on this massive plane. It’s probably more to do with the length of the trip as to why the plane is so big but also...

This plane is overcompensating.

But before we analyze that, lets close the book on Seto Kaiba’s very short therapy arc. Overall, it was a nice distraction, but I can see why people call it a filler arc, as it really doesn’t affect...anything going on in the major plotlines, which makes me think it could have been a movie or a game or something. But overall, it’s not bad, it’s just not what you’d expect if you were a Western audience.

Like I’m preaching to the choir, but typically, Western stories are entirely plot focused, and so our arcs always give or take away from that plot. But in a Eastern story arc, it may instead be character focused, where the climax is a character evolving or coming to some sort of cathartic realization, which this arc was, in a big way. We still had some plot, because this is a Shonen, but overall it was about characters, and specifically whether or not Leon and his bro would reconcile or change--which they did.

We did get to see a little more growth on Seto in that he...didn’t go bonkers and hallucinate during a card game. It’s been a while since we’ve had him not do that. Seto was very chill this arc, which makes sense, it was a very chill slice of life arc for everyone involved.

So, next we move on to the next one, which bro has informed me...is

still not Bakura.

According to Bro, the next arc didn’t even air in the Japanese version of the show? Like he’s got a lot of spicy Yugioh headcanons so he could be wrong (He did tell me that he thought that Zigfried was Seto Kaiba’s ex boyfriend when he saw this as a kid which...that sure is a way to interpret this arc, and it probably wasn’t just my little brother who went down that thought tube there...)

(Bro Note: To be fair, I didn’t watch much of this arc as a kid.)

But he says the next arc was originally a movie. But they released it in the States as episodes to be part of S5, just to put more episodes in there. Which, if he’s correct, makes it seem like we’re getting like the Mulan 2 experience kind of shoved in between this arc and the next

But um..

according to bro it has virtually no card games.

.......

I’m so used to only capping 10 minutes an episode, what?

Anyway, until then, here’s the link to read the rest of these from the start in chrono order:

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

I’m kinda itching to do a Season Zero, it’s been a hot minute--so those take a little longer to do, especially since I need to go to a different site I haven’t...checked out yet...I’ll be back...eventually? I just know that at some point in Season Zero they fight it out with yo-yo’s and I want to see it.

[yeojaa]

( SWEET MAGNOLIAS. )

He was your unlikely muse;  you were the weird girl in the park.  Could you make it any more obvious?

pairing.  myg x named f!reader.  s2l.

genre + rating.   college!au.  fluff, angst, smut.  explicit. 

tags / warnings.  light cussing, yoongi being rightfully weirded out, a whole lotta softness, sadness if you squint at the right times, body painting, and then, of course, the most tender, dumbest lovemaking (unprotected but don’t be silly like them!).  there’s also a really bad callback to the titanic.  i’m not sorry.  lol.

wc.  8.2k

You try not to stare for too long, sweeping your gaze in wide circles so as to be as inconspicuous as possible.  You try not to let your eyes linger, follow the contours of his cheeks - soft, pronounced when he smiles - or the shape of his mouth - delicate, petal pink.  You try not to make it weird - but it’s decidedly, very weird.

You just can’t help yourself.

He’s always here around this time, laid out on a worn red blanket.  Sometimes, he reads.  Books like The Alchemist and the Stranger and once, Dante’s Inferno.  Other times, he pops a pair of headphones on - oversized, intimidatingly large over his ears - and closes his eyes.  Most rare of all, is when he’s not alone, joined at the hip by at least one other boy and on occasion, an entire group of six.  

They’re all interesting in their own ways.  

There’s one with shoulders the size of boulders, a mountain range situated beneath his shirts.  He has a weird laugh that sounds like windshield wipers and your mother’s spring cleaning routine.  He yells a lot and even across the lawn, you can sometimes make out his voice.

There’s the tallest one, with kind eyes and dimples so deep you question if there’s treasure buried in them.  He reads a lot, too.  You’ve seen him in the library more times than you can count, always dutifully tucked away in a back corner surrounded by scattered looseleaf.  Despite the course load he seems to have taken on, you’ve never seen him lose his cool.  You have seen him lose his phone, though, and pencils and textbooks and AirPods. 

There’s Hoseok, whose name you only know because he held your hair once at a fall sorority party.  You hadn’t been drinking but somehow, somehow, your roommate had convinced you to apple bob with her.  He’d been gracious enough to help you out, fisting your hair in a gentle grip.  It’s what spurred you to now always have an elastic on your wrist.

There’s the dancer.  He’s slight and even in stillness, far more graceful than you’ll ever be.  He’s got pillowy lips and hair that gleams like silk.  You’ve sketched him too, once or twice, but never more.  It just didn’t feel right - as if you’d never be able to translate that sort of beauty onto paper.  

There’s the one from your Art 340 Drawing II class.  You’ve wondered, on more than one occasion, how come he isn’t the model.  He’s got perfect proportions - defined jaw, strong nose, cheekbones carved from marble.  It’s almost off-putting seeing him in person;  it feels far more fitting for him to be displayed in a museum, with a plaque that reads Perfection, Mixed Media.

There’s the youngest one, Jungkook.  They call him maknae despite the fact that he dwarfs nearly all of them.  Maybe it’s just the clothes he wears:  boots that look like they’d break your neck and everything in slightly darker shades of black.  You run into him at least four times a week - trading greetings at the campus coffee shop and at the library.  You’re practically best pals by college standards. 

And then, of course, there’s him.  Your muse.  The one you can’t help but stare at - even when you’re trying your hardest not to.  The one who wears glasses though you’re almost certain he doesn’t need them.  The one whose smile is more gums than teeth, who looks unassuming and yet often breaks out into the strangest, most inspired dance moves you’ve ever seen.  The one who plays recreational basketball on Tuesday nights and who drinks more coffee than you think should be humanly possible. 

Min Yoongi.  

You sketch him like you’ll never see him again, dragging charcoal strokes across paper until your hand is muddied and the curve of his ear is looking worse for wear.  You repeat lines over and over, turning the mop of his hair into ringlets and waves, weaving dimension through the india ink that spills over his eyes.  You sometimes add his glasses;  you’re quite fond of the look on him.

You paint him sometimes, too, imagining how he’d look with periwinkle blue hair, or maybe dressed in shades of maroon.  You swath him in textured fabrics and lovely watercolours, turning him into a fantasy that’ll never see the light of day.  Pretty little daydreams with him fixed at the centre.

You fill your pages with his figure, the way he smiles when Hoseok does something silly or how he joins in when Jungkook laughs.  You study every bit and piece, learning him in every admiring way you can - despite the fact that you don’t really know him at all. 

It’s a staggering lesson in futility but one you take almost daily, armed with pencil and paper and not a single ounce of common sense. 

That is, until you’ve done the stupidest thing imaginable.  

No, not getting caught.  Not in the traditional sense, at least.  He hasn’t realised you sit on your bench - yes, your bench, with the sticky metal arm rest and illegible initials scratched into the back - and watch him almost every day.  You thank your lucky stars for that.

What you’ve done is much worse - punishable by death by embarrassment. 

You have no fucking clue where your sketchbook is. 

You could’ve sworn you had it in your bag when you’d returned to your room last night.  You can’t imagine you would’ve left it anywhere in the open, orphaning it on a campus full of idiots.  You were always so careful.  You don’t just lose things.

“I think it’s gone, girl.”  You’ve never wanted to yell at your roommate more - not even when you’d caught her and her boyfriend banging in your bed after you’d come home early on the long weekend or when she’d eaten all of your Cherry Garcia ice cream.  The desire bubbles about in your chest, fizzing angrily like an agitated soda bottle.  

“It’s here somewhere.”  The words grit between your teeth, insistent as can be.

“You’ve been looking for like, twenty minutes.”  

“It’s here.”

“I really don’t think it is…”  Jisoo doesn’t quite deserve how you explode, rounding on her with hands flying and eyes wild.  “You’re also going to be late for your class.”

Your words falter with the verbalisation of hers. 

Lucky for her;  unlucky for you. 

The hands of the clock above your desk wave at you mockingly.  You are, indeed, going to be late for your class.

“Shit!  Shit!”  Everything you’d torn out gets shoved back into your tote bag.  Band-Aids, mints, too many wayward pencils and pens.  You almost forget your phone, attention only drawn to it when Jisoo catches the strap of your backpack and yanks you back.  

“Don’t forget,”  she hums, far more kindly than your harebrained self deserves.

You forget all the reasons you’re upset with her.  “Thanks, Ji.”  You force a kiss on her cheek before you’re darting out of your room and sprinting across campus to Art 340.

“Nice of you to join us, Miru.”  It’s your professor greeting you as you run in fifteen minutes late, weaving through other students to find your seat near the far wall.  Laughter follows you, coiling around your ankles and over your shoulders as you settle into your seat, fully hidden behind the oversized easel.  

You can’t help the scarlet that paints your cheeks, creeping high across your temples.  You know no one cares - that Professor Kinsella is probably the most laidback professor you’ve had in your four semesters - but it can’t be stopped.  You’re already flustered from temporarily misplacing your sketchbook that everything else just feels like shit icing on your garbage cake.

“Sorry!”  It squeaks out - a mouse, eaten up wholly by cat-ate-the-canary laughter that sounds over your shoulder and not very quietly.

“Having a bad day?”

You’ve heard the voice a handful of times so it shouldn’t shock you the way it does, nearly knocking the graphite from your hand.  

“What?”

Kim Taehyung’s on the edge of his chair, one long leg stretched toward you, the other balanced across his knee.  You’re not sure how that’s meant to be comfortable but he makes it look effortless.  Then again, looking like him, living probably was effortlessly.  You can’t deny you’re a little envious. 

“Your face is all red.  You’re out of breath.  Feels like a bad day to me.”

You try not to dwell on the fact that, apparently, you look like an absolute mess.  “No, I’m good.”  It sounds fake even to your ears, tinny and wrought with anxiety.  

“You sure?”  He’s not really paying attention to you as he speaks, tracing the contours of the model across his canvas.  He begins where you’d never think to, framing the main masses with a languid twist of his wrist.  Unlike you, he doesn’t get caught up in the detail;  he sees the bigger picture for all it is, building from the outside in.   

You’re watching him for longer than you realise, whipping back around once it dawns on you.  “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“Who knows.”  There’s a playfulness in his tone that sets you on edge.  You’ve never heard it before, all rounded vowels and molasses laughter.  You mean to work as you listen, waiting for some indication of whatever lies just beneath the surface.

It’s a mistake.  Your stick of charcoal snaps in half when he continues, low and slow as if he’s dragging it out.

“—maybe you lost a sketchbook?” 

“Did you say…”  You can’t finish the sentence.  You feel like you’re about to be sick.  

The amount of mischief in his expression should be illegal.  It’s dancing in his eyes, curling wide and unabashed over his lips.  It’s practically radiating off of him.

“So, bad day?”  

He waits for you to pack up, hands tucked into the endless pockets of his black slacks.  At any other time, in any other universe, you’d be giddy.  Girls on campus would kill for even a second of Taehyung’s attention.  

(It’s true - you’d heard a group of them talking about it one time.)  

Here and now, you want to sink six feet under.

“They’re really good, you know.”  As if the compliment will dull the mortification that threatens to cleave you in half.  “You’re really good at capturing his boredom.  That’s not easy.”

“Thanks.”  You should make conversation;  it’s the polite thing to do.  

After all, he was kind enough to find and return your sketchbook.  Better him than someone else, right?  Better him than Yoongi himself?  That’s what you tell yourself, at least.  

Yoongi doesn’t know and therefore, it’s okay.  Semi okay.  Distantly related to the idea of okay.

As if he can read your mind, Taehyung speaks gently, with a hand that burns through the linen of your blouse.  You know he means well but it sears white hot, eviscerating your nerve endings.  “You have nothing to worry about.  I didn’t tell him.”

You don’t answer him.  There’s nothing to say - not really.  You’re far too lost in your own thoughts to acknowledge the effort he’s making.  Maybe this was life’s way of telling you to back off - to find another person to paint.  

Or maybe it’s brought you two together, says the silly, naive angel on your shoulder.

You’re ready to flick her off - launch her like some kind of poor Tinkerbell - when your name catches your attention.  It’s announced so dramatically that you double take, making sure you haven’t completely run through a picnic or accidentally slammed into someone. 

“This is Miru.” 

Cognisance comes slow and unhurried, even as your stare swivels wildly in search of context clues. 

Laid out before you, right under that familiar magnolia tree, is one blanket, three bodies, and enough takeout to last you an entire week.  

“Ohf, phey!”  With cheeks stuffed full, it’s hard to make out the two syllables.  They crowd against each other, offered in a garbled mess that has you regarding Jungkook with a mixture of concern and confusion.  He’s swallowing thickly before he rises far too quickly;  you watch a forgotten piece of kimbap go flying, lost to the dirt and bugs.  “Sorry.  Hi.”  

“Do you want to join us?”  It’s the angelic one, fitted with cherubic cheeks and a rounded Cupid’s bow.  “I’m Jimin, by the way.”  He pats the empty space beside him, eyes waning into crescents with the force of his friendliness.

Taehyung had asked if you wanted to grab dinner but you’d never imagined he meant this. 

You’ve never been subtle but you try your damnedest to peek at him from your periphery.  Unfortunately for you, he’s already sat down, fully made himself comfortable beside the last member of the group.

The one who, for all intents and purposes, appears as if he’d rather be anywhere but here.  If looks could kill, you think.  

“Don’t worry about him,”  Jimin says, so sweetly, with a small bento lid held towards you.  It’s already stacked with goodies - a selection of banchan and homemade-looking meatballs sitting alongside a poorly-shaped mound of rice.  “Sometimes, he gets like this.”  

You want to believe it.  Really, you do, but by the way Yoongi’s mouth curls in distaste, all signs point to it being a matter of you rather than a mood.

“Maybe if she respected peoples’ privacy, I wouldn’t have an issue.”

It’s a single sentence quietly spoken and yet it feels like an open-palm slap to the face.  Heat radiates over every visible inch, starkly coloured in contrast to the white of your top.  It burns as it licks over your cheeks and past your temples, tipping your ears. 

“I’m so sorry.”  It isn’t clear who you’re apologizing to, the words tumbling wet off your tongue like a waterfall.  

You’re gone before anyone can ask.

“That was a dick move.”  Jungkook is the first to break the silence, levelling his friend with a disapproving stare.  He’s not used to this side of him - the one that can tear a person apart with just a few words.  It’s not the Yoongi he knows.  It’s not really Yoongi at all.

“Yeah, hyung.”  It’s thinner, but just as reproachful.  “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

Yoongi’s laugh is dismissive but he won’t meet anyone’s stare - a tell-tale sign that he’s just a little affected by their words - choosing instead to shovel bites of soondae into his mouth.  “Mean what?  Invading my privacy?”

“She’s an artist.”  Taehyung doesn’t mean it as an excuse but by how Yoongi bristles, he’s certain the senior takes it as such.  Before the argument can begin, he continues, all while wrapping a piece of samgyupsal in lettuce.  “I doubt she meant any harm, so just cut her some slack.”  Fringe is flicked away from his eyes, something sparkling in the pretty brown of his irises.  “I’d actually be flattered, if I were you.”

“Then you be her model.”

You haven’t drawn in four days.  Well, not really.  

You’ve completed what you need for classes, filling your books with mandatory figures and notes on colour theory.  You’ve diligently mapped out proportions and brought to life sunsets and sceneries.  You’ve done everything you should be doing but nothing that you want to be.

It just doesn’t feel right.  Not anymore.

“I hear he’s a really nice guy.”  You can’t count how many times Jisoo has tried to cheer you up.  From picking up your favourite ice cream (the one she tends to devour anyway) to ordering in fried chicken, she’s been the picture perfect roommate.  It only makes you feel that much worse.

You were moping over something that was your fault.  And she had to pick up the pieces!  It seemed wildly unfair but when you’d told her to stop - insisted upon it with a wail into your pillow - she’d simply shook her head and wrapped you in her arms.  

For all of your stupid, silly little rows, Kang Jisoo was the best roommate you’d had in your entire university career.

“Just go outside.”  She’s perched on the edge of her bed, painting her toes a brilliant shade of neon green.  She’d offered to do yours too, but you’ve more or less refused to leave the comfort of your burrito blanket for anything beyond classes or food.  “You can’t avoid him forever.”  

“I can try,”  you mumble, words lost to the cotton of your sheets.  

Try - and fail, it seemed.  You’d already run into him twice.  Twice!  Even after you’d started taking absurdly long roundabout routes to your classes, the universe had conspired against you.  

The first time he’d been walking out of the gym, shoulder to shoulder with another upperclassmen you didn’t recognize.  You’d seen him coming from a mile away thanks to his obnoxiously bright Lakers jersey and you’d booked it back the way you’d come, nearly mowing down a couple making kissy faces at each other in front of the lecture hall.  

The second time was yesterday afternoon.  You’d thought he’d be in his usual spot - so close to your usual spot - that you’d gone to the coffee shop for a midday pick-me-up.  Even embarrassed, you weren’t about to suffer a caffeine deficiency.  You’d rounded the corner in the same instance he had and you’d sworn he’d seen you, recognition flickering across his face.  Fortunately, there’d been a door directly to your right and you’d all but thrown yourself inside.

It was the first and hopefully last time you’d be in a men’s washroom.

“I thought you were tougher than this,”  Jisoo hums, equal parts disapproval and kindness.  She levels you with a stare - you can feel it burning into your fortress of blankets - and sighs.  It’s a bit dramatic, you think.  

“Tell me you wouldn’t be doing the exact same thing!”

Then again, she’d probably never be stupid enough to lose something so important nor would she fixate so heavily on one person.  Your point still stands.

“Seriously, girl.”  

Her nail polish bottle bounces off your bed, tumbling to the floor with a quiet thump.  You look up in time to see her staring at you imploringly, so wide-eyed and innocent you can’t help but be a little suspicious.  “What?”

“I wanted to have Andy over.” 

It all falls into place then.  Her boyfriend’s in a frat and your (poor) dorm room is the only place they have any sort of privacy.  It makes you want to gag but you can’t blame her.  You’ve always had an unspoken agreement;  you’d just tossed it out the window the past few days. 

Guilt prompts you to extract yourself from your duvet, though you don’t stop the chorus of gross, gross, gross! as you begin gathering your things.  You almost leave your sketchbook, only opting to tuck it under your arm at the last minute.  

“Please, please, don’t use my bed this time.”

“We love you!”  She sing-songs as you tug your sneakers on and slip into the hallway.

You’re at a different bench across campus when you hear the voice.  It comes from behind you and to your left, accusatory and sharp.  You nearly jump out of your own skin, toppling over your water bottle and plastic paint palette. Orange watercolour soaks into the material on your thigh.  Dammit. 

“Are you following me?”

Min Yoongi stands not three feet from you, arms folded over his chest.  

Your heart stutters at the sight of him.  It’s hard to speak when it feels like it’s leapt into your throat.  

“What?”  You hate how you sound - a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.  You have nothing to be ashamed of.  At least, not right now.  You’d come all the way here, as far from the magnolia tree and red blanket as you could.  

“I said—”  His words are glacial and biting.  It’s suddenly winter, far chillier than spring should be.  You wish you’d brought a sweater or maybe, that the ground would open up and swallow you whole.  You can’t be cold when you’re dead.  “—are you following me?”

“Of course not!”  

There’s nothing but disbelief in his expression.  It paints itself in broad strokes, prominent in the shadows beneath his eyes and the curl of his mouth.  He says nothing.  

“Really.  I’m not.”  You’re insistent, apologetic.  Every nerve ending is shot, going haywire beneath your skin and lighting you up in shades of red.  The tips of your fingers are tingling.  “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”  You wonder if he’s baiting you now.  

“For…”   Words are cherry-picked and perfect, chosen with a shaking head and the utmost care.  “I shouldn’t have drawn you without asking.”

“No shit,”  he returns, completely deadpan.  He’s really not making this any easier.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,”  you continue, a little hopeful and a lot bashful.  “I just— I don’t get inspiration like this that often.  So I couldn’t let it go.”  You don’t need to add what you do, but you do so anyway, because you’ve never been great at making good choices.  “Your face is really unique and when you’re happy, it’s just so expressive and your smile is—”

There’s a siren blaring in your ears.  A red alert going off so loudly you almost miss the way he laughs.

It’s not the same one he offers to his best friends - far more reserved, exceedingly softer - but it’s there and it’s real and you don’t think you’ll ever forget this moment. 

“You’re laughing.”

He stops immediately.  Fair.

“I’m sorry.”  Again.  More.  Draped in apology and optimism that peeks out between your teeth and shines in the dark of your stare.  “Even though I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I did, and for that I’m sorry.  Really, really sorry.  Please don’t hate me.”

It’s hard to read him, even after you’ve spent hours studying his face.  There’s a distinct difference between seeing someone and knowing them, you realize.  You might be able to map out every wrinkle of his eyes - replicate every dot and freckle - but you have no idea what it all means or how it comes together to create something more. 

Silence fits between the two of you for what feels like a long time.  It’s not uncomfortable, though, so you allow it to settle.  You figure it’s better than his anger, in any case.  

“You could’ve just asked me.”

You can’t wipe the disbelief from your face.  “Would you have said yes?”

Yoongi shrugs, a small roll of his shoulders beneath the oversized sweater that dwarfs his frame.  “Don’t know, but I would’ve appreciated it.”  

Because that’s really what it came down to - the thought, not the action.  He’s not entirely sure you understand that yet but he’s willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.  Blame his softening on the steady repetitions Taehyung and Jungkook have made the past few days.  You were lucky to have them in your corner - even if that meant they’d been a thorn in his side.   

“Then… can I sketch you?”  You’re probably (read: definitely) pushing it.  You can’t help it. 

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or scoff at your audacity.  He decides on the former, with a shake of his head that swings his bangs across his forehead and a small, private smile.  “Maybe next time.” 

“Next time?”  You imagine he can’t hear you as he’s backing away and disappearing the way he came.

“See you tomorrow.”

True to his word, Yoongi lets you draw him the next time you see him (and the next time and the time after that). 

It’s different - working off someone who knows they’re being studied.  He holds himself a little more stiffly, a little more carefully.  His laughter isn’t quite as loud, his smiles more forced.  He apologises, even though he doesn’t need to.  

Even his untrained eye can see how you struggle to bring life to a robot. 

Over time, though, it comes - comfort. 

Like the quietly burning coals that melt him down from the inside out, he begins to warm up to you.  It comes slowly but it comes nonetheless, as steady as the sun.  You appreciate his effort - his patience - more than you can ever say.  

You know he gets it, though.  He always does.  It’s a Yoongi thing. 

“You can relax.” 

It’s just the two of you, swathed in sweat and waning light that casts shadows across his cheeks.  The days are longer than they’ve ever been and the both of you tend to lose track of time, spending hours under that magnolia tree. 

“I am relaxed,”  he returns, sinking further onto his back, elbows hardly acting to prop him up.  He’d been engrossed in a novel for the first half of the afternoon.  Another book you’d never bothered to read outside of high school English class.  You never really understood it - you much preferred to watch than read - but you loved when he’d recite the words to you, clear and bright and better than any melody.

“You’re trying to stay awake.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“No.  You’re just as good of a model when you’re sleeping.” 

The smile is lazy, hazy like Sunday morning.  It reveals his gums and ticks higher on the left side.  It makes your heart skip a beat.  

“Go ahead then,”  he continues.  The entirety of his body sags, drops onto the bag he likes to use as a makeshift pillow.  You don’t imagine it’s all that comfortable but he never complains.

“If you’re tired, we can just head in, you know.”  

You always offer.  He never says yes. 

A part of you thinks he likes the attention.  It’s different from what he receives from anyone else - thoughtful and careful.  You think he might like the quiet, too.  The benefit of quality time without any of the effort.  

So you push on, charcoal edge meeting paper once more.   “Just another twenty minutes.”

“Why me?”  

The enquiry comes one day, completely out of the blue.  It skips your heart and breaks the pastel in your fingers, dust chalking them a lovely shade of lilac.  

“What?”  You’re not ready for how close Yoongi is - much closer than he ever is - and you shift back, away from the face you’ve spent months filling your sketchbooks with.  “Why you what?”

He’s completely nonchalant as he moves even closer.  

You can smell his cologne - a distinctly masculine fragrance that’s musk and cedar - and the coffee he’s been nursing for the last hour.  It fills your senses, recentring all of your focus so intensely that you don’t immediately recognise he’s continued speaking.

“Why’d you choose to draw me?  Why not someone else?”  He seems genuinely curious, even though it feels dangerous - a dangling string that’s meant to unravel you.

The answer doesn’t come easily, despite the fact it’s something you’ve asked yourself.

Why him?  Why Min Yoongi?

“I don’t know,”  you answer, perhaps too honestly.  “I saw you and it sort of… just clicked.”  How it sounds doesn’t escape you - like something plucked out of a bad romance novel.  “I didn’t expect it to be you.  I thought I’d draw you once - okay, twice - and then I’d move onto another subject.  But I just… couldn’t?”  

“So, what you’re telling me is it was love at first sight?”  It’s glaringly obvious he’s teasing you.  He’s got that grin of his, sly and feline as it creeps across his mouth.  

You don’t bristle, instead painted bright red like the sunset that streaks across the sky.

“I— I wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, you didn’t say otherwise.”

It’s an uncomfortable line of questioning.  You’re not used to it and certainly not from him.  You hesitate to speak, turning words over and over on your tongue in an effort to make yourself clear.  

You’re not weird.  You don’t want this to be weird.  But you can’t deny - it’s, decidedly, still very weird.

He tries again - a different tactic this time.  One that surprises you, despite the unique friendship you’ve forged over the past few months.  “What if I told you I was glad?” 

“Glad?”  It feels like an echo chamber.  Repetition.  As if you’re going in circles, chasing a tail that remains just out of reach.  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“What if I told you I’m happy we met?”  

Your blink is owlish, fully caught off-guard.  “I’d say the same thing.  I’m happy we’re friends.”

Amusement rolls off him in waves, evidenced by the laugh that curls into the afternoon.  He shimmies closer and closer until there’s barely three inches between you.  His knee knocks against yours, bony and denim-clad.  You try to ignore the way it burns through your own jeans, sparking heat all the way up to the tips of your ears and down into the soles of your feet.

“What if I told you I don’t want to be just friends anymore?”  

It’s not a surprise, really.  It’s something that’s been on your mind the past few weeks, sown by offhand comments and little gestures you haven’t been able to ignore.  Jungkook had even practically shouted it at you just the other night.

“I’d say…”  You trail off, lost somewhere among the constellations in his eyes.

“You’d say?”  The words are parroted back at you, threaded together by gossamer thin hope. 

“I’d say you’re welcome.  For choosing you.”  The confidence isn’t your own.  It comes from him, crafted by the support he offers easily, hands out like keys.  Keys to his heart, you realise belatedly, with a sudden bashfulness.  Of course.

He can’t wipe the smile from his face.  It eats up every inch, dominating even the playfulness that shines through, turning it the prettiest shade.  It stands bright against his cheeks, staining the pale apples red.  “That’s it?”  

“What do you want me to say?”

You’re suddenly very determined - because you want to give this to him.  Just as he’s given you everything you wanted, you want to do the same.  In this little cut-out piece of paradise, there’s nothing quite as important. 

The one word isn’t much but it feels like a turning point.  “Yes.”

“You want me to say ‘yes’?”

He nods, just once.  There’s so much certainty you can’t doubt him.

“Then yes—”  

It doesn’t matter what you’ve just said yes to.  It doesn’t even matter that it could be something awful or really, anything under the sun.  All that matters is the feeling of his lips, soft and warm and dry on yours.  It’s better than any painting you’ve ever seen, any song you’ve ever heard.  It fills you wholly, stuttering your heart and bubbling giddiness in the pit of your stomach.

You probably sound a little silly, surprisingly breathless from such a little thing.  “Wow.”

“Good things happen when you ask,”  he states, solemnly.  You’d take him more seriously if he weren’t so dopey, grinning at you like he never has before.

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Nope.”

Luckily, you don’t mind.  Not if it gets you another kiss.  

You tell him as much and he happily obliges, stealing your breath and replacing it with sugar-coated stardust.  You ponder whether you might be able to create with those same particles, turning them into colourful streaks to paint his cheeks.  You’d like to find out.  

You want a lot of things with Min Yoongi, you decide. 

You don’t know how you ended up here.  

Actually, that’s a lie.  You do.  All because of a dumb joke, uttered in passing by Taehyung and now ingrained so deeply in your psyche that you haven’t gone a single day without thinking about it.

“Get out of there,”  he whispers right against your temple, lips following to soothe whatever’s got you preoccupied.  

“Where?”

“Right there, idiot.”  Fingers tap twice, a quick one-two against the side of your head.  

You can’t help but grimace, a wrinkling of your nose that your boyfriend chuckles at, pressing kisses across the bridge and over your cheeks.  “Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry - just come back to me.”  To this moment, he means.

This strange little scene, with his fingers dressed in non-toxic paint and you stripped down to nothing but a flimsy cotton bra and thong.  

Have him paint you like one of his French girls, Taehyung had said.  It’ll be fun, he’d said.

You think it might be - if you weren’t bouncing with nerves, all five feet three inches of you fizzling with anticipation.  Yoongi was only painting you.  This was a bonding exercise.  Something to bring you closer, to breach the gap between lovestruck artist and inspired musician.  Nothing more.

“You’re beautiful, you know.”  It’s not meant to be a reassurance but simply a passing comment, like looking at the sky or seeing it snow.  So straightforward it makes you laugh, the sound bubbling about in your throat. 

“Thanks, Yoongi.”

“No, seriously.”  He levels you with a look.  You know the one - a touch stern but ultimately playful.  “I wanted to make something beautiful but…”  Digits wiggle, Atlantic blue sweeping over the tips and up his knuckles like the sea.  “I can’t really improve on something that’s already perfect.”

Your cheeks light on fire, as brilliantly coloured as the red in his - your - palette.  

He thinks it looks pretty against his hands.  The same ones that cradle your cheek, so precisely you want to remind him you’re a canvas and not clay.  

“You’re silly.”  

“ You’re silly,”  he returns, as if that’ll somehow win him this battle of wits.

 The roll of your eyes is undeniable.  “Good one.”

“You know, I’ve got a ton of paint, right?  Not your best choice, making fun of me.”  He punctuates each word with passes of his fingers.  Colour appears wherever he travels, dragged over your skin with dreamy twists of his wrist.  A line here, a circle there.  Goosebumps follow in their wake despite the fact that his touch is like candle wax - soothing and deliberate.

You wonder, idly, whether he can feel you burning up beneath him.

“So beautiful,”  he murmurs again, almost to himself as he dips his fingers into another dot of paint.  Pink this time - in the same shade as the magnolias outside.  He spreads the colour over your chest, right where your heart beats an erratic rhythm.  

He takes his time in admiring his handiwork, swirling the two shades together until it’s the most flattering shade of purple.

You try - and fail - to ignore the way it stirs something behind your ribs.  A need that flickers to life without any sort of warning and has you pressing your thighs together.  

“Can I take this off?”  It comes abruptly, with eyes that snap up to yours.  There’s already a hand tucked beneath the small of your back, right under your shoulders.  He already knows your answer - can see it in the blown out pupils that reflect his entire world back at him.  He still wants to hear it.

You’re unable to find your voice.  It’s gone, stolen by the way he ghosts his fingers up and down the sensitive notches of your spine.  You could get lost in this feeling, if he let you.  You almost do, only nodding when he moves no further, flat of his palm a solid weight right against the clasp of your bra.

You don’t mind that the band is coloured pink and blue when he tosses it aside.  You don’t have it in you to focus on anything but how he studies you now.  Openly admires you, like you’re the most incredible thing he’s ever seen.

“What?”  Mellifluous and adoring.  Music to his ears.

“I think I’m getting distracted.”

“I think so, too.”

“Is that okay?”  He speaks more to your boobs than you, single stained hand coming to rest across your ribs.  The pad of his thumb swipes over a single bud, perked and already far too sensitive.  He’d put his mouth on it, if not for the fact it’s now covered in paint.  

Fortunately, there’s still so much of you - places he hasn’t explored but suddenly, desperately needs to.  

From the column of your throat and all the way down to the valley of your breasts, he offers sweet kisses.  Open-mouthed adoration that leaves you needy and breathless and writing.  He catches your untouched nipple between his teeth, gently working it into the same state as its tinted twin. 

You shift beneath him, unable to stop the bolt of electricity that rips through you like a thousand volts.  It cracks your composure like lightning and sends your pulse racing like thunder.  “Of course.”

He hums, content, and nearly falls, dropping his cheek fully against your chest.  You’re so soft beneath him, velvet and pliant under his tongue.  

“I think I love you.”  It’s his voice but your words, spoken so faintly you almost miss it against the roaring in your ears.  

“I think I love you, too.” 

Yoongi stares up at you then, so full of wonder that you can’t help but look away.  It’s an incredibly intimate moment - so much emotion carried in one simple look that you’re not quite sure how to process it.  He’d been your inspiration and now you were his.  The realisation is almost too much, filling you until you feel like you might float away.

His hands act as an anchor, keeping you here with him.  

“You don’t have to say it back.”  It’s careful, loaded with his heart and every key to open it.  

“I know - I want to.”

He grins so breathlessly handsome that you can’t help but return it, rubied cheeks crystallised with delight.  Those same paint-stained hands of his find their newly discovered favourite home of your chest and he sounds like sin when he speaks.  “I want you.”

“You can have me.”

It’s all he needs before he’s ducking down and smothering every uncovered inch of you in sweetness.  His mouth burns hot but he’s unbearably gentle, searing the shape of his mouth over your breasts and across your collarbone.  He licks and sucks as he goes, soothing any ache left behind by the edge of his teeth.

You’re not quite sure where the bites end and the paint begins.  It’s all so pretty you don’t mind either way.  

But it’s not enough.  It’ll never be enough, you think, even as you whine airily, words stuttering out in a half-formed breath.  “Please touch me.”

“Where?”  He’s hardly given you room to answer, crowded so closely against you that you can feel his heartbeat all the way through to your own.  He’s so warm - so solid - upon you that you almost want to tell him that here, just as he is, is perfect. 

A momentary lapse in lust before rational judgment is clouded yet again. 

Instead - and with more demand than you mean - you grind purposefully against him.  A benefit to having him sitting how he is, knees hooked on either side of your hips.  He can’t pretend like he doesn’t feel it, cock twitching beneath the constraints of his boxer-briefs. 

Your eyes meet and he chuckles, nuzzling his head back into that spot between your neck and shoulder that has you whimpering.  The sound alone drives him crazy.

“You’ll be the death of me.”  Yoongi knows this like he knows the sky is blue or your smile is his favourite sight.

You’re teasing him when you catch his face, palms cradling the shape of his jaw.  “Then it’ll be a good death.” 

He doesn’t disagree - especially when he slips his clean hand along the length of your body.  He tweaks your nipple on its descent, tickles the underside of your ribs, and then finds the band of your underwear, all in one fell swoop.  A digit dips below the elastic, neatly clipped nail grazing the jut of your hip before shifting and dropping further.  

You keen when the pad of his finger grazes your clit. 

“Do that again.”  He doesn’t need to tell you twice.  When he repeats the motion, the sound spills off your tongue without restraint.  

He slips further down, pressing his hand to gently part your folds.  Digits glide easily, coated in slick that drips between your legs and sorely tests his patience.  Yoongi’s not sure what he’d expected but this is so much better it’s making his head spin - and he hasn’t even felt you yet.

“You’re so wet, love.”  Shame would swallow you whole if not for the way he speaks with reverence.  “How badly do you want this?”

“Don’t tease,”  you huff, rutting uselessly against the fingers that tease your centre, barely slipping in before resuming a lazy, leisurely path back up to the bundle of nerves that throbs at the contact.  He’s hardly touched you and you’re already at a six, entire body alight with need that thrums heavy in your veins. 

“Just tell me.”

“I want this.  I need this.”  You hope he believes you.  You’re not sure what you’ll do if he doesn’t.  “I need to feel you - please.”

His entire world is spinning, kicked on its axis by the way your tone pitches, demands and begs in the same lilting voice he so adores but has never quite heard like this.  He loves it.  “I need to stretch you out.  I don’t want to hurt you.”

You whine so prettily he almost cracks.  It’s enough to have him choking on his own words, not that he’s saying anything.  He’s too focused on how he sinks into you - a single digit but so tightly it feels like there’s no way he’ll survive his cock buried inside.  

You’re a dream come true.  He never wants to wake up.

“More.  Please.”  You’re so polite, he almost laughs.  You’d really taken his words to heart - always asking for what you wanted now.  He can’t deny how proud he is.  It blossoms in his chest, juxtaposed greatly against the salaciousness that drives him to do exactly as you ask.

His index finger slips in alongside the other.  You make that noise he loves, grinding your core against the flat of his palm as he curls his knuckles and seeks out that spot.  He knows he’s struck gold when he taps it experimentally, pressure turning light but unrelenting when a choked cry ricochets off your tongue and onto his sweat-slicked shoulder.

“Right there?”  

Your nod is enough of an answer. 

He redoubles his efforts, fucking you with measured glides of his fingers and precise presses against your g-spot.  In no time at all, you’re barely coherent, mumbling his name in a slew of breaths that has him grinning.  You’re a sight to behold, moaning so obscenely you’d be ashamed you weren’t so preoccupied by the fact that every part of you feels as if it’s about to splinter.

“Miru— Princess—”  Your clit aches and you nearly shriek when he applies pressure against it with the pad of his thumb, swiping your cum over it in slow circles.  He wants you so badly - just as bad as you want him- but he’s torn halfway between watching you unravel by his hand and wanting that same euphoria when he’s buried home in your dripping pussy. 

“Please, please, please.”  There are tears in your eyes.  You’re so close you can practically taste it, entire body shaking with the effort of keeping the coil from snapping.  “Yoongi, please.”

He’s a fucking goner then, filling you with a third finger and grinding his palm against your clit as you come apart beneath him.  

It starts in your toes, stealing feeling all the way up your calves and over your thighs.  You’re only aware you’re trembling because it vibrates through Yoongi’s body, looped back to yours when he mouths across your shoulders, sucking memories into your heated, sweat-sweet skin.  The stimulation is what keeps you from floating off on a cloud of bliss, the warmth in the pit of your stomach liquifying your bones. 

“Are you tired?”  Because you certainly look tired - too fucked out to properly meet his stare as he looms over you, both hands adjusted to rest comfortably over your hips. 

You are, but it doesn't matter.  You haven’t gotten what you wanted - not really - and you aren’t about to let it go without asking.

He’d taught you that.

You smile up at him, doe-eyed and alluring.  A hand reaches for his, curls around the fingers still glossy with your slick, and squeezes.  “I still need you.”

They’re words he’ll never tire of - also words that have him kicking out of his briefs and rolling your thong down your legs, all too eager.  He’s painfully hard, leaking pre-cum and purple at the tip, but he fists himself in slow, measured pumps regardless.  It’s a show for you, more than anything.

“ Please.”  So pretty, so ready.  He can’t resist.  

Yoongi sinks against you, the head of his cock brushing through your folds as he slots himself into place with his paint-free hand.  The other, still coloured garishly bright, brushes the curve of your lip, the delicate skin beneath your eye.  It’s so tender you can’t help but blink, caught off-guard.  

“I love you,”  you say, though you’re sure he’s meant to, too.  You can read it in his eyes - brilliant and bright like a beacon in the night.

He speaks with a roguish grin and a fluid press of his hips.  “I know.”  

You fit like two puzzle pieces, the stretch perfect as he sinks deeper, a low groan sounding from somewhere deep in his chest.  You’re so tight around him but he glides in easily, coaxed to fill you by your wetness and the soft, whiny noises you make.  

“Holy shit,”  he manages once he’s buried as deep as he can go, head spinning with the way you clench around him, nearly stealing the words off his tongue.  “Am I dreaming?”

Laughter is a salve - a catch-all remedy for anything that ails him.  It pulls him to the here and now, drawing his attention from the overwhelming bliss that creeps up his spine and recentring it on you, beautiful and bashful beneath him.

“No, you’re not.”  It’s a caricature of your voice but he doesn’t mind.  He loves that he can bring you to this.

“Thank God.”

Except it’s not God you’re thanking when Yoongi begins to move against you, dragging his cock through your walls with such slow, measured strokes you think you might combust.  It’s his name when he pulls almost fully out of you, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock, before snapping forward to bury himself to the hilt.  It’s his name that rolls off your tongue like a mantra, hoping and praying and begging for more as he consumes you wholly, in no half measures.  

It’s him - Min Yoongi, your muse, your love - that has you crying out, pleasure coursing through your veins as he adjusts and fills you at a completely new angle, brushing against your g-spot with every thrust of his hips.  

“Yoongi - please.”  You’re chanting the two words again, turning them into a song he’ll never get out of his head, when you spasm around him.  His eyes nearly roll back into his head, the sensation turning his rhythm sloppy as he chases the same high.  The hand that had previously been propping him up falls, thumb seeking out your clit as he charges toward the precipice. 

“One more, love.  Once more for me, okay?  I want you to come with me.”

He asks so nicely you can’t deny him - even as the overstimulation takes over.  You’re shaking so badly you’re not sure how he keeps you in place;  it’s a tremor that won’t stop, traipsing over every limb until you’re sobbing.  

“I love you,”  he chokes out as he tumbles over the edge, falling headlong into climax with you in tow.  It’s so strong it feels like it blinds you, spotting your vision with white as he fills you with his cum and continues to fuck you through it, milking every last moment just like you were his slowly softening cock.

You don’t have it in you to answer, far too exhausted by the last orgasm that has your limbs turned to jelly.  Yoongi doesn’t mind though;  he likes the just-fucked afterglow and how you sink into his arms when he slips out of you and onto his side.  

He eyes the cum that spills onto your thighs, pearlescent and going to waste.  He has half a mind to push it back where it belongs.

He only doesn’t because of the words you speak next, hardly above a whisper but loud enough that he groans, burying his face into your hair.  “So, thanks, Taehyung?”  

“Can you not?”  It’s a playful response, with teeth bared against the sweat-slicked nape of your neck.  

“Sorry.”  A beat.  He wonders if you’ve fallen asleep suddenly.  “I meant thanks, Titanic.”

author note.  this was a drabble prompt i got from the lovely @hecticwonderer​ and i kind of just...  ran with it.  oops. 

[twoidiotwriters1]

Iron 3 (Peter Parker x F!Oc)

Words: 1,756

Masterlist

Chapter 2  / Chapter 4

Tony Stark's trip to showcase the new Jericho missile is a success with the military, but when soldiers take him back, they’re intercepted and the billionaire is kidnapped.

Both Lily and Pepper find out by watching television. The call from Colonel James Rhodes confirms their fears. Although the information isn’t much, the important thing is that they’re doing everything to find him.

Pepper Potts concentrates on everything she has to do for the company without her boss. Working for Tony for so many years has formed a special connection, even if it is not the conventional one. Sometimes thoughts of possible horrible scenarios come to her mind, but she pushes them away.

Something she can be thankful for is the company of little Lily, who also can't help but worry about the man. He may not have been kind, but no one deserves to be tortured.

The tension remains for three long months, the wait for news from Tony along with the paternity results in the envelope which has not been opened. Nobody knows what to do in a situation like this.

Rhodes keeps searching for his best friend with the help of the army. Pepper and Happy take care of the little girl. The relationship between Tony and Lily's small circle has been strengthened in all this time, even Rhodey receives some calls from her asking if he’s okay and if he has found Tony. Regardless of the test results, they would protect Lily.

At the end of the three months, the new news give everyone a great respite. Tony Stark is alive and returns home.

Although Lily wants to meet Tony along with Pepper and Happy, they won't let her. Surely there would be a lot of reporters and they’d ask a lot of questions if they see the girl.

For those cases, Pepper had already arranged a babysitter. A difficult task, but she managed to find a twenty year old girl, she has no idea who the girl is, nor who hired her. The contact was a Stark Industries worker. With that problem solved, they both wait in Pepper's apartment.

Jessica the babysitter isn't so bad, Lily thinks. The only bad thing is that she spends a lot of time on her phone.

Lily searches all the channels for any news about Tony and finds one where they’re broadcasting a press conference with him eating a hamburger.

"That man must be crazy," Jessica says from the couch.

"Why?"

“He just said that he will no longer make weapons. His company produces the most. He’ll run out of money,” She explains.

Lily frowns.

Why would Tony stop producing what makes so much money?

***

"Did you think I wasn't going to find out about the girl, Tony?"

“Obie…”

Obadiah Stane raises his hand to interrupt him.

"It hurts me that you don't trust me.”

Tony sighs.

"I didn't have much time to explain everything to you and after my obligatory vacation, I couldn't do it.”

"Is she yours or not?"

“I don't know, I haven't seen the results. But, I don't think you called me for this,” Tony tries to deflect that topic as soon as possible. He can't handle this now.

They walk through Stark Industries until they reach the room where the Arc Reactor is. They argue about the actions of the company and how it affects Tony's decision. He tries to show Stane another form of energy, but in the end he fails to do much.

Happy waits for him in the limousine to take him back to the house. Tony gets in the car.

"Sir, Lily asked me to give you this," says Happy, handing him a folded paper. "She's already at your house," He informs and starts the car.

Tony unfolds the paper, finding a drawing made with colored crayons. A big house, the sea behind and three people standing in front. The names Happy, Rhodey, and Pepper are written under each person in crooked letters. The man can't help but smile, but what he’s really surprised about is seeing the fourth person in the air with outstretched arms. It's him with a big smile and the words 'I'm alive' next to him. He doesn’t know whether to feel fear at those words or simply laugh at the idea.

The truth is that during his experience in Afghanistan, he did think about her. How his life would be if the test was positive. If he’d manage to get out of that situation and return to have a family. Images from his childhood, everything he lived with his parents came to his mind.

Howard Stark was not the best father in the world. Tony doesn't remember loving or encouraging words from him, no matter how hard he tries. He discussed this with his assistant and his friend Yinsen, who was very helpful in giving real advice, but even so, he still doesn't believe that he’s capable of raising a girl. He doesn't have a clue how to do it.

“Sir," Happy interrupts his thoughts. “We’re home.”

***

"You're good?”

“Yes."

"You don't look good.”

"Well, I am," Tony answers, arranging some things in his workshop.

"Did you like my drawing?"

"It could be better.”

Lily frowns. It’s not the answer she expected. Maybe that means he wants more drawings, to see how much I can improve, she thinks.

“Okay.”

Tony takes off his shirt and leans back on a table. He connects several cables to his body. Lily looks at him curiously and notices the circle in the center of his chest.

"What is that?”

"You wouldn’t understand.”

"Doesn't it hurt?"

“No."

"How does it work?"

“You wouldn’t understand-"

“Try me,” She cuts him off. She’s sick of that answer. Tony sighs.

"This little wheel of light,” He touches it. “It's what keeps me alive, it works so that the shrapnel doesn’t reach my heart.”

"What is shrapnel?"

"Fragments of a missile that tried to kill me.”

She nods.

"And what are you going to do now?"

“Update it. Jarvis, call Miss Potts.”

"Can I ask another question?"

"You already did.”

"I'll ask another question," She informs. Tony brings his lips together to avoid a smile.

“Okay."

“Your dad was also an inventor. Did he answer all your questions?"

Tony frowns. He could never ask so many questions to his father. Howard kept him as far away as possible, but he had other teachers or he did research himself.

Pepper's arrival interrupts them. Her steps are nervous, she thought that finally her boss would want to know the result of the paternity test, but seeing that he needs her for something else, she leaves the envelope on a table.

The man explains what she has to do to replace the reactor in his heart with a better one. Lily looks amused as Pepper panics and Tony tries to relax her, but it only upsets her further.

"It's like the game ‘operating'."

"What is that?" asks Pepper scared.

"I know what it is, can I try it?"

"No!" The two adults answer. She makes a face.

When the machines sound faster on alert, Lily freaks out and looks around for something she can help out with, but she doesn't know what all of Tony's toys work for. But Pepper manages to solve it in time and everything ends.

“You're better?" She asks approaching again.

“Yes, Kid. Back off,” He answers, pulling her away a bit.

Pepper wipes her hands. Tony explains what she has to do with the old reactor, she nods, but after she clears her throat.

"We have a pending issue,” Tony turns to see them. Pepper points to the girl.

“Right," He sighs. "Just tell me if she's mine or not.”

"Don't you want to see the papers?"

Tony sits on a bench and looks at Lily.

“No."

Pepper opens the envelope carefully. Reads every detail and sighs in relief. She smiles and looks up at her boss.

“Lily's your daughter, sir.”

Tony doesn't take his eyes off the girl.

“Fine."

Pepper notices the tension between them.

"Just fine?"

"Yes, that's it,” Now he stares at the redhead. "Thank you, Miss Potts.”

The redhead nods unsure and leaves the workshop.

Tony makes a face and returns to the girl.

"You got scared?" He raises an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“What did you think?"

"I don't want to lose my dad so soon,” She cocks her head. "I just found him.”

"I should take you to an orphanage.”

“You'll do it?"

“You’d be better with someone else.”

"But I don't want to be an orphan.”

“Nobody wants to be. I am.”

"Is that why you're always sad?"

He opens his mouth thinking of an attack, but he decides to avoid it.

“This is a bad idea. Being my daughter, I don't recommend it.”

“Well, not that I have a choice. My mom is no longer at home and…” She sighs. "I don't think she wants me back.”

Tony puts his hands to his face and groans.

“Fine," He gets up and looks around. "I have other things to do. Pepper will handle the paperwork."

“Can I help?"

Tony walks to a desk and touches the surface. Holograms of plans and folders are projected in front of him. Lily approaches the desk, Tony looks at her from the corner of his eye, maybe he can admit that it is nice to have someone who’s easily impressed.

He and Jarvis talk about a secret project, outside of any Stark Industries business.

"I don't want this to fall into the wrong hands.”

"What about mine?" Lily asks. She raises both hands showing him her palms.

He sighs.

“They're still wrong, but,” He cocks his head. “I guess you're a Stark now. That's enough,” He crouches down to her level. "You can’t tell anyone about this.”

"Not even Happy?"

“I'll take care of Pepper, Happy and Rhodes. This shouldn't get out of here unless I say so. Okay?" He offers his hand.

“Deal," They shake hands. “Can I help?"

"Only if you follow my rules.”

"Which are?"

“Don't get in the way. Do exactly what I tell you and don't ask so many questions.”

She frowns at the last rule.

"I can't help it, how can I help you if I don't know what to do?"

He rolls his eyes.

"Fine, we’ll have a limit of questions.”

“Fine," She answers in a deep voice, imitating his. She smiles looking at him, but she stops when he doesn't.

"This will be more complicated than I thought.”

Taglist

If your username is crossed out it’s because Tumblr didn’t let me tag you, sorry. If you want to be removed from the taglist, you can tell us, we also make mistakes, lol

@stardusthigh​   @sarcasticallywitty15​​ @silenthappyplace​​ @yourbonesareinmybody​​  @aylauwuuniverse @tyb1​​ @skittles-skittles​​ @hufflepuffzutara​​   @poetryislife0715

[akaashisupremacy]

Lunch Notes

Summary: Your secret admirer used to leave notes for you in high school. Who could he be? Can an old friend help you find out?

Notes: This oneshot is inspired by Futakuchi x reader fic by @haikyuu-ink. Read it about fuccboi Futakuchi here. 

genre: romance, fluff (wc: 1k  lol)

“Futakuchi? Is that you?” You instantly regret tapping him on the shoulder as he turns around to face you.

You drop by Date’s weekend market with the intention of not running into anyone. You’re sweaty, and probably smelled like an outdoor grill. How is it that you have the gall to initiate this conversation?

“Long time no see!” he greets you. You are both in line for takoyaki. While the wait wasn’t too long, a small crowd of people are crammed beside the stall. “It’s been a couple of years.”

You move over to the same corner amidst the chaos of the market.

“What are you doing now?” you ask, trying to subtly wipe yourself down. Futakuchi himself didn’t look too pristine. The day is warm and he looks like he just came off a volleyball game, but you would be lying if you don’t admit how good he still looks.

“I went to trade school for a couple of years,” he shrugs, “I’m working in an energy company right now. What about you? You’re probably in college.”

You nod your head, “Yeah, I am.”

You both receive your order and you both agree to spend lunch catching up. Futakuchi signals at an empty bench and you take a seat.

You catch up on common friends and acquaintances and when conversation hits a pause, he takes a sharp inhale and straightens his back.

“Do you remember the notes on your desks and notebooks?”

During the last two years of high school, you would receive little notes every now and then carefully placed between your books, slipped inside your desk, snuck into your bag. You graduated not knowing who they were from exactly. You had a feeling you were finally about to find out.

“Yeah, what about those?” You both receive your orders at the same time and he leads you to an empty bench where you both take your lunch.

“I wrote them.” He tries to avert your gaze, but finds himself unable to. Instead, he tries to hide that he’s bracing for your reaction.

Your chopsticks stop midway to your mouth, “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

You’re not completely shocked. You had a sneaking suspicion it was him. However whenever you tried to ask, he always flat out denied it, which frustrated you to no end.

He shrugs, “I’m not sure you liked me. You probably thought I was mean and cocky and superficial which I was but still but it hurt that you did.”

You look at him with a small smile. Futakuchi was flippant and a relentless tease especially in his second year. His seniors thought he was a brat. Still, he was thoughtful when he wanted to be. He was also perceptive and clever.

“I don’t get it….if you’ve already gone all the way to put notes, you might as well right?” you talked in between bites covering your mouth.

Futakuchi chose a bench under the shade of a large tree. You could hear the birds chirp and the trees rustle. You stare at him while you wait for an answer.

In an unusual show of vulnerability, he asks “Would you have said ‘yes’?”

His voice lets slip a pinch of hope and suspense, a crack in his usual laid back demeanor.

You shrug, “It depends when you asked? Probably not in our second year, maybe in our third year.”

“Because I got hotter?” he grins, sitting back with his arms folded across his chest.

“I don’t think so.” You quickly shoot him down. He snorts in disbelief.

“You got way more emphatic when we hit our third year. It was like you finally learned to care about others before your joy of annoying people. It was strange at first, but you really mellowed down and I liked that.“ You flash him a shy smile. He smirks.

You wanted to sigh. He is definitely still cocky.

“You could see it on the notes too. You used to only give compliments in our second year. When we became seniors, you started asking about my day…that kind of thing…”

“And you tried writing back!” he laughed.

You tried to develop a system where you’d put your replies where he first left his notes. It was a hit and miss endeavor.

“You sometimes forget to pick them up.” you retort, crossing your arms and pouting at him.

“Sorry,” he smiles with his lip tugging at one side, “It got more difficult to sneak around on our last year.”

“I also thought you deserved better than me even if I wanted you for myself. I wasn’t very good. I didn’t think you were sold just because I was captain.” he adds.

“Nope,” you laugh a bit and shake your head, “Futakuchi, being captain has its perks and all, but don’t expect it to work on all the girls.”

“You didn’t like that I had a difficult time admitting when I was wrong too. It made me think that even if you agreed to go out with me, I’m not sure it would’ve worked. Like I said, you don’t deserve trash.” he sighs, in exasperation. He doesn’t sound resigned. He sounds frustrated with himself.

Your conversation jumps from one topic to another topic. Before you end lunch, you head back to the takoyaki stall, hoping to take home a box. Futakuchi offers to wait in line for you so you can go around the market. When he returns with the food, he quickly bows out and leaves. You’re surprised by the sudden shift of his mood.

Your instincts tell you to look at the paper bag that contained the takoyaki. Your hands ruffle to unfold the bag and sure enough there is a note inside, haphazardly placed on top of the box.

“Would you  go out with me?” it says, and  at the bottom of the note is Futakuchi’s number. You impatiently dial the number and wait through the ringing. Is he intentionally drawing out the wait?

When he finally picks up, you jump the chance to tell him off. “Futakuchi, you’re not in high school anymore. Can you drop the notes?” you sigh, inspecting his handwriting over and over again. Yup, it was Futakuchi who wrote you those notes.

He pauses for a bit.

“Are you still in the market?” he asks urgently.

“Yeah-“ before you reply, he hangs up.

In a few minutes, a tousled, out of breath Futakuchi pants, running towards you.

“Go out with me next week?” he brow quirks up, leaving the question to you.

“Would you still consider yourself trash?” you playfully tease him.

His cheeks flushes. Futakuchi is the type of person who liked to have the last word. It’s fun to see him speechless for once.

“…Well, I  ahhh…hey, I thought you said I mellowed down?” he exclaimed, slowly catching his breath. It was his turn to pout.

“Then see you next week.” you kiss him on the cheek and wave goodbye.

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

Taglist: @itstheee-ha-chan @scrappydaisies

[star-birthmark]

Silent Saviors: 4taro x Fem Reader

Finally... FINALLY IT IS DONE! This is infernal ask that has been in my inbox for so long!!! Thank you to @stardustbrosaders for the request all those months ago lol. This was the request: “Heya! Would it be possible to write a P4! Jotaro x Female! Reader where the reader gets her stand under stress from a battle? The group almost gets defeated but the reader’s stand appears and she beats the enemy, saving everyone? For the readers stand type could it be close range like SP and CD?”

I also drew the reader’s stand for this fic. You can find a link to the stand info here. 

This is a long ass fic btw. It’s literally 11 THOUSAND WORDS. I don’t know what compelled me to make the fic this long. I really don’t. But I did and here we are. I hope you like it, no matter how long it is!

Quick content warnings: General violence and angst, strangulation, murder (duh)

Without further ado: Silent Saviors: 4taro x Fem Reader (11k words)

A dark force was afoot in the town of Morioh once more, but it had just been a long day, and no progress had been made to capture that force. The team’s morale was low. The exhausted high school students stumbled home to catch a good night’s rest, thoughts of ongoing danger in their small town looming over their heads. The young manga artist Rohan Kishibe grumbled to himself about his failures, wondering how a genius like him could not decipher this mystery like he had last time. You felt a heavy air of unrest lay over the town as you awkwardly shifted in your seat on the ride to the Grand Hotel, looking over at your travel mate as he silently ran over the facts in his head. He shook his head in frustration. None of this made any sense. All the victims had been killed in the same way, so it must be a stand, one that didn’t leave behind any evidence, one potentially even more dangerous than Kira. 

A dark force was afoot in the town of Morioh once more, but you didn’t know anything about the first monstrous event that had occurred. The small town’s silent saviors all agreed with one another to seal their lips and tell no one what had really happened. Not that anyone would have believed them. 

But you would have. Your travel partner didn’t know anything yet, but the more time you two spent in this strange town, the crazier you felt you were becoming. You were seeing objects levitate in the air, you were seeing arms stick out from these bizarre teenagers. At this point, you’d believe anything just to make it all stop. You stumbled inside from the taxi, convinced this small town was driving you insane. 

Your partner turned to you in front of your hotel room, his own room right next door, and placed his large hands on your shoulders. 

“Are you alright (y/n)? If any of this investigation gets to be too much for you, just tell me and I’ll send you on the next flight back home.” 

You snort tiredly. “Too much for me? Jotaro you look exhausted… You haven’t been taking breaks from the case at all…  You’re always so anxious. Do you promise you’ll actually go to bed this time?” 

Jotaro looked down at you and moved his hands from you, sighing heavily. “Yeah… I promise…” 

You give him a shy smile before shrugging. “Besides… you need me, don’t you? Weren’t you the one that said I’m the only one that calms you down?” 

Jotaro gulped and broke eye contact with you, his own silent way of admitting that you were right. You chuckled and opened the door to your hotel room, giving him one last look and goodnight before you left to go to bed. You would wake up about two hours later from the sound of your partner’s shuffling about in his room next door. You slipped on a thick crew neck over your thin tank top and shorts and open to the door connecting to the two rooms. 

You peaked your head past the door to find a familiar sight before you. Pictures were tacked onto a corkscrew board, red thread connecting the dots to draw the group one step closer to solving the crimes. Files were splayed out over the desk, a map of the small Japanese town resting on the nearby bed, etched with red Xs displaying the sites where several young men and women met their demise. Amongst the mess, you found the broad shoulders of a tired Jotaro Kujo hunched over the desk, the young man still looking at the mountains of documents, eager to find the path to justice. It was hidden in those pages, he was sure of it. It had been your third night together in that hotel, and it was evident that you two would be there for much longer.  

---

“Miss (L/N) it says here that you have received your degree in zoology and graduated at the top of your major.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And it says here that you recently led an academic study of marine biology that went very well back home.”

“Yes sir, and it would be an honor to join this esteemed team of scientists here at SPW.”

It was the year 1998, and you were interviewing to work at the Speedwagon Foundation. You had graduated atop your class, and had a passion for your work that few possessed, as well success that few could show for. You prayed that this interview was going well. The Foundation was the utmost important center of scientific research in the world and you didn’t want to waste an opportunity to work there. You watched the smile on your interviewer’s face as he reviewed your credentials before setting the paper down. 

“Miss (L/N) I’d like to welcome you aboard our team. I believe you will contribute much to our efforts.”

Your face lit up in excitement and you rushed to shake his hand. “Thank you so much sir, I won’t let you down! If I could ask what position you’re hiring me for?”  

“You see we have an opening for an assistant with the Kujo lab. Since you’re just starting off here- you’ll be assisting him in meetings and in bench work-”

“Excuse me... the Kujo lab? As in Jotaro Kujo? Isn’t he my age?” You interrupt nervously. 

“Why yes miss… is there an issue?”

“Well no sir it’s just… I thought perhaps I’d be working under an esteemed professor… I didn’t think someone fresh out of grad school would already have a lab to himself… Not to sound ungrateful of course, I just didn’t realize I would be working under one of my contemporaries…” 

A sigh came to the man and leaned back in his chair, thinking about how to explain the situation. 

“Miss (y/n), the reason I’m placing you in Kujo’s lab is that I feel the two of you would work well together, given your similar backgrounds and parallel personalities…” You furrow your brow, unsure what the supervisor meant until you were face to face with Jotaro Kujo himself a few days later. 

You still remembered the day well. You hung your coat up on a nearby hook and looked about the lab. Documents were piled over every available surface with no particular organization. A large fish tank stood in the far corner, a wild variety of fish encased within. Anatomical posters of aquatic life were all over the walls, and right by the window sat Jotaro. He hadn’t looked up when you came in. Approaching his desk, you stared down at the mass of black hair on the top of his head. Soon clearing your throat, the young doctoral student’s head shot up to look at you blankly. You opened your mouth to speak, taken aback by his unemotional expression, nervously turning to a notebook you had on hand.

“Uh… um… My name is (y/n) (l/n), your new coworker. I would like to thank you for allowing me into your lab. I had been going over your most recent papers on the social patterns of starfish on the eastern-most coast of Japan and I was just wondering if-”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” 

You looked up from your notes and into the young man’s deep blue eyes, your breath catching in your throat. You struggled to form a sentence under the intense gaze, your breath shuttering out from your lips, and you looked back down at your notes. 

“I’m (y/n) (l/n)... your new coworker.” 

Jotaro nodded slowly, considering what you had just said. You watched as he removed his large white overcoat and leaned back in his chair, donned in a fitted black t-shirt. 

“Why did they hire you?” You lean forward confused, your ear facing him. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“Why did they hire you?” 

You look away for a moment, considering his now nervous expression, his nervous tick of chewing on his lip, his small twitches of the eye, his clenching and unclenching of his jaw. You looked down, finding his leg bouncing anxiously against the floor. A small, sweet smile came to you, and you opened your mouth to speak, alerting his attention. 

“You and I apparently have parallel personalities… according to them.”

You watched as Jotaro’s lips curved into a shy smile and he got up from his seat, grabbing a notepad from a nearby drawer. He then turned to you and extended his arm out, pointing. You followed the direction of his hand and saw a separate desk facing his at the other end of the office. You turned back and quickly nodded, rushing to set your things down and then turning to face him once more. 

Jotaro nodded courteously at you. “Have you read my most recent work?” 

“Yes, I just told you that I did that-”

“Good. Come to the meeting with me then.”

You followed after him into a nearby boardroom, unsure of the situation about to befall you. The meeting began. Executives discussed their most recent funding prospects, deciding whether or not to continue their spending, depending on how successful the trials had been. You sat patiently in your chair, listening to the others argue frankly amongst themselves. A steady, fast tapping upon the table commanded your attention and you turned over to see Jotaro staring off into the distance, his fingers rapidly tapping on the desk, his whole form shaking with sensory overload. 

“Mr. Kujo? And you?” You watched as Jotaro’s head shot up and he looked around the room. He hadn’t been listening, his mind had been too overcome with anxieties. 

“I um… I uh… W-what were-” 

You watched nervously as this man came undone at his seams. You cleared your throat and tapped the table next to his notepad. Getting the message, Jotaro grabbed the notepad quickly and anxiously flipped through its pages. 

“Um… sorry about that. I would like to further my research- wait no this is on the wrong page. Wait no it’s not… wait-” 

You looked around as the listeners began to get frustrated, looking at each other in jest of one of their top researchers. You chewed nervously on your finger, hoping Jotaro would pull himself together. It was your first day working with him, and it was already troublesome.

“I would like to further the research done in my penultimate paper. Or was it my most recent...”

“Mr. Kujo, we would have liked for you to have prepared for this meeting…” 

“No no… I did. I did. Wait-”

With a quick motion, you reached over and placed a hand on Jotaro’s shoulder, calmly taking the notepad from him and then turning to the group. Jotaro looked away, still visibly shaken. 

“Mr. Kujo clearly states in his most recent paper that he plans to continue his research, at a different coastal region, comparing more behaviors there to make sure that this past successful trial wasn’t any sort of spontaneous fluke. He writes in his goals of perhaps inspecting the regional colonies of starfish around S-Town… Following that, he plans to remain in contact with the genomic department and track genetic similarities between human and aquatic life that may explain the similar social patterns between the two.” 

You explain to them all, having memorized the paper. Turning to the notepad, you saw what Jotaro had written in preparation for the meeting. You then turned back to the investors.

“Mr. Kujo kindly asks that you aid him in his funding so that mankind as a whole may find a better understanding of the natural world… That’s all he wanted to say. He just couldn’t find the right page. Sir.”

You reached back and placed the notepad back near Jotaro’s shaking hand. You returned your hand back to the other’s shoulder, squeezing gently to reassure the scientist that he was alright. The young man turned to you in a bit of surprise, not expecting your presence to calm him oh so much. The executives all took in your words and the head of the meeting slowly nodded. 

“Well… thank you for your assistance, miss…?” 

“(l/n).”

“Right well thank you… We will consider Mr. Kujo’s work for a second trial.”

“Thank you. He appreciates it.” With that, you let go of Jotaro’s shoulder.

The meeting soon adjourned, You got up to leave your seat when you felt Jotaro’s hand grab your shoulder. You turned around to see him slowly stand up from his chair. 

“Thank you. I’m not a big fan of speaking to them…”

You nodded quickly. “Yes…  of course…”

From that day on, the two of you were inseparable. Having experienced the horrific acts done to him and to those he loved back in his teenage years, Jotaro was convinced that you were the only one who could calm his constant nerves and anxieties. You became his most powerful tool against the outside world. You understood his work perfectly, understood his mannerisms perfectly, and respected his need for silence in the office. You knew how to say things the way he would himself, and you had no fear discussing them to other people. The two of you became much closer over the months of your working. Jotaro became much less of an enigma in your eyes. It would be a few months until Jotaro would unwillingly reveal his more “secret” projects. 

The first time you saw the arrow, Jotaro did not want you to see it. But still, what happened that day would forever change your relationship with the young scientist. You had arrived early, hoping to surprise him with a hot breakfast and a smile. You turn the corner to walk into the lab, yet when you go to open the door, you find it locked. Strange. Looking inside the room, you find Jotaro hunched over his desk in focus, in the same clothes as the day before, having not yet unlocked the door. Even more strange. You knocked on the door, only for him to leave the room with another door in a hurry, ignoring your pleas. With a grumble, you dug for your keys, figuring his weird behavior was just fatigue, and that he probably slept over at work again.  When you finally get into the lab, you place your things down, and that's when you see it lingering underneath his desk in a rushed hiding spot. 

Encased within a thickly walled wooden box, an arrow remained, barely hidden from your gaze, as Jotaro had had no time to hide it from you. The latch was undone, another sign that Jotaro had run away from the scene.

Jerk. Didn’t he trust you enough to show you something like this? It’s just a bow and arrow! Why was he hiding it? You called out for him to return to the room and explain what the bow and arrow was for. Hearing no response, you turned back to the wooden box, reaching your hand in to inspect the bow and arrow. 

It all happened so fast. In the blink of an eye. 

There were no in-between movements. One moment you had pricked your finger on the razor sharp tip of the arrow, the next moment you were standing up, the box had been tightly locked, and Jotaro stood right in front of you, chest to chest, intensely staring you down. Your breath became ragged as you maintained eye contact with him. What just happened? You didn’t even hear him come in. The box was right before your very eyes, and you didn’t even see that it was locked. How did he even turn you around without you knowing?! A chill went down your spine as you hesitated to speak even a word to the man before you. 

“Do you see what was in there?”

 Jotaro asked you calmly. You felt a cold sweat form on your forehead. Jotaro, ever the impatient man, grabbed your jacket collar, shaking you out of your scared daze. 

“I’m asking you now (y/n)! Did you see what was in there?!” 

“No, I didn’t see anything! I don’t know what just happened! I swear! I saw you run away from the room and went to see what was in there and the next thing I knew you had come back and it was all so fast and I don’t understand and I-... Jotaro… you’re scaring me.” 

Your body convulsed at his rough contact, your hands reaching up to push him away, but his tight grip on your jacket remained steadfast. Pure instinct had compelled you to lie to him about seeing the content of the box, but the terror and confusion you had displayed was genuine. You still didn’t understand how he was able to move that fast, or affect you with you even knowing. Just who was this man?

Jotaro stared down at you for a moment longer, before releasing you from his grip and taking a few steps back. You stumbled back, grabbing the edge of his desk to stabilize your fall. Your heart continued to race in your chest as you heaved, still struggling to make sense of what just happened. 

Jotaro silently called out Star Platinum, having his stand hover right in front of you as you kept staring at him in confusion. Your expression didn’t change once he called out his stand. So you were telling the truth. You really hadn’t seen the arrow. Or at least, hadn’t touched it.

Jotaro sighed, rubbing the side of his head with a groan. He hadn’t stopped time in so long, but it seemed he was worried over nothing. “I’m sorry to frighten you, (y/n).” 

You finally straightened yourself out, gulping. “Who the hell are you? Really?!” 

“...I’m Jotaro Kujo. That is all.” 

Another chill ran down up your spine, but you played it off. If he wanted to continue things as per usual, you’d have to do the same. 

“Right… I brought breakfast. And there’s a morning meeting in half an hour so freshen up.” 

You walked past him to retrieve the food you had bought for them. Looking down to pick it up, you noticed a red blood stain on your jacket. It must have been from your bleeding finger when you’d pricked it on the arrow. However, when you turned to look at the finger itself, you found that it was fully healed, not even scarred, even after such a precise and direct cut. Jotaro politely asked you for the food, claiming hunger, and you rushed to take your coat off and hide it away. You got the sense that he’d question further if he saw the fresh blood stain. 

After that fateful morning, things continued on as per usual. You still had your questions, but after a few weeks had passed without another incident, you resolved that whatever that bow and arrow were must have been top secret for the Speedwagon Foundation. You figured no company could be as powerful as they were without keeping a few secrets. And this was one of them. 

So you resolved to ask no questions about that one day. The same way you didn’t put up much of a fight when, in the summer of 1999, after months of you two planning to stay there together, Jotaro told you that he would be going to Morioh alone to research for his PhD, without you. You were furious, enraged how the two of you could become so close since you began working there, yet he still didn’t trust you to go with him. You argued with him the night before he was set to leave, but his resolve never crumbled. You weren’t going to Morioh, that was final. 

In the three months that he was gone, Jotaro regularly sent you his findings, and you sorted them back at Speedwagon Headquarters. When he finally came back, more visibly shaken than he was before, you could only wonder what the coworker you had grown so attached to had experienced in Morioh in the summer of 1999. 

Circling back to the present day, it was the winter of 2000, and there was yet again a dark force afoot in the town of Morioh. Only this time, Jotaro would not go alone. 

“You have to let me come with you this time.” 

“Explain why. Explain why I have to let you come with me this time. I did just fine on my own before.” 

You gritted your teeth at the other’s stubbornness. “Will you please just listen to me? Jotaro when you came back from Morioh, you were even harder to deal with than before! Any sound in the office set you on edge and you screamed when someone set off fireworks near our building! And you still haven’t explained to me what happened there! Now let me come with you! I can help!”

Jotaro turned his attention away from his work, finally looking at you for the first time in that conversation. He hadn’t realized just how attached to you he’d become, how much you meant to him. You were his ticket into communicating with the world to his fullest, and after recalling several confusing conversations with Josuke, Okuyasu, and Koichi, Jotaro realized he actually needed you in order to articulate himself to the others without getting too anxious or angry. 

“Alright fine. We’re leaving tomorrow at 2. You better be ready.” 

But nothing could have prepared you for the horrors you were about to encounter in that small town. To your shock and disgust, you learned that aside from his research, Jotaro was investigating a murderer. And then you met Josuke and the others. That was when you first felt that you were going crazy. When you saw glimpses of third arms extend out from these teenagers, saw one of them heal a broken leg with ease, saw another erase space itself. People all over this small town were vanishing in thin air, and the incidents were happening more and more frequently. It didn’t make any sense, but no one was commenting on it, so you felt you were just imagining things. The same way you must have imagined Jotaro moving at lightspeed that morning you pricked your finger on the arrow. 

Finally, we return to the current scene of Jotaro hunched over his desk, his room in the Morioh Grand Hotel littered with documents, the board nearby covered in photos and string, the bedside clock reading 2:33 am.  You approached him carefully in the tense silence, knowing not to startle him whenever he was in deep thought. 

“...Jotaro-”

“Dammit dammit dammit! I’m sick of it! Where the hell is he?!” 

Jotaro slammed his fist down on the desk, his chest heaving in frustration. Why did this keep happening to him?! He just wanted to live a normal life, and he thought after Kira, he could. But like so many times before, Jotaro Kujo was wrong. Perhaps it was his destiny to be unfortunate. Perhaps there would always be another person stabbed by the arrow that would have it out for him and the others. Perhaps he was always destined to have a target on his back. Jotaro turned around to see you there, your form shaken from his sudden outburst. You’d never seen him that angry before. He met your gaze, unaware that you were sensing a vague presence of a being just above the man’s shoulder. 

He sighed, walking over to you. “I’m sorry to scare you (y/n). I’m just getting frustrated by all this.”

You hesitated to speak for a moment, flinching when Jotaro placed his hand on your shoulder. You look up at him with a glare.  “Tell what you haven’t been telling me.” 

“You’ve been with me in Morioh this whole time (y/n). We both know the same things about this case I-”

You shoved Jotaro back, the surprised scientist bumping into his desk. “Don’t play dumb with me Jotaro! There’s something you’re not telling me! Do you think I’m an idiot?! Do you think I can’t handle it?! Tell me why you and a bunch of fucking kids have to be the ones taking down a killer?! Why can’t you just leave it to the police like a normal person?! Just say it! I…  I can help you!” 

But Jotaro couldn’t tell you. You wouldn’t understand his world and the horrifying stands contained within it. He had to keep you safe. The moment you find out anything more will be the moment you die. 

“No… I can’t tell you (y/n).” 

“But that’s not fair I-”

“(y/n), I’m sorry, but if you ask me again, I’ll be forced to send you back home and have you fired from my lab. Try to understand me, I’m doing this for your own safety, but I can’t have you be near me if you don’t cooperate.” 

You stood there in shock. Would he really do that? Didn’t he know how much working for him at the Foundation meant to you? How much care that you put in for him and his work? And he’d throw all that away just to protect some stupid secret!? Who did he think he was?!

Your whole body began to quiver in rage at the other’s behavior. Just when you thought there was something between the two of you, something more than just a young professor and his assistant, he makes it clear that you mean nothing to him, and you never have. You watched the man before you, turn away from your gaze to focus back to his work. With a huff, you reach for the door to leave, your hand touching the handle. 

Then, it all went white. 

Your hand touched the handle, feeling the metal scalding to the touch. Before you could flinch back and yelp at the pain, a hand circled around your neck and another crept around your waist, the grip keeping you flush against another body. You look around the room, watching the color and furniture dissolve from your view until all you could see for miles was a white void. The only thing you could feel was the man with a locked grip on your neck, blocking your airway. You kicked to set yourself free, until you felt a ghostly presence cling onto your legs to hold them together. That same feeling washed over your wrists to bind them as well. The man holding onto you within the void leaned down to bring his mouth to your ear.

“No human on Earth is unable to feel pain.”

Your whole body shuddered at the deep growl in his throat. “W-who are you?! What do you wan-”

“I’m the one talking (y/n)!”

With that, his hold on your neck tightened ever more. How could he have known your name? You all had made a point to only use names in private in case the murderer was lurking around. So that means… A pang of realization hit you. He’d been hiding in this hotel room, listening to you and Jotaro was however long. Black spots appeared before you in your line of sight, your head was feeling lighter and lighter. You were becoming weightless. 

“In the split second that a human being first feels pain, that is when they are at their most isolated. At the first sign of pain, it’s every man for himself. When a man is shot, in the first moment he feels pain, he isn’t thinking of the man next to him that got shot in the brain. He’s thinking only of himself. The fight or flight response is activated, all other surroundings become useless. That selfishness, that hunger to be healed, that desire for self preservation, is what fuels Foreigner’s God, my stand!” 

Your eyes shot open at the last word. “A...stand?” You choked out.

“My stand, Foreigner's God, extends that initial moment of selfishness that comes with pain. No longer are there distractions that can bring someone back to care for others. No longer are there healers that can take that pain away. Your hand is still burnt from the handle that I heated up, so…”

He turned you both around and you saw through your hazy view, a body appear in the white void. It was Jotaro, the man frantically calling out your name and rushing between his room and yours in a search for you. At one moment, the two of you even seemingly made eye contact, and you saw the absolute fear in his eyes at the realization that he might have just lost you. Your mouth quirked up in a smile, and tears began to form in your eyes. 

Jotaro took a step closer, maintaining your gaze, and you felt relief in your heart that he could really see you. Until suddenly, he rushed to the night stand, fazing right through you and your assailant, not even noticing your presence in the room. You struggled to shout under the choking pressure as you saw him panic, reaching to the phone to call Josuke.

“Wait! Jotaro! I’m right here ah-”

“Didn’t I tell you (y/n)! At that critical moment of pain, it’s every man for himself! It’s just you and me in here! You’re in my world now, sweetheart. I allowed you to see Jotaro’s image, but he cannot see or hear you!” 

The killer turned your head to the side, ready to snap. But he had to wait, for his stand would deactivate the moment you were killed, and then he’d be left vulnerable to a furious Jotaro in that hotel room. He needed information about his opponents’ abilities, and Jotaro was playing right into his hands by calling his friend. 

“That’s it… That’s it Kujo! Call Josuke Higashikata! Call him! CALL HIM!”

You trembled under the rough grip, struggling to call out for Jotaro, hoping he wouldn’t call anyone and reveal any secrets. 

And then amidst the silence, the click of Jotaro hanging up the phone filled your ears. You watched the look of reflection on his face. Somehow, maybe it was because of years of battle with monsters just like this man, but Jotaro Kujo realized that you hadn’t run away. Someone was keeping you from him. And he was now more alert than ever. 

“Shit! He’s smarter than I thought! He must suspect there’s a stand attack going on.” 

The murderer grumbled before dropping you to the ground. He couldn’t kill you, not without proper info on how to defeat Jotaro and the others. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt you. With a sharp kick to the back, the assailant managed to knock you away, breaking bones in your spine and leaving you immobile. Recalling his stand ability, the murderer managed to escape out a window without a trace, figuring you would lose consciousness. With a gentle thud, you toppled to the ground, right next to the open window. 

“(y/n)!” 

Jotaro rushed to the sound, seeing you lay there, gasping for breath. He turned to the open window seeing no one around. He had disappeared. And right under his nose too. How long had the man been in the room with them?! How dumb could he have been?! Reaching up to Jotaro, you muttered that the man had broken a few bones in your back and that you couldn’t move. 

“I’m sorry Jotaro. I didn’t get a good look at his face…” 

“Don’t worry about that! I’ll get help right away!” 

You looked up with hazy eyes as Jotaro rushed to the phone to call Josuke. After everything between the two of you, after everything he’s said to you, it was surprising to see just how much he truly cared about you. Holding the phone to his ear, Jotaro frantically told Josuke your condition and for him to get over here as soon as possible. Glancing down at your arm, Jotaro’s eyes shot open at the black ink that painted your skin just a few centimeters beneath your wrist. In all caps, as if the murderer was playing with you all, the ink wrote, 

“Foreigner’s God - AS.”  

- - - - - 

“Honestly Mr. Joestar, where does that grandson of yours get off running me and the others ragged like this? He sees one person with the initials A.S. in a phonebook and he sends me out across down to read them with Heaven’s Door.” 

Rohan Kishibe sat drinking his tea, absently working on Pink Dark Boy, waiting for Jotaro’s next move. His companion, Joseph Joestar, took a sip of his drink at Rohan’s rude accusation. 

“Hush now Rohan. We all put Jotaro in charge of his operation, given his connection to our main victim. All he’s doing is using your stand to its full capabilities.” 

The old man raised an eyebrow and Rohan got the hint. Mr. Joestar was the only one of the group that the snarky artist fully respected, so he would follow the seasoned stand user’s lead. 

A heavy set of footsteps entered the room, followed by a more uneven pair lingering behind. The two stand users looked up to see you and Jotaro enter. You were looking better since the attack. Josuke had healed your back of the broken bones, but the bruises and intense pain of walking remained. Moving with crutches, you slowly stepped out from behind Jotaro as the two of you entered the room. Jotaro, his face darkened in a mixture of unhealthy fatigue and intense bloodlust, approached Rohan’s table and slammed down a stack of papers. 

“Names, addresses, ages, and criminal histories. All here. I want you done with it within the next two days.” 

Rohan grumbled, standing up. “You’ve got a lot of nerve talking to me like that Jotaro. Not even a hello, not even an acknowledgment of your grandfather. He’s the only reason I’m letting you push me around like this you-” 

Jotaro took one step closer to Rohan, staring the smaller man down in silence. A chill went down the artist’s spine. Shown plainly in the scientist’s eyes was a haze of dark intent, of evil desires. He wanted this person dead, and for them to suffer. Joseph flicked his gaze up at his grandson, recognizing the expression from the other’s climactic fight with DIO. A tinge of worry filled the old soul. 

They needed to catch him, and catch him soon. 

“Jotaro, come on. We told Josuke and the others we would give them an update soon.” 

At the sound of your voice, raspy still from the attack, Jotaro’s face softened into its usual composure. He turned around to face you, and you gave him a tired smile. 

“Right, let’s go. Rohan. Two days, please. I’m counting on you.” 

Tipping his hat over his eyes, Jotaro held out an arm for you as you both walked to the rendez-vous point to meet with Josuke. 

Rohan still felt lost in the other’s murderous expression. It had been three days since your run in with Foreigner’s God, and Heaven’s Door’s user was one of the first to arrive at the scene in order to search for clues. He remembered reading a page drawn from your unconscious body; you had blacked out soon after Jotaro made the call for help. Josuke was working on your spine, and there was a tense silence about the room. A silence soon interrupted by the crash of wood hitting the floor. Everyone looked up, seeing Jotaro standing deathly still in his spot, meanwhile Star Platinum had escaped and had thrown the table over and smashed it into the floor. The rampaging stand turned to the board and knocked it over with a fierce punch, wood scraps and documents flying everywhere. 

“Hey Jotaro stop it! We need those!” 

Josuke yelled, drawing out Crazy diamond to hold Star back. In his blinded rage, the stand took a mindless swing, punching Crazy Diamond in the jaw and sending both him and Josuke flying into the opposite wall. 

“Josuke!” 

Koichi and Okuyasu rushed to their friend. He wasn’t injured too badly, surprisingly no bones broken; nothing a bandage or two couldn’t fix. The four of them, the three teenagers and the artist all turned to Jotaro in shock, who by this point had absorbed Star Platinum into his being. Turning back to face them all, they all got a look at it. 

The truly furious face of Jotaro Kujo. 

The calm and collected scientist now wore the face of violence, a face he hadn’t worn since Egypt. His eyes shone bright with a horrifying lust for vengeance. Those eyes looked away from the frightened stand users, towards your unconscious body. Without a word, Jotaro left the room, and the others let out a shaky breath in the tense air. Those eyes. It had been three days and those eyes were still ever present. Rohan shook away his discomfort and waved goodbye to Mr. Joestar, understanding now. 

Jotaro was not in this for justice. If Kira had hurt only you those months ago, Jotaro would have worn the same face. You were the key to Jotaro’s psyche and wellbeing. That was a fundamental truth about Jotaro Kujo. It was that day that Rohan Kishibe learned another fundamental truth. 

Sometimes, the universe places an answer in your hands when you need an answer the most. 

Half an hour later, it happened. It was in the middle of a secluded street, inhabited by only three people at that moment. A man. A woman. And the young artist, who had been so enraptured by his goal of locating the first name of his list that he barely had the time to react when it happened. And when it did, it only took an instant. 

The man in front of him quickly drew out a pocket knife from his jacket, driving its blade into the woman’s shoulder, unaware Rohan was behind him seeing the act in its entirety. Before the woman had any time to scream in pain, the pair vanished into thin air before the artist’s very eyes, and into the man’s stand realm. Rohan held his breath, frightened at the pair’s sudden disappearance. A stand user. It must have been. Was this him? Reaching quickly into his bag, Rohan Kishibe phoned his first line of defense.

You had been sitting with Jotaro and all of the Morioh teenagers when Jotaro received his call from Rohan.  

“What is it?” 

“I found someone. It’s either him or another one Jotaro.” 

Jotaro shot up from his chair, eyes blown out in stress. “Are you sure?! How do you know?!” 

Josuke, Okuyasu, and Koichi all grew the same expression of fighting spirit on their faces and you were sure danger was ahead for you all. 

Rohan tried to remain calm. “I’m not sure… Come over here with the others. We have a better chance of taking down whoever this is together. I’m by Owsen, two streets over…” 

Inside Foreigner’s God’s realm, the man  grabbed on tighter to the struggling woman’s neck as she gasped for air. 

“Please, please don’t kill me! Please don’t k-kill me!” 

But the man was hardly paying attention to her cries. He had brought a vision of Rohan into the void and was watching the artist’s movement’s while still strangling the woman as she writhed in pain. 

He didn’t like what he was hearing. With a grunt, the man turned the woman around to face Rohan’s vision, his hand still tight around her neck. 

She whimpered at the sudden motion, tears streaming down her face, meanwhile he stared boredly at Rohan talking on the phone with Jotaro and the others. 

“Hey bitch, who is that?” 

The woman just kept crying.  “Please don’t kill me!” 

Gritting his teeth, the man smacked her upside the head and tightened his grip around her neck. “Tell me who that is!” 

Her vision hazy, the woman took a good look at the eccentrically dressed man. “I-I think th-that’s Rohan Kishibe. A famous manga artist…”  She sputtered out. 

The man’s eyes widened. Rohan Kishibe. He was at the scene of Kira’s death. Could he be another of them? 

A fit of laughter took over him and he cackled, his jubilation mixing uncomfortably with the woman’s struggle for her life. Continuing to holler, the man dropped the woman to the ground and she remained there, coughing to catch her breath. 

“Oh that’s great! I’ve heard he’s good too! You ever read any of his stuff?!” 

She looked up at him confused, watching his face twist in excitement as he realized that he, a lowly stand user, was about to kill a man that helped take down the mighty Yoshikage Kira. Staring down at the ground, she shuddered at the sound of the maniac’s voice.

“Hey.”

A chill went down the woman’s spine. Suddenly, the man wasn’t laughing anymore. She turned her head to find a way to escape, seeing nothing but white everywhere. Why couldn’t anyone see what he was doing to her?! The man on the street with them, Rohan, why wasn’t he stepping in? It’s like they weren’t the real world at that moment. 

“...I asked you a question.” 

Tears filled her eyes again as she met his bored gaze. “W-what?” 

Drawing closer to her weak form, and kneeling down on the ground, the man before her grabbed a fistful of her hair and she screamed at the sudden jerking pain.

“I’m asking if you’ve ever read any of his stuff!” 

The woman felt a crushing pain in her chest, as if a mysterious force was stepping on her. 

“N-no! I haven’t! But please don’t k-”

“Hmph.” 

In a split second, the stand’s hands came around the woman’s neck and snapped it, and Foreigner’s God’s ability ceased. The man quickly his himself out of sight, seeing Rohan standing alone in the street. 

Rohan turned around at the thud of a body hitting the ground behind him. He looked over to see the dead woman, her eyes blown out and a thick ring of bruises around her neck. Just like what you had gone through. And there it was, the same tag that had been on your body after your attack.

 “Foreigner’s God. - AS. ” 

Bringing his phone shakily to his ear, Rohan muttered, “It’s him Jotaro. He’s just killed someone else. Get over here now!” 

Jotaro felt the same dark intent sweep over him as he heard Rohan speak those words. “Do you see him?” 

“No. He hid himself somehow. He’s nearby I bet. Waiting to get me… Come soon. I’m hanging up.” With that, the artist turned his phone off, staying on guard for any attackers. 

Jotaro hung up the phone call with Rohan and turned to the others to come with him. You stood up as well to head to the scene when you felt Jotaro’s hand roughly shove you down into your seat. 

“No.” He ordered plainly. 

“No?! You expect me to be useless again?! I’m the one he attacked first! I wanna see him go down and I wanna help do it!”

“I’m not having you go over there! You can’t get hurt again!” 

You stared up at him, shocked at the concern plastered all over his face. But still, you were stubborn. That’s one of the things he loved about you. 

“What about you?! What makes you sure you won’t get hurt?! Or even die Jotaro?!” 

“I’d rather that than you die (y/n)! The world needs you more than it will ever need me! And I can’t watch someone I love get hurt right in front of me again!” 

You stood there frozen, your legs feeling like they were about to give out at those word.

“...What?” 

Jotaro felt a hand grip his shoulder, turning to see Josuke motion for him to get going. They needed to catch this guy. And fast. Giving a quick glance to your shaken form, he knew you understood why you needed to stay behind. 

You did, of course, know him and his words better than anyone else on Earth. 

Jotaro began running with the others towards the scene and when he was a few feet away, you heard Koichi ask your beloved lab partner if he had any idea what kind of stand they were dealing with. 

Your mind flooded back to the words that man had spoken to you. A stand. That was the word he kept using. A stand. AS. Those were the initials of the man that nearly strangled you to death. Foreigner’s God. He said that was the name of his stand. A stand. Stand.

Your mind kept repeating that same word over and over again in your head as you stood there in the crowded Morioh street. All of these people. The people you had come to love. Josuke and the others. The strange lives they lived. Jotaro. The strange life he had drawn you into. They were all working to save the thousands of people that lived in this small Japanese town. 

You thought back on all they had said, all that you had overheard over the course of the investigation. Things you didn’t understand now flooded your mind. They spoke about the first trip, the killer. Killer. A man named Kira. Killer Queen. Killer Queen must have been his stand. A stand. Is that why you think you’ve been going crazy? Are those third arms stands? ...Did Jotaro have one? 

“Gimme… gimme… gimme… GIMME!”

Your whole form awoke from your deep train of thought at the sound of someone calling out to you.  You turned around, looking at all the people that were walking nearby. No one was even looking at you. You sighed. You supposed this town really was driving you crazy. You reached for your crutches and took one step forward- 

“GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME!!!”

The loud voice rang violently in your head and you fell to your knees from the shock. Covering your ears, you foolishly tried to block out the sound. Your whole body began to feel weak, your whole being heating up. It felt like your blood was boiling, your muscles were tensing, an unwanted rage consuming every cell in your form. 

“What’s going on?! What’s happening to m-”

“GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME!”

“Who are you?! What’s going on?!” You thought to yourself, panicking. What was this voice?!

“GIMME GIMME GIMME!”

“Go away…” You muttered under your breath as you knelt on the pavement.

“GIMME GIMME GIMME!”

“Go away…” Your voice subconsciously raised, drawing others’ attention. 

“GIMME GIMME GIMME!”

“GO AWAY!”  You let a shrill yell, grabbing violently at your hair in terror, causing a crowd of people to form around you. 

And then the voice stopped, a quiet renewing in your head. You sat there, gasping for air, your throat still burning from the attack days before, and your screaming had not helped it. You looked up at everyone staring up at you in shocked worry. In a calm daze, you stood up, grabbing your crutches and began to walk away from the others. 

Jotaro. Jotaro would know what it means. What that voice was. 

- - - - - 

Arata Sone had been Yoshikage Kira’s only friend as long as the killer had been alive. He was the only person in the world that Kira confided in. He remembered the night he met the blond murderer. One evening, the normal man came home from a very late night at work to a silent home, his wife sleeping upstairs. With a heavy sigh, Sone was about to enter his bedroom when he heard his wife let out a sudden shriek, before the sound immediately ceased into a renewed silence. Panicked, the man swung the door open to find another man about his age, standing in the middle of the room, a dismembered hand in his grasp. The hand was dripping blood onto the carpet, and Sone’s wife was nowhere to be found. Putting two and two together, the man felt a chill slither up his whole body. He remained stuck in his spot as he watched the blond man draw closer to him. Then something strange happened. Arata Sone knew that he should be afraid, knew that he should be begging for his life, knew that the proper thing to do was flee. But what he did shocked both himself and the murderer before him. 

Arata Sone laughed harder than he ever had before. 

Cackling loudly to an unsettling degree, he even managed to throw the calm and collected Yoshikage Kira off guard. After several minutes, the laughter died down and the man looked at the other before him with a wide smile on his face.

“Thank you.” 

For the first time in a long time, Kira felt a shudder rush through his body. 

“Thank you?” 

“I was waiting for a good moment to kill her myself.” 

In that moment, both men felt one of the great pleasures of life, a pleasure that can only come from being shunned for one’s desires for so long, and then to finally have that desire recognized by another being. The two men called out their stands and both fell into fits of laughter and joy at their shared murderous trait. A new friendship had been born.

A few years later, Arata Sone saw on the news the gruesome image of his beloved friend’s face crushed beneath an ambulance. Seeing what he could only guess were other stand users at the scene, his ever present lust for murder grew within him to a boiling point. Foreigner’s God’s user made a promise to himself. To kill those who had killed his friend. 

And today was the day to make that happen. The killer watched from his hiding spot as Jotaro and the others ran to the scene to see a very shaken Rohan Kishibe, who was wondering why the killer had yet to show himself. What none of them knew, was that their attacker had grown as a stand user. He was about to apply what his dear friend Kira had once taught him, and was merely hiding to get them all in one place. 

Sone waited for the group to get within his stand’s range.

You slowly made your way on your crutches towards the scene. You needed to know these answers. 

“Just a little farther…” He thought as he waited for Jotaro and the others to be within his grasp. 

“Just a little farther…” You muttered to yourself as you turned the corner, two streets away from Owsen. An ominous feeling crept over you, making you feel sick to your stomach. 

Finally, they were all together within his stand’s range. Arata Sone waited for the right moment, a sick smile on his face.

Jotaro went to speak. “Any sign of h-”

And then the attack was sent into motion. In that split second, each of Morioh’s fighters looked down to see a small mass of white matter form around their ankle. With the snap of his fingers, the matter exploded, taking a chunk off each person’s leg with it. Jotaro, Josuke, Koichi, Okuyasu and Rohan all collapsed to the ground as the street became consumed in a white void the moment they all felt that same sting of pain.

“No human on Earth is unable to feel pain.”

They all looked up from writhing in pain as the man they had been hunting down showed himself, the twisted smile on his face more present than before. 

“When a man feels he is at his most cornered, that is often when the most opportunities arise for him. My st-”

In a flash, Jotaro lunged forward, landing a punch to Sone’s face. The smile went away.

“I suppose I’ll take your hand next.” He grunted, grabbing Jotaro’s arm and slamming his whole body to the ground. The moment his hand made contact with the ground, another white mass formed around Jotaro’s finger and exploded, and Star Platinum’s user once again hollered in pain.

“Jotaro!” 

The other Morioh fighters called out to their injured friend and all of them got up to attack their enemy together. The moment they took another step, white matter formed once more around their feet and exploded again. The five of them were squirming on the ground in pain once again. 

“As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, Jotaro Kujo. My stand feeds on that first moment of selfish pain and extends it, trapping others in a blank void without distraction from their pain. It’s a terrifying ability when used properly, though I will admit, back when I attacked your little friend, I wouldn’t have been able to take you all on at once, and that’s the only reason I spared her life…” 

He looked down to see Jotaro’s face overcome with rage at your mention. It was a fruitless effort, but Jotaro lunged at his enemy again, only to be knocked on his back. The moment his body touched the ground, several bubbles of the same white substance engulfed the scientist’s back and exploded, leaving bleeding indents all over the tall man’s frame and causing him to gasp at the pain. 

“But you see. I have grown as a stand user. You may remember from the tag on your beloved friend’s arm the words Foreigner’s God. Well that my friends, is the name of my stand. Or no… this is something different. A new ability that I’ve learned. A swan song to my dear friend, Yoshikage Kira!” 

Their eyes shot open at the mention of that hardly forgotten name. “Kira?” Josuke muttered. 

“Oh right… an old friend of mine. I figured when I would be taking revenge for his death, I would use some of that explosive power of his that I loved so much. You see everyone, normally I would only be able to keep one person at a time in my realm. You can only hurt some many in one instance after all!” 

It was in that moment, Foreigner’s God revealed itself in its humanoid form right beside its user. Lunging forward, the stand attacked the stationary fighters, knocking them all to the ground. At the very second their bodies touched the ground, the same miniature explosions went off, extending their pain and keeping them in the dangerous realm. 

“Gimme gimme gimme…” 

You placed a hand against your ear trying to block out that annoying voice that was seemingly coming out of nowhere. You weren’t far from the scene, your mind still running wild, asking a thousand questions as to what a stand even was, what that voice just then was, who were the others really dealing with, what was this man capable of. You weren’t sure of what you would be able to do, but something within you drew your body closer and closer to the street where your friends were currently writhing in agony. You didn’t care about what Jotaro wasn’t telling you. You didn’t care that there were still questions that needed answered. You just wanted to help, anyway you could figure out how.

Staring down at their battered and bleeding bodies, Arata Sone let out another burst of jubilation amidst the void. 

“I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of this before! If you haven’t already noticed, my once empty void has now been combined with its own type of landmines. You cannot move without a new one setting off, and extending that pain further. You’re going to be stuck in here until you bleed out, with no one to hear you or see you! That is it the secret to my new ability, Arsonist’s Lullaby!” 

With that cry, the stand stormed through the five of them once more, knocking them to the ground once more, causing new land mines to set off, all to the tune of its user’s laugh-filled joy. It was then that white walls of the void were beginning to fade, and the scenery of that Morioh street was starting to fade back into view. 

“Hmm… it appears this ability takes up more of my energy than I thought. I suppose I can’t kill all five of you at once and remain invisible at the same time. No matter, I can’t sense any other stand users around, just the six of us. I don’t care who sees this! I’ll just kill the witnesses after I kill you!” 

It was then that Arata Sone made a fatal mistake, and just like his friend Yoshikage Kira, let his hubris take over. Removing the hiding nature of his stand, but doubling the landmines, the man watched as the five powerful stand users struggled to even get close enough to him to land in a hit. New landmines keep going off, new injuries created. 

They were dangerously close to bleeding out, all in plain sight of another stand user. You. 

You turned the corner to see the carnage ahead of you, finding your whole group in the enemy’s grasp. You couldn’t even tell what you were seeing. The moment one of your friends moved, they would immediately flinch back in agony. Drawing your attention to the man standing over them, a familiar chill went through you. That was the same man that had attacked you days before. And seeing what he was capable of doing to the people you had grown so close to, you were now more scared than ever of him. 

But you noticed something. Amidst the pleasure that this monster was reveling in, there was a distinct look of concentration plastered all over his face. You watched his expression twitch with each time an attack went off on one of your friends. He must be doing something with his mind to attack them. He was focusing. His focus. You needed to capture his focus. 

Steeling yourself for what was to come, you dropped your crutches and took a deep breath in, something in you knowing the dangers you were about to face, and the rest of you stupidly seeming not to care. 

With a small ounce of bravery, you shouted at the top of your lungs. “Stop it! I won’t let you hurt them!” 

Sone turned around at the sudden distraction, surprised that someone was taking notice. His eyebrow raised in intrigue. That could only mean one thing. You were another one. 

Jotaro recognized that voice. No… no no no. Looking up, he saw your frightened body shaking and staring straight into the enemy’s eyes without a way to defend yourself.

“No! (y/n) get out of here! You can’t be here! He’ll kill-” 

The killer turned back around and punched Jotaro straight in the gut with his stand, sending him flying back into a tree. 

“Jotaro!” 

You shrieked. All five of them were dying right in front of you, so close to bleeding out. And now his focus was on you, and it had taken all your courage to simply call out and distract him from the others. You watched as the man drew closer, ready to kill another. The same giant smile came over his face again. 

“(y/n) huh? And here I thought you were a smart person. Smart enough not to beg for me to hurt you again. But sorry, there’s no escape this time!” 

“(y/n) no! Run away! Get out of here!” 

You didn’t have time to register whose voice had called out to you before you saw the attacker lunge right at you. You put your arms up over your face as your body collapsed to its knees, your eyes shut in fear, and a horrified scream uncontrollably left your lungs. 

“Now die!” 

And then, you felt weightless.

“GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME” 

As you felt a massive weight being lifted from your body, your eyes shot open to find someone new standing over you. Actually, you weren’t sure if it was someone new, or something new. This new thing, it didn’t seem real.

“GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME” 

Your face lit up in shock. Attached to this new thing was the same voice that you had been hearing in your head before. You watched as its fists fired off in a flurry of punches, all hitting their marks on the man’s body. You were mesmerized by its appearance. Its body, about the same size as yours, looked as if it were made of glass. Swirling around within that glass was a pool of different colors. Different blues, purples, oranges and pinks flowed together seamlessly, all encased within the glass structure as it pummeled the enemy before you. 

“GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME… A MAN!” 

With one last, hard punch to the enemy’s chest, the glass figure stopped its attack and turned around to face you. You shuffled back on the ground, your chest heaving in fear from what had just happened. The figure before you, without speaking a word, drew its arm forward to point at Sone, who was now frozen in his spot before you. Then, everyone watched as small ripples began to form over the man’s whole body. All over his arms, legs, and chest, it looks as if the flesh was moving, as if someone had dropped a pebble into a lake. Then the ripples began to glow brightly, the full spectrum of colors radiating out, and tearing their way from the inside of his body outward. The enemy let out a painful shriek as the searing pain overtook him, more and more light spilling out of his body as the flesh around it became torn and melted. Finally, less than a second later, an explosion of white light burst out of the man’s body. And once that flash was gone, so was he. Foreigner’s God had been defeated. And this thing that you could tell was a part of you, it had been the thing to kill him. 

Shakily, you stood up, holding on tightly to your crutches, keeping your gaze on this figure that had erupted out of you. 

“...ABBA?” 

Still confused, all you knew was that something in your body told you to say that name. The figure turned around to face you and gave you a shy smile before coming closer and embracing your shaking form in a hug. Surprised you could even touch it, you wrapped your arms around ABBA as well, finding to your disbelief that the glass like material felt soft and warm to the touch. You looked down its back, eyeing the pattern of jagged lines all over its body, as well as the swirling colors within. You felt your eyes well up with tears. Something about holding onto this being, one not entirely separate from you, felt so right. It felt like it had been welling up inside you for so long, and you couldn’t help but love it now that it was out. 

“A stand…” You muttered. It was all so clear now. Your stand.

After a few moments, ABBA stood up and nodded towards the group of your injured friends. Holding you up, both you and your stand rushed over to Josuke. The teenager’s eyes opened with a pained groan, looking up at you and seeing ABBA at your side. His face lit up in surprise and he tried to sit up before the crushing pain forced him back down onto the ground. He muttered weakly for you to see if Rohan was alright, and you did. 

Suddenly, a small white figure burst out of the artist’s body and punched Josuke in the arm. You watched, intrigued as a section of the teen’s arm unfolded like a book. The white figure leaned in, writing in Josuke’s arm the words, “I currently do not have any injuries.” 

You watched in awe as the bleeding wounds all over Josuke’s body slowly began to close. Within a few minutes, Josuke was up and mobile as ever. He had several questions to ask you, but first, he had some healing to do. You watched as a pink and blue being, you assumed Josuke’s stand, flew out of his body and hovered over all of the other injured, healing them nearly immediately. They all stood up, groaning from the shadows of pain still left behind from the attacks. One by one, each of them looked up at you, each of their faces growing an expression of surprise and adoration. You felt small under their gazes, looking up at your stand standing next to you. As small as you felt, there was something about ABBA that made you feel powerful. Especially considering what it had just done to defeat the enemy. 

“(y/n)... is that your stand…?” 

You looked over at Koichi before quickly nodding. “Yeah… I guess it must be right?” 

You tried to shrug it off with a nervous laugh, but even you were still in awe of this new ability. Finally, you turned to Jotaro, watching his face for a reaction. The gentle giant stood frozen at a loss of words, unsure of what to say. His gaze turned to ABBA, a melancholy look of admiration and love spread over his features. 

“Come on Jotaro… say something. Don’t worry. I’ll understand-” 

You muttered softly before Jotaro rushed forward and cut you off with a tight hug. You rested your smaller body against him, tears of relief streaming down your face, grateful that everyone was still alive. You looked up to gaze into Jotaro’s blue eyes, seeing that he had begun to tear up as well. Then something caught your eye. Looking over the tall man’s shoulder, you saw a purple skinned spirit faze out of your partner’s body and float over to ABBA, starting deeply into your stand’s face. ABBA, who had before been so calm and collected, now shrunk back a little bit with a childish giggle at the sight of the handsome stand before her. As ABBA held her face in her hands, you felt your cheeks flush bright red. Your eyes widened and you pushed Jotaro away from you, turning to your stand. 

“H-hey wait a minute! ABBA, it’s not like that!”

“Gimme?” 

ABBA asked innocently as she grabbed Star Platinum’s hand tightly in her own. Jotaro now felt his face heat up and turn bright red. With a heavy sigh, he watched as his stand wrapped yours in its arms, chuckling a bit at your embarrassment. 

“Sorry about all this. His name’s Star Platinum, and he’s definitely more… emotional than I am.” 

Your eyes widened at what that could possibly mean. Wait… did they think that you and Jotaro were… 

“W-wait it’s not like that! He and I are just… “

“Gimme?” 

“No! W-well I mean I care about him but I-”

“(y/n).”

You turned around to face Jotaro as he calmly took his hat off, revealing the jet black hair that you loved seeing. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay (y/n).” 

Your heart swelled at his words and you slowly turned around to see ABBA and Star Platinum holding each other lovingly, a warmth erupting throughout your whole body at the sight. The feeling of Jotaro grabbing your hand caught your attention and met his gaze once more. 

“He’s the personification of my thoughts and well… it seems like your stand, ABBA right? It seems like she’s the personification of yours.” 

The two of you watched as your stands talk to one another in their own little language, each enamored by the other’s presence. You turned back to Jotaro, seeing that his face had drawn closer. 

“Yeah… I guess... you’re… right.” 

As you breathed out that last word, Jotaro closed the gap between the two of you, your lips connecting in a sweet, long awaited kiss. You wrapped your arms around the fellow scientist’s, and now fellow stand user’s, neck, giggling slightly as he lifted your body off the ground to hold you tightly in his arms. When you two broke for air, Jotaro quickly kissed you again, holding you up like his life depended on it. 

When he finally set you down, Jotaro Kujo placed a hand to the side of your face and wiped away your tears. With a small laugh, he turned over to your stand.

“Hey ABBA, what took you so long huh?” 

“...Gimme.” ABBA shrugged a little bit and pointed at you. 

You smiled, wiping your tears away. “She said she wouldn’t appear until I was either ready for it, or I really needed her.” 

Jotaro rolled his eyes at your stand. “Well you really waited for the exact moment that she needed you huh-Ow!” 

Jotaro grumbled a bit as Star punched him in the arm, annoyed that his user was making fun of this new pretty stand. ABBA grinned mischievously before looking around at the rest of the group, and seeing all of the other stands. 

A feeling of happiness swelled within the stand’s heart. Ever since you had pricked your finger on the arrow, for so long she had been growing, becoming more and more trapped within you. It had been lonely seeing you struggle without her help. It had been upsetting to see you not yet be ready for her to show herself. But now, eyeing all the others, Heaven’s Door, Echoes, the Hand, Crazy Diamond, and especially Star Platinum, ABBA really didn’t feel alone anymore. And seeing now how the other stand users of Morioh rushed over to hug you and vocalize their shock at you having a stand, ABBA could tell that you didn’t really feel alone anymore either. With a sigh of content, your stand fazed back into your body as you followed the rest of the group away from the scene and back to the hotel to get some much needed rest. 

You leaned against Jotaro’s frame as he wrapped as a strong arm around you. “Come on. Let’s get something to eat everyone! Tonio’s, my treat!” He said with a bright smile. 

Josuke and Okuyasu cheered, “and (y/n) can meet Tonio’s stand!” 

You turned back to the teens in shock as you all walked ahead. “Tonio has a stand?!” 

Koichi gave a firm nod. “Yeah. So does Hazamada.” 

“That weird kid?!” 

“My girlfriend Yukako too.” 

“Damn… I had no idea…” 

You all shared a laugh as you left to enjoy a well deserved victory, the sun setting over the beautiful town of Morioh, another dark force defeated by the town's newest savior.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Ma'am- how dares thou leave us off on a cliffhanger for both Empires on the Horizon and Kingdom Collisions V >:L I demand to know whats going to happen next!! (also take your time to write them lol )

Ah my friend you are right I am sorry for being so rude😭👀here's a Kingdom Collisions update. Please forgive me?🥺

Y’all know the drill by now. This is a fic i’m writing to try incorporate more descriptions into my writing. I do not have pre-written chapters so we’re both lost on what comes next or when the next update will be?! Please enjoy!

masterlist

TW: Suicide mention

Kingdom Collisions VI

Once upon a time in a land known for water and jewels there lived a young boy. He had skin the colour of soil and eyes the colour of oceans and were your gaze to ever fall upon this little figure you knew the earth was created just for him. The boy lived in a white-stone castle, surrounded by guards in clanking silver armour and blue-feathered helmets. Swords gleamed with their newness. They are decoration, a rite of passage. They only reflect the water. Children darted between their legs as they swoppeed shifts and if you looked closely the boy was often one of them. The castle stood proud and tranquil in the kingdom and gave the people hope.

If the white walls stand tall the queen will rise above all. 

A piece of poetry long since washed away.That single line ran through the city streets like rain water. Ran into people's homes, and under the wheels of rumbling cars. Generations had forgotten the poem to time but that line for it's power and rhyme had weathered the changing tides. If you listened closely the trees still knew the words. But nobody ever heard. The world was too busy and the day too new to remember what it was like to become one with evergreens.

Percy Jackson wakes up with a gasp, heart beating like conga drums. His fingers curl into his chest, leaving red marks as he winces sleep away. The world is still pitch black; stars hidden behind a blanket of storms. He wonders if they find comfort wrapped in the clouds. If those white puffs feel as soft as they look. Sleep is faraway, a distant friend stuck at a cold airport terminal. So he drifts to the window, ignoring the wind prickling his skin and sits down at the bench. The chiffon curtains rustle softly, talking to him in a language he hasn't quite yet learned. He knows they're saying something important. They must be if they brush against his legs every few minutes. Everyone is always trying to tell him something important. Something life changing and groundbreaking. He wishes he could pause time for a little while. Stroll through the gardens and into the ocean without anybody running after him.

The curtain drifts towards him again and he sighs as if the universe has made him designated driver. An unwanted, unwilling task.

Somewhere a bird caws and he snorts softly, "Okay, okay. I'm handling it."

He let's the sounds of the wind take him through the endless corridors, let's it carry him like a dying flower, like autumn leaves, like bonfire embers. The stone floor is cold under his bare feet and his body is littered with bumps. He misses the warmth of his castle. Misses the warmth of the hearth in every room and the smell of the sea that drifts in through open windows. Mostly, especially, he misses his mom. There is something distinctly missing from the Castle of Caelum. He hasn't quite put his finger on it but it doesn't feel right.

He doesn't have time to delve into that thought because all at once everything goes quiet. A large door looms before him.

"So this is it huh?" His voice is soft, afraid to disrupt the silence.

Taking a deep breath, filling up his lungs with the air of the Kingdom of Wind, he knocks on the wood. It is gentle and solitary and he's almost certain no-one heard it but his ears perk up anyway. He knows you can't pick up footfalls on stone but it doesn't stop his heart from racing in anticipation. The door opens with a soft click and tired eyes look at him.

"Percy," Jason's voice is raspy with crying and his heart shatters.

"Hey, can I come in?"

The blonde looks at him, brows furrowed and tear stains carved into his cheeks. Percy can see the tiredness in the prince's bones, like x-rays of exhaustion. He's about to say nevermind, about to walk away, walk past his own chambers and into the lifeless night. But the Prince nods once and moves aside.

He feels almost disappointed that he couldn't escape. Disappointed he couldn't just go back and never return. His mother's voice flitters into his head.

When your people are suffering you must lie down with them and ask them to tell you their story.

Why mom?

Because little one when the time comes you will know what to do.

How momma?

We are made of stories little one. We are made of all the things people tell us. Our dreams and hopes and memories are just threads in a tapestry and every person is connected to it.

I don't understand momma?

She smiled at him, perfect white teeth and dark blue eyes: When you think of me little one, what comes to mind?

Ten year old Percy frowned, Chocolate chip cookies, and your bedtime tales, and the beach, and hugs.

And what do you think about Grover?

Percy's green eyes had lit up like the sun: Play time and movies and ice-cream!

She laughed: And what about Dad?

His little brows furrowed: Fancy clothes and swords and paper and cuddles.

And Princess Piper?

His nose scrunched up: Cooties! He squealed and then he was running around the room; the world a flowing river, him a little fish learning its current.

You see little one, you didn't think about bones or skin or blood. You thought of memories and stories. Do you understand now?

He nodded as he scrambled into her lap: I think so momma. So if my people tell me who they are I can use their stories to help them when they're sore?

Almost little one. Half of hurt is because nobody listens. If you just listen to what your people are saying they will not hurt so much.

Is that because we have to tell our stories momma?

"Exactly. That is how we live. And live on."

Prince Perseus Jackson takes a deep breath and steps into the room. Immediately he can feel the icy wind, so much colder up here, stinging his bare arms, chest, legs. Save for the small silk boxers covering his most sensitive parts his body is exposed to the brutal temperatures and he cannot hide a shiver as he settles on the couch. The fire has died long ago, maybe not even put on for the night, if the grey ashes and lack of heat are indication enough.

"What are you doing here?" The blonde prince looks at him.

"The curtains told me to come."

"What?" He can hear the confusion, but more than that the weight of a thousand heartaches.

He wonders if every person who has their heartbroken feels like they're the first to ever go through it. If that feeling is so perfectly human it feels unique and special to each one.

"Sometimes the world talks to me and sometimes I listen."

"I don't really know what game you're playing but I'm not in the mood so if it isn't an emergency," Those eyes are ice blue, "And I honestly wouldn't care even if it was, please get out."

"I cannot." He shrugs and pulls a velvet blanket over him.

"I'd appreciate," Jason's teeth grit, "If you respected my boundaries enough to leave. I am not in the mood."

"The window is open, there is paper sitting on the desk and many crumpled pieces on the floor, and I can see you haven't even sat on your bed, never-mind slept in it. What do you plan to do Grace?"

"You know what." That voice is hard, malicious with fear, pain.

"I will not leave. And you will not either. You can sit there on your bed hating me till the sun graces us once more. You can punch me until I am the same colour as the dusk but I am not leaving."

"I hate you. Leave me alone." He can hear the tears hit the cold stone. He doesn't react. A shadow blocks the moonlight finally peaking through the clouds.

"I said leave me the fuck alone!"

"I cannot do that Prince."

"Don’t call me that." He snaps, pushing his face into Percy's, "Go away! I want to be alone."

"I can't Jason,"

"JUST LEAVE!" Golden fists pound at his chest, droplets of salt soaking into his skin, as if trying to wash away the bruising.

He grabs his husband's hands gently and pulls him to the couch.

"I'm not going to leave you."

"They all left." Jason gasps, "They left. HE LEFT!"

The scream draws blood from his ears, pulls oxygen from his veins.

"I'm here. I'm not leaving. I am here."

"Please," Sobs wrack that broken body, and Percy can feel the first cracks in a kingdom. "Please don't leave me. Please, please please."

He rubs his hand over a shaking back and mutters over and over again, "I will not leave you."

Prince Jason Grace cries a new ocean and he names it after the fire that caused it. When the sun peaks over the horizon, fracturing a wall of crystal, and attempting to warm those cold grey stones, Percy Jackson takes his husband to bed and ignores the fissures running under his feet.

Once upon a time in a kingdom known for storms and gold there lived a little boy. He had eyes of lightning and skin the colour of sunlight and if you ever caught a glimpse of him you knew only the darkest nights could ever produce something so beautiful. The guards are bathed in riches, weighed down by diamonds cut from dreams and earrings weighted with the pureness of gold. Swords are varied and prized. Bred for fodder. Used at will. He lived in a castle made of grey stone and it loomed over the kingdom like a black cloud. The people looked at it and shied away. For they too had a poem about their crown but they remembered every line. 

Those who fell under the shadow of stone were sure to be left to ruin by their king and cursed forever alone. A young boy with hair spun from starlight is trapped inside. Who will save him if he cannot hide?

Forgetting was a death warrant.

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

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@nishlicious-01

@queen-of-demons-and-hell

@leydiangelo

@sparkythunderstorm

@asami-sato-has-never-sinned

[noocturnalchild]

Of Thieves and Poets

Warning : Mention of abuse, light depiction of wounds, hurt

Well, that was a hard chapter to write, mainly cause I’m still strugling with my English, and sometimes, ideas are here but I find no words to describe them as I want to !

Many thanks to a great friend who’s always been there to beta read my fics and correct the MANY language mistakes I’m still making,it’s a shame that I can’t tag her here !

Sara maybe you’ll never read this but I LOVE YOU ( this is me talking to myself lol)

Also many thanks to all who are sharing and liking my fics, I love you guys, you are the best !

All the poetry in this chapter is William Carlos Williams’ ! 

Chapter one here ! 

Chapter 2 

* 

Give me something to eat! Let me take you to the hospital, I said and after you are well you can do as you please. She smiled, Yes you do what you please first then I can do what I please

“Who’s she?”

The day Laura died, he wrote his most accomplished poem. It rested between her cold fingers, folded in a small sheet of damp paper and he briefly wondered if the dead could read. Heavy rain washed the sleepy city that day, and everyone said that they’d never seen so many white peonies in the same place before. He buried all his other poem books with her, tucked between her curls and the black and white satin.

He never made a copy.

Paterson didn’t write love poems anymore. But never were his fingers as ink stained, bruised and abused by so many hours spent writing as they were now, and never was his desk inundated by so many notebooks. They piled up in complete disorder, competing with books and tools, making the old wood squeak uncomfortably.

“Who’s she”

Only now he saw her fiddling with the framed photo he kept on his living room table, so that it was always the first thing he saw as he woke up.

“Wife?”

Paterson didn’t answer.

Mina had her back turned to him. She couldn’t see the man’s eyes watering, or the frown of his brows, nor could she feel his struggle with his breath, repressing the tides of anguish that menaced to crash on him again.

“Gorgeous, dude! bet she gives great head” She turned to look at him over her shoulder, winked suggestively.

Beaming and smug at the same time, Mina looked like one who’s sure just dropped something so smart and funny, completely oblivious of the hands clutching on the cold marble of the kitchen counter. White knuckles, white pain…

“No complaints.“

Paterson’s reply of choice. Life was going on for everybody, for him too. Doc got a TV in his bar after all. Marie went to New York and Everett to LA. And he was still a bus driver, eating cereals every morning, writing in his yellow pages and sitting on the wet benches of Paterson’s waterfalls, so why would he complain?

“Go and freshen up, bathroom first door to the left”

“You’re no fun” She stuck out her tongue and left. Paterson couldn’t be mad.

Laura was laughing, straddling the arm of the sofa and eyeing him with mischief in her eyes. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Won’t ya help me with my clothes?”

“I can’t do much with a broken wrist”

“It hurts”

(…)

“Dude, come on, so prudish!”

Laura had a hand on her mouth now, in mock shock, her eyes were still laughing, and Paterson was confused, a pretty blush rising to his cheeks. He remembered now that the only clothes he had that might fit Mina were Laura’s, and even those were big for the bony creature waiting for his help in his bathroom.

“Hold… hold on a second”

Paterson drew in a shaky breath, fetched one of his sleep shirts from his bed drawers, strode to open the bathroom door and… oh God.

A trembling dry leaf stood before him. Only in her white crop top and equally white panties; Paterson imagined her cracking under the passers-by’s soles, giving in under their rough stumpings, each one leaving a stain on her weak frame. Paterson’s eyes descended to her bare thighs, and she kept her eyes on the floor.

“Jesus… Who… who did this to you?”

Her thighs were a hideous map, little red and yellowish scabbed dots and circles on tarnished, discolored skin.

She shrugged, eyes avoiding his. Why would he care, why was he so insistent, why couldn’t he just be like the others, why won’t he try something with her, on her, like she deserves… she would let him, this one, she would.

“Just help me with my top” a wobbly voice replied, but Paterson was already looking for something in his medicine cabinet.

“Sit on the stool there” His hands were shaking as he put the ointment and the bandages on the side and proceeded to wet a washcloth.

“Can… I?” He kneeled, and their eyes met. She kept silent and nodded and he thought the sparkle in her eyes was gratitude.

With infinite gentle touches, Paterson washed her thighs and legs, dried them carefully, applied the ointment and wrapped them in clean bandages.

Laura was watching in reverence. The scene exuded something religious; the saint washing the sinner’s faults. And none spoke a word.

Afterwards, Mina laid in white clean sheets, but for all the comfort she had, she couldn’t sleep the few hours separating the night from dawn. She counted the hours, watching the bus driver as he slept peaceful and soft; not so far from her spot on the sofa.

The domestic rituals, the warm clothes, the vanilla soap smell lingering, the nice buzzing of the fridge in a quiet space, and the dim light he kept on just for her… His… his kindness coiled her like sticky ropes. Mina was suffocating.

She got up, slid in her dirty jeans, but kept his shirt on, and with a final brush of his hair, she took his watch and slipped out of the quiet house, and the monsters took her in their arms again.

***

Recycled air and synthetic notes, shopping carts rolling and low, lustful giggles.

With his favorite brand of cereal in hand, Paterson’s food shopping was almost done for the day. He was just strolling, verses starting to form in the fog of his mind as he saw two forms melting in each other, just against one of the snack vending machines. A smile began to tug on his lips. Life was simple, young lovers making out in malls and supermarkets, in the streets and gardens; the boy handsy, in baggy jeans and a loose jumper, fake golden chains around black collar, the girl…the girl.

Paterson’s mind went blank, and verses fled away like frightened pigeons.

“Oi man, whatcha lookin’ at!”

The guy addressed a dazed Paterson, and the girl turned her head from off her lover’s chest.

In all the scenarios she imagined at night, curled up in the corners of the streets and between the brushwood of the parks , meeting him again while in the arms of another man was never on the list. It shouldn’t be like that, it wasn’t supposed to be like that. He shouldn’t think that she… but what was she anyway? She was everything he might think of her now.

He was so beautiful she wanted to bury her pain in his chest, between the threads of his regal hair. Curl all the hurt in a bundle and he would take it, in his large warm palm. He would know how to make it disappear, like by magic, vanish in thin air. With a touch of his finger pads, he could wash away scars; wipe away the purples and the blues and the burns. He was so clean she feared to touch him. He was so wholesome and she felt so queasy, so sickening she wanted to puke. Her hand skimmed the hidden pocket in her rat nibbled jean vest; the watch was still there, burning a hole in its worn fabric. She didn’t pass it on to Ian. It earned her new cigarette burns and a slap that made her nose bleed a little, but she had survived worse treatments.

“Who’s that, you know that guy? You do boring now?”

Carlos giggled, showcasing many missed teeth. He pinched her sides playfully, slapped her cheek playfully, squeezed her tits playfully, and she wished to die.

“Yo dude, wanna suck my dick? Ow no? Maybe a threesome? My chick here gives amazing head”

Oh, that again.

“See, not interested”

Carlos giggles sounded like gallows bells.

“I’m not your chick, for fuck’s sake!”

Mina screamed in frustration, pushed a stunned Carlos away, wriggled free from his sloppy hold, hand reaching out for salvation.

“I’m… I’m sorry!”

What she meant to be loud and clear, came out as a choked whisper.

But Paterson was already turning his back to her. This time he didn’t wait for her, not even a hum or a discarding hand, his long silhouette drawing away, swallowed by the light.

Life was going on, no complaints.

***

Mina was out, really out.

Even when she told him she wouldn’t play “pretend” with him anymore, Carlos still hung around for some time, and the money she could get from him she saved with scrutiny, starving herself to death. She never came back to the “pack”; her steps always took her to the quiet small house at the end of the stairs. She lurked there, watching when the lights went on, and stayed hunched behind shrubs and bushes, clutching the watch to her heart, listening to their combined tic tic tic… the mechanics soothed her, and she slept there every night.

Whatever happens, never sell the watch.

She started doing windshield scrubbing too, helped some nice grocery shop owners with their crates for some dollars, and by the end of the month she could buy a dozen cigarette packs and tissue boxes to sell in the streets. She was always hungry, but at least she could picture him in the back of her mind smiling, not disappointed in her anymore. He might not know, for now, but the thought was comforting. The thought was like a pier, supporting the bridge she was building towards him and she was sure she would reach him again, one day.

***

Sun benches at the curb bespeak another season, truncated poplars that having served for shade served also later for the fire.

It was Saturday morning. The rainy clouds of the day before blew over for a shiny crystal sun to come out. Excitement and expectations wired the air with buzzing electricity around Hinchliff Stadium. Kids and teens, middle aged and old people formed noisy groups, stomping on empty chips bags and placing bets.

Mina thought herself lucky when she laid hands on second hand baseball game tickets. Her wrist completely healed now, she roamed the area around the stadium, surfed the crowd, hands full, voice rusty from a cold she was nursing, over exploited vocal chords, yelling, trying to convince hurried passers-by to buy, by means of jokes and charms.

That’s when she saw him.

“Fuckin’ Carlos” a livid Mina stumbled a few steps backward, eyes seeking a gap between the crowds, quickly calculating her way out.

Fuck!

She could recognize Ian’s red sneakers anywhere. She thanked the heavens for his poor cover-up skills, giving her the high ground for a moment. She knew he could see her, but she took her chance. One group blocked his vision for a moment, and Mina took off her oversized leather jacket, let her hair down and started to walk slowly in the opposite direction.

She mentally counted to ten, chewing furiously on an overused gum, her hands started sweating. She knew that if caught this time, it wouldn’t just be cigarette burns on her thighs.

So Mina ran.

She ran aimlessly, not looking back, eyes closed and breath shagged. She could feel the adrenaline rush shot through her bones, just like every time she plunged her skillful hands inside the pockets of an oblivious passer-by, but this time there would be no euphoria of the gain waiting at the end of the road, just a sliced head.

Five minutes of sprinting and she couldn’t take it anymore, were her lungs that damaged? Fuck you Carlos, couldn’t keep his trap shut! Fuck! She was losing speed, she could hear Ian’s red sneakers batting the asphalt, tap tap tap, just behind. It was common belief that, at moments like these, the film of your whole life would flash back before your eyes, that the spool of all your wrongs would unfurl the threads that would wind around your legs and throat, choke you to death, drag you to hell. But Mina only saw two amber gems, Mina saw warmth and large, strong arms wrapping her in endless depths of comfort, and she felt peace descend upon her, Mina saw the future so she ran faster, and this time, with one destination in mind.