#summer... it is happening. I feel like that always brings with it big emotions for me

[bacchuschucklefuck]

summer of junior year 06/11

[ibetonlosinghuskies]

patience and pleasure pt 6

summary: as paige packs to move to uconn, she starts to doubt herself. grasping for a sense of security, she goes to the one person she knows can make her feel better. azzi.

disclaimer: as always everything i write is fictional!

warnings: fluff, angst, emotional distress, mild anxiety mention.

word count: 4.6k +

author's note: ik this probably isn't what you were expecting lol, very sorry. i will be giving yall what you want very soon.

~flashback to july 2020~

paige's pov:

i can't believe i'm doing this.

playing at uconn has been my dream since i was a kid, but now that it's finally happening i feel paralyzed. packing my stuff made things feel final.

i'm really leaving minnesota. everything i know is here.

who's going to build legos with drew? who's going to make my parents coffee in the morning?

my hands shake as i fold another shirt, memories flooding my mind. friday night games, late-night drives with the team, sunday morning cartoons with drew.

what if i'm not ready? what if i can't handle the pressure?

i'd been doing a good job keeping all this to myself. putting on my best smile for every interview, every photoshoot. i had a good enough support system too, my family, friends, fans. but behind every "congratulation", i felt their expectation. a standard of perfection only a prodigy could fulfill.

what if i let everyone down?

i can't let them see me crack.

it's not like i'm not grateful for the opportunity. this is all i've worked towards for years. it just hurts to leave everything behind, especially for a future i had no control over. i felt safe here, in this moment, i'm full of potential.

the weight of my potential weighs heavily on my shoulders, keeping me up at night.

i sink to the floor, surrounded by half-packed boxes. part of me wants to unpack it all, to pretend that time isn't moving forward.

my eyes snap up when i hear a knock at my bedroom door.

"hey kiddo," my dad says warmly, leaning against the door frame.

"hey," i reply weakly, putting on a smile. i feel his eyes scan my face, his expression warming with sympathy.

he knows my smile is fake.

"already packing? you don't leave for another week, it shouldn't take you that l—" he stops mid-sentence looking at my closet. "but with that shoe collection maybe you should've started a month ago," he teases, trying to make me smile.

"i just want to be ready," i say, sounding more insecure than i expected.

"it's okay to be scared, you know?" he starts, his voice gentle. "i know this is a big change."

"i just don't wanna disappoint anyone," i stand, continuing to pack my stuff, eyes glued to the floor.

"you could never disappoint us," he assures me. "we're all so proud of you, no matter what."

a mix of gratitude and homesickness rushes over me. i crumble over his words, a few tears escaping my eyes. walking slowly, he grabs me in his arms. we stand there for a moment, the heaviness of change lingering in the air.

"you know," he says suddenly, "i think azzi's still in town at her grandparents. why don't you give her a call?"

he's right, i usually visit her around this time of year. the thought of azzi brings a small smile to my face. memories of our summers spent together fill my mind—trips to the fair, month long sleepovers, sleeping in her clothes.

"not everything has to change, paige," his voice knowing, eyes gauging my reaction.

if anyone could understand what i'm going through, i'd be her.

"yeah, i'll give her a call," i nod, trying to shake my heartache.

"good," he says, walking to my door. "don't forget to leave some of your shoes behind. we don't need the whole state of minnesota wondering why there's a shortage."

i roll my eyes, laughing. "i'll think about it."

he gives me one last warm smile before closing my door. i take a deep breath, reaching for my phone.

azzi's pov:

i'm sprawled across my bed, scrolling through my phone when it starts buzzing. paige's name lights up the screen, and i can't help but smile.

"hey p," i answer, my smile showing in my voice.

"hey az," she replies, and immediately i know something's off. her voice is quieter than usual, lacking its usual charm.

"you okay?" i ask, sitting up straighter.

there's a pause, i can almost feel her forcing a smile through the phone. "yeah, i'm good. just...packing."

packing. right. she's leaving soon.

i'm hit with a wave of anticipatory grief. i've been trying to avoid thinking about what it's gonna be like when she leaves. we'd fallen into such an easy routine. she's spent countless summers at my grandparent's house, becoming part of my family.

"how's that going?" i ask, trying to sound hopeful.

"it's...going," she laughs gently. "it's just a lot, you know?"

i do know. the spotlight she's received these past couple years has been intense, but paige made everything she did look effortless. her confidence carried off the court, giving her a new charisma.

she was so easy to love.

"yeah...it's a big change," my voice matching her quiet tone.

there's another pause, the soft hum of the phone. i listen for her breath, a sigh, some background noice. but nothing. i feel her worry through the phone.

"can i come over—"

"you should come ov—"

we say at the same time. "i'll pick you up tomorrow morning," i smile at the thought of finally getting to see her.

i hear her take a steadying breath, "okay," her voice sounding a bit lighter.

my mind starts to wander. what if i don't see her again for years after this? all this time, and i never thought i'd have to confront my feelings for her.

"hey, i'll call you later, okay?" i'm sad to end our call, but i didn't have time to waste.

"uh yeah," she says, sounding a bit disappointed. "talk to you later."

i hang up the phone, my mind racing, filled with all of her favorite things. that minnesota lynx jersey she loves, her favorite snacks, the lego sets she builds with drew.

i can't let her leave without knowing how much of me she's taking with her.

i start in my closet, sifting through my clothes. my fingers brush against the fabric of my favorite hoodie—the one paige always steals when she's here.

i pull the hoodie closer to my chest, hoping that, for a moment, i could capture the warmth of her hug. a mixture of my perfume and her shampoo. i swear no matter how many times i wash the damn thing, it always carries a piece of her. like the intricate stitching holding the fabric, our bond sewn into the core of who we are.

i run my fingers along the seams—strong, resilient, trustworthy. i guess some things are too deep to be washed away. maybe it'll remind her that no matter how far she goes, a part of us will always be intertwined.

she should have this. it's practically hers anyway.

next, i move to my bookshelf, scanning the titles. my eyes land on one of my favorite john green books, looking for alaska. every once in a while she'd ask me to read it to her so she could fall asleep. paige always claimed my books were boring, but sometimes i'd catch her leaning in, eyes wide and attentive, consumed in the story. maybe she'd finally get around to reading it herself.

lastly, i grab some scissors off my desk and head for my front porch. the old basketball hoop stands sentinel, a silent witness to countless hours of our shared passion. i run my fingers along the worn metal, remembering all the times we'd scrimmage until the streetlights flickered on. our laughter and trash talk echoing through the quiet neighborhood.

i tilt the hoop towards me cutting off a piece of the net. the frayed edges feel like memories slipping through my fingers.

she was my champion first.

before the world knew 'paige bueckers', i knew paige. the slight competitive spark she'd get in her eyes before every shot. her confident sway as she played, turning my front porch into an arena.

everyone is finally gonna see in her what i've known for years.

back in my room, i surveyed my collection. each item, a different memory. i reach under my bed, adding the final touch to my gift—an old lego set paige and i bought together a long time ago. i put off building it with her, claiming we should save it for a special night.

there is nothing more special than tomorrow night.

i want everything to be perfect. i find myself frantically cleaning the house at 2 am, as if paige hasn't visited countless times. i organize my bookshelf, fold clothes, anything to keep my hands busy and my mind from wandering to her.

my exhaustion finally takes over and i lay sprawled across my bed. i try to sleep but she's all i dream about.

except these aren't the usual dreams.

a sequence of different visions flash through my mind, in each of them i'm losing her. we're on a basketball court, but something's off. paige is wearing a uconn jersey, looking different in a way i can't quite place. older, more independent. i'm still in my high school uniform. we're on opposite sides of the court, the air between us heavy. i call out to her but no sound comes out.

i want to tell her something. but my throat tightens, restricting like it's trying to hold her too.

i wake up before the sun, in a cold sweat. it felt so real, almost predestined. a heavy ache in my chest lingers, still unable to articulate what i need to tell her. the thought of my nightmares becoming real ignites a motivation in me to figure it out. fast.

i close my eyes again, hoping for dreamless sleep this time.

tomorrow, i'll find the words. i'll make sure i do.

paige's pov:

the sun peaks through my blinds, waking me up earlier than usual. awaking to the sight of half-packed boxes leaves me disoriented. but my heart flutters when i check my phone to find seven unread text from azzi.

i'm gonna miss stuff like this the most.

glancing at the time, i start to pack a bag to stay the night. she technically didn't say i was sleeping over, but i know us well enough to know that i will.

i start throwing things into my bag—my favorite hoodie, some shorts, and a pillow. then i pause, remembering the last time we hung out at her grandparents' place.

everything i needed was already there.

i empty half the bag, smiling to myself. the hoodie she'd always let me wear, my toothbrush, that book azzi's always bugging me to read, even my favorite pillow. they're all still at her place.

i'm reaching for my phone to tell her i'm ready when i hear my doorbell. smoothing out my hair, i nearly trip down the stairs running to answer the door.

i take a quick breath. even after all this time, i still want to look good for her. the moment i open the front door i'm met with azzi's smile, carrying two coffees in her hands.

everything i need is right here.

"i'm surprised you're not still in your pajamas," she smiles, handing me a coffee.

"what? no, of course not. i've been up for hours," i lie, letting her roll her eyes at my comment.

"mhm," she turns walking to her car.

i glance at her while she walks, her attitude showing in her posture. within just a few seconds, i already feel lighter.

the drive there is both long and short. as we pull up to her grandparents' house, i feel a wave of nostalgia. how many summers have i spent here? how much of me will i be leaving behind?

azzi's grandma is already at the door as we get out of the car. "paigey!," she calls out, her voice warm and welcoming. "how's our little superstar?"

"hi grandma fudd," i mumble, as she pulls me into a hug. i feel like a kid again in her arms.

"look at you," she says, holding me at arm's length. "more beautiful every time i see you."

i blush bashfully at her compliments. "hey, what about me?" azzi pouts from behind us.

"oh hush, you too," she pulls azzi into a deep hug. "i'm glad you finally came, paige. i was worried you weren't gonna make it this year. azzi here hasn't stopped talking about you since your last visit."

i shoot azzi a look, raising my eyebrows at her. she blushes, looking away.

once inside, memories pass me by like a warm summer breeze. the creaky third step on the stairs, the faded marks on the doorframe where azzi and i measured our heights every summer. old family photos lining the hallway, many of which include me.

azzi leads me up to her room, her hand gently tugging at mine excitedly. i let her lead like it was my first time in this house.

as we enter her room, i can't help but notice how clean it looks. her bookshelf organized by size and color, desk clear and neat. i almost miss the messiness of it all, the way her personality leaked all over her bedroom walls.

had she cleaned everything for me?

i scan her bedroom walls, all of which are covered in photos of us. photos from practice, summer trips to the lake, championship games.

her bedroom a museum of us, a bold testament to our bond.

"you kept all of these?" i asked softly, touching the corner of a photo from years ago.

azzi shrugs, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "of course," she clears her throat nervously. "only because i look so good in them," she laughs failing to hide her affection.

i turn to her, ready to tease her about being sentimental, but the words die on my lips. she's holding something behind her, smiling with her eyes.

she takes a deep breath, bringing her hands forward slowly. in them is a carefully wrapped package, similar to the half-packed boxes littering my floor at home.

"i, uh, got you this. well, more like...put together." she hands me the box.

my fingertips brush against hers, heart racing as i look up into her eyes. "az, you didn't have to—"

"just open it, p," she interrupts, her voice soft and eager.

i unwrap the box, finally catching sight of its contents. it feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the room, it's all too much for me. her favorite hoodie, a worn copy of looking for alaska, a piece of frayed net from the hoop on her porch. and...is that the lego set we bought a long time ago?

all pieces of us, delicately put together in a small brown box.

"az..." i whisper, blinking away tears.

"i wanted you to have a piece of home to take with you," she explains, her eyes seeking my reaction. "so you didn't forget me—us."

i look up at her, my vision blurring the edges around her face. a warmth in my heart builds, surrounded by fragments of us. the finality of it all finally hit me.

how can we pack all of us into a box? years spent together, inseparable for the longest time, just to be neatly packaged in a cardboard box.

there's still so much i want to take with me. how do you package the sound of azzi's laugh? the feeling of her hand in mine? how do i fold up the comfort of her presence and tuck it neatly into a suitcase?

our friendship is a living, breathing thing. packing it away feels inhumane. she will never be a cardboard box i push into the back of my closet, the back of my mind. azzi's warmth pulses underneath my skin. she's the movement that pushes the blood through my body.

i realize something now. home isn't minnesota. it isn't my house or even this one.

home is azzi. and i'm about to leave it behind.

the weight of this box, however light in pounds, pulls me to the floor. my knees buckling underneath me, unable to form a coherent sentence. i'm drowning in a sea of emotions, waves of nostalgia and fear crashing over me. i cry, clinging to the box, like a life vest. my breath comes in short gasps, like i'm barely keeping my head above water.

i hear her call my name, but i can't respond. her voice feels far, muffled by my own emotion. i want to reach out, to tell her i'm okay, but my body won't cooperate.

azzi's hoodie wraps around me like a buoy, keeping me from sinking into the depths of my fears. the book, a raft of memories. the piece of net becomes a rope, pulling me to the shore of home—to her.

i can feel her worry radiate off her in waves, matching the momentum of my fear.

azzi's my anchor, solid and hopeful, grounding me in this storm. her hands cup my face, holding me like water, wiping away the flood.

her touch is gentle, safe. i lean into it instinctively, she always knows how to bring me back to myself.

looking up, i meet azzi's gaze. her eyes are a mirror of my own—a mix of worry, empathy, and something deeper. something that's been left unspoken between the two of us for a long time.

i feel her eyes search my face, a warmth that cuts through the chill of my tears.

azzi's looking at me like i'm her anchor too like she's just as terrified of drifting apart.

"paige, look at me," she says softly, also crying, wiping away my tears before her own.

i force myself to focus on her face. the wetness of her eyelashes, the trembling of her breath, her flushed cheeks—anything to slow my thoughts.

she sits on her knees, catching my tears in her palms. "you're not losing me, okay?" her voice reassuring, but also breaking between her tears.

"okay," i mumble sniffling. before i can thank her or apologize, she pulls my forehead to her lips. they tremble softly against my skin, her sadness showing but insistent on soothing me first.

azzi pulls my head into her chest, stroking my hair gently. i wrap my arms around her waist firmly, thinking that maybe if i hold her tightly enough, i can keep her here—in this moment, forever.

my tears begin to settle as i focus on her heartbeat, trying to memorize it. each beat a resilient promise, a faint whisper of trust, something to hold on to.

we stay there for a moment before azzi pulls back, staring at me with such a tenderness it almost sets me off again.

my eyes fall on the lego set peeking out of the box, and i can't let but let out a shaky laugh. "you're finally letting me build this," i smile, "it only took me almost moving away, huh?"

azzi's face breaks into a small grin, relief showing in her eyes. "like i'd trust you to build it on your own. someone's gotta make sure you read the instructions."

"hey!" i gasp in mock offense. "instructions are for people who don't know what they're doing, i'm a professional lego architect."

"oh we'll see about that," she jabs, opening the box.

azzi's pov:

as we build the lego set together, i can't help but steal glances at paige. i read the instructions to her but she's definitely not listening. already working at the pieces, her focus is unbreakable. her tongue pokes out slightly as she concentrates. it's so quintessentially her, it makes my heart ache.

the day passes by in a blur of laughter and shared memories. it isn't until i notice how dark my room has gotten that i realize we've spent hours on my bedroom floor.

"see, i don't need instructions," paige says, proudly showing off the part she's assembled.

"yeah, whatever," i laugh, admiring her confidence.

we're interrupted by a soft knock at my door, the scent of fresh-baked cookies wafts from behind the door. i open the door to my grandma, always the perfect host, holding a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

she smiles warmly, "i thought you two might want a cookie break."

paige lunges up from the floor almost pushing me over, reaching for the plate. "you're gonna have to send some of these to connecticut," she says, between mouthfuls.

she laughs at her comment, "i wanted to give you this also," in her other hand she hands me an old film camera. "maybe you can capture something special," she smiles before closing the door.

"your grandma makes the best cookies," paige's voice muffled under the sound of her chewing.

before she can react, i snap a photo of her. the camera clicking in a way that makes me giggle.

"hey, i wasn't ready!" she snatches the camera out of my hands. "you're always the model anyways," she says, snapping a photo of me.

i give her a fake smile, still reaching for the camera. "happy now? give it back," i laugh, chasing her around my room.

"not until you give me a real smile," she holds the camera above her head.

"that's not gonna work, we're the same height, stupid," i reach for the camera nearly knocking it out of her hands.

"one picture, with a smile," she takes the camera up to her eye to look through the viewfinder.

i give her another impatient smile. she kneels down dramatically, shifting back and forth while snapping photos.

"okay, my turn," i reach for the camera again.

"these aren't real smiles," she pokes my side, making me giggle. "see there it is, hold still."

i drop my smile and pout dramatically. paige moves the camera away from her face and lunges towards me, jabbing at my sides. "stop, paige," i giggle, swatting at her hands.

she dodges me, her fingers continue relentlessly. i push her onto my bed, using my body weight to keep her still. we fight for a moment squirming around my mattress before i pin both of her wrists down. satisfied, i grin down at her. our laughter comes to a soft stop and we're both breathless.

"see, was that so hard?" paige tilts her head to the side, still out of breath. she attempts to reach her hands up again but i tighten my grip.

"oh, whatever," i roll my eyes, leaning closer to her, my hair draping over her face.

"can i tell you something?" she starts, her voice sounding a bit more serious.

"hm?" i respond, still satisfied i could hold her still.

paige hesitates for a moment, her eyes searching mine. "i've never actually had my first kiss," her cheeks flushing a light pink. "i thought i would've by now, before college, you know?"

i loosen my grip on her wrist, "oh, i had no idea. i figured plenty of guys would be lining up to kiss the paige bueckers," i tease.

"i guess," she looks away bashfully, "i just want it to be with someone special. someone i care about," her voice lowering to a whisper.

there's a silence that hangs between us. i feel my heart pounding in my chest. "like who?" i ask quietly.

i need to hear her say it.

her eyes flicker to my lips briefly before meeting my eyes again. "like...you," she says nervously, almost asking it like a question.

was she saying what i think she was?

"really?" i lean closer to her, my eyes wide and hopeful.

she lets out a nervous breath, her eyes intently locked on my lips. "yeah," she whispers, blinking quickly.

before i can overthink it, she leans in, closing the gap between us. her lips meet mine softly, and my hands reach for her face. i feel a nervous tremble in her lips, soft and warm. the pure flavor of her lips, tasting like vanilla and chocolate. her hands move to my waist, her thumb swaying slightly. we move slowly, gently, not wanting to rush this moment.

our kiss is tender like a warm summer night. her lips move sweetly and determined like she's thought of this before. her hands stroking softly saying "i've wanted this. wanted you."

when she pulls back i feel a new kind of emptiness. how am i going to live with the absence of her touch? she's opened a crack in my heart, long enough for the light to come in.

kissing paige was like sunlight embodied.

we stare at each other for a moment. caught in this new in-between.

what do you say after you kiss your best friend? how do you tell her it was your first kiss too?

"i'm glad it was you," she smiles, sitting up.

"yeah, me too," i murmur, my voice full of emotion. i lean to the side, still dazed from her touch.

"it's getting late, we should probably—" she starts.

"yeah...um," i respond uneasily, standing up to walk over to my closet. i grab one of my old t-shirts and a pair of shorts. "you can wear these to sleep in."

paige takes the clothes from me, her fingers brushing against mine. when we touch this time, it feels different, heavier. she heads to the bathroom to change, and i let out a breath i didn't know i was holding in.

even being just a room over, it feels like she's slipping through my fingers. i'm reminded of my nightmares from last night, paralyzed by the thought of losing her.

i need to tell her.

i grab a piece of paper and pen off my desk, my hands quivering slightly as i start to write.

the first part of the letter flows easily. but as i continue, i feel a shift. the truth hanging in the space between my pen and the paper.

she deserves the truth. and i owe it to myself, to finally tell her.

my heart races, searching for the right words as i continue...

i reread the letter, feeling vulnerable under my own words.

what if this ruins everything? what if she doesn't feel the same way?

i glance at my bedroom door, knowing paige could return at any moment. the panic sets in and i make a split-second decision. my hands shake as i tear the paper in half.

the first part, full of friendship and encouragement. it's a bit more sentimental than usual but not enough to make her suspect anything. i fold it neatly, placing it atop the other objects in the box. it's safe, expected.

the second part, my true feelings for her. i can't bring myself to throw it away, but i'm not ready for her to read it either. i tuck the small slip into the final pages of the last chapter of the book i'm giving her.

maybe one day i'll find the courage to tell her. maybe someday she'll finish the book and know how i really feel. but for now, this feels safe.

i don't know if i'm hoping she finds it or not.

as i hear the bathroom door open, i quickly close the book, sealing my fate. my heart pounds with the weight of my unspoken words.

my thoughts cease when i see her in my clothes. she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, looking unabashedly herself. for a moment, i see our future. imagining our closets becoming one, holding her as she falls asleep, an endless sleepover.

how am i supposed to let her go?

she catches me staring and smiles softly, a knowing glint in her eyes that makes my heart ache. without speaking, we settle into our usual routine. i let her sleep on my favorite side of the bed, she shifts around, trying to get comfortable. eventually, she turns on her side, her back facing me.

right before i drift off to sleep, i hear her call out to me. "azzi," she whispers softly into the dark.

"hm?" i answer, struggling to keep my eyes open.

"can you hold me?"

her voice gentle and vulnerable, as if i could hold every piece of her together. "of course," i wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her in closer. she sinks into my touch, her breath slows.

she drifts to sleep quickly in my arms, our heartbeats syncing. the weight of our unspoken words between us, laying heavily on my chest, pushing me towards a deep sleep.

i dream of never having to let her go.

[snapscube]

In Dawntrail did you enjoy a different character playing the main role, or do you prefer when the player character is leading the narrative?

this is definitely a major point of contention in the fanbase rn and i can generally see valid feelings/criticism on both ends of the spectrum. i myself do fall somewhere in between the most extreme takes on this. i won't go into too much detail about actual events but ill tag this as spoilers anyway just in case. ok so my thoughts are:

firstly, i like Wuk Lamat a lot. i don't think she deserves even half of the pure unfiltered ire that she is receiving from a large subset of the community rn. the amount of people who have already turned being a wuk lamat hater into an advertised personality trait really frustrates me. i really enjoyed seeing her personal journey through the story and i was overall very satisfied by her inclusion. however, i do not think the story was perfectly paced or balanced, and i definitely do understand where people are coming from when they say that they could have used a little less of her in the forefront. honestly it did kind of ultimately disappoint me that we missed out on a lot of potential interaction/development with someone like Krile, who in spite of being promised a big breakout role in this expansion still somewhat felt like a SLIGHT (i have to stress slight) afterthought. she did get some notable moments of development and emotion, but i feel like there could have been more.

okay but, your question is about our role as a player in the narrative. i hold the opinion that for THIS EXPANSION SPECIFICALLY, the warrior of light taking somewhat of a narrative backseat actually made a ton of sense and fit the themes of the narrative as well as the promise of a somewhat breezy summer vacation for our heroes. now, i will say this: i really do not agree with the idea that the WoL should be in a mentor role indefinitely because our story is done developing and we need to give the spotlight to "the next generation" of heroes in the world. i appreciate the SENTIMENT of this, but like for me personally.... i don't want Pella's story to be done, yknow? i definitely would be disappointed if this was the DE FACTO role she played in every expansion past this. but i don't even think that is factually what's going to happen. we're currently in a setup phase! and, again, bringing it back to this narrative and the themes within, a lot of Dawntrail about the experience of entering unfamiliar places and learning about the customs and the traditions of people already within it to best help them without unwelcomely trampling on their culture in the process. i think a story like that is the PERFECT time for the WoL to take a bit of a backseat. wuk lamat is also somewhat unfamilar like us yes, but Tural is still her home and she is about to be tasked with leading it. i feel like centering our character in that equation would feel.... really disingenuous? it was kinda frustrating sometimes when it felt like hey.... there's a situation happening right now that can be solved by skilled combat and you have a literally god killer standing right here doing a frown emote, but at a certain point i could chalk it up to growing pains or necessary suspension of disbelief in the interest of the overall emotional hook of the narrative. a lot of those moments could be explained away with enough thought about the character motivations and culture at play, though sometimes it does feel like a stretch. again, far from a perfectly written MSQ. it starts slow and it's messy and it throws a LOT of stuff at you that doesn't always pay off like you expect or want. but i dunno! i think we're gonna see some really interesting stuff come to the forefront in the future, and i think especially now knowing that much of the playerbase thought we took TOO much of a backseat here CS3 will probably adjust their focus accordingly next time. so i can't be too upset really about the stuff i wasn't into. the rest of it was great imo!

[rosewaterandivy]

ii. bisclavret

Summary: and here he thought he’d hit the bricks when it came to library visits.

Pairing: s.h. x werewolf!reader

W.C.: 5.8k

Warnings: supernatural elements, super sleuth steve, exhausted eddie, poor mother-daughter relationship, general werewolf nonsense, graduation shenanigans

A/N: well, three months later TO THE DAY and here we are. everyone go thank ash (@big-ope-vibes) for gently nudging me to continue this. apologies for the delay & I hope you enjoy! 💜

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There’s a howl from outside his window. Low pitched and haunting as it soars over the other din of nocturnal noises in Loch Nora’s suburban sprawl.

Unmistakable.

Desperate and mournful with just a whisper of familiarity in it.

And his feet hit the floor before he’s rightly awake, drawn to the moonlight as it cascades through the trees just outside his house. His knee knocks against something hard, but he feels no pain.

But in its place, he does feel something. Anxiety, panic? At any rate, some sort of emotional discomfort. The overwhelming sensation that something isn’t quite right.

The howl trails off plaintitively, and there’s something ineffable about it because—

Steve could swear he hears a voice in it.

_

Sometimes, you felt the only time you could truly be yourself was on a run. And though you despised organized sports, cross-country had some distinct advantages. Namely, that it was almost a solitary activity.

So when you weren’t dropping by Hellfire meetings or loping around due to a paradoxical relationship with the moon, most afternoons saw you toeing on some sneakers and running for a few hours.

And while trail-running wasn’t exactly a medaling event, it was your forte and Coach Reynolds didn’t seem to mind. Other than asking you once to bring Munson aboard because he’d seen Eddie outrun the SRO in a wild sprint at the Homecoming game, the coach generally left you to your own devices.

Breezing by the picnic table that Eddie affectionately calls his office, you stride through the woods back behind the school at an easy pace. Your mind empties and allows you to focus on the breath in your lungs, the myriad of scents carried on the air. The forest smells as it always does, that damp earthy quality of decaying underbrush cut through with fresh saplings taking root.

Further into the woods and at the mid-way point in your run, you’re about to turn back when you hear a dry snapping sound from somewhere ahead of you. Lightning quick, you narrow your gaze only to find a shirtless and sweaty Steve Harrington.

His chest is heaving like he’s been running for some time and he’s wearing a ridiculous bandana as a headband to keep his hair from falling in his face. There’s a healthy rosy hue dusting his cheeks and nose, and you know if you don’t leave now then you might do something worth regretting.

“Hey,” He exhales, stopping a few feet from you and setting his hands on his hips.

Steve leans over to catch his breath as you, meanwhile, stare at him dumbfounded.

And it isn’t like you haven’t seen shirtless men before; Eddie, in fact, is vehemently opposed to wearing any clothing that isn’t strictly necessary, particularly in the summer when the a/c tends to crap out in the trailer.

But to compare the two is a moot point. Because Steve is bronzed with hair on his chest, not the pallor of some sickly Victorian child. He’s sturdy, feet planted firmly in the ground even as his sucks in breaths as if his life depends on it.

He just smells so damn good.

It is precisely at this moment, that you know you’re fucked.

Because several things happen in quick succession.

Kicking it all off, a breeze passes through and you’re, of course, downwind of Steve so you get smacked with a sensorial wall of Harrington’s sweat, musk, and what can only be described as how you believe a raging inferno would smell— sweet and smoky. Enough to make your mouth water.

Then, he takes a step toward you with a concerned look on his face.

“You alright?”

Unfortunately, no, you are very much not alright.

“I, uh,” You say, recognizing all too well the rough rasp your voice has taken on. “I gotta go.”

It’s all you say as you jog past him, shoulders colliding as you run away, a familiar pull in your belly like the coaxing of an ember into a flame.

Fucking coward.

It wallops Steve in face one lazy Saturday, nearly out of the blue.

The kids have descended to watch movies and eat him out of house and home.

They’d made it through Teen Wolf and they’re maybe half-way through An American Werewolf in London when Steve visibly pales.

“Too gory for ya?” Max asks with a laugh, tossing popcorn in her mouth only to miss.

He shakes his head, eyes trained on the screen.

Robin pokes him with a socked foot eliciting no reaction.

Steve thinks back to the bonfire, his moonlit romp through the woods and the ineffeble feeling of being watched, how fucking weird you were the other day on your run.

And then he lets out a low whistle, scrubbing his hand through his hair.

“Shit.”

How he convinces Robin to waste the remnants of her weekend at the library, he’ll never know. When he first pitched it, she looked at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted another head.

“Do you even know where the library is, dingus?”

“Hey,” He says, only slightly perturbed. “I dated Nance, I sure as shit know where the library is.”

Robin cracks a smile, “Sure, big guy.”

And now, they’re rifling through the folklore section of the the Hawkins library after a fruitless search in nonfiction.

“Remind me of what we’re looking for?”

“Uh, like legends about wolves, I guess.”

“Why the sudden interest in our oft misunderstood four-legged friends?”

He stops, puzzled, “What the hell kinda sentence is that, Rob?”

She shrugs and continues perusing. “I dunno, I just think people don’t understand the wolf. They’ve been hunted and poached to near extinction in the U.S. y’know.”

The hairs prickle up on the back of Steve’s neck. He hadn’t considered that, and frankly, it’s a terrifying thought. Because if on the off-chance he’s right—

“I blame recreational hunters, personally.” Robin continues to prattle on, “Because wolves actually provide a natural cull to the ecosystem. I mean, why else do we have such a rampant deer population?”

Steve let’s her continue in this same vein for a while, knowing she’ll run out of steam eventually. He tosses a few books on the table they’ve claimed, mostly Germanic fairytales. And when he’s pulled all he could from the shelves, he hauls them over to the circulation desk.

The elderly librarian, Gladys, gives him a warm smile and opens the cover of each book to stamp the due date.

“Research project?” She asks with a friendly smile. “We’ve had a lot of kids come through for that recently.”

“Uh, kind of.” Steve allows, and thankfully he doesn’t have to painstakingly continue this conversation because Robin slaps a book down on the counter at that precise moment.

“This one too.”

Her eyes glint like she’s found something good, and Steve glances at the cover briefly.

Les Lais de Marie de Fance.

“Really, French?”

“Hey man,” Robin says, jockeying an elbow to his side, “I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, okay?”

Gladys passes back the stack of books to them and Robin opens the tome to pointedly tap her finger underneath one word: Bisclavret.

_

The next few days pass by peaceably enough.

You lie low, go to school and cross-country practice, hang out with Eddie, and studiously avoid Harrington’s haunts.

Eddie is the one to return the video tapes, as a precaution.

He swings into Family Video that day with the intent to come away with a copy of Evil Dead and an even distribution of sweet and sour candy.

What he does not expect is to find Harrington at the counter with a stack of books and furiously scribbling in a battered notebook. It’s such a shock to see, that Eddie stops short in the doorway.

There’s a grunt and the sound of glass hitting metal that causes Steve to glance up.

Just Munson lurking in the doorway.

He rolls his eyes and says, “In or out?”

Eddie shuffles into the store and drops the tapes into the return slot. He eyes the stack of books warily, and can’t recall the last time he’d seen Harrington carry a book, much less crack one. Recognizing a few titles, his blood runs cold.

Goddamnit.

He beelines for the horror aisle, swipes some candy from the shelf by the counter, and tries to get outta there as fast as he can.

But, of course, Harrington takes his time rigning up the sale.

Eddie taps his fingers against the counter, leg bouncing as he stands there trying not to sweat bullets. Because it’s one thing to warn Harrington off of moonlight strolls, that’s just being like, neighborly? He wouldn’t really know.

The point is this: Steve seems very close to figuring something out.

Something that he should have no business doing in the first place. And not because you’d nearly bitten Eddie’s head off at his less than helpful suggestions.

“Over my dead body,” is what you had said.

And it was a very near thing, at the time, because you had stumbled into Hop’s old hunting cabin without a stitch of clothing on, limping, with your hands and jaw covered in dried blood.

There was also the matter of the bullet that grazed your leg, but that’s what the first aid kit was for.

“Y’know,” He had pointed out, cleaning the wound as you hissed and thrashed on the floor. His t-shirt barley long enough to be considered modest on your frame. “This could all be avoided it you’d just—”

“What,” You bit out, “Tell him about this clusterfuck of a situation?”

Eddie takes that opportunity to put pressure on the wound and pack it with gauze. You nearly kick him in the face, and maybe he deserves it.

Later, after a few hours as he was changing your bandages, he broached the subject again. A different tactic, but the same intent. He kept his voice soft, barely audible under the laughtrack from the TV.

“It’s only going to get worse.”

A grunt.

“He could help, is all I’m sayin’.” Eddie turned to you on the sofa, mindful of your leg as it rested on his lap. The wound healing up quite nicely already. “The shifts wouldn’t be as bad, you’d have some—”

A snort.

“Something to live for?”

“Well, someone, technically. But yeah.”

You wave him over with a lazy smile, only to cuff him on the back of the head.

“You idiot,” You say around a laugh, “I’ve got you to live for. Why drag another sorry sucker into this mess, huh?”

Eddie shakes himself loose, comes back to find Harrington staring at him over the counter. He pays and scoops up his purchases in both arms.

He’s almost out of there, scot-free, but when he’s turning toward the door, a knowing voice says:

“Gladys said to return those overdue books you’ve got, Munson.”

And in that brief moment, Eddie and Steve understood each other perfectly.

He high tails it outta there accompanied by a litany of: fuckfuckfuckFUCK.

_

Robin is regaling Steve with her painstaking translation of that French story she found.

“So like, the earl of whogivesafuck marries this chick and she notices that for a few nights every month, her new husband isn’t in bed.”

Steve continues typing in the receipts for the day.

“She confronts him about it, and he says that once a month he turns into a wolf and loafs around the forest. He trusts her, obviously, and says that he can only turn back if he finds his clothes, so he usually stashes them in the woods somewhere.”

He hums, trying his best to show the bare minimum of interest.

“But the thing is,” Robin says, chomping down on a piece of licorice. “His wife has this lover, a knight, and she’d much rather be with him than some earl who’s a part-time wolf. So, she waits until his next turn and then steals his clothes from the forest.”

“So, he’s a wolf forever?”

“I mean, for a while, yeah.” Robin chews audibly. “But the earl was close with the king, and in his wolf form endears himself to the court. Some time goes by, and he’s living large as a glorified pet, but then his wife comes to court with her new husband.”

“Sounds bad.”

“Well, if getting your nose bit off is bad, then yeah.” She barks a laugh and tosses the candy wrapper into the trash. “And the king is floored because this wolf has never said so much as ‘boo’ to anyone all the time he’s been at court. So suspicion falls on the now noseless wife.”

She wraps up the tale; the king gives the wolf clothes on the advice of the wife. Lo and behold, what was once a wolf is now his long lost earl. All’s well that ends well.

“Huh,” Steve says. “Weird.”

“Not that you should just randomly hand out clothing to every wolf you come across,” Robin teases with a gleam in her eye. “Just thought it would be helpful for your lil’ project.”

“Sure, sure.” Steve nods and shoves the receipts in the night deposit bag. “And this earl, did he have a name?”

“Bisclavret.” Robin supplies, “It’s like, old ass French, but I think it translates to something like…” She pauses and seems to dissect the word in real time. “Bleiz is , uh, Breton for wolf and claffet means rabid? Ill, maybe? So, my best bet is wolf-sick.”

Curious and curiouser.

Steve files it away to think about later.

Besides, he has a spare bit of clothing lying around somewhere. It would be nothing to just toss them in bag and throw it in his car. Just in case, of course.

_

Steve thinks there’s sort of a innate brilliance to it all.

It’s subtle, it has to be if you’re to avoid detection, and probable— it really works a charm.

His notebook is full of scribbled lines lifted from library books, loopy curls of a more feminine hand when Robin included her summaries of the French story, haphazard drawings of the moon, teeth, and glowing eyes.

The eyes he’s comes back to more often than he’d like. Shards of moonstone that catch the light, milky white with a flashy vein of blue.

He didn’t know that’s what it was until ambling around Robin’s room one day. She was half-assedly studying for finals, plopped on her bed and surrounded by books and sheets of notebook paper.

Steve, for lack of anything to do, investigates the collection of bric-a-brac on her dresser.

A small square of milky white cut through with specks of gray, blue, and green catches his notice. “What’s this?” He asks, feeling its dull edges in his hand. Turning it slightly, it flashes an icy blue vein.

Robin looks up from where she’s sprawled on her bed, nose in a book. “Oh, that’s moonstone.”

He hums in response, turning the rock this way and that. Phosperescent eyes coming to the fore of his mind, there in an instant and gone in the next. The golden light of the streetlamp cutting across your cheekbone, incisors gleaming and white.

Carefully, he sets the moonstone down amongst Robin’s other treasures, and files it away for later.

Things are becoming clearer as the moon creeps closer to waxing full in the sky.

Steve is a patient guy, he can wait a little longer.

The aconite no longer works.

Eddie has gone through more chains and tow rope than any twenty year-old has a right to. He’s trying to keep it together, but it’s getting pretty fucking dire.

He can see how each day, each new failure, is wearing you down.

To a casual observer, you hide it pretty well. Oh, just cramming for finals, you know how it is! Something to explain away the rings under your eyes, the ‘I just rolled out of bed’ look instead of the more accurate ‘I woke up in the woods again and these were the first clothes I could find.’

You had never, to Eddie’s recollection, willingly worn a Hawkins Tigers anything. Much less a shirt to school, of all places. It’s a slow motion disaster as you pour yourself out of the van and get your bearings on the pavement, because that’s when he sees it.

‘HARRINGTON’ emblazoned on the back of the gray tee, there for the entirety of Hawkins high to gawk at.

And yeah, you might be slow on the uptake today, but Eddie’s tongue is so tied he can’t possibly work his way out of it in a subtle fashion.

Instead, he throws an arm over your shoulders and does his best to cover the name as you walk into the building.

But the damage is done by the end of homeroom that morning. A class you share with Robin Buckley and elected to sleep through that day. Head on the desk, hair fanned around you, Harrington’s name is clear for everyone to see against your shoulderblades.

The whispers start then and Robin makes it a point to hang back as the bell rings.

She watches as you jolt awake, blinking a few times before grabbing your stuff and making toward the door.

Robin catches up to you easily, the students giving you a wide bearth in the halls. Too happy to fall into their cliques, peer at you, and whisper amongst themselves.

You’re so out of it that you don’t even realize she’s tailing you until she pulls you into the girls bathroom at the end of the corridor.

Her scent gives her away— light and airy like fresh laundry hanging on the line, but there’s a sharp sour note of fear, nervousness maybe. And she smells a bit like wood smoke— Steve.

“Woah, um, hi?” You say as the door swings shut behind you.

The few students in the bathroom rush out, leaving the two of you alone.

Robin looks at you incredulous, because she’s maybe figured something out that her best fucking friend in the world was keeping from her.

And she can’t begin to guess why he would do such a thing.

“You’re wearing his shirt.”

“What? Who’s?” You turn to look before realizing that’s a moot point and situate yourself in front of the bathroom mirror instead.

You can feel the blood draining from your face as you read the letters on your back.

Fuck.

This cannot be happening. Not today, not now, not ever.

“I, uh,” You stammer, failing to explain this away.

Robin studies your reflection in the mirror. The near bruises under your eyes, how sloppily you’re put together today, that you’re sleeping every spare moment you can get.

She clears her throat, “Did something happen between you two?”

Narrowing your gaze at her, you turn from the mirror, posture drastically changed.

Where once she believed to have the upper hand, Robin now realizes her grave miscalculation. Shoulders back and standing tall you cooly assess her as you take calming breaths.

There is a razor-fine edge that you are on the precipice of, one false move and it all falls apart.

“Wouldn’t he tell you if it did?”

If you can keep her talking, you can diffuse the situation.

Robin isn’t a threat, she’s Steve’s best friend. She carries his scent on the periphery of her own, it calms you somewhat.

“Then how did you—”

Before she can finish the thought, the door slams open and Eddie waltzes through.

You let your shoulders fall, relieved at his arrival; safe and familiar.

“Ladies,” He greets casually, as if he struts into the girls bathroom on a regular basis. “Guess my invite was lost in the mail, huh?”

Eddie tosses his bag near the door alongside yours and throws the lock.

Robin’s eyes flit between the pair of you, curious and wary.

The bell trills out and the din in the hall dissipates.

You can’t afford to linger here much longer, finals to take and all.

“Something’s up.” Buckley says shouldering past Eddie to unlock the door, “And you’re gonna tell me what it is.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

Eddie’s voice is low and warning, his eyes cut to you fleetingly before settling on the growing problem that is Robin Buckley.

Her hand grips the metal handle, knuckles nearly blanching white, and barely turns her head to softly say,

“Then he will.”

The door opens and she’s gone.

“Well,” Eddie sighs as he grabs your bags. “If this isn’t a goddamn bitch of an unstatisfactory situation.”

“Yeah,” You agree, “Got it in one, Ed.”

-

Steve doesn’t see Robin that much over the week. Busy with finals and graduation, she cut down her shifts at Family Video leaving Steve with Kieth more often than not.

It wasn’t the worst but it certainly wasn’t the best; his manager elected to play the Star Wars movies on a loop for two days straight and Steve was fine with that, if not a little distracted.

He’d requested off for Robin’s graduation and was closing on his own for once. He played Fast Times just because he could and gnoshed on the half-open box of Milk Duds Robin had been working her way through.

But he couldn’t escape the feeling that something wasn’t quite right.

It itched at the back of his mind all through his shift lingering as he killed the lights and locked the front door.

His skin feels too tight again and he’s exhausted despite not doing much to warrant it.

Steve grabs his keys and leaves through the back door walking toward his car.

There’s a sound like someone stepping on gravel behind him.

He pauses midstride.

And then, there’s that voice again, the one he hasn’t heard since the bonfire.

A low rumble that feels like a caress:

Go.

Steve does as he’s told, mindful of the controlled steps behind him.

He slides into the car and locks the doors.

As the engine turns over, he glances at the rearview mirror only to find the bluest eyes he’s ever seen staring back at him from the shadows.

Blueblue, definitely not moonstone.

The BMW peels out of the lot and onto the main drag, leaving whatever was lurking there to the dark.

A cloying scent of gardenia assaults your senses as you walk through the door.

Your mother is perched on the arm of the sofa, beer already in hand.

“Hi hon,” She greets with a smile that has far too much teeth. “Happy graduation!”

The best thing about your mother, if you were pressed to find one, was the simple fact that she was never around.

“Uh, thanks.”

Your bag drops near the door as you cross your arms and lean against it.

She goes on to say how proud she is of you, that she couldn’t possibly miss her only child’s graduation, that it would—

She pauses mid-sentence, her grip on the can crushing it slightly. She scents the air, her once too-perfect smile falling into a snarl.

“What is that smell?”

Throwing the can aside, she marches up to you and lifts your hair from your shoulders, turns you this way and that, eyes searching for something that isn’t there.

But now that she’s uncomfortably close, the scent is heightened.

The scent that isn’t entirely yours and is subtly laced with wood smoke.

“No,” She says, eyes catching the name on the back of your shirt, “Absolutely not.”

Your back is nearly to the wall as she clenches your arms in an attempt to force you into submission.

“Mom,” You try, voice calm, “Nothing has happened, nothing will happen—”

“After all I’ve done for you,” She sneers, eyes bright and furious, “After all the work I’ve done to raise you, ensure your safety, this is how you repay me?”

She’s always been a stong woman, your mother, forced to by circumstance and the harsh reality that honed her. Her shirt shifts as she manuevers you to the wall, revealing the faded scar of a bite to her jugular.

A souvenir from your father, that she never failed to remind you of. One of two, including you.

You swallow thickly, hating every point of contact you share with her.

The precipice is coming closer and you’re falling headfirst into it.

With a shuddery breath you close your eyes, and try to think of better things.

Summer, freedom, warm nights, cool water, that glint Eddie gets in his eyes when he laughs, running with no destination in mind, bonfires under a starry sky, the sweet scent of smoke—

Threat.

A low growl crawls its way up your throat.

A demand.

“Let go.”

Hands come up and grasp her wrists, shoving her away from you. She stumbles back, balance precarious as you purposefully step forward. Her eyes dim as she glances up at you, feaful and almost cowering.

Because while your mother was a strong woman, you were stronger. Something she always knew and lived in fear of. Let the entire pack fall to ruin under the guise of protecting you from their judgment. Refused to have you be used like a weapon.

But in doing so, she also denied your rightful place there.

Your birthright.

And sure, you mother always claimed it was because people wouldn’t respect a woman in charge. Said you were better off as she packed her bags once again, leaving you with Wayne or Hopper.

“A woman’s place isn’t at the head of the table,” She’d say as a parting blow.

Gravel would spray out from under her tires as she drove out of Forest Hills, and Wayne’s hand would fall to your shoulder in a comforting squeeze as tears leaked down your cheeks.

“Don’t pay her any mind darlin’,” He’d say ushering you inside. “She wouldn’t know the first thing about about leading a pack if it bit her in the ass.”

She looks scared now, terrified to see what you’ve become in her absence.

Strong, loved, and unafraid.

In the chaos of memories, you hadn’t felt your fangs descend. You tongue one briefly before opening your mouth to say:

“Leave and don’t ever come back.”

It is not a request.

She balks at the order, tries to fight it.

Another step closer has her lowly whining and ducking her head.

Your voice is foreign to you, a lower register and stronger somehow, self-assured. It rips through you like wildfire this new feeling, runs like magma through your veins.

Power.

She grabs her meager things and turns to leave, pausing at the door she says, “Don’t bring that boy into this.”

A parting warning as the door swings shut.

This charade goes on for weeks.

But without the excuse of school— Robin, Eddie, and you have graduated— Steve has difficulty keeping a handle on his curiosity.

Curiosity killed the cat…

How does the end of that saying go?

Right, so. Being cool, calm, and somewhat collected, Steve only tails you on certain days of the week. Generally on those evening runs you’re partial to, it’s easy enough to brush aside as a coincidence; you’re a runner, he’s a former jock besides, he doesn’t do much other than observe.

He studies where you go, the places you frequent and with whom. And more often than not, you’re alone, secluded in the woods somewhere. Steve wonders if he’s getting himself into a can’t see the forest for the trees situation, it feels like he’s getting nowhere.

Or less than nowhere, going backwards maybe.

He’s curious why Eddie isn’t glued to your side.

He has to remind himself that he’s looking for a change in behavior. On his calendar, Steve tracks the lunar phases, noting that you grow more impulsive the more it waxes, eyes beckoning like the most precious of stones. Your stride shifts to something corded with tension, you run faster as if you could outrun the skin you’re in. Your hair grows wild and unkempt, snapping hair ties in its ferocity.

Steve watches and makes note of this for reasons he cannot possibly explain. All the while, he tries to convince himself that he’s not being obsessive and weird. Though Robin would cite his notebook as evidence to the contrary.

He’s careful to remain undetected. Quick to duck behind a tree as you loop back on the running trail, and he’s convinced you’re about to glance in his direction.

But there’s something you didn’t account for, on this particular run. It’s the late afternoon the day before the full moon— the Strawberry moon— lying in wait, hot and pregnant in the sky. Steve’s tailing you at what he’s sure is a reasonable distance on your run that day, he’s got you in his sights and goes to wipe away the sweat gathered at his brow.

In that instant, you are gone.

He blinks to clear his vision, glances left and right. And, deeming that you are nowhere to be found, he drops a spare pair of shorts and an old tee shirt at the trunk of an ancient oak tree.

A twig snaps somewhere to his right.

“Harrington,” You greet with a tense smile, voice frustrated and gruff. “Funny seeing you here.”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve replies around the lump in his throat, voice strained. “Great minds and all that.”

You take a measured step toward him, filling the space between you. He notes the slight flare of your nostrils.

“That’s interesting, I could’ve sworn you were a morning run kinda guy.”

“Oh, um,” Steve stammers in response, suddenly overwhelmed by your proximity and the musky tang radiating from your sweat drenched skin. “Well, it gets hot so early now—”

“Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you,” You warn with a low growl, and shift your stance so he’s forced back against the trunk of the tree. “You know exactly what I’m getting at.”

“Honestly, I don’t—”

You take a deep breath in, brows furrowing as if in great pain.

“I can smell you.”

And that shuts Steve right up.

It seems rather obvious to him now, of fucking course you can smell him. He feels like an idiot for not considering it earlier. God, how embarrassing.

You stare each other down in the subdued quiet of the forest, your eyes boring into his with a harsh intensity. Steve is kind of thrilled and terrified to be able to study them up close, despite the precarious situation at present.

Your irises are blown, from what he can see, like ink splattered across a page and crowding out their natural color. There’s the faintest hint of milky white rimming the edges, fluctuating slightly as if battling for dominance. Your pupils are enormous, so big and…

My, my, what big eyes you have.

All the better to see you with, my dear.

Steve shudders and books it out of there, faster than a knife fight in a phone booth and twice as choatic. And he doesn’t stop until his lungs are fit to burst at the intersection of Pine Bow. He doubles over, hands on knees, gulping in snatches of air.

He shakes his head, unable to get your flickering eyes from his mind. The viciousness in your gaze should serve as a warning.

Well, Steve had never been one to take heed of those.

He wakes in a cold sweat tangled in his sheets.

Struggles to piece together the images from his dream.

Damp earth. Wet leaves. Something wild and free.

He falls back against the pillow and drags a hand across his face. The illuminated numbers of the clock state that it is seven in the morning.

Robin is still dozing in one of the guest rooms, she’d stayed over after graduation and they’d torn into the liquor cabinet while dancing along to Top 40 on the radio.

He’s thirsty but nowhere near hungover as he swings his legs to meet the plush carpet underfoot. Robin will doze off and on until late morning if he lets her, so there’s enough time for a quick morning run.

Steve throws on a shirt that’s seen better days and the blade of Rob’s scissors, the hem barley grazing past his pecs, some shorts, and laces his sneakers. He swings the door open and is about to step outside only to stop short at the sight of a fairly large gray dog at his door.

It cocks its head curiously, mouth falling open in a soft pant as they assess one another.

Now, Steve had always wanted a dog; had begged every birthday and Christmas until it was clear that the Harringtons would not tolerate dog hair and dander polluting their home. Undeterred, Steve wrote to Santa dutifully each year until he was eleven. Then, it was all too obvious that Santa thought Steve was far too old for such things— Christmas presents turned into cash and checks left on the counter, wire transfers from the Cayman Islands.

So it’s really not his fault that he tiredly assumed what was actually a wolf was just a very large and well-behaved dog. And he maintains that fact to this very day, he’ll have you know.

“Oh, uh, hi there.”

The dog, or so Steve assumed, sat politely on his porch, its large paws barley grazing the edge of the welcome mat.

He saw no collar nor leash, and ruminated on what to do as the animal studied him in return with a keen intelligence in its eyes.

Eyes that were oddly familiar to Steve.

But before he could decide on what to do, Eddie Munson’s van careened into his driveway and screeched to a halt.

“Harrington!” Eddie yelled in the bright summer morning, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

He fell out of the vehicle and tripped several times in quick succession striding across Steve’s well-manicured lawn.

The animal cocks its head to the side in interest, light eyes trained on Steve but ears cognizant of Eddie’s approach.

And before Eddie can intervene, Steve grabs something from behind the door and tosses it at the dog’s feet. A wet nose scents the air, dips to investigate the cotton, and deems it satisfactory.

It takes the shirt between its teeth— which strike him as unnaturally sharp— and trots inside the house. The act shocks Steve into silence.

“Well fuck, Harrington,” Eddie curses, running a hand through his unkempt hair. “You’ve really done it now.” He shoulder checks Steve as he enters, grumbling to himself all the while.

So, curiosity may have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

He shuts the door and hears his mother’s voice ringing in his ears—

“No, you know better, Steve,” she sputtered at the puppy on their patio, worrying a dish towel between her manicured fingers. “Don’t feed it, it’ll just come back!”

He shakes the thought loose and follows Eddie down the hall to the living room.

And, well, he’d always wanted a dog, a companion of some kind. Steve figures it’s better in than howling outside his door.

[privwrites]

Geto's Golden Girl

Suguru Geto x female Reader x Gojo being Gojo

summary: You're Suguru Getos best and favourite student. He sends you on a new mission, and technically there's nothing that could go wrong. That is until you meet a former friend of your Sensei, who is all to eagier to get to know everything about you and your connection to Geto...

wordcount: around 4300

authors notes:

• not many spoilers really, but you should know what happens to Geto at the end of the jjk movie

• fanfiction takes place in an AU in which Geto will NEVER die (I'm still traumatised). Let's just say Gojo didn't have the heart to actually kill Geto at the end of jjk 0. Instead he left him severely wounded and walked away. That was your chance to save Geto and bring him home.

• English isn't my first language, so I might mix up some JJK terms.

tw: age gap (it's not a fanfic of mine if it doesn't have an age gap haha sorry), student x sensei/mentor/kinda father figure dynamic, violence, fight scenes, emotional rollercoaster, mentions of death, mentions of manipulation and kidnapping, humour, angst, fluff

Beta read by no one, I need female anime friends <3

backstory: You're one of Geto Sugurus scholars. Years ago he had rescued you from the humans of your village. You were able to see things they didn't, so they tried to exorcise you. You would've been dead if it hadn't been for Geto. Back then you were eight years old. Ever since then you lived with the sorcerer. He became your personal mentor, since he saw great potential in you and your cursed energy. The other two girls he rescued, Mimiko and Nanako Hasaba, were a few years younger than you. You viewed them as your sisters, but they never got as much attention and training from Geto like you did.

You were on your way home when you felt the first raindrop on your cheek. Looking up, the sky was gray, framed by orange-brown leaves on the trees lining the pavement. Autumn had finally arrived in Japan, and you felt relieved to bid farewell to this summer's heatwave. More raindrops fell, splashing on your dark blue jacket. Sighing, you opened your umbrella—this morning, the sky had been sunny and blue. Luckily, you always came prepared. The first humans hastened towards the stores, seeking shelter from the rain, hands raised over their heads. The sound of rain grew louder, amplified by the cars navigating the wet streets. You never particularly hated humans, but you didn't find them very interesting either. They simply coexisted with your world of Jujutsus and cursed energy. You didn't even resent the people in the village where you grew up. Hatred was a weighty emotion, and you enjoyed living an anger-free life. Eventually, your mentor Geto had accepted your relaxed attitude towards humans. Although you were probably the only one in his community that he allowed to have such a different opinion compared to his. You had always liked to talk back and had Geto questioning his will to actually teach and raise you a million times. But your were the strongest sorcerer your age, which was a big bonus point for you.

It was still raining when you reached home. The huge traditionally japanese mansion had space for your bedroom, Mimiko and Nanakos room and Geto's private chambers. Besides that there were many taijutsu practice rooms and guest rooms. Walking through the inner courtyard connecting various rooms via a small garden, the clacking sound of the Shishi Odoshi echoed across the space. Placing your umbrella on the wooden engawa, you removed your shoes and slid open the door to your room. Inside it was warm and cozy. The sound of the rain became quieter. You changed from your outdoor attire into comfortable indoor clothes and settled onto your futon. it didn't ake you long to feel tired. Sleep always came easily to you; you had a substantial need for it. The relaxing pitter-patter of the rain accompanied you into your dreams.

It didn't take Suguru Geto long to notice your return home. There was nothing in his house that the great sorcerer didn't know about, and the sight of the dark blue umbrella on your engawa was all too familiar. "Always prepared," he thought to himself. Geto was aware that you were likely asleep, as it was often the case on your days off. Despite it being only afternoon, your cursed technique of controlling all four elements of nature could be draining, requiring ample rest. Today it seemed like you just did a simple stroll through town, but even then, your cursed energy was always present. So the sorcerer waited another two hours before he sent Mimiko to wake you.

He had plans for you. He always had.

***

Geto could hear your footsteps long before you entered what could be described as his living room. You closed the sliding door behind you. Outside, it was still raining. Geto's gaze fixated on you instantly. The light blue Japanese kimono wrapped your figure elegantly, and your shiny hair framed your delicate face. "You called for me, Sensei?" you asked in your typically soft voice. "Yes, my dear. Sit down, please." You settled onto the tatami mat, your movements fluent and elegant. "So much like me," he thought, observing you. "I have a mission for you, y/n. There's an abandoned mall outside of Tokyo. From what my informant said, there's a cursed spirit that is powerful enough to be of great value for us." As he spoke, he turned on the andon lamp on the flat table between you two. It was already getting dark outside. You rolled your eyes. "Let me guess – you want me to bring it to you?" The sorcerer in front of you had an amused smile on his lips, his dark eyes holding a certain allure. You were different from the rest of his followers - while they would agree unquestioningly, you always dared to contradict or doubt him. And Geto allowed it- every time. "Precisely," he continued. "I can't get it myself; I'll be occupied. And I only trust you to get this done. I know you won't disappoint me." He was right. You wouldn't. If you followed his orders, you did it to his satisfaction - every time.

"I need more details, Sensei. When should I go? Where exactly is it? Should I bring Mimiko and Nanako? They could use another training session." Geto grinned at your numerous questions. You had a love for details and disliked not knowing everything about a mission. Geto ran his large hand through his raven-dark hair, a few strands falling onto his forehead. "You will go alone. Tomorrow afternoon. One of my drivers will bring you there. Capture it in the evening and come back during the night. We can't risk being seen." The golden light of the lantern flickered in your eyes. "We?" you mocked, "You won't even be there!" Geto sighed. "You couldn't let that slide, could you, y/n?" - "No chance," you answered, now grinning too. "Alright, I will take care of your cursed spirit for you. May it help you with whatever devilish plan you're coming up with next," you said, rising to leave.  Geto observed you in silence until you were almost out the door. "When did I tell you that you are dismissed already, y/n?" he asked sharply. "Oh," you retorted, wearing a hypocritically thoughtful expression, "never." You grinned and left, leaving behind your sweet scent that lingered in the air—Geto took a deep breath. Blackcurrant lychee, the same perfume he had bought you years ago.

***

The mall to which Geto had sent you had been abandoned for quite a while. As you approached it, the deserted structure loomed ominously in the night, its once vibrant exterior now a faded, dreary facade against the relentless rain. The stench of dampness lingered in the air, mixing with the earthy scent of decay. The stars and the moon were shrouded in clouds, and it was raining again. Closed to the public, the mall occasionally attracted adventurous teenagers, some of whom mysteriously vanished. "Stupid mission", you grumbled to yourself, yearning for the comfort of your bed and a good book.  You swore to yourself to complain to Geto once you were back. Fucking idiot for not getting his cursed spirits by himself. But since you had decided to stay out of his other mad plans as much as possible, tasks like this one were becoming more regular for you. Finding the entrance, cordoned off with barrier tape, didn't take long. Stepping inside, a familiar tingle coursed through your stomach— the cursed spirit wasn't far. All you had to do was to follow your gut feeling. Meanwhile, you carefully looked around the mall. Smaller raindrops were dripping into bigger puddles on the ground, and many store entrances were barricaded. The eeriest thing was the flickering of some of the store neon lights. Why did they still have power? Your steps echoed on the wet floor. Maybe it was the cursed energy in the mall that made some of the lights flicker. Sneaking your way into the building, you could feel the energy of the curse grew stronger. Carefully you took out your sealing box. Capturing a curse with it was pretty easy for you. Also because Geto made your practice it a million times when you were younger. He used to have this annoying little spirit that always jumped around laughing and was incredibly hard to catch. Thinking about it made you grin-but this was neither the right place nor the right time for that. Besides, you were still a little annoyed with Geto for sending you here.

Suddenly, a strange, eerie mumbling echoed through the mall. That had to be the cursed spirit! "Of cou-course I can check the ware-warehouse for the item, which is obviously already sold out." You chuckled. Sometimes, the spirits last words were quite comical. Following the echoing sounds, you traced the spirit to a secluded corner of the mall. It was a grotesque manifestation, its malformed figure adorned with bones protruding from its mouth. Its skin bore a sickly hue of purple-turquoise, marred by blisters. Despite its repulsive appearance, you sensed its huge strength, yet nothing beyond your capabilities. The cursed spirit let out a squeak upon sighting you. "Better get this done quickly", you thought to yourself. Your power of controling the elements (fire, water, earth, air) made it easy for you to capture the curse inside the sealingbox after a short fight. Once the curse was sealed, you left the corner of the mall as quickly as possible, mainly to escape the stench of the curse still lingering in the air.

You got back to the main hall and were about to take out your cell phone to text Geto's driver-when something suddenly made you pause. The main hall of the shopping mall stretched around the corner about 30 meters in front of you. You hadn't been in this area before. And suddenly you could feel something - cursed energy? But the curse was sealed in the box in your hand, wasn't it!? The energy grew stronger. Very strong. You immediately got into a fighting stance. Whatever was so strong wouldn't let you escape anyways. Footsteps—long, deliberate—echoed in the flickering neon-lit corridor. Your heart raced with apprehension. What the hell was going on!? A figure emerged from around the corner, and you froze. A man, tall and adorned in dark, sophisticated attire, stood a few meters in front of you. He was wearing simple sunglasses, but despite that, you could see how handsome he was. His blue eyes seemed to shine through his sunglasses, and white hair framed his face. Recognition dawned on you. You had heard much about him but never encountered him in person. "Fuck," you muttered, stepping back a few paces in defense. What was HE doing here!?

"'Fuck?' the man asked, scratching the back of his head thoughtfully as if contemplating what you just said. You observed him anxiously. Suddenly, his expression brightened. "Fuck? Yeah, that probably is what most women first think when they look at me!" You opened your mouth and closed it again, unable to bring out any answer. Geto had told you alot about his old friend, including that he was quite full of himself, but it seemed that you only just now understood what he really meant. It took you a few moments to compose yourself. "That's not—what I meant!", you finally defended yourself, holding the sealing box behind you defensively, anticipating any attacks from him. "Meant what? Fuck? I'm sorry love, but that's not why I'm here." He casually slipped his hands into his pockets, grinning carefreely. And you? You couldn't believe it. You had never encountered a more unserious man, that was certain! And he was Geto's best friend? The contrast couldn't be more stark between the two. "You know, I'm actually here to get to know someone. I'm looking for a girl, around (your/age) years old, (your/haircolor) hair, and with a quite good curse technique", he explained. It was obvious that he was searching for you for some reason. However, the sorcerer seemed to enjoy to tease you. But you weren't having it. "Seems like you found her then", you answered grim. "Excelent! You know, I do really hate searching!" He looked genuinely happy about it, "I heard a lot about you, my dear." You swallowed. You couldn't trust him at all. Of course he was stronger than you and whatever reason brought him here, couldn't mean anything good for you.

"What would Satoru Gojo want from me?", you asked sharply, watching his every move. "Oh, you know my name already, perfect!" The urge to wipe that stupid smile off his face grew stronger inside you. "Anyways, Miss (your/lastname), here's my brilliant plan: you're gonna give me the cursed-spirit that you captured so well. And then I will kidnap you too. Agree?" He made his plan sound like it was the best thing in the world. "What- no!", you spat out, "why would I do that?!" Gojo Satoru scratched his neck again. "Because the other option would be for you to fight me. In that case, you would obviously loose. And I personally just hate fighting a pretty woman!" His dumb comments started to trigger you, prompting you to shoot a small fire ball into his direction. You'd never surrender without a fight! "Oops!", Gojo squeaked in surprise, taking a step aside. The fireball left a hole in the old storefront of a former restaurant behind him, igniting it. He watched it burn and sighed. 'That store used to have really good Kikufuku, you know?" - „I do not care!", you shouted. Gojo was incredibly irritating. „Well", he continued, „I should've known Getos golden girl won't submit to me that easily." You raised an eyebrow. "Geto's golden girl?" - "Exactly", he said, "you are his best and favourite student after all, right? That's why I'm here, y/n." You wanted to say something sassy back, but you couldn't even deny the 'best and favourite' part. Instead a new fireball started to form in your hand. You shot it towards him- faster this time, but the tall man easily dodged it. It seemed as though Gojo was enjoying your attacks.

If only you would have enough time to flee with the captured spirit! Instead Gojo continued his unbothered talking. "You were also the one to save Geto after I defeated him, right? He must mean quite alot to you. And honestly- I can't even blame you! He is incredibly smart and hot!" - "I don't need your opinion!", you shouted, sending a wave of air in his direction. Any other opponent would have been smashed against the wall, but not Gojo. He stumbled back a few steps. "Wow! You really are talented! I understand what Geto sees in you! I'm glad he didn't lose his taste after all!" - "That's none of your business either!" Did this guy ever shut up!? "Actually, it is. Geto is my best friend as much as he is my enemy. And therefore his plans concern me. And so do his students that he manipulated into staying with him." A contemptuous sound escaped you. "I enjoy my life and freedom with Geto, and so do the others!" Gojo nodded. „I knew you'd say that. In that case, show me what you got, dear! For you, I'll take off my sunglasses. Strong fighters deserve to face me without them." He put his glasses away and his blue eyes seemed to stare into your soul. There was no escaping him. You couldn't defeat him. But you never surrendered either. And strangely enough, something within you sparked a sudden surge of fighting spirit. This was your mission for Geto! You always promised and delivered for your sensei, and you wouldn't stop just because blue-eyes decided to show up! „Fine, I'd rather die than hand over the curse or even myself!" You utilized your power over air to elevate yourself off the ground, hovering a few meters above it. In your hand, a flame grew, intensifying with each passing second. Fire was your strongest skill—essential for this battle. "This could've been much easier", Gojo sighed. Before you could answer, you were struck by a punch, hurling you through the air. How was he so fast? Luckily, your air-skills saved you. You threw the fireball back, and within seconds you and Gojo were engrossed in a fight. In the meantime, he kept shouting comments at you about your cursed techniques. "Aim a little further to the right!", "Yeah, you got me there!" , That was better!" - You couldn't answer his comments.  He grew stronger with each passing moment, and soon, you found yourself crashing into walls and barraged with waves of cursed energy. You stood no chance.

So, you did the last thing you could do: you secretly did a special cursed technique, anchoring the sealing box itself firmly into the ground. Geto had taught you this particular technique. It was designed in a way that only a person of your choosing could effortlessly retrieve the box from the ground- Geto in your case. It was an impossibility for anyone else since the technique was intrinsically linked to the Sorcerer's life—yours. Then all your strength left you in exhaustion. Gojo immediately pulled you toward him, your back pressed against his, his arm against your throat. "I haven't encountered such an intriguing opponent in a while", his breath brushed against your neck, "Unfortunately, you don't stand a chance against me. I will now take you and the imprisoned curse with me. But mark my words—you will grow incredibly strong one day." - "You're... not... my sensei!' you managed to utter, straining to speak with whatever breath remained in your lungs.

"That's right, but I am!" an all too familiar soft but serious voice interjected, "and now, Gojo, my old friend, could you please release my y/n? She hates being restrained like that." - „Geto!", you shouted. In the neon light, a few meters in front of you, stood your sensei. He was clad in a dark kimono, his eyes glaring sharply at Gojo behind you. The light reflected his beautiful face. „Geto, finally! It's delighting to see you!", Gojo exclaimed enthusiastically, "I knew you'd show up eventually. You can't leave your dear y/n alone after your sources have told you that I'm here too, I understand that!" - "Release her, Gojo, now!" Your sensei's expression was more determined than ever. An intense tension crackled between the two powerful men, their presence adding to the charged atmosphere. "Gladly, Geto," Gojo replied, "but I just realized you'll have to release the cursed anchor of the sealing box in the ground. Apart from y/n, only you can open it. Nice technique you taught her, by the way." For a plit second, Geto glanced at you with pride. The anchor technique was incredibly challenging to master. "The alternative is for me to kill your student, Geto," Gojo's voice turned dangerously serious. "Geto, you need that curse! Take it and leave!" you shouted. Getos gaze met yours, and his facial expression softened immediately. "Leave you?" he asked, then turned to Gojo, "I'd sooner give up everything I've achieved in my life than to leave y/n. If you want the curse that badly, Gojo, I'll hand it over!" You stared at Geto in disbelief. You knew how much your sensei had sacrificed to reach his current position—it meant everything to him! "Geto—" you managed to say, "no...!" He looked at you, a faint smile on his lips. "It's alright, y/n. I've made my decision."

Suddenly, Gojo's grip around your neck eased, and you broke free, almost tumbling to the ground before Geto swiftly caught and supported you. Clinging to the fabric of his soft kimono, you caught the familiar scent of cedarwood. "Shh, it's alright", Geto reassured, his hand gently stroking your hair. A chuckle from Gojo drew your gaze upward. "So, there's still good in you, old friend", Gojo spoke surprsingly soft. "I'm sorry I had to put you both in this situation, but I needed to make sure Geto hadn't lost his old self. I needed to know if he still cared for those around him." Your eyes widened in realization. What the hell? „You didn't come here of your own accord, isn't that right, Gojo?", Geto asked him, "the council of Jujutsu sorcerers sent you."  You looked questioningly at Geto, whose gaze was fixed on Gojo. Geto continued: "Someone told the council that I would look for the curse in the old mall. So they sent you to defeat me for good." Gojo nodded. „You have a sharp mind as always, Geto. I was instructed to end your life here, in this very mall." Realization struck you: "So the council thought Geto would show up, and instead you met me! But how did you know about me anyways? You couldn't know Geto wasn't here!", you exclaimed. "You're not entirely wrong, y/n," Gojo replied. "The council had no clue that Geto sent you. But given that Geto is my best friend, I'm usually well-informed about his actions. Thus, I assumed that for a mission like this, his top student—namely you—would likely handle it. Even though Geto couldn't have known I was waiting here for you instead."

You nodded in understanding, but suddenly, Geto's hold around you tightened. "Does the council of Jujucists know that y/n is here too, Gojo?" he asked tensely, surprising you. Geto appeared nervous. "No, they're unaware," Gojo replied. "I didn't inform the council of my suspicion of meeting y/n here instead of you. That way, I could test you, Geto, by forcing you to choose between your goals and your heart", and looking at you he said: "I would've never killed you, y/n. Because that would have meant I'd have had to fight an incredibly enraged Geto - and then I might have ended up losing after all." You shook your head. "You're completely insane, Gojo Satoru." Gojo winked at you. "Well I care about my best friend's loved ones." You rose to your feet slowly, and Geto was there, lending his support as you straightened up. You brushed the dust from the earlier fight off your clothes, then looked at two special grade jujutsu sorcerers. "And what happens next? What will you tell the council, Gojo?" - "That's a smart question, y/n. And our next problem. I could never kill Geto, but even if I didn't, the council would, if I captured him instead of killing him. You grabbed Getos arm immediately. "That's not an option!", you stated. "I know, dear. But the councils has spies anywhere, so they definitely know that I've met Geto here in the mall. And by now, they probably know about you y/n too. The only solution is for you two to leave this place immediately. Hide from the council until they  give up searching for you", Gojo said, seemingly unhappy with the situation.

Geto took a step infront of you. "I won't drag y/n into fleeing and hiding from the council with me! It's dangerous and only I am responsible for my current situation!" His voices conveyed a deep seriousness. Gojo nodded understandably. "Then I'll take y/n with me, back to Tokyo Jujutsu High School. I'll tell the council that you manipulated y/n and that she's entirely innocent. And that I didn't have the physical strength to defeat you, but instead freeded y/n. This way, she can stay safe until the council stops their hunt for you." Geto nodded immediately in agreement, whilst your eyes widenend. "No!", you shouted, "I'll stay with Geto! I don't care if they chase us!" Gojo looked at you with pity. Suddenly you all heard a noise from the other side of the mall. "Geto, you need to leave! Someone's coming!", Gojo spoke hurriedly. "No, Geto no!", you pleaded, "no sensei abandons their student!" Geto leaned down to you, his expression a blend of sorrow and determination. "Listen, y/n," he spoke softly, "you're no longer just my student. I'm not your sensei anymore. You've surpassed me in wisdom and kindness. You're more than my equal now." He delicately brushed a strand of hair from your face, his gorgeously dark gaze meeting your watery eyes. "What I mean, y/n, is that you deserve a life free from the dangers I've attracted. As I'll be hunted, I want you to be safe. I trust Gojo to protect you until I return." Tears streamed down your face, making you speechless. Another sound echoed from the mall, but Geto remained composed as he continued: "You'll go with Gojo. Train at Jujutsu High School. Grow stronger, and we'll meet again. I'm certain." His words were clear, leaving no room for an argument. You nodded, sniffling, "I'll miss you terribly. Please take care." Geto nodded back, a soft smile gracing his lips. Gently tucking your hair behind your ear, he placed a tender kiss on your forehead before nudging you toward Gojo, who put an arm around you immediately.

As Geto stood up, he glanced at Gojo, "Take care of y/n. Without her, I'd be devoid of my humanity." - "I promise," Gojo affirmed. You brushed away your tears, whispering, "I'll make you proud, Geto." He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You've surpassed that already, my love," he smiled warmly. Suddenly, the screech of an eagle pierced through the broken ceiling of the mall. In the next moment, it lifted Geto off the ground, perching him on its back. "Goodbye, y/n", Geto spoke softly. The eagle let out another cry and soared into the sky. The silhouette of Geto atop the eagle diminished until it vanished into the night. You gripped Gojo's hand, tears still cascading down your cheeks. "It's okay," Gojo murmured, "I'll stay by your side until better days arrive. And until then I have just the right classmates for you to help you find your new way at Jujutsu High." You gazed at him questioningly through the wet lashes of your tears. "What do you mean by that?", you asked suspiciously, "I don't think anyone would want to be friends with someone who was with a villain for that long." Upon the Jujutsu Sorcerer's lips, there appeared a subtle yet discernible grin. "I currently have three students- one of them had an aweful father- and the other one, well, ate his villain. So I think you'll be good." You stared at Gojo. That man was always good for a surprise it seemed. "Ate...him?", you asked in disbelief. Gojos grin was now clearly visible on his face. "Exactly. You see? I'm sure Getos golden girl-", he winked at you, "will fit in just fine!"

[wered0gs]

I haven't seen a lot of discussion about RSD when it comes to ADHD discussions, so I thought I would do the honors since it's been affecting me for many years and I'd like people to know more about it!

I have had a diagnosis for ADHD but was never told- instead learning I had autism through therapy but still having some behaviors that I could never explain that just Happened.

I learned I had ADHD over the summer, and with that, severe rejection sensitive dysphoria.

before reading, please keep in mind that this is mostly talking from personal experience and some skimmed research! not experiencing RSD doesn't mean you do/don't have ADHD, and it may not appear like how it appeared for me. I don't only have autism + adhd either, so those may also contribute to any differences! ^^

RSD is the immense emotional pain after being criticized, rejected, or even teased (ignore my misspell in the panel). This rejection can be real or perceived, and we react like this because it hurts.

The pain can manifest as aggression, bringing on symptoms of depression (thoughts of s/h, isolation, demotivation, etc) and anxiety/panic attacks.

it can cause physical aliments like the above. For me, it causes my heartrate to skyrocket, heart palpitations, the feeling of being in a crisis, and extreme shaking to occur along with stomach pain.

(In fact, right now I'm going through it because making a post talking about this, despite having & dealing with it, makes me scared of other's opinions on it.)

RSD can also take the form of avoiding situations, people, or conversations where rejection or criticism is very possible.

Like other types of dysphoria, it is out of our control and hard to manage. It can last from days to weeks to months, all depending on both the trigger* and the individual.

I had a RSD episode that was on-and-off for a little over a year or two; getting more tame and bearable as it slowly drifted and stopped haunting my mind with the incident.

Compared to the other times my RSD was set off, this moment was a rather big moment in my life and ended up permanently changing me moving forward - which can be the reason why it lasted so long.

Despite how unbearable it can get, there are some ways to cope with it & lessen the effect it has.

Communicate - If you need time to process something that's told to you, you should say so (as difficult as it is). Tell the person(s) involved about your RSD, how you need time to digest information like this and take some time to relax. Trying to respond to the information while going through the head of the dysphoria will be very rough and might not be what you truly want to say.

Distract - This is really useful for me personally! Do something that grabs your attention or occupies your mind. One of RSD's main symptoms is rumination, thinking of something over and over again. I usually listen to music, draw, or play a game that won't frustrate me - like minecraft! (i'd say rain world but some of you would call me a maniac /lhj)

Perspective - This may require some communication, but it can really help and connect with others. See what the involved people thought / perceived, explain, talk. This doesn't always have the chance to end in rainbows and rekindling but at least you understand. Sometimes simply hearing the person explain their own side is enough to ease my RSD, being able to have someone explain themselves to me so i can understand them better.

I also wanna point out the "don't take it personally" thing that people try to use to deal with it isn't something i agree with since we're going to take it personally at first regardless. Later on, not really, but you're trying to cope with the symptoms... telling someone (or yourself) that they're too sensitive & over-reacting is the worse thing you could do.

With time, you can even begin to build up your 'armor' and be able to sustain yourself in situations you might get hurt in. Of course, some things may be able to sneak past and hurt you more than you expect, but at the end of the day, you're trying your best to go about it the best you can while taking so many blows. you're doing great.

OK i dont have a lot more to add so if anyone else would like to talk about their experiences, please feel free! Character showcased here was my beloved fursona Shiki! i'm just a little neurodivergent + black artist from new york :]

hope you enjoyed it! sorry for the long post </3

[cupidjyu]

red flavor

eric x reader (submission for the cutest tbz summer event💕)

summary: your planned summer getaway doesn’t go as expected and it’s only you and eric, your childhood best friend. but, new feelings may just join you on your little vacation

genre: summer time!! beach house, childhood friends to lovers (my absolute fav btw), fluff, eric pining for years, getting together, cute little memories, feelings realization, juyeons just there for a second, slow dancing, slight hurt/comfort, eric's love language is fixing your hair, author is a big red velvet fan if you couldn't tell, love confession notes: this is more of a character/relationship study so if youre expecting a super simple oneshot with lesser description then im sorry🥲 songs mentioned are from this specific summer album LOL word count: 7.8k

Sometimes, you just liked to observe. A lot of people did anyway for various reasons. Some people, like your friend Juyeon, observed for the sake of reading others’ needs and emotions. He was always the one to notice when you were upset and he would hurry to make horrible puns just to make you laugh. 

Other people, like Eric who’s been your best friend since the age when you two couldn’t even reach the kitchen counter, observed for the sake of learning who a person was as a whole. He was the one who took note of your tendency to shift energies and he would adjust his own to match yours.

You, on the other hand, liked to observe simply because what you saw brought you back to the past. You treasured good memories, so being able to see them again in the future brought a sense of joy to your heart like a flickering lightbulb.

In Eric’s room, there was a lot to observe that brought back the past. The broken science project of the solar system because you two were dancing too much late at night, the cut-out superhero mask that was supposed to be Eric’s last-minute Halloween costume in middle school, and the foolish paper heart that sparked it all in the first place.

Sitting on his bed, you then observed your two closest friends. Juyeon was on his phone whilst drinking from a water bottle—which he comically once tripped on that led to his lunch tray and its contents flying into your clothes. But that was how you became friends anyway. Eric was simply doodling in his sketchbook with a small, content smile. Just like he had done on that same paper heart in elementary school.

You felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you were met with a boy, about your age with a backpack on that was much too big for him. He had a kind smile and bright eyes.

And then he shoved a red, paper heart in your hands. Though, it took you a second to realize if it even was one with the edges so raggedly cut.

Bringing it up to your face, you read the large, shaky letters with your newly obtained skill of reading words.

“Will you marry me?”

Young Eric simply had bad comprehension skills. Apparently, he wasn't proposing. He just wanted to become friends.

“How does ‘marry me’ and ‘be my friend’ sound at all similar?” You muttered to yourself. 

Eric looked up and groaned. “You’re still on that? I was a baby back then. A cute one at that.” 

“An annoying one at that.”

Eric was about to argue back but Juyeon had spoken up with his lovely and calm voice.

“Let’s not fight. We have a trip to look forward to.”

The two of you immediately brightened at his reminder—the Summer Getaway. The three of you called it that because you all sucked at coming up with a better name. It was the trip that you had been planning since the first year of high school. The beach house to rent, the seaside to visit, everything already was laid out. And after so many years of fumbling with life and its many obstacles, it was finally happening.

“Tomorrow!” Eric sat up. “You’re all going to witness my dreamy beach boy actor debut.”

Juyeon looked at him, unimpressed. “And who’s the love interest?”

You snorted, turning your gaze over to Eric, only for him to be looking straight at you. Widening your eyes, you stuttered in confusion.

“No one,” He curtly said, turning away suddenly, his ears slightly red.

It was awkwardly silent. Until Juyeon nervously laughed. “What about clothes? Summer outfits?” He rambled. “We have to take a lot of pictures.”

You nodded, smiling excitedly. “I bought some just for this trip actually.” You frowned. “My paycheck practically disappeared.”

Juyeon laughed. “Was it as expensive as your prom outfit?”

Again, memories rushed back to you. More negative this time. With a frustrated sigh, you grimaced. “Let’s not bring that up. It was so bad, I looked horrible.”

Juyeon shook his head sympathetically. But your ears picked up someone else’s voice.

“I think you looked beautiful,” You heard Eric whisper. But maybe you were imagining things. 

“Too bad my date dumped me the day after,” You continued.

“He was horrible for that,” Juyeon remarked.

“That’s why you should’ve taken me,” Eric piped up. He got up to sit next to you on the bed. And to your surprise, his hand gently came up to your hair to smooth it down. But of course, that's what friends did.

You nodded in agreement. “I should have. You looked handsome that day.”

Eric glanced at you briefly and you could catch the sight of his cheeks turning red. “Of course I did,” He stammered. 

“Then why didn’t you ask anyone out for prom?” You questioned. “You went all alone.”

“Because you—“ Eric sighed, hurt flitting across his expression. “Nevermind.”

Juyeon coughed anxiously. “So!” He blurted. “The trip! Let’s talk about the trip tomorrow.”

—

“Where’s Juyeon?” Eric called out when he noticed you approaching the car. Yes, you prepared so much for the trip that you even had the car inspected and tested the driver—Eric—to make sure he could properly drive without swerving from talking too much. He did talk a lot.

You shrugged, lugging your bag packed with all the things you needed.

“He’s not here yet?” You frowned.

Eric shook his head with a worried look. “Usually he’s the early one.”

You hummed, standing next to him. And then you looked him over. He had dressed differently, his hair swept up nicely and his skin glowed golden in the sun. You wouldn't admit it but he did give off ��dreamy beach boy” as corny as it may have sounded.

After a few minutes, you were about to call Juyeon to make sure he didn’t oversleep until you heard footsteps approaching. Looking up, you breathed out a sigh of relief.

“What took you so long?” You complained.

Juyeon furrowed his eyebrows and that was when you realized that he did not have a single piece of luggage with him. 

“I can’t go,” He breathlessly responded.

Eric inhaled sharply. “What?”

“There’s been an emergency,” Juyeon whined. “Involving my cat.”

You pouted knowing very well that Juyeon absolutely adored his cat and would drop anything for the feline, including this trip that you’d all been planning years ago.

“But go without me,” Juyeon rushed to say. “I don’t want to hold you both back.”

The two of you silently stared at him, disappointment and guilt holding grim over your faces. 

“Please.” His eyes softened. “Just make sure to send pictures.”

—

The car ride that was initially meant to be a karaoke session, turned into a quiet silence. It wasn’t awkward, no, it was never awkward between you and Eric. But it was solemn.

“He did say he’d be fine,” Eric spoke, flipping the right turn signal.

You sighed. “But you know him. He always likes to hide his disappointment.”

Eric shook his head. “He would be more disappointed if he knew we weren’t having fun.”

You thought for a moment. And then you nodded because it was true. You often observed that Juyeon would smile whenever you or Eric would smile first. He was like an older brother to you.

“Okay. Then I’m choosing the first song.” A devilish smile appeared on your lips as you queued up the music.

“Go ahead,” Eric laughed.

When you pressed play, he gasped. He glanced at you with acknowledgment accompanied by a slight wince. “Is this…”

“Mhm,” You giggled. “The song we sang together when we got drunk for the first time?”

“The headache I had after,” Eric groaned. “Never again.” You smiled at the fond memory. 

“And you’re such a clingy drunk.”

“I was not.”

“You literally hugged me and kissed my cheek,” You deadpanned. “You even said—“

Eric had his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a warm back hug, so tight that you could feel his hips and chest pressed up against your back. He smelled faintly of cherry wine and from the corner of your eye, you could see his adorably flushed cheeks and the dazed look in his eyes. “Please, don’t ever leave,” He cried, snuggling his face into your neck. “You’re so special to me.” 

But then again, that’s just what friends say, right? 

Your best friend looked at you in confusion. Ah, he must have forgotten. 

“What did I say?”

“Nothing,” You muttered. Choosing to change the topic, you turned up the volume. And soon enough, you were dancing and singing along to the song like you were on cloud nine. Eric chuckled to himself as he watched you with soft eyes, a small smile tugging on his lips.

You glared playfully. “Eyes on the road, sir.”

Eric rolled his eyes but obliged. For safety, of course. When the song ended, you sat back in your seat and you looked at him. Sometimes you forgot that Eric wasn’t a little boy who played hide and seek with you anymore. He was a man who had grown up to be… fairly attractive. His jawline was sharp now, he was taller, and he had muscles from his endless workouts that you would constantly walk in on him doing. You could see that from the way he had rolled up his sleeves to reveal his forearms, handling the steering wheel with one hand. Taking a gulp, you quickly looked away. What were you thinking?

“Eyes on me?” He lifted an eyebrow, glancing at you teasingly.

You cleared your throat. “No, I— You just look bad today.”

“Mhm,” He hummed smugly. “Sure.”

And for some reason, your cheeks felt unusually warm.

It was a long road trip so naturally, that meant that the evening would come. It was dark out now and the music was long turned off. At some point, you had fallen asleep, the sound of the car engine lulling you easily.

Whilst you were dreaming of a beach house lit naturally by the bright sun, Eric took a glimpse at you. He smiled to himself affectionately, staying quiet. But it faltered when he noticed you shiver from the cool night air. 

Parking to the side for a moment, he reached back to pull out a blanket. Carefully and lovingly, he placed it over you, trying not to wake you up.

But, you always had the tendency to wake up whenever the car was stopped so you felt every single sensation with your eyes still closed. The warmth of his fingertips brushing against your arm, the rhythm of your quickening heartbeat, and… the press of a soft pair of lips on your forehead.

But maybe it was just a dream.

When Eric had started driving, before you dozed off again, you could hear him humming a song. A song that you recognized. A love song.

—

The house was ten times better than what it looked like in the pictures. The exterior of it looked like it came straight out of those real estate magazines. Palm trees decorated the scene and if you had simply turned around, you would be met with the breathtaking sight of the beach with its clear, almost sparkling ocean. Scrambling to explore the inside, you were surprised to see just how big it was. The ceiling was tall and the interior was embellished with various decorations. 

“This is what we deserve after practicing good financial habits for all those years,” You marveled, opening all the doors to reveal gorgeous rooms that were bright simply from the sunlight outside. Just like you had dreamed about. Eric hummed, trailing behind you, taking in the house silently, as opposed to your constant awes.

Finally, the two of you ended up in the master bedroom. 

Turning to him slowly, you put on your best puppy-like impression. “Can I have this one?”

Eric looked at you thoroughly unimpressed. “Is that the best you could do?”

You even pouted this time. He still stared back, completely unabashed. At a loss, you leaned in close, right up to his face. And for some reason, almost immediately, he was backing away with reddening cheeks.

“O-okay,” He stuttered. “Fine. You can have this one.”

Cheering, you flopped down on the bed, and with a sigh, you looked out the window dreamily. “If only my room was this neat all the time. It’s always messy.”

Eric huffed, lying down next to you. You turned your head to him and smiled softly at his serene expression as he looked up to the ceiling. 

“You can always call me if you need someone to clean your room,” He mumbled. “I’m the neatest after all.”

“Ah…” You breathed. “You’re right. Last time when you–”

“Knock, knock.” You could hear Eric’s voice from outside your door. With a slight sniffle, you brought the covers over your face, curling up to yourself. Being hit with a sudden slump that left you unable to do anything except lie in bed defeated wasn’t entirely ideal. 

Your room was an absolute mess and when Eric had called you, he immediately could tell from your voice that you were having a hard time. You heard the door opening and him entering the room. He stood there silently for a moment. But suddenly, you could hear various sounds. Trash being picked up, clothes being folded… peeking your head outside of your blankets, you realized that he was cleaning up for you. 

With tears welling up in your eyes at his kind actions, you sniffled even louder. Eric instantly looked up at the sound and he was right by your side. He pulled you into a hug, whispering sweet, sweet words in your ear as his hand stroked the back of your head soothingly.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” He had whispered, pulling away so that he could brush a strand of hair out of your face gently. Even caressing your cheek, he had let you fall asleep against his chest.

But that’s what friends do, right?

Clearing your throat, you sat up abruptly. Eric followed, staring at you with slight perplexion. Suddenly, you turned to him.

“I never got to say thank you,” You blurted out. “For taking care of me that one time. So… thank you.”

And you had feared he would question what you were talking about. But instead, he nodded with a small smile.

“Of course,” He chuckled casually. “I’ll always care for you, dummy.” 

You smiled at that and then you lunged forward, pulling him into a hug. With your sheer force, he fell back on the bed. And just like that, it was the two of you, giggling and hugging each other, arms wrapped around warmly, in the midst of a beautiful beach house.

–

After unpacking and getting everything in order, you were so exhausted that you had fallen asleep almost immediately. But waking up in the morning was refreshing, with the bright sunshine pouring straight onto your face, warming you up perfectly. With a satisfied yawn and stretch, you walked out of your room, still dressed in your sleepwear.

But you paused abruptly when you saw Eric standing in the kitchen, apron tied around his waist and his sleeves rolled up again. He looked up and he smiled.

“Let’s cook together today.”

You gave him a pained smile and approached him. Before you could even say anything, he was leaning in to brush the messy strands of hair out of your face from just waking up. You’ve always noticed how gentle his hands were on you. When with Juyeon, he was rough and playful. But with you… he treated you like a piece of glass.

“We still suck though,” You complained.

“All the more reason to practice?” He gave you a quirked-up smile. 

Late at night, Eric was sleeping over. But suddenly, he had sprung up, startling you from your dozing off.

“I’m hungry,” He grumbled. “Let’s cook something.” 

And that was how you found yourself, half-asleep in the kitchen, figuring out how to make a simple dish from an old cookbook in one of your drawers. The two of you tried so hard, following each and every direction, only for it to taste like burnt pieces of garbage.

And so, Eric, with a sleepy, raspy voice, had to order takeout. You were silent until your eyes landed on the failed attempt once again. It looked like a blob of black, green, and somehow… pink. And soon enough, you were bent over the counter, laughing so hard over the monstrosity. You had expected Eric to join in on your laughing fit but instead, he had put down his phone and only stared at you fondly.

His eyes were sparkling as they met with yours and he had on the softest tug of his lips. Something in his expression made you stop laughing over how embarrassed you had gotten. Why was he looking at you like that? Almost like he… 

But that’s just how friends look at each other, is it not?

“You look focused,” Eric remarked, brushing past you to flip the pancakes.

“Huh? Oh– yeah,” You breathed out. “I just… remembered something.”

“What’s up?” 

And again, he looked at you like that. Eyes warm and gentle on yours, his smile small yet so, so fond. Your eyes trailed down to where his hand had reached forward, near your waist to steady you from bumping into the sharp corner of the counter. Your cheeks immediately warmed up as you abruptly turned around. 

“N-nothing.”

–

After breakfast and getting ready, you headed out to the nearby outdoor market. It was a beautiful, yet bustling sight. People were in every corner, every stall, buying various things like seashell necklaces and cute jellyfish lamps. Your eyes were practically shimmering and you quickly grabbed hold of Eric’s wrist to pull him along.

At the first stall, a woman was selling beautiful leis. You gasped, picking one up and showing your best friend. He grinned and nodded expectantly.

“What’re you waiting for? Put it on,” He joked. 

You laughed and shook your head. Instead, you stepped forward, looping the pink and purple flower garland around his neck. You could hear the small intake from his lips as he looked down at you, eyes wide. Maybe, you were a bit too close to him. But, you didn’t think much of it as you continued to adjust it and admire the colors that complimented him perfectly.

Well, up until a child had run past, bumping into you and causing you to fall straight into Eric’s arms.

“Oh, I–” You gulped, feeling a warm hand close around your waist, holding you steady. 

“Sorry,” He muttered nervously, his cheeks flushing.

“It’s okay,” You whispered, peering up at him, still pressed against his body. He gazed back and his eyes began to slowly trail down to your… With a cough, you pulled away, refusing to look him in the eye. His hands were always gentle.

Again, you took his wrist to lead him somewhere else. But that was when you felt him pull away. For a second, you thought you might have lost him in the crowd, but he was still right behind you. Instead, his hand closed around yours, his fingers—rough from playing baseball in his free time—intertwining firmly around. You tried to ignore the quickening pace of your heart.

“So you don’t get lost,” He teased.

“You’re the one who gets lost the most,” You retorted, your voice slightly shaky.

At the next stall, there were plushies displayed for sale. Some were badly sewn, like the cat missing a buttoned eye. But some were particularly cute, especially the white bunny keychain, sitting on one of the shelves. 

“Hey,” You mumbled, approaching it. Both ears were intact and upright. “This reminds me of…”

Clutching the bunny plushie with the price tag attached to its ear close to your chest, you looked at Eric with a pleading look. 

“Please,” You complained. “Let me buy it. I promise I’ll pay you back tomorrow. Hm?”

Eric looked at you with narrowed eyes, switching his gaze from you to the plushie. And then he sighed, taking it from your hand. With hopeful eyes, you watched as he walked to the shelf and put it back. And just like that, all your dreams were crushed.

“C’mon.” He urged you away. “That’s dumb.”

“But you know my favorite animals are bunnies,” You whined. But still, you followed him out of the store.

About a week later, he showed up at your door. It was your birthday after all so when your eyes landed on the small present box in your hands, you smiled with delight. He tilted his head with a shy smile.

“Happy birthday,” He whispered, leaning in to pull you into a hug. “I know this isn’t great, but I tried my best.” He smiled at you sheepishly.

When you opened it, sitting inside was a small plushie. Of a bunny. It was so, so badly made, the stitches mangled and the ears practically falling off. But it was so… Eric.

“Is that why you didn’t let me buy the other one?” You questioned, clutching it close to your chest protectively.

He nodded with a completely serious expression. “I didn’t need unnecessary competition.”

And despite rolling your eyes at his comment, you found yourself carefully placing the plushie right at your bedside so it was the first thing you saw when you woke up. 

And to this day, you still have it.

But that’s just what friends do… you think.

Eric had read your mind and quickly, he was grabbing your hand and pulling you away from the stall.

“My sewing skills could be better,” He said with an embarrassed look on his face. You laughed in response. Before you could even say anything else, he was reaching forward to clasp a necklace around your neck. He was so, so close that you could feel his breath across your lips and smell his scent which reminded you a lot like cotton candy. 

“When did you get this?” You whispered, looking down at it. It was a small seashell shaped like a heart.

“Few minutes ago.” He smiled. “But you didn’t notice.”

“I love it.” You grinned. And just like that, you hadn’t reached for his wrist this time, but straight for his hand. With fingers intertwined, the two of you walked down the rest of the market, smiling and laughing all throughout the sunset.

–

Another day had passed and the two of you had mostly stayed inside the beach house, due to the cloudy weather ruining the mood. It was fun nonetheless, watching movies and even playing board games. Which, Eric won all three of them for some reason. You simply call it luck.

Now, laying in your bed, you felt yourself grow drowsy over the ambient noise of the rain pattering on the windows and the occasional rumble of thunder. Sometimes, there would be a flash of light outside–lightning, but you were much too tired to really care.

Just as your eyes were about to shut close, you heard a knock on the door.

“Eric?” You whispered, your voice croaky from sleep.

The door creaked open, and there he was, dressed in a comfy t-shirt. You recognized it. The one that he had once let you borrow because you had spilled coffee all over yourself. It was warm and… well, it smelled just like him.

“What happened?” You frowned, sitting up. He stepped closer and if you looked closely, you could see the tinge of red on his cheeks.

“...you know,” He muttered.

You did know.

Your phone rang, startling you out of your sleep. Despite your initial grumpiness, you picked up when you realized it was your best friend.

“Eric?”

A deep breath from the other line. And then–

“Can you come over?”

You looked at the time. It was two in the morning.

“Why?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“I’m… scared of thunderstorms.” You could even hear his voice tremble. And just like that, you were out the door, umbrella in hand. But the rain was so heavy that it managed to seep into your clothes and hair anyway, leaving you drenched by the time you reached his door.

At the sound of the doorbell, Eric flung the door open. You couldn’t even get a word in because he was pulling you in and he was throwing his arms around you, scrambling to hold you close, his hands grasping onto your shirt tightly. You smiled softly as you hugged him back, even if you were getting his clothes wet too.

“I missed you,” He whispered, tightening his hold. “So much.”

You laughed softly. “I’m right here. You saw me yesterday already, didn’t you?”

“I–” He grumbled, pulling away. His lips were pulled into a tight frown as he searched your eyes with a deeper meaning behind them. “I always miss you.”

That’s not… how friends act, do they?

“Want to sleep here?” You patted the spot next to you, even bringing an extra pillow and adjusting the blankets.

“Gladly,” He grinned. “That’s why I came here in the first place.” In only a matter of seconds, he was climbing into bed with you. The two of you never… slept in the same bed together but it felt so natural with the way your arms wrapped around him and he had snuggled up to your chest.

This is definitely how friends act.

–

The next day was boring. You all had planned it to be the day where each one of you would go off and do whatever separately as a way to individually relax. But, you realized just how much Eric was a part of your life. Wandering the gardens, you found yourself thinking of his stupid puns and his even stupider smile. Truth be told, Eric was always with you. The two of you never went a week without seeing each other. Any much longer than that and Eric was clinging and hugging you for the whole day, saying he needed to “recharge.”

Finally, in the evening, you saw Eric again. He was wearing a comfy, zip-up jacket since the evenings tended to get chilly and his hair was adorably messy. Adorably? Since when did you think that?

“Want to sit with me?” He leaned against the doorway. “My room has a better view.” You nodded brightly and followed him. 

You had never noticed just how beautiful the scenery actually was from his room. Your room mostly pointed towards the various palm trees. But his room, with its wide and tall window that overlooked the whole beach, was different. The two of you sat together on the bed, knees drawn up to your chests, as you observed the constant motion of the ocean water moving back and forth, creating bubbles with it. The night sky was dark, yet it sparkled with twinkling stars dotted across it. 

When you looked over, you saw Eric, looking out the window too. The moonlight shone perfectly on his face, accentuating each of his handsome features. His kind eyes, the slope of his nose, his plush lips that shaped into a soft smile.

He was always handsome. You always knew that. But something about this moment, right now, left your eyes widening, cheeks flushing, and your heart pounding. 

“What do you mean you lost the grocery list?” You whined. “Juyeon wanted this huge Christmas feast. I can’t bear to disappoint him.”

Eric grimaced. “I swear, my dog ate it.”

“You don’t even have a dog.”

The two of you continued to bicker, walking down the numerous aisles of the grocery store, trying to figure out the ingredients to make Juyeon’s favorite food until an elderly couple stopped you in your tracks.

“Aren’t you both an adorable couple?” The woman cooed.

Your jaw dropped and you turned to Eric, only to find that he didn’t share the same shocked expression. He was smiling almost… shyly, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Oh, just look at the way he looks at them,” The man pointed out before turning to his wife. “Just like I had looked at you all those years ago.”

The woman laughed bashfully, batting him away. Then, she turned back to Eric with kind eyes.

“You must love them a lot.” She said with a kind smile.

You were about to jump in and refute, explain everything was all a lie, that you both were just really good friends up until–

“I do,” Eric replied. He looked at you with that same look that he’d been looking at you for ages now. The softening gaze and slight tug of his lips… it was like you were the flame to his wooden match. “I truly do.”

That’s not how friends act.

You swallowed thickly, all words caught in your throat for a moment. That particular moment often flitted past your mind briefly because you thought that he was just playing along. But now that you think about it…

“Did you mean it?” You finally whispered.

He turned to you with a confused smile. “Mean what?”

“That you… love me.” You studied his face for an answer and you had hoped that you wouldn’t find one—that you wouldn’t see the absolutely smitten look on his face that would further complicate your friendship that’s already lasted decades. But you saw it. The smitten look, right there in front of you. It was there and it gave you all the answers that you needed.

He was quiet, watching you with a tender look in his eyes. And then he leaned to the side, bumping his shoulder with yours lightly.

“I meant it,” He replied, smiling to himself shyly. You gazed at him in shock. “But...” He turned to you, his smile faltering slightly. “However you want to interpret that is up to you.”

You bit your lip and tilted your head so that it was resting on his shoulder. It was odd but not that surprising how well it fits in the crook of his neck, almost as if you were always meant to be there. You didn’t say anything right away, instead, choosing to watch the waves roll, over and over. But everything reminded you of the man sitting right beside you. The bright stars in the sky were just like the mischievous twinkle that he would have in his eyes before he would tackle you into a hug and the crystal clear water that flowed in and out on the sand was just like the steady pounding of your heartbeat whenever you caught sight of his pretty smile. 

“As friends or romantically?” You spoke, so quietly that Eric had to lean in even closer to hear you, his hair brushing against your forehead.

He hummed ambiguously. “Whatever you want.” But you could hear the slight tremor in his deep voice.

His words only further answered your question. No matter how hard he would try to make it so that it was all up to you, you could sense everything. The soft tone of his voice, his warm hand covering yours, and his calm breathing. You could sense his feelings. Each and every one of them, like his heart was beating directly through yours.

Slowly, the rustle of the palm trees and the natural sound of his slow breaths gently pulled you into a state of drowsiness. Shuffling so that your whole side was pressed up to his, you leaned closer, nuzzling your cheek into his warm shoulder. And gradually, your eyes closed, sleep overcoming you peacefully.

He smiled down at you, gently bringing you to lie down on the bed. He pulled the blankets over you, tucking you in snugly. And then he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, gazing at you with so much warmth.

“Romantically,” He whispered, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. “It’s always been romantically.”

–

You had woken up to a text from Juyeon. And yes, you have been sending pictures to him, mostly consisting of blurry selfies of you posing perfectly and Eric who wasn’t even looking at the camera, constantly distracted.

Stretching, you realized that you weren’t in your bed. You were in Eric’s bed. And just like that, all the memories came rushing back to you. Romantically or as friends? As friends or romantically? Whichever one was it?

Shaking your head, you opened the text.

Juyeon: did you do the last activity on the itinerary yet?

Juyeon: the beach party

And so there you were, dressed in one of your summer outfits, flowy and perfect for the weather. Eric was beside you, staring in awe at the scene. The two of you had never quite made it to the beach, being so preoccupied with other places to explore. But now that you were here, the sand soft under you and the sun setting in the background, you couldn’t help but smile dearly. You had waited excitedly for this moment really, as Juyeon had claimed that this was a surprise made by him and he had hired someone to set it up.

And set up it was. String lights and lanterns were scattered about, lighting up the scene. There were chairs set up, made to sit together and watch the calm ocean. And on the right, there was a speaker to play music.

“Well isn’t this pretty?” You mumbled, your mouth agape.

Eric smiled, turning to look right at you. “Very pretty.”

Wordlessly, he took your hand in his, leading you toward the lanterns. It wasn’t really a party anymore. You couldn’t help but think that this was actually a beach… a beach date.

You sat down in one of the chairs and you watched as Eric picked up his phone to put on music. Immediately, you recognized the song. 

“You Better Know?” You laughed, remembering all the times you and Eric had belted out Red Velvet songs after failing an exam to cope with the feeling of failure. It never really worked but it was fun either way. 

He shrugged with a charming smile. He began to dance slightly as he walked away to pick up seashells that were scattered across the beach. You watched silently, leaning forward as you let your eyes wander over your best friend. 

Eric truly no longer was the messy boy who scribbled outside the lines on coloring books or the boy who repeatedly tripped on the playground causing his knees to get scraped. He no longer was the boy who experienced constant voice cracks or who struggled in exams because he had overslept with dark circles under his eyes. 

Instead, he was a man with a deeper voice, broader shoulders, and a charming middle part in his hair as opposed to the disorderly, overgrown middle school hairstyle he always had. He was a man who had ditched the dark hoodies in his angsty teenager phase, instead opting for white, flowy button-up shirts that complimented his golden skin perfectly. He even reminded you of Prince Eric–ironically, enough–from The Little Mermaid.

Eric no longer was the boy that you simply were best friends with. He was a man who you have fallen in love with. And you had no idea for how long.

Standing up silently, you approached him. He looked up at you, giving you a soft smile, a beautiful white seashell in his hand.

“Here,” He said, taking your hand in his. He placed the shell in yours, gazing at you with so much affection that you felt a shudder all throughout your spine. “For you.”

You smiled, looking down at it. It was round, embellished with small ridges. It was perfect. The faint sound of the upbeat, song playing in the background as you looked up at him with sparkles in your eyes.

“Eric,” You started. “I have to tell you something.”

And for some reason, he had leaned forward, pressing a finger to your lips to shush you. You let out a muffled sound, gaping at him in bewilderment.

“Eric?”

“Let me speak first,” He whispered. 

You inhaled sharply…

“Romantically.”

…held your breath…

“My answer is romantically.”

… and exhaled shakily, processing his confession, one word at a time. But before you could, Eric was saying more.

“For the longest time, I’ve had the biggest crush on you. Ever since I saw you back in elementary school. And mayhaps, I did mean that stupid ‘will you marry me?’ statement,” He chuckled. He reached forward taking your other hand in his, wrapping his fingers around. “Over time I… I tried to get over you. But, since you’re my best friend I couldn’t distance myself. So I accidentally fell in love.”

You felt your heart pound at his words, all of your memories rushing back in full force. It all had started to make sense. The acts of service when you weren’t feeling well, the soft looks when you were only laughing, the homemade gifts even though he claimed that he hated making things, and the… words. The specific word love.

“Eric, I…”

“Ah, wait,” He laughed. “This song.”

Red Flavor by Red Velvet. The classic, happy summer song. 

And suddenly, he reached forward, pulling you in by the waist. “Can I sing for you?”

You snorted, your cheeks flushing once you registered the warmth of his large hand on the small of your back. “This song?”

“Mhm,” He hummed, grinning. “This song.”

And before you could retort, he actually started singing, Swaying you from left to right, his arms continuously wrapped around you, his deep voice resonated through the cozy summer night, igniting each and every star one by one. He sang the pre-chorus, gazing at you with affection and well, love.

"I like you, it was love at first sight. I keep thinking of you." His lips pulled up into a soft smile as he sang, his voice husky and a great contrast to the higher-pitched voices of the actual song. You were enamored, your heart beating right against his chest as you watched him silently, watching as he sang so, so, gently. Only for you and for you only. “I want to go my own way.”

And then the chorus started with its fun beat and cheerful singing. You giggled, placing your hands on his chest, leaning forward to hide in his neck. 

“This song does not fit the moment right now,” You remarked, smiling against his skin. You could feel the vibration of his deep laugh as he held you closer, his hands stroking your sides gently.

“But at least it got the confession down. So, what’s your answer?”

You laughed, pulling away to look up at him lovingly. He smiled down at you, his eyes wandering over each of your features fondly.

“The very last line,” You replied. He had grown silent at that, listening to each of the lyrics, waiting for the end. And then–

What I like the most is you in the summer.

Eric widened his eyes and he looked down at you hopefully. “Really?”

You nodded, your cheeks flushing. “Not just like. Love.”

“Oh, wow,” He breathed out. And again, just like he had done all those other times, he brushed a piece of hair out of your face, his fingers brushing against your skin with sparks accompanying it. “God, I’m so in love,” He muttered. And just like that, the next song had started—Hear The Sea—playing softly in the background.

You laughed, “Did you just put on a whole Red Velvet playlist?”

“And what about it?” He grinned. “It’s summer.” And slowly, he pulled away, not before looping your hand in his. His hand rested on your waist, holding you close. To the calm singing and beautiful instrumental of the song, the two of you danced. Sometimes, either one of you would trip on the sand, causing an endeared laugh here and there. But mostly, the silence between you was filled with soft smiles and flushed cheeks.

Even though Eric no longer was the boy who ran around when it was summertime, he always would be the boy with the most beautiful smile. 

His eyes were bright on yours, watching you closely as the two of you swayed slowly to the music. 

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this for?” He whispered.

You shook your head, feeling hot all over. 

“So long,” He continued. “I’ve always longed to dance with you.”

You smiled. “And what else?”

“Hold you.”

You hummed. “You always loved doing that.”

But then his eyes darkened on you for a moment. “And… kiss you. Though I haven’t done that one yet.”

Your breath hitched, your dancing coming to a halt. “Then do it.”

He gazed at you softly. “Are you sure? There’s no rush.”

“Think for yourself.” You giggled. “How long exactly have you waited to kiss me?”

He paused, and both of his hands came down to grasp your waist this time. “Years. I’ve waited for years.” He looked at you shyly, his eyes adorably hopeful and loving.

“Then act.”

And so he did.

Almost aggravatingly slow–as if to make sure he really had your consent–he tilted his head and he softly placed his lips on yours. Shutting your eyes closed, you allowed yourself to get lost in the addictive feeling, the soft pull of your lips and the gentle grasping of your waist as he pulled you so close that your bodies were flush against each other. 

It was like everything was drowned out. In your ears, you could no longer hear the crash of the waves on the shore. Instead, you could only make out the quiet, satisfied hum that escaped Eric’s parted lips. You couldn’t feel the summer breeze blowing against your skin, you could only feel the warmth of the palm of his hand as it came to cup your jaw, tipping your head slightly so he could kiss further.

It was a soft kiss, filled with sparks that would set off fireworks in the very pit of your stomach. Slow movements without fervor, as it was just Eric, kissing you like he must have been dreaming of doing all these years. The hand on your waist fit perfectly around you and so you couldn’t help but melt into his touch, stepping closer. Eric huffed out a quiet laugh as he blindly guided your hand to where his heart was where you could only feel it beat and beat and beat.

And with a tap against his chest, the two of you broke apart, lips red and slightly swollen. You stared at him in silence before bursting out into shy laughter, lunging forward to hide your face in his shoulder. Eric sighed softly, wrapping his arms around you once again, but this time with a different feeling. Love, maybe. 

“Who knew that this trip would force me to confess?” He wondered to himself.

“Good.” You scowled. “You took too long.”

“Oh?” He smirked. “But look who finally figured out their feelings on this very trip?”

Your cheeks flushed and you playfully shoved him. “Stop it.”

“Say it.”

You frowned in confusion. “Say what?”

“You know what I mean,” He teased. “I want to hear you.”

You gulped and looked down at the sand. “That I… love you?”

“Mhm,” He hummed. “I love you too.”

And then he pulled something out of his pocket. When he unfolded it, he placed it in your hand which was still clutching onto the seashell. You looked down, only to realize that it was another red, paper heart. Written in neater, more legible handwriting this time, were the words, 

“Will you date me?”

“Ah,” You breathed out. “So you finally get the words right.”

He rolled his eyes. “Is that a yes or no, my beautiful?”

“My,” You laughed. “If you use my, then that means I’m already yours.”

“You’ve always been mine.” His eyes sparkled.

“Then my answer is yes,” You whispered before smiling and leaning up to peck his lips once again. He was about to pull you into a full-fledged kiss but you giggled before running away, kicking behind flurries of sand. Eric groaned and he began to chase you down the shoreline.

“You can’t do that after you’ve just kissed me!” He complained. 

“Too bad.” You stuck your tongue out. His frown turned into a fond smile as he laughed and ran after you.

You didn’t know exactly when, but the two of you somehow ended up in the water–clothes that weren’t meant for swimming, thoroughly soaked.

He looked at you with a loving smile as he waded over to you, his hair slightly damp from your splashing. Huffing out a fond laugh, he quickly trapped you into his embrace. And then he turned you, his back to the rest of the ocean so that you wouldn’t be hit by the waves. Smiling at you, he pulled you back in, his lips, wet from the water, pressing onto yours.

“You taste like the ocean.” You grinned after pulling away.

“And you taste delicious.”

“Oh my.” You gasped. “Why are you flirty now? I only know the clumsy, foolish Eric.”

“There’s much more to learn about me,” He whispered, grinning widely as he reached a hand out of the water to brush away a strand that had stuck to your forehead. “Just you wait. I’d even write a whole novel for you. And you know I failed literature class.”

You laughed, clearly remembering the defeated look on his face when he had checked his exam grade. 

“I learned something already,” You quietly said. A particularly harsh wave almost shoved you both off your feet, but Eric was quick to steady you with his hands. Always so gentle and firm.

“And what’s that?”

“That you’re an excellent kisser.”

He laughed adorably before pressing a kiss to your lips again. 

“And I knew something already,” He uttered. "For a while now."

“Hm?” A smile grew on your face.

“That I’m so–” A peck on your cheek. “So…” Another on the tip of your nose. “So in love with you.” And finally, a kiss on your lips. 

The truth is, that neither of you cared if the ocean was trying its best to knock you both over. Your blooming love and soft, adoring smiles in between kisses were steady enough to hold you up.

Because that’s just how friends act. Or more specifically, how two best friends who fell in love with each other act.

–

You sent one thing to Juyeon on the last day of your trip. Attached, was a selfie of the two of you, kissing softly, the ocean and the moon in the background. 

Juyeon immediately opened it. And then the bubbles of his texting appeared and disappeared, for over three minutes. When his message appeared, you laughed loudly at the one word that appeared on the screen.

Juyeon: finally 

[amberlynnmurdock]

Blind Faith (Epilogue)

Epilogue: An Oath

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: A familiar face appears on the day of your Bar Admission Ceremony.

A/N: Wow. Finally, the end of Blind Faith. I'm honestly emotional about it, I can't believe I can mark this series complete! Seriously, thank you to all who have been here since July and for reading--it truly means a lot to me. I hope you love this last chapter <3.

Ao3 Link

Flashback to Sunday Evening

FOGGY’S VOICEMAIL: Matt, where the hell have you been?! I've been trying to call you since Friday night! I saw the news about Zack… that had to have been you. Is __ okay? Where is she? Call me back as soon as you can—Karen and I are worried. 

Matt sighed as he clicked the message off. He was still standing by the doorway you just left out of. He couldn’t muster the strength to leave the space you once lingered. He stood there and leaned against the wall… the wall he just kissed you against. 

He called Foggy. 

“Jesus, Matt, now you can call me?” Foggy cursed over the line. “What the hell happened?”

“A lot,” Matt sighed, turning his hand into a fist. “You should come over so we can talk about it. Maybe bring Karen as well.” 

“Okay,” Foggy sighed, “is __ alright?”

“She is now,” Matt answered, as he finally heard you enter a cab from outside. “She’s on her way home.”

“She was at your apartment? What the hell, Matt… you have a lot of explaining to do. And no bullshit. Karen and I deserve to know the truth.” 

“I know,” Matt didn’t have the energy to argue with his friend. He sighed, leaned his forehead against the wall, and deeply breathed. “I’ll tell you the truth.”

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

Foggy and Karen weren’t happy with what Matt told them, which was the truth. 

“Jesus, Matt…” Foggy shook his head. “I don’t even know where to begin. You—you and __ have been together since this summer, and she didn’t know, but you knew, and now she found out because Zack—Jesus,” Foggy pinched his temples as he processed what Matt confessed. 

Karen was silent, like she always was when Matt revealed a big revelation. He remembers the time he told Karen his secret like it was yesterday, and the way she acted then was close to how she is now. Hunched, biting her nails, furrowed brows. Her heart pounding in her chest. Out of anger or confusion, he didn’t know. 

“Karen?” He called her name softly. 

She glared at him. Matt didn’t need to see to know she was. 

“I’m upset we lost a good employee because of your lies,” Karen stated. “I’m upset she couldn’t talk to any of us about it. I completely understand why she wouldn’t want to come back.” 

“You can reach out to her,” Matt suggested. “She would probably like that.”

“I’ll probably write her recommendation letter for Columbia if she still needs it,” Foggy added. “I just—I can’t believe Zack almost—Jesus. I hope he gets disbarred.”

“He will,” Matt said instantly, “I’m sure of it.” 

“For what it’s worth,” Karen began to say, “I’m glad you were there to save her.”

“Me too,” Foggy said. 

Matt nodded his head, “I knew it was bad news. I just didn’t know he was going to try to do that.”

“Who took care of her when you took her back here?” Karen asked.

“Claire,” Matt sighed. “She hooked her up to an IV.”

“And what did you guys—you know what, never mind,” Foggy stopped himself from asking an obvious question. Matt shifted uncomfortably on the couch. 

After another few drinks and conversation with his friends, Foggy and Karen left Matt’s apartment. He laid on his bed, on the side you slept on the entire weekend. Your scent was still there. Even if it wouldn’t last for long, the memories he made with you and the way you made him feel, would last an eternity for him. 

And despite his best efforts to move on, he was never going to stray far. 

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

“I was happy to see your name in our applications,” Geri Hogarth said as she poured herself a glass of seltzer water. You watched as the bubbles rose in the glass. “Would you like a glass?”

“No, thank you,” you gently declined. “I was really happy to see you guys looking for a legal assistant. And it works perfectly you’re so close to Columbia.”

“Congratulations on getting in, by the way!” Geri cheered with her glass. You blushed. 

“Thank you. I’m really excited to be working here, along with you, Marci, the other colleagues.”

“You’re going to learn a lot here. But I’m curious—Mr. Nelson and Mr. Murdock are really fine attorneys—what made you want to leave?”

Wasn’t that the question, you thought? 

“I felt it was time for me to move on and explore new opportunities—get as much experience at different firms as I could,” you answered, which was true, in many ways. “I’m… grateful for my experience there. I’ll always have a special place in my heart for them.”

“Good,” Geri agreed, “I won't ever forget the first firm I ever worked at. It really builds you as a person in your career.”

“It sure does,” you smiled. “So, when do I start training?”

And you would start training at Hogarth, Chao & Benowitz that following Monday. And you would work there for the entire length of your law school years. 

Eventually, the past became the past, but it didn’t mean you wouldn’t think of him every now and then. A thought of him was behind every alley way at night. A thought of him was behind every second thought you put into going on a date with someone new. It never was more than a thought, but it was enough to make you feel a certain way—a true longing for something that could’ve been. You could never look at rooftops the same, or black coffee, or even a church. There was always Matthew behind all of that. 

And little did you know, he was there, all along. 

Three Years Later

New York County Supreme Court 

A cold day in Manhattan. One of those mornings, the moment you stepped outside, you were chilled to the bone. But today was an exciting day: after finally passing the Bar Exam, you were to be sworn in officially as an attorney. A lot of sweat and tears went into this day—this day you knew would come all along. 

You stepped out of the cab and held your coat around your shoulders tighter as you looked up at the New York County Supreme Court in awe. There were two signs near the entrance. One read: CONGRATULATIONS! The other read: BAR ADMISSION CEREMONY. You watched as other people arrived at the court and stared in awe just as you were. You smiled at them all, wondering where they came from and what it took for them to get here as well. 

Finally, entering the courthouse was like seeing the Museum of Natural History. Nothing will compare to that feeling of seeing it for the first time. You followed the red velvet carpet down the hall and into the chamber where the ceremony would take place. There were ushers along the way who guided people to their designated seats. The Law Judge would call your names one by one and you would go up for a picture. 

Other people were here too, to support the new attorneys. Friends, families, colleagues. You spotted your parents and friends in the audience, as well as Geri Hogarth and your favorite professor from Columbia. When you caught their attention, you smiled and waved in excitement before taking your assigned seat. 

The Law Judge went up to the podium and gave a long speech about how important this day was for the future of justice. After a short while, he finally had all the new attorneys stand from their seats and hold their right hands up to take an oath and be sworn in. You raised your right hand and repeated the words in tandem with everyone else. 

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, your class of new attorneys! When you hear your name, please come up to the podium for a picture and your certificate.” 

One by one, the assigned seats became empty as the newly sworn-in attorneys went up to get their certificates and pictures taken. The closer it got to your name being called, the faster your heart began to beat. You felt yourself sweat under your white button-up and blazer. You fixed your hair and pushed two strands behind your ears. 

Finally, your name was called. 

You smiled at the people you walked past and carefully walked up the stairs to meet the Law Judge, who held your certificate in his hands. He held his hand out for you to shake and pointed at the camera. You smiled at the camera, the flash blinding for you a moment. After it had faded, you searched the audience for your friends and family again and smiled when you caught their attention, holding up your certificate. 

You met them outside in the lobby of the courthouse, for more pictures and hugs. And amid all the congratulations, the smiles, the selfies, the jokes about being your friends’ future lawyer, you saw him. 

Walking out of the chambers you just were sworn in, you saw him. Donned in his gray suit, black tie, dark red glasses, and cane in hand. You saw him. 

He stood there, in the corner, away from the crowd. Cane standing straight, with two fists at the top. From that stance alone, you knew he knew you noticed him. 

“I’ll be right back,” you said to your friends, “I see someone I know.” 

Gravity pulled you in your path to Matt who waited for you to approach him. It was like seeing a vision, this image of him standing there and waiting for you. 

It’s been three long years. Three years of wondering what he was up to, and if he ever thought about you the way you fell asleep thinking of him. 

What were you to say? 

You looked at his appearance—not much has changed. If anything, he was more handsome now. His hair was styled nicely, he had a slight stubble. His hands, his knuckles—red. Not much has changed. 

“Congratulations, __, Esq.,” Matt smiled. To hear his voice after so many years—it still made your heart flutter. So many memories flashed in your mind, memories of Matt’s face being half covered, memories of those early mornings you spent, memories of being tangled in his sheets. 

“Thank you,” you answered. “How did you know—I guess the list of attorneys is public on the site.”

“It is,” Matt affirmed, “I—I hope you don’t mind I’m here.”

“Not at all,” you said. “I’m happy to see you. I told myself that I wouldn’t seek you out. I’d let—“

“Fate decide it,” Matt finished your sentence. “I remember… you once said that it was fate, how we kept running into each other.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise—he remembered. 

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “fate. But I’m not sure how much fate had to do with you searching the day of my admission.”

“You’re right,” Matt said. “Not much.”

“So, what have you been doing?” You asked.

“Same as always,” Matt replied. “I’d ask you the same but I know you graduated law school and now this.”

“Yes,” you affirmed, “law school, HC&B. Now I’m an attorney.”

“HC&B treating you well?” Matt couldn’t help but ask.

“They are,” you smiled. “I’ve learned a lot from Geri.” Things I wished I learned from you.

“Good,” Matt grinned. “Foggy and Karen miss you.”

“Last time I spoke with Foggy was about my letter of recommendation,” you nodded. “I miss them, too. So much has happened, so much time has passed.” 

“__,” Matt said your name in a low voice. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” you said softly, letting your guard down completely. It was like you were waiting for him to say those words. The moment you left him has haunted you to this day. “I… thought about you. All the time. In everything I did.” 

“I did too,” he muttered.

“I kept your secret,” you suddenly said before you could think, “I realized I never made sure of that with you.”

“I trusted you,” Matt nodded his head. “I wasn’t worried.” 

“So… why are you here? Why now?” You asked him. 

“Well, I wanted to support you. And… I wanted to know… if enough time has passed,” Matt gently said. “I know—I know I hurt you. And I know you needed time to heal and move on. So I came here, to ask you, will you give me another chance, to make things right?”

Enough time had certainly passed. And each day that went on, the less hurt you felt and the more longing you felt for Matt. The more you wondered what would happen the next time you saw him—which was right now. Would you give him another chance? 

“Now that you’re here in front of me, I can honestly say that I have faith again,” you whisper, “so yes, Matt. I will give you another chance.”

Matt smiled. “If I could take an oath right now, to ensure I will make it right, I would. But instead,” Matt reached in his pockets to grab something. When he pulled out the cross necklace he gave you all those years ago, your heart dropped and now you felt tears brim around your eyes. “I want you to have this again.”

You took the cross necklace from his hand. He wrapped the thread around your fingertips, placing the cross in your palm and closing your hand to cover it. 

“I promise I won’t hurt you like I did before,” Matt said gently, “my oath to you.”

And you held onto his cross necklace like you would hold onto his oath. Faith had finally come back. 

TAGS: @starry-night-20 @sumsytee @queerqueenlynn  @mattmurdocksstarlight @marvelcinematiquniverse @hailey-murdock @yeonalie(please let me know if I missed you!)

[definitelynotgold]

so bridgerton season 4 is said to be coming out 2026. I know bridgerton is a big show, but this seems like a long way away all things considered - there was a 2 year gap for season 3, but it was expected sooner (writers / actors strikes) AND we got Queen Charlotte in between. because of this, many people (myself included) think we are getting another spinoff show in between, so here are my theories for what this could be, ranked from (in my opinion), least to most likely.

3) Violet and Edmund's Story.

Now, I would kill for this. I think it would be brilliant, and if they continue the storyline of Violet and Lady Danbury's brother, I think it would add a good layer of emotion if we know more about Violet and her past. Plus, I'd love to see some background on Portia. The reason I think this is the least likely option is mainly because Julia Quinn has stated repeatedly on her blog that she will never write Violet and Edmund's story, that it has been something she has always known. and I think they work well as this almost mythological love story, quietly affecting their children's views on love without anyone Truly knowing the details. I think it looms too large in the show for them to risk not doing it justice. I also think that if we're ever going to get it, we're going to get it later (probably in the lead up to or directly after Francesca's season)

2) Lady Danbury's Story

One scene from season one that I am constantly thinking about is the flashback where Lady Danbury meets and takes in young Simon, and talks about how she couldn't be frightened, so she made herself frightening. I have been of the opinion from when I first watched Queen Charlotte that what we saw there was only the beginning of that. I would love to see more of her, more of her childhood, and with the inclusion of her brother in the main show, I think it's a possibility. In fact, I'm nearly convinced it will happen at some point, perhaps as a second season of Queen Charlotte (and almost definitely with Violet and Edmund sideplot). But I think there's actual evidence and setup for the last option here, making it more likely.

1) Anthony and Kate in India / Season 4 Set Up

This seems set up Perfectly. It seems odd to make a big deal out of them going if they're not going to be shown there (I can't remember who it was, but someone in the production team said the reason daphne and simon aren't mentioned like at all in Season 3 is that they would feel weird bringing them up a lot and then not showing them). Simone Ashley has mentioned a project set in India that she has coming up, but that she can't give more details yet. The showrunners apparently considered setting season 4 in fall / winter but decided to keep the spring / summer social season timeframe, which makes me think some scenes (i.e. the masquerade) will be shown in the middle spinoff, adding some time skip between benedict and sophie meeting and the rest, and give some context around the Guningworth family. we would see the beginning of francesca and john's marriage, eloise's adventures in scotland, penelope's pregnancy and potentially her giving birth, all cut between anthony and kate finding their way in india (and we'd get to see edwina again!! and meet her new husband!!!!). it seems perfectly set up, beneficial to the story, and super fun.

[alexologyart]

[WIP] A young Entrapta killing the Last King of the Scorpioni

Is okay to cry for what had been lost, my dear. Tomorrow is a new day, as for today the child you once were had died.

Maybe no the most happy of drawings, but I think is a good one to finish 2023.

Firts of all, I hope you all had a very happy Christmas this year, and I wish an equally Happy New Year!!

This year has been rough for me, I passed my internship with the highest grades in July, and now I am days to finish my thesis finally.

In the past months there has been very little updates from me, no art whatsoever, and I'm ashamed of say, not even commission updates for those who had been due theirs. I apologize profoundly.

At the beginning of 2023 I experienced a back injury that took months to heal, the pain was too much, and still today I feel the reminicent of it. At the same time I've been too exhausted by all the requiriments to finish this big step in my life to become a professional and academic in my field, that I negleted the one thing that brings me the most joy in my life.

I am not good balancing work and life, and this took a toll on me. For the first time in long time, that part of my life that brings joy became a burden, I indentified it as a distraction, and I turned it off completely.

This happened because I'm experiencing a big sense of dread to the prospect of what the future awaits for me, trying to search for summer jobs without avail and feeling disappointed all over, feeling depressed because I feel stuck and not growing as an adult reaching 30, there are a lot of expectations to what I could do after getting my degree, defending my thesis on March will be one of them. And this has taken all my energy and time from creating things I love, to the point I even asked myself what was the point of continuing with it.

Art is one of these things that has been with me for the longest, starting drawing when I learned to hold a pen, even before knowing how to write, but in the past six months, after spending a great time without even sketching, I was afraid I had lost this ability, as my head was on Uni, and my body felt heavy by all the stress I didn't want to even check if I could still draw.

I do, I can still draw, although slowly and always resting. My brain needs to adapt again to what it was after months of not doing so.

Creating this version of Entrapta has been a roller coaster of emotions for me, she helps me to express myself and I love thinking in new ways to draw her, I don't care she is not really an original character, but mostly the deep emotional connection I have with her while writing and drawing her story.

She is strong, she is cunning, she is fierce and intelligent. But even a woman like her has to have moment of vulnerability. And this scene, is a pinpoint moment; killing while losing something of herself, quite literally, not feeling fierce but fragile, in pain, and overwhelmed.

Is something that I have reflected a lot the past months, to realize I am entering a moment in my life I should allow me to feel and not to restrict myself from the things I love, so I will try to take my time facing the situations that scares me and as well trying not to feel overwhelmed and anxious for what is to come.

If you would like to support my artistic journey, you can do so on Patreon and Kofi! I would greatly appreciate it! wish you a Happy New Year!

[voidedleylines]

FFXIV Write 2024 Day 3: Tempest

In which a captive gets bold and meets a familiarity.

Rating: G || No CWs apply || Mention of ShB location || FFXIV OC & Hythlodaeus

Enjoy :'))))))

The Tempest was the only “home” Flienn has really known, but it does not mean it is a happy knowledge.

It’s come with rules and regulations and a freedom that is only surface level, for Emet-Selch was a strict but, and they’ll admit, not a wholly unkind caretaker. There were parts they were never to go towards and he’d know before the thought even crossed their mind. It was a frustrating existence and as they stare out their bedroom window, one of the most forbidden places is in their view. They take in a deep breath and close their eyes. Making a choice they dart up and leave without another moment of hesitation.

They head over to the big imposing building in a sea of big imposing buildings and can’t help the double takes they make over their shoulder. It all feels too easy now, as they haven’t even seen Emet-Selch in almost a moon. Even still, there’s a pit in their stomach as they step inside; somewhat surprised to feel the door open so easily.

They look around and see much of the same shades that linger in this godsforsaken place go about their days. There is nothing here that seems to warrant such a fervent need to keep them out as he has. It’s all very mundane and just…normal. They purse their lips together and think how stupid this all was when-

“Oh hello. Are you lost, little one?” a voice cuts through their thinking.

They jump and turn to see a shade dressed simply just like all the others. Its head is cocked to the side in what feels like an almost friendly manner.

Flienn smiles and shakes their head, “No-no I am fine thank you. Um…” they hesitate. There was something about this shade specifically that feels foreign yet familiar. They take an involubtary step closer. “Do you know what this place is?” They finish. Voice smaller now, so much they wonder if it even heard them.

The shade’s head cocks even further as it considers its answer. “Hm…curious. Why this seems to be the Bureau of Architecture. Or the copy of it.”

“Copy…” they repeat; emotions turning back towards confusion.

“Do you not know what this place is, little one,” the shade says.

Flienn shakes their head again; looking towards the ground now. “I’m not…I’ve never been allowed near this place and I was trying to understand why.”

The shade straightens at that and for a moment fear strikes them. They’ve shown their hand too early and now they’re caught. They brace for an impact that never comes, as instead the shade brings its hand up to its mouth and…appears to laugh, though no sound of the sort comes.

“How very very curious of Emet-Selch. He has ever been aloof, even now it seems.”

“You knew him then? Before…whatever happened,” they ask in a rush.

It was a frustrating blindspot. The reality that they didn't know how they even came to be, or why they haven’t aged past 19 summers. They aren’t even sure how long they’ve been stuck in this place but it’s been a long, long time.

The shade goes back to cocking its head, “I did. I have. But I am…I am not like you, little one,” it explains.

There’s no time for any other explanations before Flienn feels an aggressive pull away from the shade and the building and they’re back in their bedroom.

Emet-Selch stands there with a rare fury in his eyes. Silent and slouched as he always seems to be. He says no words as the anger in his eyes fades to indifference as he stares down at them. Flienn holds their ground as best they can, even has a knee jerk reaction to apologize. But no words come as he holds up a hand to silence them, and without another word he turns and leaves the room. The door slams behind him.

Flienn drops to the floor and brings their knees to their chest. Disappointment high in their throat.

[chewingchan]

Affection - Chapter One

Chapter One of Affection

Synopis: Being in love with your childhood friend wasn’t the best feeling ever, even more so now that he got himself a girlfriend. Moving in with him didn’t seem like the best idea either, but life always brings us the most unexpected gifts.

Content info: Chan x afab reader, Changbin x afab reader, angst/fluff, best friend Chan, brother Felix, roommates Minho and Changbin, Minho x Jisung

Spotify Playlist.

To me, happiness always felt like a butterfly. The more you chase it, the further it will be from you, but if you take a moment to look at your surroundings, it might just gently come and sit on your hand. You’ll be startled for a moment, but eventually will become fond of it and just when you start to realize how beautiful its wings are, resembling the color of a campfire going out, it will spread them and fly away. And you will miss it, even before knowing what it is to miss something. Just like a first love. Just like Christopher.

- It's always been you, hasn't it?

I freezed. A boy, probably a little older than I was, stood at the door of the big white house situated just beside my own.

- I'm so sorry! - I said, guiltily, trying to find an excuse inside that little brain of mine - She's just SO cute, I just couldn't help...

- Hey, it's fine, really. - He laughed softly, showing his adorable smiled adorned with a dimple - I'm pretty sure Berry appreciates the daily treats a lot.

Let me explain the situation: It had been just a couple of weeks since me and my brother, Felix Lee, had moved into a cute yellow house, when I met the cutest dog to have stepped paw in this world: Berry. Still being really young, I was mesmerized by the pure existence of her, and, naturally, I developed the habit of leaving a treat (anonymously, or so I thought) for the little puppy every single day at my neighbor's front door.

- I'm Chris, by the way! - The boy stated, still smiling - Christopher Bang. Or just Chan, you can pick and choose!

- I'm Y/N! - I couldn't help but relax and smile around his presence - I just moved here with my little brother Felix, but he's a little sick so mum said he should rest... Grandpa calls him Yongbok!

That's when it all started. That's when I met Christopher Bang, the one I truly believed was my soulmate.

Me and my brother were so little back then, and Chan, despite being just a little tiny bit older, took care of us like we were his own children. Old habits really do die hard, I must say.

I never seem to remember the exact moment Chris became so close to us. It happened such a long time ago that I have never even bothered to recall the memory and then, before I could realize, his presence felt so familiar that it would feel weird to not have him around.

So, when he left for college, it did.

First, I missed his smile. Just his smile and nothing more. Then, I started to miss the bouncing of his shoulders combined with his undying laugh, the one that lasted until you couldn’t recollect what you were even laughing about.

I only missed the movie nights on Sundays, until I remembered all my other days that were all filled with him, and then the longing grew bigger and bigger until it took over the lightness of the summer.

I lost my summer.

The longing, then, consumed me inside and out, because everything I missed about him made me read, paint, write, or do anything that would occupy my thoughts until I passed out on the bed from tiredness. The body knows how tiring it is to miss someone. Being inexperienced and emotionally immature didn’t help one bit.

That was the first time I cried over Christopher Bang.

Obviously, Chris, being the most caring and amazing person he was, texted me daily and called me whenever I felt like crying over missing him again. He was devasted when Felix told him about my emotional downfall. That little snitch.

- I’m sorry I left, my little sunset... – He always apologized, taking the blame when he’s done nothing wrong, as he usually does – But you’ll be here with me soon enough, just like we planned, alright? Besides, college isn’t even that great, I promise.

His affection toward us made sure that, even though we only saw him on holidays, nothing ever changed. He still felt like home, like Chris.

And then, sometime after, I finally realized I was romantically in love with him.

It was really difficult to accept my feelings at first, since Chan almost felt like part of my own family, it almost felt wrong. Almost. But Felix seemed to have noticed my feelings for the older boy a long time before that.

- Took you long enough! – He exclaimed, looking quite incredulous – You’re so slow, aren’t you? You look at him like he puts the stars in the fucking sky, really. - Oh, shut up Mr. Know-It-All. – I nudged him – Anyhow, I'm too late. He probably sees me as a little sister at this point. - You’ll never know if you don’t try! - Felix laid his head on my shoulder – And for the record, I think you’d make a really really really cute couple, ok? He’s more than approved to be my brother-in-law.

My brother always had the talent to make me cheerful regardless of the situation. Felix just has this effect on people. He always, and I repeat, always lightens the room. He is the type of person to make everyone happy anywhere he goes and, as if that wasn’t enough, the boy is also extraordinarily talented in every single thing he does. Lixie glows. He has the ability to adapt naturally to any environment ever. At parties, he was the light of it, extremely outgoing and a terrible dancer (only when he was exceptionally drunk), but, at home, he was comforting and cozy. Little details like these made leaving him even harder than it already was.

I was torn. Sure, it would be great to start college and move in with Chan, but... Was I ready? Ready to leave Felix? To leave mum and dad? Was I really choosing the right major? Honestly, I had no idea, but it wasn’t like I had a Plan B.

- Guys, I have great news! - Chan had called us one month prior to me moving in with him. - I’m actually quite scared of what I’m about to hear, but go on... - Felix giggled, getting closer to the phone. - Ok, this might sound weird, but... - He paused, and I swear I never saw him smiling so hard before – I got a girlfriend!

Great. Just awesome. Fucking marvelous.

- Oh, - Felix didn’t know how to react, I could see it in his tight smile – That's great! Congrats, mate! - Geez, this sure sounds weird... – I forced myself to laugh lightly, and even to me it sounded fake – I’m really happy for you, Chris! - Wow, you guys are so dumbstruck right now. - His smile faltered for just a split second, and then he was laughing – Is it really that hard to believe someone fell for my undying charms? - No, not hard at all... - I answered, lowly. Felix let out a soft scoff.

The silent remained for a while, until he decided to break it again. Chan does not deal well with awkwardness.

- So... Y/N, are you excited about moving in with the, oh so great, Christopher Bang? - He was still smiling, showing that fucking adorable dimple of his.

As soon as I was given the opportunity, I left the room. My head, my heart and even my breath didn’t feel right at that moment. I couldn't recollect my thoughts at all.

- Hey, are you alright? - Lix entered my bedroom a few minutes later with a look of pity I didn’t appreciate – Sorry, scratch that, of course you’re not.

The moment he hugged me was the moment the first tear scaped. That was the second time I cried over Christopher Bang.

- Lix, why does it hurt this much? - At that point I was sobbing, bawling my fucking eyes out. I’m definitely an ugly crier.

- That’s obvious... You love him, little loon. - He smiled with adoration – It's as simple as that.

- Is love supposed to hurt this much? - I hid my face in his neck, poor thing.

At that moment, he stayed quiet. I’m guessing he didn’t know the answer back then, and I’m not sure if any of us do, even now.

[palmtreesx3]

This was a thing that popped in my brain and I couldn't shake it. So.. get ready to melt 🫠

TW: parental abandonment/relinquishment

---

It's been a slow evening. The humid summer air has weaseled its way inside the firehouse after the Rookie left the garage door open a crack and while everyone else is bunked up and getting their rest, Steve is making himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, unable to sleep a wink. Never able to sleep a wink.

Steve likes the overnight, because it's rare he actually finds this level of comfort in his insomnia anywhere else. Is quiet, safe and he's always ready for anything. Anything anyone needs. At home it's quiet and dark and lonely. He feels useful here, even in the silent hallways of the firehouse.

Disheveled hair falling in his eyes as he bides the time until morning, he is almost down to the bottom of his cup when he hears the unmistakable static on the radio coming through from dispatch. He kicks down his heels from where they were resting on the table and bounds over to the desk to take the call.

"Dispatch to Station 19. Dispatch to Station 19." The radio blares out.

"Station 19 here, what's going on? "

"Dispatch to Station 19 - 10-37 at your location. Alarm triggered 1 minute and 36 seconds ago."

"10-4. Standby."

Steve rushes down the hallways darting into the bunk room and tapping his teammates by their boots to jostle them awake. He doesn't wait, just switches on the lights and maneuvers through the house down to the first floor. Steve arrives at his destination and stands there, taking in a big bated breath before clicking the latch on the box and slowly opening the door.

The others arrive, boots squeaking abruptly when they come to an astonished halt, just as the door opens fully. Not one of them has ever been here for a 10-37 before. Not one of them has ever had to unlatch that metal box. Not one of them has ever had to be the first to lay eyes on a sweet, wrigling newborn left for a better life.

It takes Steve a fraction of a second before bringing the baby close to his chest and turning to his brothers and sisters, "Bring the rig around, we need to take her to the hospital to get checked - and someone else confirm with dispatch - Safe Haven baby is aquired and we're on our way."

The team gathers around with soft and sympathetic eyes admiring this angel baby left on their door step. Porcelain skin and whisps of thin brown hair scattered along her forehead, a warm blanket wrapped around her body, and her pudgy cheek nuzzled right in on Steve's broad shoulder, she's been there 5 minutes and she hasn't even uttered a peep. It doesn't take long for someone to run up along side, already shaking up the ready-to-eat formula bottles on hand at the house for emergencies. Steve takes the bottle without hesitation "Can someone bring me my boots? I'm going with her."

---

One of the other firemen drive while Steve sits in the back with the tiny girl. He holds her gently, bottle to her lips as the rig bumps down the streets on its way to the emergency room. Steve is no stranger with jumping to action. There's no time to think about things when navigating an emergency, and he's good at it. Too good at subduing his own feelings, needs and emotions. It's why everyone says he's two steps away from being the youngest Sergeant the house has ever had... so it's not until this moment that he's able to take in what happens and what lays before him.

When the little girl opens her eyes and looks up at Steve for the first time since he opened the box, he's not sure what to think. They're big, wide, and impossibly blue like the ocean, and the way she's looking back at him makes his heart melt. "It's okay babygirl, you'll be okay now. I know what it's like to feel left behind. I know." And the blue eyes blink up at him as her sweet baby lips pop off of the bottle and coo "But I promise, you will be loved. You won't be left alone again."

Nothing has been more crystal clear in his life. Crystal clear like the blue in this baby's eyes. He knows what he has to do.

The second he gets to the hospital and hands off the baby to the nurses, he picks up the phone and dials Robin's number. It's late, but Steve knows she'll pick up. Mostly because ever since he's taken this job she's been very clear that she is terrified - "You know I'll live in perpetual terror that I'll get a late night phone call that something has happened to you, Steve" - he's heard it at least once a week since then.

"Steve? I know it's you? Or it's about you? Fuck - is he okay?" She audibly gasps.

"Robin, Robin, cool it. Everything is okay." He says quickly before his friend loses her mind.

"Okay" he hears her breathing deeply on the line " ....now that my goddamn blood pressure is returning to normal... To what do I owe this incredibly late night call to, then my friend?"

"I have a problem, Robbie. And I need you to tell me that I'm not crazy."

"Well there's something I can definitely not promise you, but hit me with it anyway. " She sleepily jabs.

---

Three days later, Steve finds himself standing on the sidewalk, arm in arm with his friend Robin. They're looking up the walkway towards the hospital entrance in silence. He's waiting for her to say something snarky - anything to get him to change his mind or be realistic at the last second - but it never comes. Instead she's waiting for him to take the first step - because ever since she heard him out on that late night phone call, she knew he had made up his mind. She knew that in some crazy way this made so much sense. She knew that when they came back through those doors in a few hours, Steve Harrington would be a dad. Robin let's go of Steve for just an instant to bend over and grab the car seat sitting between their feet. She offers it out to her friend "Let's go dingus. This girl needs her daddy. Hm?"

He reaches out to grab it from Robin, interlocking his other hand with hers and smiling bigger than he has in years. "Yeah, Rob. Let's go get her."

[whumpywinterbun]

i need you closer. 2/2

Trying to talk about your problems doesn't always suck, Bucky. Especially with the person you like. A little too much. Or: Bucky Barnes smokes and talks about feelings and maybe gets the love he deserves.

Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader (something something somewhat around tfatws?) 

Part 2 of this 

(emotional) hurt/comfort (comfort. mostly comfort.), still a teeny bit whumpy?, mutual pining (idiots in love), istg this is fluffy 

Warnings: talk about panic attacks & hallucinations, smoking 

a/n: Part 2 is up! Thank you to the people who read Part 1 and might read this! Please tell me what you think of it, I haven’t written in years before putting this out at like 4am during my internship so... comments or asks would be appreciated!!! And also just in general I am nice I swear lmao

The sun shone through the curtains, bathing the room in a warm glow. You woke up under a blanket you don’t remember covering yourself with. You were reaching for Bucky’s side of the bed, blinking the sleep away when you realized that it was left, empty and cold. You got up, swinging your legs off Bucky’s bed and slowly making your way through his apartment. You called for him but answer came, so you looked around before entering his kitchen.

And there he was, standing behind the small island, pouring hot water in a mug. “Morning Buck.” Bucky looked up, a nervous half-smile on his lips before pointing at his mug. “You want some coffee?” You nodded, leaning against the door frame. He moved his head in acknowledgement, before turning around and taking another cup. He was scared, of you bringing up last night, of your reaction, you maybe finally realizing how messed up he is.

You were slowly making your way forward, joining Bucky at the kitchen island, opposite him. “How are you feeling?” you asked. “I’m... uh…fine. Yeah.” He couldn’t even look at you, keeping his eyes trained on your mug with knitted brows.

“Be honest Buck.” “I am honest.” “Okay.”

He sighed. “Listen. Whatever happened yesterday, I am fine. Okay? There-“

Your eyebrows raised. “Whatever?” Bucky tapped against his head, his lips a thin line. “You don’t remember?” Bucky shook his head.

“Well, at least not everything. I’m aware of some stuff but…it happens. I’m used to it.” He shrugged his shoulders before taking a sip from his coffee, hiding behind the large cup.

“You hallucinated blood, Bucky. You thought the floor, the bathroom, you thought that you were covered in Sam’s blood.” He froze. “You scratched yourself bloody trying to wash it off. That’s not something to shrug your shoulders over.” That’s not how you had planned to start this conversation. You wanted to sit down with him, carefully bring up what you saw and try to talk to him, not serving it with a cup of morning coffee.

Silence. Bucky’s mouth opened and closed again. He swallowed and put his cup down. “It just happens sometimes; it’s no big deal and I am really sorry you had to witness all that but-“

“No. No buts. Stop it. Stop pretending like it’s normal and okay for it to happen!” You slammed your hand on the island. Bucky’s eyes widened. “I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” you stammered, hiding your face behind your hands, your lower lip trembling.

Bucky brushed his hand across his face. He didn’t want to have this conversation. He was aware that he needs to, if it’s not for his sake then at least for yours. What you saw and heard was a lot harder on you than on him. And it deserved some explanation.

Bucky grabbed the cigarette pack on the island, taking one and putting it between his lips. “You want one?” he asked, holding the pack up to you. You looked up from your hands, tears brimming your eyes. Bucky’s heart ached seeing you like this, because of him. You rubbed your eyes before taking a cigarette and following him. Bucky opened the window onto the fire escape, climbing out before holding his warm hand out to help you out.

The sun was shining, the last bits of the summer’s warmth enveloping you. You both sat down, Bucky pulling out a lighter and lighting up your cigarette before his. He took a drag. You took a drag. Somehow this felt a little like the night where you both first met, but you weren’t on the roof and you weren’t just getting to know your neighbor in the middle of the night.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky turned to you, searching for something in your eyes. Any sign in your pretty eyes that he didn’t mess this up.

“For what?” you asked.

“Making you cry, messing up, pretending like I wasn’t home. having you see the fucked up shit my brain does. Everything I guess.”

“You didn’t mess anything up, Buck.”

“Ah well.” He cocked his head to the side.

“Can you tell me what happened? I mean what…triggered… this.” you tapped ash out on a tray Bucky kept on his fire escape. A pastel pink one you gave to him after getting the confession out of him that he actually really liked the color.

“We were given wrong intel on the mission and I couldn’t stop myself from following through. We got some important information anyways but there was this ambush and- Sam got hurt. Shot.” He sniffed.

Your brows knitted in worry. “But he’s okay right?” Bucky nodded.

“He’s in hospital, doing better and is allowed to leave today or tomorrow but I don’t- I can’t- I don’t think he wants to see me. I wouldn’t want to see me if I were him.” Bucky looked at the ground.

“I don’t think Sam’s upset, Buck.” you reached for him, carefully putting a hand on his shoulder and you felt him ever so slightly leaning into it. “If you felt like not retreating was the right choice, there must have been something telling you to keep going. I’m not part of this…world you are in and how things work but it comes with an immense number of risks and every mission could end up like this for a number of reasons. I am just glad he’s alright and that’s all you should focus on for now.”

“I can’t really focus on any positives if there aren’t any.” He pressed the cigarette bud out.

“You are both alive.”

“Well, that could have looked a lot differently… because of me.” Bucky’s voice got smaller with every word, until it was barely a whisper.

You knew Bucky felt a lot of guilt, constantly, at all times. There’s guilt over wrong words, wrong decisions, wrong actions. It didn’t really matter to him if his actions were actually his, if his decisions were actually what he wanted to, not what he had to or, horrifyingly, was made to do. Sometimes it felt like guilt was the only thing keeping him going because without guilt, he could barely be a person. He would search for guilt in the smallest things life threw at him, because what, or who, was he without and what was he supposed to do if not feel guilty?

“Did you talk to him since?” you asked, gently stroking Bucky’s shoulder, where his skin connected to the vibranium. “Kind of. We talked for a bit a day after but I just couldn’t pretend like this was some lousy work accident like Sam did so I left. I’ve been at the hospital almost every day since but I just can’t bring myself to enter his room. I feel like any moment the bomb would drop and he would tell me to go to hell. I can’t lose him. Not him too.”

“Listen Buck…I know there are so many voices inside telling you that’s not true but I genuinely don’t think that Sam’s angry at you.” You were speaking softly, trying to get to him and somehow, maybe, worry less. Your eyes were searching for his blue ones, trying to get him to look at you.

“I’m just scared of losing him. To a bullet or the fact that I’m terrible to deal with.”

You grinned. “Ah…you are not THAT terrible.” Bucky snorted.

“You are a horrible friend to tell me that now.”

“No.” you laughed.

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“Na-ah.”

“A very, very horrible friend, bun.” Bucky leaned back, his back against the wall, the sun warming him. He looked at you, his mouth curving into a smile. Bun. The small nickname stuck, and what was first meant teasingly and made you cringe now gave you butterflies. You too leaned back, resting your head against his shoulder. “Sam loves-“ he grimaced. “Yes, Bucket, Sam loves you. You two can’t go a day without annoying each other because you can’t live without the other. If he were angry at you, he would have told you. Like. Right at the hospital.” He sighed.

“I mean…yeah. You could be right.”

“I am.” You looked up at him, seeing his eyes on you.

“He could also just wait until he’s out to kick my ass.”

“Not likely, Buck.”

“You sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Nice.”

Bucky took your hand into his and you two sat in silence for a while, looking at the city below you. His gaze kept wandering to you, wondering how he deserved you. Life was scary and for someone his age, he was terrified of living. But maybe, you, and Sam, made it all worth it. But while Sam was his best friend, his brother, he wished he could call you his. His bun.

Fuck it.

“Do you know why I like that ashtray so much?” He pointed at the small, pink thing next to you. “Because you, a very intimidating, tall, broad, old man, happen to like pink?” “Because it’s a gift from my favorite person, in their favorite color.” You moved your head, looking at him. His face flushed. “I’m your favorite person?” He nodded. You smiled at him.

“I…uh. I’m not really good at this whole thing.” Bucky sat up, suddenly looking a lot more nervous. You didn’t really know what to anticipate, but it surely wasn’t what you hoped it was.

“But I am glad to have you in my life. I don’t deserve you and yet you are still here and I don’t think I could imagine my life without you. You are possibly my first thought when I wake up and the last before I go to sleep and I want you to- I want-“

Your heart was jumping. Doing cartwheels. What was he-

Bucky took a deep breath. “I want you beside me instead of on my mind. In the morning. And at night. All the time, actually. ” He tensed up. You are going to leave him. Right now. This is the worst timing to confess your stupid feelings James and you are now going to get rejected and never see her again because you just could not be happy with how it is right-

Silence.

Oh.

Oh.

“I would love to.” You returned, beaming. Bucky’s tense shoulders finally relaxed.

“So that’s what it feels like to get your feelings reciprocated.” You chuckled, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Bucky laughed, stroking your hair.

Feeling Bucky’s left arm wrap around you, you looked up. His right hand stayed on your head, slowly making its way towards your face. He put a loose strand behind your ear. He whispered. “Can I kiss you?” “Uh-huh.” He bit his lip before pulling you closer, his breathe on your lips.

Except Bucky’s phone rang.

You both snorted. “Sorry.” He apologized. “It’s okay, go get it. Could be important.” He got up, almost tripping while hurrying back inside. Bucky looked back, embarrassed and laughing, before picking the phone up without looking at the caller’s name.

“Hey Buck, would you mind getting me from the hospital?” Bucky looked at you. “Sam?” you mouthed, looking over the window. He nodded quickly before answering. “Yeah sure, give me…10 Minutes or so.”

“Alright. And Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“I know you were visiting me, we’ll talk about it later, you self-loathing dumbass.”

[kookie-doughs]

Again And Again

Portgas D Ace X Reader

-Amatsuki Y/N decided to stay in the future without her sister upon meeting a friend’s son.

Chapter 13.A: Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Marco placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Y/N, I understand how you feel, but you need to remember that Sabo cares about you deeply. He made that choice willingly because he wanted to be there for you during your time of grief. It's not your fault that life dealt you this difficult hand. If you finally move on from Ace, then everything can go back."

You turn to Marco, you rest your head against his chest, and ask, "Marco, I want to move on… I want to live happily and do as he wanted me to do, but I don't know how. It feels like a part of me is stuck in the past, and I can't let go. I don't know what to do… I just want to go back. I don't want to hold anyone back..."

Placing a kiss on your temple, Marco rubbed soothing circles on your back, "You're not holding anyone back. Don't worry, you'll always have me on your side okay? You have me, Sabo, Luffy, and everyone."

After staying in his arms for a while, you let him go and smile. You left and walk to the only place you found absolute comfort in.

Sitting beside Ace's grave once again, as you do every day, you pour your heart out to him, recounting the events of your day. Looking out to the vast sea, you can't help but feel a mixture of emotions. You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to ask the question that has been lingering in your mind.

"Ace, I've been visiting you here every day. I hope you can feel how much I miss you," you begin, your voice soft and heartfelt. "I wanted to talk to you about something that's been on my mind..."

You pause, giving yourself a moment to collect your thoughts. "It's about moving on. You know, I don't want to leave you behind or forget you. I could never do that."

With a slight tremor in your voice, you continue, "You were such an important part of my life, and you still are. I know you'd want me to be happy and live my life to the fullest. But... I don't want you to ever feel lonely, Ace. If I leave, would you be okay?"

As you speak, a gentle breeze seems to sweep through the area, as if nature itself is responding to your words. It brings a sense of comfort and reassurance, almost as if Ace is telling you it's okay to find happiness and move forward.

"I'll never forget you, Ace. I love you. Always." you say with tears in your eyes. "I promise you, no matter what, you'll always be a part of my life, and I'll keep loving you."

As you finish speaking, you feel a sense of peace settling over you. It's as if you've received a silent blessing from Ace, happy at your decision to find happiness once more. With a small smile, you place your hand on the gravestone, feeling a connection to Ace that will never fade.

In that moment, you realize that your love for Ace will always be a part of you, guiding you on your journey, even as you open your heart to new possibilities and continue to live a life filled with meaning and purpose.

~

"Sabo, are you sure this is the right decision?" Marco asks softly, his gaze shifting between you and Sabo. "I mean, Y/N, leaving like this... it's a big step."

Sabo places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his voice filled with compassion. "Marco, I understand your concern, but we have to respect Y/N's choice. They need time to find their own path and heal from everything that's happened."

You look up at Sabo and Marco, grateful for their understanding. "I appreciate your support, both of you. But I need to do this. I need to move forward."

Marco nods, his eyes softening. "Alright, we won't stop you. Just promise us you'll take care of yourself, okay? And remember, we will always be here for you whenever you're ready to come back. Don't forget to call all the time!"

"Marco," Sabo cuts him. "She's not going to be gone forever."

You laughed, "I'll be fine Marco. Jinbe will help me get to Fishman safely."

Sabo pulls you in a hug. "I'm so proud of you."

Returning his hold you rest your head against his shoulder, "I'll get better. I have to. Ace wouldn't like it otherwise."

"Why did you chose Fishman Island though?" Marco asked.

"The old man used to protect Fishman Island, and with him gone, someone else has to step up," you say to him, feeling a sense of determination. "It's one of the most targeted islands too. But most importantly, that was where Ace," You chuckle at the memory. "He didn't want to pass through Fishman since he owed a lot of money at the Mermaid Cafe."

As the memory of Ace brought a smile to your face, you couldn't help but notice how far you've come since his passing. Sabo and Marco, who were standing nearby, shared a knowing glance, acknowledging the positive change in you.

When Jinbe came to pick you up with his crew, Marco and Sabo loaded your stuff on their ship. You wave them goodbye, and ask they send your regards to Luffy.

As you venture to Fishman Island with Jinbe's crew, he warns you about the situation on the island. He explains that Big Mom's Pirates have been stalking the island, and their presence poses a significant threat to the island and its inhabitants.

As you arrive on Fishman Island, you find a thriving community and a lively atmosphere. But you also sense the undercurrent of danger lurking beneath the surface. The island has faced its share of challenges, and you realize that it needs someone to protect and ensure its safety.

As you stand amidst the busy streets of Fishman Island, the memories of Ace flood your mind once again. The vibrant colors and lively atmosphere around you seem to blur as tears well up in your eyes. It's as if time has momentarily folded, and you find yourself transported back to a cherished moment from the past.

You can practically see him now—Ace running out of the mermaid cafe, his mouth full of food, and you right by his side, laughing and scolding at his actions. The sight of his contagious smile and carefree spirit warms your heart, but it also tugs at the strings of longing and sorrow.

Your hand instinctively reaches for your heart, feeling the emptiness left by his absence. "Ace," you whisper, your voice barely audible amidst the bustling sounds of the island.

As you gaze at the familiar surroundings, you can't help but recall the laughter, the adventures, and the love you shared with him. The streets, once filled with joy and companionship, now hold a bittersweet tinge, reminding you of the bond you had and the void he left behind.

But even in the midst of grief, a sense of gratitude washes over you. Gratitude for the memories, the laughter, and the love that you and Ace shared. Gratitude for the moments that built you and the impact he had on your life.

With a heavy heart and a tear-streaked face, you take a deep breath, finding solace in the knowledge that his memory lives on within you. Though he's no longer physically present, his spirit and the love you shared endure, guiding you on your journey and shaping the choices you make.

As the streets of Fishman Island continue to bustle with life, you let the memories of Ace fill you with strength and hope. With the promise of new connections, you're ready to face the future, knowing that Ace will forever be a part of you—his spirit running alongside you on every step of the adventure-filled path ahead.

Closing your eye you smile to yourself, "I'm gonna be happy... I love you. Always."

Previous | Masterlist | Optional Next

Guys hiiiii this is the ending >< the optional next is if youre unsatisfied with *this* ending it continues from this chapter if you dont read it thats fine thank you for your support <3 ily guyssss

This was the original ending I wrote but after I got out of my sad ending phase i went and wrote the other ending and the optional next. I prefer this over the others but ykyk

-kookiedoughs

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @cinnamonrollscafe @nykie-love-anime @sol-d15

[hufflepuffinstorybrooke]

If You’re Lucky, Love Leaves Scars

Summary: In Misthaven, the people know that their rulers are soulmates, bound by the fact that they share their emotions and also physical pain. Follow Crown Princess Emma as she discovers that she has a soulmate of her own and her path to meeting her true love.

Rating: Rated Teen for a small instance of child abuse. You don't technically see it happen, but you do see the results from the soulmate's POV. Feel free to message me with any questions if you need more info before reading.

Notes: The notes might be a bit long, so bear with me: 1) I'd like to thank the runners of the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer for letting me participate in this year's event! 2) I would like to thank @kmomof4​ for my beautiful artwork! 3) Thanks also goes to @kazoosandfannypacks​, my wonderful beta. 4) A last thank you to my friends Caroline, who acted as a second beta (a gamma?) and cheerleader for me during the writing process. 

This is my first attempt at fanfic, so please be nice. More notes at the end. Enjoy!

Here is the link for AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48275764

Everyone in the realm knows the stories of soulmates. Not everyone has them, but when you do, what happens to them happens to you as well. When they bleed, so do you. And once together, soulmates feel what the other feels emotionally, as well. Only the truest of soulmates feel each others’ emotions before ever meeting.

Crown Princess Emma of Misthaven was born of True Love: the truest of soulmates, Queen Snow White and King David. The story of their love is legendary, bringing the kingdom out of the darkness of the Evil Queen and into their benevolent reign. Emma knew her parents’ story before she knew anything else. She would tell all the people she met that she was born of True Love, the daughter of brave King David and fearless Queen Snow. She loved the life that, in her mind, was given to her by that same True Love.

The love only grew when Emma was five, and her little sister Ruth was born. Emma adored being a big sister. Everyone throughout the kingdom rejoiced, though there were those who worried that another girl had been born instead of a son to rule. Snow only ascended to the throne because of the lack of a direct male heir and her defeat of the Evil Queen. Snow and David had no such concerns about who would reign after them. They saw the light of leadership in Emma, especially after she started her lessons.

While, in other kingdoms, Emma’s peers learned to dance and paint, Emma learned how to wield a sword, strategize a battle, and ride astride a horse. She did her own dancing with her father, but she considered it fun, not lessons.

As with anyone, Emma had her troubles; she got caught sneaking sweets before dinner, sometimes she would be in a foul mood for no apparent reason, and she had the occasional nightmare. One night, however, six-year-old Emma woke with a terrible fright and was inconsolable. Ruby, her godmother who looked after her at night, ran to fetch the king and queen. 

David was first into the room, as Emma almost always asked for him. This time, Emma threw herself, not at David, but at Snow.

“I felt as though you were gone! As if I no longer had a mother.” 

Snow held her daughter close. It was the same feeling she had when she lost her own mother. 

Snow and Emma held each other, David watching his girls fondly. Never did it occur to him that this same thing happened to him the day Snow’s mother, Queen Eva, died.

The whole family wrote the night off as a bad dream, but Emma grew closer to her mother. Emma was so much like her father that she tended to spend any free time with him, whether in the stables or the study. They rode, strategized, and dueled. After that night, Emma seemed to split her time more evenly between her parents. She would sit with Snow and listen to Snow’s more elegant form of strategy: diplomacy. David was a fair hand at this as well, but Snow was raised for it. She solved problems with grace and ease, be them large between nations or small between subjects. Emma learned the importance of both negotiations and battle in lessons, but she did not understand it truly until she saw her mother in action. This time bonded the pair, and all because of a dream.

Once her brother Leopold was born, most of the kingdoms expected him to be raised as the heir to the throne. Emma was only eight at the time, but she knew she wanted to rule and serve Misthaven as their Queen. She had seen the good that comes from being queen and wanted to help her people the way her mother did. Snow and David, knowing Emma was wise beyond her years, sat her down and asked what she wanted. She told mother and father, “I want to be the Queen of Misthaven.”

There was no more need for discussion after that. Snow sent out a proclamation that, despite the birth of a male heir, Emma would remain the crown princess. Ruth and Leo would both receive the same education as Emma, but as second and third in line to the throne.

----

At the age of ten, it is very rare to know if you have a soulmate. Children, especially children as tough as Emma, find themselves having any number of bumps and bruises. Emma had no idea that she had a True Love, much like her parents had each other. 

As the next year of her life passed, Emma noticed some oddities. No matter how sedentary her day was, her feet always ached something fierce at the end of the night. She would be sitting in the study reading and feel as though she stubbed her toe. Her body sometimes ached with manual labor that it had never truly known. She also continued to feel the ache of her mother’s absence, even, on some occasions, in her mother’s presence.

But then, another heartache woke her from a peaceful dream. This time, she ran to her parents’ room. Her mother sat at the vanity, but her father was nowhere in sight.

“Where’s Papa?” Emma said through her tears. Her mother tried to talk to her, but all Emma wanted at that moment was her father. Her heart was telling her that he left them. Snow held her daughter as she wept, having no other way to console her without David.

When David entered the chamber, Emma ran into his arms. “I thought you left. I awoke and my heart was just convinced you left us forever.”

David picked Emma up and walked her over to his armchair by the fire. His little girl was growing up much too fast, but King David was a strong man who would do anything to help Emma know he was there. “Emma, my darling princess, you know I would never leave this family. I love you all too much to ever leave you.”

“Promise?”

“Always. I will never leave you, my duckling.”

As father and daughter had their moment, Snow went to Ruby, who had followed Emma, and asked for hot chocolate with cinnamon to be brought up to the suite. 

As the family drank their special treat, David told his tale of a shepherd turned prince who fell in love with a princess turned bandit. Snow watched David, engrossed in his story, and Emma, slowly leeching comfort from her favorite parts. She knew how her poor daughter was feeling. The same thing had happened to her one night, only realizing years later that she was feeling David’s abandonment of his father leaving. Snow had an inkling of what was happening to her daughter. Part of her was thrilled that Emma would have a True Love of her own, but another part was sad. That part ached for the poor child who had already lost their mother, and was now abandoned by their father. She just hoped they were not alone.

Emma retreated in on herself for a week or so, staying with one parent or another whenever possible, and watching over her siblings when it wasn’t. Slowly, she came back to herself, but the feeling of abandonment still lingered, no matter how many times her father told her that she would be stuck with him for a good long while.

The Oddities, as Emma called her strange pains, got worse. The feeling of manual labor got worse, to the point where she would simply collapse into bed at night. For a few days, Emma was so nauseous she could only keep broth down. Granny, who ran the kitchens, made sure she had plenty and also kept her hydrated. Her parents worried, but the feeling passed in two days.

The final proof came two weeks after the abandonment started while Emma was dueling with her father. They used dulled blades and never to harm, always to disarm. Emma was moving in, gracefully making her father think he had the upper hand—when, all of the sudden, the princess collapsed, screaming in pain. 

David stood horrified for a split second before racing to his daughter’s aide. She had fallen to her knees, head on the ground. When David went to rub her back, she screamed as though he hit her. People began to surround the training ring, seeing what the commotion was about. Princess Emma kept screaming out in short bursts, jerking forward with every scream. 

David lifted her shoulders, getting Emma to put her arms around his neck as he carried her into the palace. They went into Snow’s study, knowing she was not using it at that time. Emma had felt at least twenty pains, each stinging more than the last.

A servant had gone to get the queen as soon as Emma collapsed. When Snow finally found them in the study, she was absolutely horrified. There sat her husband, silently crying as he held their little girl. Snow could only see Emma’s back, her favorite yellow dress streaked with blood.

“She just fell and started screaming,” David nearly whimpered to his wife, his voice hoarse through his tears.

Emma turned as much as she was able, looking for her mother. “Mama,” she whispered, voice weaker than David’s. Snow rushed to their side taking Emma’s hand in her own. “Why is this happening, Mama? What did I do…”

Snow cut her off, “Listen to me, my duckling. This is not your fault. We will find out what is happening, and we will put an end to it. We will do everything in our power to make sure this never happens again.”

-----

Snow and David rarely fought. They could usually discuss their disagreements until a compromise was reached. This seemed to be the only time in Emma’s memory when her parents were very obviously at odds. But every time Emma walked into a room the arguments went silent, remaining civil but frustrated with each other. They would not let her know what was going on.

Emma was worried. Ever since her mysterious injuries a week ago, everyone in the castle was on edge. People would whisper where they thought she couldn’t hear and stare where they thought she couldn’t see. Her parents’ argument started then as well, and Emma had come to the conclusion that the fight was about her. 

Exactly ten days after her injuries, Emma was walking past her mother’s study and heard her parents’ shouting. Emma was done with secrets, so she decided to listen at the door.

“What do you want me to do, David? Leave some child in this condition. All indications point to the fact that they were whipped. If Emma’s loss and abandonment were right, this child has already lost their mother and been abandoned by their father. They could be all alone. And you want me to do nothing!?”

“I never said I didn’t want anything done, I just don’t think enacting military power is the way to go here.”

“And I’m not saying have our armies storm our subjects’ homes! I just want to make it publically known that we will not condone the abusive treatment of others!”

Emma had heard enough. She opened the doors and her parents’ quieted down at once. “I would like to be brought into this conversation.” Emma kept her voice calm and collected, while radiating as much authority as an eight year old can over their parents.

David spoke first. “That just isn’t a good idea, Duckling–”

“If this argument that has been going on for almost a fortnight has to do with what happened to me, then I have every right to be involved in how this is decided.”

“I know you think that, but you are still so young–”

“If I am old enough to learn to rule a kingdom, shouldn’t I be old enough to have input on how we treat the abuse of my soulmate?” 

Her father wore a look of shock, but it was her mother’s face she was drawn to. Snow looked sad, But also proud. Her daughter was going to make a wonderful queen. 

“I figured it out after he took the beating. The only power that could do that is soulmates. I don’t want him to suffer, so if we have it in our power to do something about it, then we need to help. And not just my soulmate, but others who may be in the same position. Where do we stand on ideas?” 

Emma was leading negotiations just the way her mother taught her, which made David realize it was pointless to try to argue.

“I would like to place extra soldiers in towns and villages to do outreach. Let the people know that if they need help, the crown will be there for them.” Snow restated her intentions from the beginning of their argument.

David was on the verge of interrupting, but Emma held up a hand, and he held his tongue. 

“I also want to fund orphanages all throughout the kingdom so that children without families can be provided for.” This had been a project Snow had wanted to start for a while. The incident with Emma’s soulmate just made it seem more urgent.

Emma thought for a moment, and then turned to her father and nodded, giving him his chance.

“Putting more soldiers in villages will do nothing but scare people. I know we do our best to prove to our people that we are not Regina, but the Black Knights caused too much damage to people and land for soldiers to be seen in a good light so soon after their reign of terror. I don’t oppose the orphanages nearly as much, but how are we to make sure that the children are in any better hands there than on the streets?” This was the circular argument that Snow and David had been trapped in for days.

“And what of our ports?”

Snow looked at her daughter with a furrowed brow. “Why do you think anything needs to be done at our ports?”

“Remember several days ago, when I couldn’t leave my room because of nausea? I was dizzy and felt like the world was rocking. I think he might have been at sea during the storm that rolled in a few days later.” 

Both David and Snow looked at their daughter in awe. Her lessons were clearly paying off. She would make a great ruler one day.

Before either of her parents responded, Emma came to her own solution. “We should place extra soldiers and stricter guidelines on ships that come to port. Allow search and questioning of the crew, but never seizure of the cargo, unless that ‘cargo’ includes people, then they are freed.” She looked to her parents, who still looked surprised, but nodded their agreement. “The orphanages are also a good idea, but we should place guidelines on the orphanages allowing for inspections. I think we should make a committee of advisors with a special interest in the wellbeing of children. Perhaps led by Granny or Geppetto.”

Snow was the first to react, getting up to hug her daughter. “That is an amazing idea, Emma. I am so proud of you.”

David embraced his girls. His duckling was growing up, and as proud as it made him, he also worried about how much longer she would need her doting father. “You make me proud everyday Emma, but this might be a new record.”

-----

Ten years passed. Emma’s plan for the children of the kingdom has flourished. The children of the orphanages are well-provided for, educated in the orphanages and then going on to get apprenticeships in their towns. The ports have shut down any slave trade movement through Misthaven and ensured the safety of crews.

As for Emma, she has grown into an accomplished, beautiful, and intelligent woman. Many a nobleman have come to try to court her, but Emma shows no interest in them, preferring to focus on the needs of her people. Emma does outreach programs throughout the kingdom, going from village to village and meeting with her people. If there are problems to fix or disputes to be resolved, Emma helps in the few days she is there. She also spends time in the orphanages, meeting with the children and making sure that they are taken care of.

Of course, she now spends much of her time at the palace as well. She sits by her mother’s side, assisting with the Queen’s duties. On this particular morning, they meet with leading members of the military to receive reports of the ongoings in their peaceful kingdom. And tomorrow night there will be a ball to celebrate promotions throughout the military.

Currently speaking is Captain Liam Jones. He's a handsome man, tall with wavy brown hair and nice blue eyes. Tonight, he'll be promoted from captain to rear admiral. He is young for the position, just shy of thirty, but during his captaincy aboard the kingdom’s flag ship he has justly upheld their laws and helped spearhead some of the changes made to Emma’s plans for the ports.

If the story she'd heard was correct, Captain Jones was a new member of their navy when the child protection laws were first set in place. He and a few other top students of the Naval Academy were assigned to the ports some days for hands-on training. One of the ships that pulled into port was one his father was supposedly working on. When the ship came to port, the now Captain—then Ensign—Jones found out that his father had abandoned the crew, selling his much younger brother into service to the captain. From the stories Emma heard, Jones was quite a sight to behold that day. Initially he was justly in a rage, but he pulled himself together enough to cite the new rules of the kingdom. In accordance with the new rules of port, ships with slaves working on them, there was a fine heavier than most ships could ever pay, or they could release the slaves. As the story goes, the younger Jones became a cabin boy until he was of the age to join the navy himself. He will be promoted tonight to captain, quickly working his way through the ranks.

As the current Captain Jones finishes speaking to her mother, he moves back to the line of men reporting. As her mother dismisses the men, Emma stands and walks over to Captain Jones.

“Captain Jones, a quick word, if you will.”

The captain’s eyes widen, and he kneels in front of her. “Of course, Your Royal Highness.”

“Rise, Captain Jones.” The captain comes to his feet, looking worried. “There is no need for concern. I just wondered if your brother would be attending tomorrow’s ceremony.”

“He will, Your Royal Highness.” There's still a fretful edge to the captain’s voice.

“I would like to speak to the both of you then, if you don’t mind.” Emma is curious to hear the accounts of these two men. She often hears about the benefits of the orphanages, but would like to know more about the naval aspect of her project. These brothers would be useful, having been on both sides of the situation.

“If I may be so bold as to inquire what this will be in reference to?” Jones seems almost suspicious of his princess.

“It will just be some shop talk, I am afraid. I have heard your story and I would like to know more about it, especially in reference to the safety measures I helped put into place.”

Captain Jones looks offended at Emma’s interest. He glances around, seeing that the queen and king are waiting for their daughter at the royal entrance. In a low voice he hisses, “Listen, princess, your parents have been very good to my brother and me through some very difficult times in our lives. For that, I will be forever grateful. You, however, sit here in the castle and reap the benefits of their thoughts and actions. Indeed, you just called their plan yours. My brother has been through enough hardships to fill several lifetimes, and I will not add being the princess’s storymaker to the list.” Jones gives a harsh nod of his head and storms from the room.

Emma is astonished. Not only has no one ever spoken to her like that, but Emma has an excellent popularity rate throughout the kingdom. She tours once a year, meeting with those in need and doing her best to make sure that every citizen of their kingdom is provided for.

But Emma’s shock turns to anger quickly. Just who does this Jones think he is? She'd worked hard to do her best for the kingdom and he has the gall to act as though she just sat here being frivolous. She had worked hard through much of her youth to make this kingdom a safe haven for her people. And he just comes in here acting like she has no idea of the troubles of others.

Emma storms past her parents, who are trying to ascertain the meaning of her conversation with Jones. She has much she needs to do to prepare for tonight, setting a new plan in place.

-----

Emma’s wardrobe has always been more modest than those of her peers. She rarely even tried to keep up, anyways, preferring to work on ways to help her people. But there is another reason. 

Emma’s soulmate experience had been quickly quieted throughout the castle. As most everyone who saw the incident in the training ring were soldiers of the kingdom, the king had to only ask for them to keep silent. The servants that helped tend to Emma afterward were the most devoted in the castle, too loyal to the family and charmed by the princess herself to spread the secret. The fashion now is to wear dresses with one's shoulders exposed, the neckline cutting almost straight across. The gowns are beautiful, but they would expose Emma’s scars on her upper back from the beating that was given to someone else. And Emma never wanted anyone to know.

Until now.

Emma has decided to let the kingdom know about her motivations behind her actions over the past ten years. In the morning a personal statement of hers will be issued through the kingdom. Emma dictates it to Ruth this afternoon (Ruth’s handwriting is better than Emma’s anyway) while Emma is fitted for her new dress for the ball. Johanna, the palace seamstress, is a miracle worker to have modified the dress made in a little over eight hours, but she too has always been fond of Emma.

The new dress is a simple, red, long sleeve ball gown. The only embellishments are some gems around the neckline. Her hair is up in an elegant twist with a delicate crown placed atop her head. The back shows a bit of her upper back and her scars.

Emma meets her family on the landing above the throne room. There will be an hour of ceremony before dinner and then they will move through to the ballroom for socialization and dancing afterwards.

Leo is the first to see Emma coming down the hall. His mouth drops. Never has he seen Emma looking so much like a real princess. (He has just turned twelve, meaning he now has to come to some of these royal events.) “Wow Em,” is all he can say.

Snow, David, and Ruth turn to see Emma. Ruth beams, having seen the dress earlier while she was dictating Emma’s statement. Snow knew Emma planned on changing her dress, as well as the statement she wrote and the brief words she wants to say to the men tonight. Snow smiles at her eldest, holding back the bittersweetness of watching your child become an adult.

David is speechless. He did not know about the changes to the dress. His little girl stands before him, no longer the girl who told stories of True Love to everyone she met. Now, walking towards him is a woman, elegant and beautiful. “You are beautiful, my duckling.”

“Thank you, Father.”

Before anything else can be said, Leroy begins to introduce the royal family into the function. 

Leo and Ruth descend the staircase together. Emma, as the crown princess, follows alone, then comes the king and queen. The hall is full of military men, standing to attention for their monarchs in two lines on either side of the aisle from the stairs to the dais with the thrones. The three divisions of the military—Army, Navy, and Royal Guard—are sorted by rank instead of by branch of service. This is another of Emma’s ideas from a few years back, to promote unity between the branches, as to not show favoritism to any one branch in particular. The mens’ families are also invited, as are any visiting dignitaries, and the courtiers of Misthaven.

As the royal family proceeds to the dais, the servicemen stay at attention and the rest of the guests bow and curtsy as their hosts pass. As soon as heads rise behind the family, some eyes are caught on the silvery scars on the princess’ shoulders. Some of the guests cannot help but to start whispering their own version of how the crown princess of Misthaven got what appear to be whip marks on her back.

Each family member stands in front of their throne as they wait for the king and queen to make it to the dais. Leo and Ruth have the simplest, hardly more embellished than cushioned armchairs, to their mother’s left. Snow’s throne is in the center of the dais and is the most majestic of the set, though still modest by some royal standards. David sits to her right, as he is her right hand in all that they do, and although they rule as equals, David’s throne is a touch less grand than his wife’s. Emma’s is the last of the line, though the median in design. While her parents’ seats have silver and gold inlays and their cushions are of splendid fabrics, the wooden base to Emma’s has only a few details that differentiate it from her siblings. And the cushions are much closer to theirs as well, with a bit of golden thread embroidery to distinguish it from Ruth’s and Leo’s.

As they take their place, Snow steps forward to address the partygoers. “Welcome honored guests. Tonight we celebrate our military and, in particular, the men being promoted tonight. My daughter, Crown Princess Emma, would like to share some words.” Snow sits, shortly followed by David, Ruth, and Leo. Emma stays standing and addresses the crowd.

“As her majesty said, tonight we celebrate the men who protect Misthaven and keep us safe. My family and I hold these men in the highest regards, however, today was also an anniversary. It is ten years since the start of our initiative to make the children of Misthaven safer. The origin of this project has been speculated, but there has never been confirmation of our motivations. Was it my father’s humble start, my mother’s time on the run, or the birth of their children that put the idea in the mind of our gracious queen and king? Well, today the speculation can cease. I am here to set the issue to rest.

“As we all know, our two esteemed rulers share the truest of true love bonds. They are soulmates of the deepest nature, sharing feelings, both emotional and physical. A little over ten years ago, we received confirmation that I, too, have a soulmate. Although it should have been a joyous realization, it was dimmed in the cruel manner in which we found out. You see, my soulmate was whipped. And as we share our true love bond, I felt as he did that day.” 

The crowd murmurs in surprise at the princess’s revelation. Only the courtiers closest to the royal family, an extension of the family itself, had ever known what happened all those years ago.

“As you can see, I bear the marks from the horrendous encounter.” The princess turns, showing the marks that can be seen on her shoulders. After giving the crowd time to see her scars, Emma turns back to face the masses and continues, “I do not reveal this now to gain sympathy or praise. I have kept this to myself all these years, not out of shame, but out of devotion. My soulmate went through something awful, and I never wanted this to be the reason we were drawn together, the scars and shared pain. I wanted to find love without proof, not displaying our scars before everyone. Recent conversations have proven that not everyone understands my devotion though. Not only to my soulmate, but to the kingdom at large. The laws enacted a decade ago were my idea. I wanted to protect not only my true love but all the children of the realm. I obviously could not have done this without our gracious monarchs, but the solution evaded us until we came together as a group to combat the injustices that plagued the children. No solution is ever perfect, and we work to improve everyday. If you take nothing else from this story, please know that I share my parents' passion for improving the lives of our citizens. I cannot and will not sit back in my luxurious life and let our people suffer. I will strive to protect not only our children but all the citizens of the kingdom, including the military officers who are here tonight. So I will hand the ceremony back over to our benevolent queen, my mother Snow White.” 

Emma turns to her mother and curtsies, and Snow pulls her daughter into her arms before she can fully rise. “I am so proud of you, dear,” Snow whispers.

“Thank you, Mother,” Emma breathes back, releasing her mother to take her seat for the ceremony.

As the promotions are given, Emma thinks back to her speech, particularly the reaction of one rear admiral-to-be. The older Jones brother started the speech with the proper steady attentiveness that military men wear in formal situations. However, Emma had seen flashes of surprise and a return of the anger after she had shown her scars. His gaze had flickered between her and someone in the crowd of soldiers. It was not an encouraging sign, but Emma is not one to be deterred. She plans to speak to the newly promoted Rear Admiral Jones and see if she cannot find an amicable solution to their rift. The Jones men are rising fast through the naval ranks, which means that Emma will likely have to work with them for years to come. She does not want that to be a contentious relationship.

Emma is pulled from her thoughts as her mother promotes men to the rank of captain. The younger Jones brother, Killian, is called forward to receive his promotion, and Emma is stunned. Never before has she seen a man so… beautiful.

Killian Jones has dark hair, nearly black, cut short and styled back. His frame is long and lean, clearly honed from years at sea. But it is his eyes that catch Emma’ attention. They are the clearest blue she has ever seen. She remembers his brother’s eyes, and while the color is almost identical, something is different. The princess stares, trying to see what the difference is, but Killian Jones is already taking his place back in the masses. Throughout the rest of the ceremony, Emma strains to see Killian Jones again but is unable to through the crowd.

Dinner is slow. All Emma wants is to seek out the young captain, to speak to him. It is a feeling the princess has never felt, the need to seek someone out for no reason but desire.

After the feast, the crowd is shown into the ballroom by the staff. Once the throne room holds only the royal family, they bid Leo goodnight. (He will not attend a ball for a few years yet.) Leo is escorted upstairs by Granny, who says she is too old to attend a ball. But before Granny takes her leave, she hugs Emma, sharing her pride in the young woman she has become. As Granny is not one for displays of her affection, Emma is surprised by the old woman.

That hug from Granny is enough to knock Captain Jones from Emma’s mind until they enter the ballroom. The royal family is, once again, announced, and the king and queen open the ball with the first dance. When the music starts, Emma starts searching the gathered crowd for the newly minted captain. But before Emma can find the younger Jones, the older finds her. 

Rear Admiral Jones bows to the princess. “May I have this dance, Your Highness?”

Emma pauses for a moment, confused. However, she does know she needed to speak to this Jones as well, so she curtsies and accepts his hand. “Of course, Admiral Jones.”

They move to the dance floor and bow respectfully to each other. Neither of them speak as they start to dance, and Emma’s eyes start to scan the crowd again.

“Looking for my brother, Princess?” Rear Admiral Jones states, rather bluntly. His eyes, so similar in color to his brother, have a storm raging behind them.

“Why would you ever say that, Admiral?” Emma did not want to admit her curiosity to the older Jones brother, seeing as he already does not seem to like her.

“I find it curious that you knew of my brother’s story before meeting him, as you admitted yesterday. And then today, your timeline of your own true love story lines up conspicuously well with my brother’s unfortunate history. Why are you so fascinated with Killian?” The change in tone when he mentions her ‘true love’ indicates he does not believe a word she said.

The princess focuses all her attention on the admiral. “What do you mean by that? Your story is quite the legend in the town, and we are not as disconnected from our people as you seem to think we are. I had heard of you rescuing him from a ship not long after we passed the laws ensuring children’s safety. Just because it happened close together, I see no other links to my past and his. Furthermore, do you not believe that I sustained these scars through a soulmate bond? Why would I lie about such a rare and beautiful thing, and such a tragic experience on top of it?” Emma is proud of her ability to keep her voice level, though her agitation starts to peek through her tone towards the end of her inquiry.

“Is it not curious that soulmate bonds only appear within royalty? It seems to be a tactic to place them further above their people. As to how you got those scars, maybe you aren’t as perfect as you would have us commoners believe, or perhaps you had a strict governess. I don't really care how they happened. I care that you seem to be fixated on my brother. So, Princess, I ask again. Why Killian?”

“The stories of true love in royal couples spread because stories of royalty spread further than others, but I have seen true love in everyday life, and I am sorry that you have not. And I am sorry you do not believe my account of my life, but it did happen as I said. I still do not understand the connection to your brother, but as far as I am concerned, he is a good officer with an overprotective big brother. If you ask my younger siblings, they would say that is a curse, but I am sure it was seen as a blessing when you rescued him all those years ago. I will ask once more that you believe that I had no other ulterior motive to tell my story, other than to settle questions in the minds of our citizens who, like you, have their reservations about me as a ruler. I intend to do my best for this kingdom, and to do that, I need to have the belief of my people.”

The song ends and Emma steps away from the admiral, curtsying to leave, but, as Admiral Jones bows in return, he asks “You truly didn’t know that Killian was whipped about a month before I found him?”

Emma freezes on the dance floor and, as a new song starts up, she looks at Liam Jones. “A month?” That would mean…

“I could never get many details about the beating from Killian, but one of his crewmates told me a little about it. It happened a little more than a month before I found him, about three weeks before the child protection laws were in place. Your story may have happened around the same time.”

Standing in the middle of all the twirling couples, Emma and the admiral are in the way. She pulls him to the balcony as her head swims. Could it be…

“I just want to protect my brother. And I know you are right, I am overprotective. But after our father abandoned him, selling him to slavery, I just knew that I had to protect him. Even if it meant protecting him from the very royalty that saved him.”

“When?” Emma asks, starting to pace. She is now remembering a night long ago that had been burned into her memory. 

Admiral Jones looks confused. “I don’t understand, Your Highness.”

“When did your father leave?” Emma demands, putting more force in her tone than intended, but she needs to know. Is this why she cannot get the younger Jones out of her thoughts?

“He abandoned Killian two weeks before the beating.”

“And your mother? She died two years before that?”

“How could you possibly know…”

“Because I felt it. I woke one night with a terrible heartache and ran to my mother. I had the terrible feeling that she had died, and I needed to prove she was still there. That was my first time experiencing my soulmate’s emotions.” Emma cannot breathe. She moves to one of the benches near the railing of the balcony, letting the cool sea breeze calm her. Of all the ways to find her soulmate, she never imagined it would be during a fight with his brother.

In the shock of the moment, neither Admiral Jones nor the princess noticed someone joining them on the balcony. But as Princess Emma catches her breath, Admiral Jones turns to leave the princess to her thoughts and sees his brother standing by the doors in shock. He strides quickly to Killian, wanting to talk to him before the princess sees him.

Killian finds his voice before Liam reaches the doors. “Brother, what is going on out here?” It is quite the scene to walk into, his brother having a word with the crown princess of Misthaven, and that is not even the strangest part. From what Killian has overheard, Princess Emma felt it when their mother had died. That must mean she is the soulmate to either him or his brother. And Liam has never been whipped.

Emma looks up at the sound of Captain Jones’s voice. Their eyes lock and for a moment, Emma sees confusion in his sky blue eyes. She stands, watching his eyes for the illumination of clarity to shine through.

“Four years ago, did you cut your arm?” Killian asks, his right hand moving to his left forearm. Under his uniform there is a scar from an injury he could not remember sustaining. It was as if it appeared from nowhere.

“I was thrown from my horse as I rode through the woods. I cut my arm on a rock in the fall,” Emma whispers, almost timidly.

Liam stands, watching his brother realize what is happening. He knows he ought to leave, but he turns to the princess. Liam needs to see her reaction. The shyness in her voice throws him for a loop and he finally believes her. As his brother moves from the doorway, Liam Jones steps back into the ballroom, leaving Killian and the princess to talk.

Killian barely notices his brother leaving, but the sounds of the doors closing makes him snap back to reality a bit. He’s speaking to the crown princess and has not addressed her properly at all. He kneels before the princess, averting his eyes from the beauty that stands in front of him. “I apologize, Your Highness, for my bluntness earlier and the lack of proper address. You must understand the shock…”

Emma moves to stand right in front of the captain. “I do not need your apologies nor your formalities, Captain. Please stand.” As he does, the princess extends her hand. “I think, after all that has been revealed tonight, we should be properly introduced. I am Emma.”

Killian grasps Emma’s hand, keeping eye contact as he kisses it. “I am Captain Killian Jones, Your Highness.”

Emma smirks, “I thought I said we need no formalities. To you, I hope to always be Emma.”

Still in awe of what is happening, Killian flushes slightly at the thought of addressing the princess by her given name. “That may take some time to settle in, Princess. It feels awfully disrespectful to address royalty by their given name.”

Emma chuckles slightly, “I hope that you can come to think of me as more than just royalty.”

Killian scratches behind his ear, an old nervous habit. “I could never think of you as ‘just’ anything. It will be a journey, but one I am more than willing to embark upon.” 

For a moment, the princess and her captain stand on the balcony, looking into each other’s eyes, smiling at Killian’s sweet words and the thought of a future spent learning more about the other.

Killian takes a deep breath and says, “Would you care to dance, Emma?”

She responds with a smile that outshines all the stars. “With you, Killian, always.”

They walk back into the ballroom as they will do everything from now on: together.

Final Notes: So in my vision Emma's ballgown in the dress from the season 3 finale with a modified neckline so it is off the shoulders and would show the top of her scars. Also I do not like the ponytail look for Killian, so his hair is short and slicked back for the ceremony. I envisioned it like his hair at the wedding.