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littlemisspascal · 8 months

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Bitter Ends Turn Sweet in Time

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 7k+

Summary: There’s not a single day in a whole year that isn’t bookmarked by a memory of him. And you, you remember all of them.

Rating: T

Warnings: Pokémon au (but not 100% true to canon, just elements + some characters), time skips in non-linear manner, fluff, angst, bittersweet ending, storms, language, Reader and Frankie are same age + grow up together, high school au ish(?), inspired by 500 Days of Summer + Song of Achilles' 'name one hero who was happy' scene + this quote by photographer David Alan Harvey:

"Don't shoot what it looks like. Shoot what it feels like."

- Reader has no official name and no physical traits described in detail. However, she is mentioned to have hair, a career, wear a dress (no description), and eat sandwiches

Author Note: I've been wanting to write a Pokémon au for a long, long, long time and I've also been wanting to write a non-linear fic for a long, long, long time as well so this is the result of both those wants combining forces *awkwardly throws it into the universe* It is what it is.

-- all moodboard photos found on pinterest

-- shinx, luxio, luxray // pikachu photo references

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me through my breakdowns 💜

Day 1,695

Luxray’s a silent wall of black and blue fur for your body to brace against as the sky bleeds a deep shade of orange, and you know he knows. Doesn’t even have to use his x-ray vision to confirm what’s etched into every line of your expression. Anguish—when it’s real and unbearable and deeply-rooted—is impossible to hide. Everyone who looks at you will know.

Everyone except the one pair of brown eyes that’ll never look your way again.

“I’m such an idiot,” you say quietly, and it’s embarrassing how thick the lump of emotion is lodged in your throat. You wipe at your nose with your sleeve. “So damn stupid.”

Luxray lets out a low growl, chiding in nature, as if to say don’t talk shit about yourself.

“He was never going to stay,” you continue, ignoring the vibration rattling your bones. “But I got my hopes up anyways. What we’ve accomplished these last few weeks together, I thought there was a chance…a slim one, you know? That maybe–maybe we could actually stick together this time.”

And you don’t realize you’re crying until Luxray’s twisting his head to nuzzle against your temple, encouraging you to bury your face into the thick fur along his chest and shoulders. With your eyes squeezed shut, you can almost block out the all-encompassing numbness emanating from the cavity your heart used to reside in.

“He’s gone…” you choke out through sobs, grabbing fistfuls of Luxray’s inky black mane. “And I think it’s permanent this time.”

Day 1

The first day of classes at Uva Academy is a whirlwind of meeting teachers, racing from one floor to the next against the clock, and making sure you never lose track of Shinx in the chaos of it all, but when the last bell finally rings, you feel no sting of regret about coming here.

You split a sandwich with Shinx underneath a tree in the school courtyard, brain buzzing with the overload of information absorbed throughout the day. Maybe signing up for a full schedule of classes was a bit excessive, but unlike most of your fellow students who have some semblance of a plan for their futures your next steps are plagued with uncertainty. There are so many paths one can take with their Pokémon—the course of a Trainer, a Coordinator, a Professor, a Ranger, the list goes on and on—you don’t know which direction to take.

When you lock eyes with a boy with brown eyes across the yard, there’s nothing special about the moment. No sparks, no forgetting how to breathe. He’s just a boy with a Pikachu on his shoulder and a dimpled grin on his face.

“I saw you in Mr. Jacq’s class,” he says in lieu of a greeting when he draws closer, purple Academy tie loose and crooked around his neck. Recognition stirs in the back of your mind, a flash of dark brown curls towards the back of the room spotted before taking your seat at the front.

Actually, now that you think about it…

“Weren’t you in Ms. Dendra’s class too?” you wonder, passing the last bite of sandwich to Shinx, his little body wiggling eagerly. “And Ms. Raifort’s…?”

“Yeah, I, uh, I don’t really know what I want to do yet.” He scuffs at the ground with his shoe, grin turning a bit crooked at the corner, strangely endearing in its awkwardness. “I figure life’s short, you know? Why not try as many things as you can when you have the chance?”

“Right,” you agree, finding yourself smiling back. “Nothing wrong with making memories.”

"I'm Frankie, by the way."

“Nice to meet you Frankie,” you say, shaking his hand. It’s warm in your grip, firm and secure, thumb grazing over your knuckles. “Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

And so it starts after that—the counting of days. Days when you see him in class, when he smiles at you, when he does homework with you in the library, when he and Pikachu have a battle against you and Shinx–winner buys lunch. It’s a subconscious quirk you keep to yourself. Even after he’s gone, chasing after legends to the far corners of the earth, you still continue counting days.

Days when he crosses your mind. Days when you leave the door unlocked in case he stops by. Days when you swear you catch a whiff of his citrus shampoo on the pillowcase despite the impossibility of it.

There’s not a single day in a whole year that isn’t bookmarked by a memory of him. And you, you remember all of them.

Day 183

“I want my name in one of these books,” he tells you, Ms. Raifort’s assigned reading on the lost explorers of Area Zero spread out in front of him.

You look up from the text, fatalities and disaster and other sharp words with teeth still swimming in your head. “It won’t be easy.”

You’ve only known him six months—long enough to be certain you’ll never meet anyone else like him, but too short to realize the hidden depths of his stubborn ambition.

“No,” he agrees, mouth curling up at the corner, “but it’ll be one hell of a story.”

Day 8

The air is heavy with the sharp, pungent scent of ozone as thunder rumbles overhead. You take in the ominous black clouds, adjusting the hood of your yellow coat to better defend your hair against the pattering raindrops. Doesn’t do much to ward off the chill of the wind though.

Shinx is darting about the meadow in zigzagging lines, wet to the bone and having a blast. Pikachu follows at his heels, electricity sparking from the red circles of her cheeks before fizzling out harmlessly. If there’s any rules to this game they’re playing, you haven’t a clue. Still, their obvious excitement over the weather has you smiling despite the numbness of your toes in soggy shoes.

To your left, Frankie watches the pair of Pokémon nimbly leap over a puddle, studying their graceful movements. His dark hair is flattened against his head, curls beaten into submission, but there’s something in his eyes, a sort of wistfulness that snags your attention like a moth to a flame.

A bolt of lightning burns a gleaming white strip across the gloomy sky, halting Shinx and Pikachu’s play as they elicit squeaks of awe, but you can’t stop looking at Frankie. He’s grinning now, a wide and ecstatic thing with his head tipped back, rain streaming down his face.

“Amazing, isn’t it? Seeing one of nature’s tantrums,” he says, voice low and wonderstruck. “My mother always said it takes someone extra special to train those who can summon such raw, uncontrollable power on cue.”

You’ve never thought of yourself as someone unusual or remarkable. Looking at him though, soaked and shivering and absolutely beaming, you think if anyone’s extra special in this world it’s him.

Day 1,987

It’s a long time before you can look through photos of him without a wound violently tearing open in your chest. Longer still before you can hear his voice on the phone. He calls more often these days, mostly because you’re knee-deep in another mystery and only a little because he misses you, and that’s okay. You can smile at his jokes and it feels real. You can love him and know better than to be in love with him.

You stay busy. You photograph every inch of the nature park on Florio, even convince Professor Mirror to let you take the NEO-ONE to some of Lental’s other islands for further research. You spend hours clicking through photos on your computer, frowning at blurry ones, printing some out for the Professor to take a closer look at as well as a few for your own personal collection of albums.

Your coworker isn’t an intimidating figure by any means, but something about watching him study and scrutinize your pictures never fails to make your hands shake and feet shuffle. Even after all these months, practically living inside each other’s pockets at the Laboratory of Ecology and Natural Sciences (or L.E.N.S. as the Professor affectionately calls it), studying the Illumina phenomenon and all its effects, there’s a part of you still terrified it could all come crashing down.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Professor Mirror tells you, glaring disapprovingly over the frames of his glasses. It’s not the first time you’ve heard that remark and it won’t be the last either.

“More analyzing the photos and less analyzing me please,” you reply, nodding your head at the small stack in his hands.

He grumbles under his breath, but resumes evaluating the latest shots of your walk along Blushing Beach. There are Wingulls performing loops in the air, an Exeggutor snoozing beneath a palm tree, the splashings of a pair of Corsola playing in the waves. Luxray looking at the contents of a tide pool. A Pikachu eating a fluffruit after you’d scared her by your loud gasp, mistaking her for another of her kind. You don’t mention that tidbit to your coworker though.

That should be the last one, except then Professor Mirror’s letting out a surprised little hum, holding up a photo you never intended anyone else to ever see. Not even the subject. Especially not the subject.

It’s from your sophomore year at Uva Academy. You would call the picture ugly, edges a bit hazy due to your unsteady hands, still learning the tips and tricks of photography, except it’s Frankie. And he’s looking at you behind the lens with a fondness so sweet it makes your teeth hurt, holding a newly evolved Luxio to his chest, with windswept curls your fingers will always long to tame.

You should’ve thrown it out a long time ago. The man in the photo isn’t the same man who will call you later tonight from half a world away just to ask how your day went and if you’re willing to admit you need his help with the Illumina project. But you’ve always been too sentimental for your own good, holding onto things until there are only scraps left, slipping through the gaps of your fingers.

At the very least, you shouldn’t have reorganized your albums so close to your work station.

After what feels like the longest stretch of silence of your life, Professor Mirror finally says, carefully neutral as if wary of provoking a negative reaction, “Someone special, I presume?”

“It’s complicated,” is all you offer in response, snatching the picture back and telling yourself the ache behind your ribcage is a side effect of a papercut.

Day 389

Uva Academy teaches you battle strategies, the effects of Berries and how to better understand your Pokémon amongst other vital lessons to prepare students for a career outside the ancient brick walls and dorm rooms.

It’s Frankie who teaches you how to find beauty in thunderstorms, how to enjoy each day like it’s your last, how to dream a little bit bigger, a little bit bolder—or maybe that’s something you teach each other.

On the weekends you head into the city center together, trying different eateries and watching fellow students challenge each other on the plaza battle court. Afterwards you’ll walk along the cobblestone streets side by side, sometimes discussing classwork or pointing out items in shop windows, but usually the time is spent in companionable silence. Just sharing the same space.

You buy your first camera acting on pure impulse, drawn to it inexplicably and handing over money to the salesman in a matter of minutes. It fits in the palm of your hand, heavy and solid, buttons and knobs staring back at you, waiting to be pressed and manipulated. For the first ten or so minutes of ownership, you simply hold onto the device, studying its shape, its lens, fingertips running over the bumps and grooves.

“Well?” Frankie prompts, gentle voice breaking the silence, brown eyes flicking between your face and the camera. Pikachu echoes the question with a tiny pika?, sensing the fragility of the moment.

“I don’t know what to do,” you answer, shoulders curling with self-consciousness. At your feet, Shinx sits on your shoe and rubs his cheek against your leg comfortingly.

“Well,” he hums, a teasing smile growing on his lips as he presses a button. “Maybe start with turning it on first.”

“Shut up.” You swat at him, but there’s no real heat. “I meant, I don’t know what to take a photo of.”

“It doesn’t matter what the sight is,” Frankie tells you, grabbing hold of your hands and raising them up until the camera’s in front of your face. He steps back and you peek at him through the viewfinder, watching as he spreads his arms out wide with Pikachu still happily perched on his shoulder. “What’s important is how it makes you feel.”

You take a breath, taking a moment to hold the shutter button until it focuses, and then take the photo. No count down, no say cheese!—you simply heed his advice, focusing on how it makes you feel.

The preview screen asks if you’d like to keep the picture or delete it. Your thumb hovers over the buttons.

Focused on the way Frankie’s hair has a golden aura in the light, how Pikachu’s nose scrunches when she’s grinning, you nearly jump out of your skin when he’s suddenly at your side again, wondering, “What do I make you feel, shutterbug?”

Like I’m falling and flying at the same time, you think, quick and startling. A bolt of lightning amongst storm clouds.

You press save.

“Like spending a hundred bucks wasn’t a total mistake.”

Day 448

You take a seat in the cafeteria across from Yovanna and her Sylveon. You’re lucky she shares the same lunch hour as you. Even more lucky she likes you enough to also share her space. Her knack for securing a table each day despite the scrambling rush of hungry students is a gift from the gods. Or maybe it’s a perk of being the president of the Academy’s student council.

“You haven’t stopped smiling for days.” She points with her fork at your grin, a giddy, bubbly thing not even Ms. Tyme’s pop quiz last period could stifle. “Spill it. Who’re you crushing on? Is he a student here? You got a picture?”

“Not with me.” It’s a lie, ever since you bought your camera it’s been glued to your person and there’s always at least one picture of him stored within the device’s gallery of Luxio shots and library aesthetic and other things that make you happy. “He is a student here though.”

Yovanna drops her fork onto her plate, jostling the pieces of fruit waiting to be eaten. Sylveon catches a flying strawberry midair by jumping in her seat and landing neatly on four paws like it’s a regular trick to perform. “Shut up. It’s him, isn’t it?”

You feed Luxio a pickle off your sandwich, neither confirming nor denying.

But your grin does get a little bit impossibly wider.

“Aw man, I owe Santi twenty bucks now.”

Your eyes narrow shrewdly. “Did you seriously make a bet?”

“You two are joined at the hip, of course I did.” Yovanna leans back in her chair, arms behind her head, not a single hint of shame for her actions. “Santi said you’d realize you had feelings for him before winter break. I thought it’d take you until the end of the semester ‘cause you’ve got the self-awareness of a piece of concrete most days.”

“Rude.” She dodges the crumpled napkin you toss at her with a laugh.

“Hey, this is a good development. Now you just gotta keep the momentum going and tell him how you feel. You’re perfect for each other.”

Tucking back into her meal, she misses the brief slip in your smile.

“Yeah.”

Day 8

Ms. Dendra is the only teacher without a classroom, preferring to use the battlefield in the middle of the courtyard for her lessons rather than a whiteboard. She weaves along the line of students with her Medicham, offering suggestions and correcting forms to make the most out of their Pokémons’ moves. You keep one eye on her drawing steadily closer and one on Shinx pawing at the ground, charging up electricity in his forelegs. He still hasn’t mastered thunder shock yet, maybe Ms. Dendra can–

“Storm’s coming tonight,” a voice drawls behind you, a curious blend of casual and enthusiastic.

You turn around, finding Frankie standing there looking up at the sky. The dark gray clouds do seem indicative of bad weather, now that he’s mentioned it. Rain is definitely on its way.

And then he asks, a little sudden, “You ever seen one up close?”

A strange question. Still, you think about it, searching your childhood. All you remember are memories of cowering under the blankets in your bed and playing in puddles the next morning when the monstrous rumbling and harsh flashes had long passed. You’ve seen rain up close, felt the drops on your skin, inhaled the scent of petrichor deep into your lungs. But storms?

“No,” you shake your head, shivering as the temperature seems to drop. “Never.”

He hums, a bland note that could mean anything. At your feet, Shinx and Pikachu sit and stare at each other, little sparks of blue and yellow static crackling in the air between them like morse code.

“No wonder you’re having trouble with your partner. Can’t teach him about electricity when you’ve never seen it in action.”

“That’s not how training works,” you retort defensively. “Also storms aren’t exactly harmless, in case you forgot. They’re loud and dangerous and—”

“Beautiful,” Frankie cuts in with such firm conviction you reel back in surprise. “Absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful.” A pause follows, and you hate the smirk that grows on his face, how it taunts you, how it makes his eyes glitter with mischief. “Or maybe not. I could be lying. Only one way to find out for sure.”

A raindrop lands on your cheek. Then another on your arm. And another on your nose. It’s pouring now. Students are complaining about their lesson being interrupted and Ms. Dendra’s shouting for everyone to head back inside. Through it all your eyes remain locked in an intense staring match, neither one willing to surrender.

“Fine,” you reply with a sharp jerk of your chin. “Show me.”

Day 1,448

Your internship with Professor Oak is—good. It’s the start of a brand new chapter in your life, except the last chapter ended on a terrible note and the upcoming pages are terrifyingly blank if you fail to impress your new boss, so. Yeah.

You get along with the Professor’s other intern, a local boy named Will. He teaches you how to drive the ZERO-ONE around the sanctuary. You spend hours out on the trails, memorizing everything about the wild Pokémon who call the island home. You enjoy the assignments Professor Oak gives you, staying busy, filling up albums with photos and journals with research notes.

But when it’s quiet, when you’re staring up at the ceiling waiting for sleep to come…you’ve never felt more lonely in your life. Even with Luxray within reach, loyal and constant, there’s a persistent ache you can’t shake. A loose thread dangling in your mind, tormenting you, and you know if you were to tug on it exactly where it would lead.

Everything leads back to him.

Frankie hasn’t tried to call you. Hasn’t had any contact with you since graduation. Not even a postcard from whatever corner of the world he’s trying to accomplish his dreams.

You haven’t tried to call him either. And yes, it’s true communication is a two-way street, but he’s the one who left and took your heart with him. Why should you give him more of yourself? You hate yourself for even contemplating picking up the phone.

You hate yourself even more for wondering what your relationship would’ve been like if you’d gone with him. If it’d hurt less to just have stayed friends. If you’d been better off never knowing him at all. If, if, if…

Day 485

The problem is, you think your feelings for Frankie are just a little bit stronger than a crush. You’re pretty sure you’re in love with him. Or at least halfway there.

As much as you hate to admit it, Yovanna wasn’t wrong saying you have the self-awareness of a piece of cement. You don’t know for certain if the fluttery Butterfree sensation in your stomach or galloping heartbeat whenever Frankie smiles at you is love. But you are certain he’s gotten under your skin, triggering as many irritations as he is encouraging new ways of growth. You’re a better person, you think, simply by knowing him.

You also think it’s actually kind of scary to imagine something so strong and life-transforming could be anything else but love. Regardless, you hope it stays with you forever. This precious, nameless thing.

It won’t be until many days later—until you know what it’s like to kiss him, and hold his face between your palms, the heat of his breath tingling against your skin; until he’s fluent in myths and legends and fables, swearing he’ll be the one to make them truths and facts and verities; until you can’t picture a future without him in it, not a happy one, at least—you’ll realize you do love him. And he loves you, too, as it turns out.

But nothing lasts forever. Someone’s always got to be the first to let go.

Day 1,375

You receive an offer for an internship with Professor Oak in Pallet Town to help him complete his Pokémon Report by taking photos on a nearby island sanctuary. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime to work with such an esteemed researcher, but thinking about graduation creeping up, about leaving behind this realm of familiarity now that you’ve learned everything Uva Academy has to teach, it’s—moving forward is harder than you anticipate.

It doesn’t help that Frankie's becoming more and more restless, unable to stand still as if it physically pains him to do so. No matter how many walks around the city, how many storms chased after, he’s always looking out towards the horizon, aura so thick with discontentment it’s as if he’s physically cloaked in it.

Lately the only moments he seems to settle within his own skin are when he’s talking with Ms. Raifort, discussing ancient prophecies and ruins scattered around the globe. You don’t understand it, his passionate fascination–no, obsession with mythology. Why not let sleeping dogs lie?

Frankie won’t talk to you about the future, evading the topic like a cunning Nickit. Still you cling to his hand, to hope, to the belief love conquers all, until the morning of graduation he comes to your dorm room and stares over your shoulder rather than meet your gaze. Even Pikachu hides her face in his curls, ears lowered despondently.

You let him in, the beginnings of dread stirring in your stomach, sensing whatever he’s got to say will have irreparable consequences.

“Did you have breakfast yet?” You gesture towards the kitchen, an unspoken can this wait? laced within the question.

“Not feeling very hungry today,” he answers, glancing about the room aimlessly. No, it can’t.

“That’s a first.” You take a seat on the sofa next to Luxray, grounding yourself by stroking a hand along his back. “You gonna tell me what’s on your mind or are you gonna make me guess?”

At that, Frankie finally turns to you, and his torn expression fractures something delicate inside of you, coldness flooding your lungs.

“I’ve been thinking. About us.”

“What about us?”

“I love you.” There’s no sweetness to the words. No tenderness. They are words of blood, of pain, scraping against his throat on their way out. “I’ve loved you from day one and I’ll love you ten thousand more. But what I want, what you want—it’s not the same thing. And it’s only going to hurt the longer we keep pretending otherwise.”

“Stop, please don’t—” your voice cracks, the cold gripping your heart now. Please don’t say it. Please don’t do this. “We’re—we’re good together. You know we are.”

“We were,” he amends, voice so unbearably gentle it’s a jagged blade against your soul. “We were so good. But we’re not ready for what comes next. We’ve become thunder and lightning, one ahead of the other. Our timing is off, shutterbug.”

Day 765

It’s drizzling a little when you return to campus. You shiver in your wet dress, grimacing as you accidentally step in a puddle, thoroughly soaking your flats and bare feet. Hopefully you won’t slip on the stairs and break your neck. That’d be the cherry on top of this disappointing evening.

You just want to shower, put on your comfiest pajamas, and fall asleep as fast as possible.

Except when you reach your floor there’s a figure curled up on the floor outside your door, fast asleep with a snoring Pikachu curled on his chest.

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” You nudge at Frankie’s knee with your wet shoe, raising an eyebrow at him as he jerks awake, blinking rapidly. “What’re you doing here?”

“Oh, you’re back,” he says through a yawn, stretching his arms over his head. Pikachu grunts, displeased at the movement and sounds, and stubbornly curls into a tighter ball, forcing him to cradle her in the nook of his arm as he stands up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I just–I wanted to make sure you got back from your date okay. How did it go?”

Your date, Tom, is in Mr. Hassel’s art class with you. He invited you to see a new photography exhibit at the city’s museum. He was nice, if a little overzealous, and seeing lovely displays of art seemed like a better way to spend the evening instead of once again hopelessly pining over your best friend. So, you’d said yes, changed into a nice dress, and swore off any and all yearning.

Except that’s exactly what you ended up doing anyways.

Every time a photo left you breathless, you’d instinctively turn to look for brown eyes that weren’t there. Every joke Tom made you’d compare it to one of Frankie’s. Throughout the entire evening, you couldn’t stop your thoughts drifting back towards the Academy, wondering what he was doing.

You weren’t surprised Tom cut the date short, correctly sensing your heart just wasn’t into it. Still stung a bit though watching him leave you behind to join up with some other classmates hanging out in the plaza.

“Poorly,” you answer with a slight grimace.

“Oh.” Frankie blinks, looking at a loss for additional words. He’s wearing the hoodie he got from his trip to Montenevera over the holiday break and sweatpants, warm and rumpled and cozy, a complete contrast to your entire wardrobe. “Did he–did he hurt you? Because if he did anything inappropriate, I swear–”

“What? No, no, nothing like that happened.” You shake your head, ignoring the flutter of your heartbeat, touched at his protectiveness. He’s still staring at you, and you know he’s not going to let this slide under the rug. “Relax, tough guy. Tom was fine. I was the problem.”

“Tauros shit,” he immediately rejects the notion. “You could never be a problem.”

The hallway feels too hot all of the sudden despite the icy raindrops still clinging to your skin. “That’s sweet,” you say, trying to flash a grin except the muscles in your face refuse to cooperate. It feels stiff. Forced. “You say that to all the girls?”

His mouth tugs upwards into a smile, dimpled and boyish. “Once or twice,” he says, “but I only mean it with you.”

It’s dangerous and stupid to get your hopes up, but there’s something about the quietness, something about his brown eyes and his nearness, that makes you take a leap of faith. Makes you think screw it and reach for his free hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I was the problem,” you tell him softly, watching his expression sober, “because I kept looking for you.”

Silence follows, interrupted by a quiet snore from Pikachu.

Then, just as softly, Frankie says for a second time, “Oh.”

You swallow, feeling like you can’t breathe. “Yeah.”

“Silly girl, you didn’t need to look.” He squeezes your hand, leans in just enough to bump his nose against yours. “I’ve always been here.”

Day 1,375

Later, you won’t remember the particulars of how the rest of the conversation played out. There are words, so many words. Angry and inconsolable, spat out through clenched teeth and pleaded with numb lips. Tears, too. So many damn tears it’s a wonder you don’t drown yourself.

You will remember how he looks at you though. Brown eyes deep and golden, reflecting the morning light streaming through the window. He’s beautiful, and you think that’s the final straw of it all, the definitive proof that even as he’s ripping out your heart you will never feel anything less for him than love.

No passage of time or miles of distance will ever change that. You know this like you know the sun will rise tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that.

Still, this certainty doesn’t stitch up the gaping, bleeding hole in your sternum.

No, that self-healing won’t begin until many, many days later.

Day 610

In another life, if you hadn’t discovered your love of photography, you think you would have been a great astronomer. You know each of the constellations’ names, the best times during the year to spot them, even the tales assigned to them.

Tonight, the night sky is full of stars in every direction you look, not even the distant city lights strong enough to overpower their shine. You lie on your back in the soft meadow grass, hands resting on your stomach, the scent of wildflowers as thick in the air as the fireflies Luxio and Pikachu chase after. To your left, he mimics your pose, except he’s got an arm pillowed under his head, silent except for his breathing.

“There’s Kingler, cursed to hold up his heavy claw for eternity,” you say eventually, raising a hand to trace the starry outline with your fingertip. “Cubone’s next to him, forever mourning his mother.”

He remains silent. You turn your head to look at him, discovering he is deeply absorbed in his thoughts. Physically, you could easily reach out for his hand, but the blankness in his eyes suggests internally he’s half a world away. Somewhere you can’t follow. An irrational spark of jealousy burns hot in your veins, upset your presence isn’t enough of an anchor to keep him locked in the present moment.

You emit a quiet sigh, mentally rolling your eyes at your own childishness, and start to turn back to the sky when his voice catches you off guard, asking, “You ever notice they’re all tragedies?”

“Huh?”

“The myths behind the constellations.” He looks at you then, eyes dim with an emotion you can’t recognize. “Can you name one with a happy ending?”

You think about Pinsir, exiled due to his uncontrollable rage; Koffing, releasing toxic gases as he dies; Dugtrio, punished by an angry Groudon for gouging too many holes in the earth. The list grows longer, the tales grow sadder.

“No,” you say at last. “I guess not.”

He shrugs a shoulder, like it’s nothing, like his next words aren’t going to hurt something fierce. “That’s because happy endings are the biggest myth of all.”

Day 1,375

He kisses you. It is perfect and excruciating all at once. His hand is cupping your cheek, and his touch is so tender and intimately familiar you can’t stop yourself from indulging and it’s cruel of him to leave you like this. Shattered and wanting. Falling and flying.

But when Frankie’s right, he’s right.

This split in your paths has been a long time coming. You’d just refused to read the writing on the wall, content to keep counting the days, pretending the number would stretch on into infinity.

Infinity is just another word for forever though.

And there’s truth in that old saying: when you love someone—

“I love you,” he says again at the door. His eyes drift over your face, as if memorizing every detail. “And I’m proud of you. Remember that.” There’s the briefest of glimpses of tears in his eyes before he’s wrapping you in a hug, so tight your ribs painfully protest. You savor every second of it. “This isn’t the last of us. We’ll meet again, I swear it. One day, shutterbug.”

—you let them go.

Day 1,669

You’ve been dreading his arrival, dreading how he might look at you. What might be different. What, if anything, might be the same.

All communication thus far has been directly with Professor Oak. You haven’t heard a single peep even though your number’s stayed the same. Even though you know he knows you’re here.

Luxray stays close as the hour draws closer, trying to soothe your nervous energy. You stroke his mane, eyes flicking between your computer, the window, and then back again. The cursor blinks on the screen, waiting for you to finish adding the last details to the report you’ve been developing on the Pokémon signs you and Will discovered. Bizarre occurrences where the environment manifests the likeness of specific Pokémon—always the same ones in the same places. But why they existed and what they meant remained unsolved mysteries robbing you of sleep.

It had been the Professor's idea to invite another set of eyes to examine the clues after months of no solid progress. For every one step made forward it felt like the universe would shove you five steps backwards, the hidden connection remaining just out of your reach.

If you had known Professor Oak and Ms. Raifort were old friends, that she would’ve recommended her favorite pupil…well, you’re not sure if anything would’ve really changed. What fate wants, fate gets one way or another.

Frankie arrives at eventide, bringing the warmth of the fading sun into the lab with him. He looks…unchanged. Maybe a little broader, thicker with muscle from his journeys. But still familiar in all the ways that matter. You wonder if the same can be said for yourself.

He’s looking at you, and it’s—it’s less painful than you expected. No tight band wrapped around your middle, no spontaneous bursting of tears. He’s just a man with a Pikachu on his shoulder and a dimpled grin on his face.

“Hey shutterbug,” he says, and it feels abruptly like slow motion, like you’re watching through someone else’s eyes as he comes closer, closer, closer and pulls you into a tight embrace. His arms are just as strong as you remember them, memories of graduation screaming in the back of your mind and you’re in your dorm room again watching him walk out of your life with your heart in tow.

You want to…

(kiss him, hit him, hold him, scream at him)

You want too many things.

“Hey,” you echo lamely as he pulls back. If Frankie hears the faintest of quivers in your voice, he thankfully doesn’t show a sign of it. You shoot a small grin at Pikachu, mouth stretching wider when she returns it with a cheerful pika pi, waving her paw. “Ready to help solve a mystery?”

“I always wanted to make history.” He’s smirking that same damn smirk, an intense pang of nostalgia striking you. Your fingers twitch, wishing you had your camera. “But I think it’s better this way, yeah?”

“What way?”

Distantly, you’re aware of Professor Oak and Will watching the conversation ping-ponging back and forth, both smart enough to pick up on the unspoken something between you and Frankie.

“Making history together,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “We make a good team, you and I.”

The words bounce around inside your head for a moment. A good team. Is that all we are? is what you want to ask, but the answer’s a double-edged sword shoved between your ribs no matter how he phrases it.

So you swallow the question down and bury it.

“C’mon,” you gesture towards your computer, “I’ll show you what we’ve got so far.”

Day 128

Winter sweeps in, all frigid winds and frosted windows. Together you stay at the Academy during the holiday break. It’s days of no homework, snowball fights, and parka coats. Nights spent by the fireplace, hot chocolates topped with whipped cream, wishing you could bottle these memories in a jar and keep them on a shelf.

If Frankie knew about it, he would say Jirachi heard your wish, but it’s your opinion that fate’s just got a funny sense of humor. Either way, a few years down the line you’ll have the collection of memories you desired, almost all of them starring him. They won’t be kept in fragile jars, but in captured photographs unaffected by the withering flow of time. Little glimpses of a happy life, and how much you've lost.

Day 2,000

You kiss Frankie on the front deck of the L.E.N.S. the night before he’s scheduled to leave. It’s stupid and impulsive, but he’s just right there in front of you, bathed in starlight and high off the elation that comes with solving another Pokémon mystery, further securing his place amongst the pages of historic exploration, a legend in his own lifetime, and there’s no thoughts in your head so—you kiss him.

It isn’t your first kiss, but it feels like something new. He’s got stubble now, you’re wearing a lab coat—little details of proof you’re far from the kids you used to be. He smells the same though, like coffee and evergreens and fresh rain. The quiet, awed exhale of your name, like you’re something wonderful, something mythical come true, is the same too.

And for the briefest of moments, you can almost imagine you’re together again.

But in the end it’s just a kiss, not a time machine.

Day 1,762

“For someone with a new career, you don’t look very excited,” Will says, knocking his shoulder against yours good-naturedly. You try to summon up a smile, but it isn’t fooling anyone.

Professor Oak’s treating you both to a fancy dinner at a restaurant you can’t pronounce the name of, celebrating the news of your new job as an official field research photographer working alongside Professor Mirror in Florio. It’s an amazing step forward, resulting from the success of the Rainbow Cloud discovery with Frankie, certain to give your name another added boost of recognition in the photography community.

“I am,” you say, remembering how you’d nearly passed out when you received the offer. Another attempt at a grin yields better results. “It’s gonna be great.”

Will tilts his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “You’re thinking about him. Again.”

“Not intentionally.” Your lips curl into a rueful grimace, fingers twisting together in your lap. “He just…never leaves my thoughts.”

Frankie told you before he left he didn’t have a home, not anymore, too much of a restless spirit to stay in one place. You wonder if his answer would be different, if he knew it’s been 1,762 days and every one of them he’s spent occupying your head.

“Even when he’s gone and left you behind?” From anyone else, the question would’ve been harsh, but your friend’s eyes are kind, full of empathy.

There’s a second where you contemplate lying, but you can’t. Not to him, and not to yourself.

“Especially then.”

Day 2,000

“Sorry.” It comes out of your mouth stilted—not because you don’t mean it, but because your heart’s beating like a thunderstorm. A wildness you haven’t felt in years.

“I’ve never needed an apology from you.” Frankie looks at you softly, the brown of his eyes getting lost in the dark. “Two thousand. Can you believe it? Seems like just yesterday I watched you walk into class.”

You forget sometimes that he’s the sentimental type too when it comes to those he cares about. It’s why he doesn’t give Pikachu a Thunderstone, and why he only knows how to play one song on a guitar, his mother’s favorite. How sweet it is, to learn he must care about you to keep count, maybe even love you a little bit still.

“Frankie,” you start, dropping your forehead onto his shoulder. His nearness is a comfort as much as it is a distraction, but this conversation is long overdue by hundreds of days. “What are we?”

“You tell me.” A hand comes to rest on your waist, a searing brand through the fabric of your clothes. “What do you want us to be?”

You think about the question for a long moment, wondering what words pack enough meaning to give the answer it deserves.

What you want is another storm to chase, another constellation to trace. What you want is for your hands to brush during walks, never having to hear his voice on the end of a phone again because he’s right there by your side. What you want is everything that once was to align in perfect harmony with the immediate now.

“I want us to be together.”

“We are.”

“No, we’re not,” you murmur, staring down at the mud stains on his boots.

“Listen, shutterbug,” his hands move to your head, one tilting up your chin and the other gently palming your neck, forcing you to meet his gaze, “a lot can happen in two thousand days–”

“I know, I know.”

His fingers spasm, like he’s resisting the urge to tug on your hair, eyes sharpening at the interruption. “A lot can happen in two thousand days,” he repeats, and you hear it this time, the heavy weight in his tone. Rarely is he this serious. “We’ve changed, we’ve grown, we’ve been on opposite ends of the earth from each other. But tonight, of all places, I’m here and you’re here.”

And maybe it really is that simple. People say lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, but twice now you’ve watched him go and twice he’s been brought back to you.

You reach up, wrapping your hands around his wrists, holding him there. “Do you think we’ll ever be what we were?”

“No.” He steps impossibly closer, lips brushing against your forehead. “I think one day we’ll be better.”

Better, you mouth the word. It feels like a promise, like a turning point.

“Yeah, one day,” you agree, heartbeat steadying, matching the rhythm of his beneath your fingertips. “It’ll be worth the wait.”

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier fanfiction #pedrostories #my fic #my writing #frankie morales

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evony256 · 6 months

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Spoilers for drdt chapter 2 episode 6!!!!

So uh I noticed something about both episode 4 and episode 6 WWAAAYYYY back when episode 6 first came out. I honestly thought about making a post about it but social anxiety and all that shit. I also wasn't quite sure if anybody else had talked about it before, but since I haven't seen anyone mention it, ig I'll point it out. Eight months later.

Back in episode 4, right after Teruko talks to Arei, Teruko starts talking to Charles. Now, they have a silly little convo, some banter here and there. But there was one piece of dialogue from Charles that stuck to me.

"You make fun of me when I can't cook, and you make fun of me when I can. There really is no winning with you, Teruko."

Now, I want you to remember these two lines. Especially the first one. They might seem like nothing, but they will be important.

Ok so flashback to episode 6, right after Ace wakes up from his beauty sleep. Once Ace leaves, MonoTV enter the room and tells Teruko and Eden to leave. When asked as to why they need to leave, MonoTV prompts this response:

"You complain when *you* have to do chores, and you complain when *I* have to do chores! There's really no winning with you, Teruko!"

OOOOOO SOMEONE IS REPEATING DIALOGUE!!! SOUND THE ALARMS!!!!!

The similarities between the first sentences is shocking. Sure, they are about different things and use different words. Yet, they give off the same feeling and seem to have the same base. And don't even get me STARTED on the second sentence. They are literally the exact. same. thing. Now, this could be me overanalyzing every single bit of dialogue and every single aspect and design choice in this series, as I do. BUT this isn't the first time "dialogue repetition" has appeared in this series. A good example is in episode 5, when Arei breaks down. Arei says "I wanted... I just wanted to..." which is a direct paralel to Min's words in episode 12. Hell, Teruko even goes as far as to point out that "that pitiful crying" reminds her of something or someone.

This could be possibly drawing a paralel between MonoTV and Charles. Though, we don't have a lot of evidence for that. The only other evidence that we have is the detail that Charles definitely has had some sort of traumatic experience with dogs and MonoTV looking like a cat, yet stating that it's a dog. And that could also be used to link Nico and MonoTV together, considering the whole "cat theme". So that's why I don't have that much faith in it. Yet there's also the fact that Mr. Charlers has had a couple of interactions with MonoTV as well. Though, I am still very interested in this odd detail. I, personally, will be delusional and use this as "evidence" that Charles won't die in Chapter 3. If you guys have any other ideas, then... Say them? Or not if you don't want to. I literally took 8 months to post this, I am NOT in a position to tell you to talk about what you think

#drdt #charles cuevas #monotv #teruko tawaki #drdt theory #drdt charles #drdt teruko #drdt monotv #danganronpa despair time

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disturbedbeautywrites · 1 year

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Just A Dream - Jake Hangman Seresin

Warning: This is 100% angst. The first few paragraphs are cute and fluffy, but after that it is straight up heart-breaking angst. Main character death, pregnancy, cursing, and just overall dealing with death. Lots of grieving.

I couldn’t get this idea out of my head and I had to write it because I wanted to challenge myself as a writer.

“I can’t wait to be his wife, Phoenix.” The words left your mouth as you grinned at her, spinning around in your wedding dress as you stood in front of the big wooden doors that separated you from your fiancé. She laughed and squeezed you, telling you she would see you soon. Her and the rest of the bridesmaids took off down the aisle. As you were standing there you caught a small glimpse of Jake standing there in his dress whites.

The bridal procession soon started to play as you looked over at your dad, putting your arm through his. “Don’t let me fall, please.” You teased, laughing through the tears as you started to make your way down the aisle. The church was absolutely glowing under the love that you and Jake had for each other; it was almost a tangible feeling. The blonde aviator had never been happier; his bright smile lighting up every single room every time he saw you. You had never felt so loved; especially now as you looked at your soon to be groom and saw the tears pouring down his cheeks. “You look so gorgeous.” You could see him repeatedly mouthing the words to you, a small blush creeping up on your lips as you wiped your tears and were handed off to him.

Marrying Jake Seresin felt like it was an absolute dream come true. You were standing in a beautiful church surrounded by all your friends and family and you felt like the luckiest woman alive. You were holding eyes with Jake as the minister talked, a warm smile on his lips as he looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. His fingers were lazily drawing hearts on your palms as the two of you waited for him to say the next magical words. “Mr Seresin, you may now kiss your bride.” There was whooping from Jake’s fellow aviators as he pulled you in, his lips pressing to yours in a kiss that felt different than any you had ever shared before. It was passionate. It was full of love. It was the first kiss of the rest of your lives.

That day was by far the happiest day of your life. The love that the two of you shared poured out of the church in the form of a warmness no one had ever experienced before. It was intoxicating. It was surreal and fairytale like, but it was real. It was your actual reality. You had met someone who acted like you hung the moon. And to Jake Seresin, that is exactly what you did. You made him the happiest man alive and that church became a sacred place for the two of you. It was the place where you shared the happiest moments of your life. It was the place where the two of you became one.

The atmosphere shifted in your memory, the wooden chapel doors now seeming like they weighed 1000 pounds. It was a stark contrast to the last day you were here over a year ago; now everything dim and gloomy. Sniffles and crying could be heard and soft whispers of “I’m sorry for your loss.” kept being repeated to you. The words felt as hollow as your chest felt; your heart now missing. You hadn’t felt whole in days. In fact, you felt like you would never feel whole again. Last time you were here, you were wearing a beautiful wedding gown. Now, you were clad in a basic black dress that felt completely wrong.

You felt like you were suffocating, your hands shaking as you stood there. This couldn’t be real. Tears started to streak your vision as you sat down against the wall, your knees pulling to your chest. You didn’t look lady-like, but you didn’t even care anymore. “(Y/N)...” You heard Rooster and Phoenix come walking up to you, but they sounded a million miles away as you recalled the last time you saw them.

You had been standing in your kitchen making dinner as the news played on the tv in the living room. Jake was currently gone on a mission at an undisclosed location and he had been for a couple of weeks now. It was hard to be without him, but you knew he would be home soon. That was what got you through every single day. You finished cooking and walked into the living room with your food just as a breaking news update popped up on the TV; showing a wrecked naval plane in the ocean.

“Reports are coming out of the pentagon tonight that an American Naval plane was shot out of the sky while on a mission two days ago. One pilot has been confirmed as deceased, but the Navy is withholding the name of the pilot until they have been able to inform the family.” The anchor spoke in a sympathetic voice, a frown on her lips before they transitioned onto the next segment. “That poor family…” You shook your head and sat down with your food, scrolling through your phone as it started to blow up.

You were in a group chat with all the wives of the dagger squad; especially since they had been called together again for this latest secret mission. Everyone was checking in, saying their husbands had all sent them emails saying they were okay. You pulled up your email, letting it reload. There was nothing from Jake. “Maybe he’s just been busy. I’m sure it’s nothing. Your daddy is okay. We don’t need to worry.” You murmured the words to yourself and to the barely showing bump that was forming where your and Jake’s first-born child was growing. “He’s okay.” You tried to reassure yourself, telling the girls that Jake hadn’t been in touch yet, but you were sure he would be soon.

You sat with bated breath as you kept refreshing your email; hoping and praying something would come through. “Come on, Jake. Come on..” The words died on your lips as there was a knock at the door that seemed to echo throughout the entire empty house. You stood up from the chair you were in, your legs shaky as you made your way over.

From the window you could see Rooster and Phoenix standing there; both of them clad in their dress whites. No, this couldn’t be happening. No, no. No! Maybe this was a joke; a really fucking cruel one, but maybe one, nonetheless. The anxiety started to rise in your chest as you numbly walked towards the door and opened it, solemn looks on their faces as they both started to give you the speech the navy had prepared them for. You couldn’t hear a single word of it, your heart beating in your ears as your blood rushed through your head. “And the navy is so sorry for your loss.” Bradley struggled to get that last line out, his poker face starting to crack as his voice wavered. There was no way this was happening. Jake was a damn good pilot. Hell, he was the best! He always made sure that you knew that every time he went up into the air. “I’ll always come home to you, baby. I’m the best damn pilot in the whole navy.”You believed him every single time. Him saying that was always a comfort to you.

Not this time. He wouldn’t be coming home now. You let out a strangled sob as your knees gave out, hitting the carpet under you. Bradley and Phoenix moved to make sure you were okay, both of them taking turns giving you hugs and support as you sobbed and screamed. You were angry. You were frustrated. You were now alone. Jake was gone and he wasn’t ever coming back. As you were crying, you felt a deep despair overcome you. “H-he didn’t know..” You couldn’t even finish the words as you put your hand over your bump; Phoenix having already known you were pregnant. She shook her head at you, putting her hand over yours. “You can kill me later, but before we all took off that day, I told him.” Her voice was soft as she locked eyes with you, your best friend knowing what you needed in that moment. “He knew, (Y/N) and he was ecstatic.” The words caused the tears to flow down your cheeks harder, the sobs raking your body.

It was Bradley’s turn to try and comfort you now, his big arms pulling you into his lap as he held you. “He sacrificed himself.” The words barely left the man’s mouth as his tears ran down his cheeks and onto your shoulder; streaking their way down. “I was caught in a dog-fight and I was about to go down. I had no flares left. He went up after me, disobeying direct orders. He saved me but an enemy plane came out of nowhere and got to him before he could dodge the hit.” Your stomach sank at the words as you laid your head against rooster’s shoulder, letting the sorrow overtake your body. “He also made us all promise to take care of you if anything happened. So, you better believe that baby is going to have so much support, and you as well.” He pulled something out of his coat pocket and handed it to you, your name scribbled down in your husband’s handwriting. “You have got to promise to wait and read this after the funeral. That’s how he wanted it.”

You felt so numb that entire day, barely moving from one spot on the floor as Natasha and Bradley both vowed to stay with you until the funeral, both of them crashing with you so they could keep an eye on you. The days ticked by slowly as you tried to do anything to feel closer to jake. You looked at all your old pictures and videos. You listened to some of the voicemails he left you. You even read his old letters that he wrote you when the two of you started dating. You were struggling with the grief; even with the support.

Sure, the resources the navy supplied you with were helpful, but they didn’t help the pain. They didn’t help the longing for Jake to hold you again. They didn’t help the longing to hear his awful singing come pouring out of the shower in the morning. They also sure as hell didn’t help the hole in your heart.

The days passed slowly, each one more excruciating then the next as the day of the funeral arrived. Luckily for you, Phoenix and Rooster and the rest of the team had taken to planning the funeral according to what Jake had wanted. The meticulous planner he was, he had the whole thing down to a T. The service was beautiful as it came and went, a flurry of tears and words of comfort exchanged as your husband’s life and sacrifice was honored. It was a beautiful military wedding and at the end of it you stayed sitting beside his casket, the folded-up flag sitting in your lap as you tried to will yourself out of your chair. It proved futile as you pulled your purse into your lap, the letter from him poking out. You took a shaky breath in and slowly opened the envelope, tears instantly pouring as you saw Jake’s handwriting.

Darling,

If you’re reading this, then it means you already know that I broke my promise to you. I am so sorry about that. I don’t know what the circumstances were, but I am so damn sorry I am not there with you. I want you to know some things, and some of them maybe I haven’t even told you. But, they told us this is our last chance to get our affairs in order, so here we go. The day I met you, I swear the world stopped spinning. You came into my life and completely shook up everything I thought I knew about myself. I fell in love with you at first sight. God, I’ve been spending too much time with Rooster, that sappy bastard. But, you are the most perfect girl I have ever met. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that more when I was around. I should have told you it every single second I saw you because I’m sitting here regretting it. I also should have told you how much I loved you every single second of every single day. You are the single most important thing to me and I am so lucky to call you my wife. Please, do not spend forever morning me if you have to read this. I need you to be happy for me, babe. I know it’s going to be hard, but you’re my strong girl and I know you can do it. I’ll be watching you and cheering you on every single day, baby girl. You’ll know I’m there, I’ll make sure of it.

Now, hopefully you never have to actually read this letter. I’m hoping that I come home and I can read you this as we burn it in the fireplace. I’m hoping that I manage to pull off this op because I cannot wait to see you when I get home. I love you so so so much.

Stay Beautiful, sweets.

Your Jake <3

You held the letter out as your tears started to pour down; trying not to ruin the pen Jake had written with. He was gone and it wasn’t a dream, this was your new unfortunate reality. Your husband was gone and you were going to be raising a baby that would never know his father outside of stories. This wasn’t how your forever was supposed to go.

#Jake seresin x y/n #Jake seresin x you #Jake seresin x reader #Jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin fanfic #Jake seresin imagines #Jake hangman seresin imagines #too gun maverick x you #top gun maverick imagines #Jake seresin fanfiction #Jake seresin angst #jake seresin one shot #hangman imagines

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st-juliet · 2 years

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Utmost Merit, Part III

Fandom: Henry Cavill as Sherlock in Enola Holmes

Summary: Sherlock presents the Reader with a most unconventional proposal.

Content: Absolutely 18+ for very very very filthy language, purposely unprotected sex, virgin reader, breeding kink, spouses-to-lovers, some period-typical gender roles but nothing unkind or insidious

Notes: I prefer giving a name to the Reader rather than using Y/N, but I hope you will make the appropriate substitutes in your imagination. Your kind comments and reblogs are so, so appreciated…please don’t hesitate to reply or send me a message with your feedback if you enjoy!

Previous Chapters: Part I Part II

“What is it, Mrs. Hudson?”

“It is not Mrs. Hudson.”

A sudden streak of mischief has seized you this afternoon: it is one week to the day of your marriage, and though you have seen Sherlock nearly every day in the flurry of preparations… but always in the company of someone – your brothers, his brother, your respective and mutual friends, a procession of lawyers and clergy. You are eager to have a moment alone with him, not least of all because of what happened the last time you were afforded such privacy – and it is no coincidence that your walk today has brought you by Baker Street.

“It’s a friend.”

“A friend? Watson?”

Even muffled by the door, you can hear the amusement in his voice—he knows very well who it is. “No, not he,” you play along.

“Who, then?”

“Not simply a friend. Practically family.”

“If it’s Enola, I’m out of the house. If it’s Mycroft, I’m out of the country.”

“And if it’s your wife?” “I have not got a wife. No, indeed.“ You can hear his voice more nearly now, his footsteps drawing close. “I must remain a frustrated bachelor for six days and some odd hours more.”

And then the door swings open, and you are greeted with a glorious sight: Sherlock fills the doorframe completely, leaning against it with a lazy, comfortable air and smiling down at you with unconcealed delight. He is in his shirtsleeves, tumbled curls spilling about his face…the most undressed and unrestrained you have ever seen him. You want to fling your arms about his neck, but restrain yourself, instead giving a little curtsey and saying, “I’m out for a walk.”

“Of course you are,” he smirks, extending his hand to escort you into his parlor. “When asked where my wife is, I shall always know exactly what to say: ‘She is out for a walk.’”

His teasing, affectionate tone draws you in as much as his gesture, and you eagerly take his hand, allowing yourself to be led through the maze of his various experiments, stacks of books, and glass-cased curiosities.

“I wanted to see you,” you admit. “Do I disturb your work?”

“You are always welcome here,” he avows, settling you beside him on the small settee, a very deliberate invitation to closeness. “And never more than at this moment: I am bored out of my mind. Are there no more villains to be found in England? Not a single jewel thief? No secret societies with nefarious purposes? Not a missing cat, stuck up a tree?”

Clearly in a playful mood, he gives a dramatic sigh and tosses his head to shake an unruly curl from his brow, which is a futile effort, and you cannot stop yourself from reaching out to brush it aside. He covers your hand with his, pressing it against his cheek.

“You have done your job too well,” you answer. “The realm is safe and sound, at least for now…however shall you occupy that brilliant mind in the meantime?”

“I have a few notions,” he muses, turning his head to kiss your palm. “We were interrupted the last time we were truly alone.”

“So we were.”

Sherlock presses up against you even more closely, resting his forehead against yours. He nuzzles his nose against your cheek, grazes his lips along your jaw, which incites a low, breathy sound from you. He chuckles softly and repeats the gesture…and then, for the first time—though he has touched you most nearly, heard you cry out his name in the throes of rapture, spoken the most intimate, profane words to one another—Sherlock kisses you on the lips.

He is at once tender and insistent, gentle and fervent, and you melt into his arms, returning his ardor with an unpracticed enthusiasm that only seems to enchant him further. Over and over again, he kisses you so deeply, so passionately…softly coaxing your lips to part, giving way to his clever, dexterous tongue…and his hands wander to every soft curve he can seek out with a covetous, ravenous resolve.

“You tempt me beyond all reason, Rosamund. Here in my arms is the woman who shall be—by her most eager consent—the mother of my child. My wife in but a week’s time,” he sighs, a feigned resignation in his tone. “But I suppose I am a gentleman, and such are the dictates of propriety…”

You realize he is making you an offer: understated, unassuming, and entirely in your hands to refuse. But your decision is instantaneous and wholehearted.

“Our purpose transcends propriety,” you answer softly, and his eyes narrow. You pull him close by his lapels for another burning kiss, then whisper in his ear: “It is only a week. And I think we should waste no time.”

Something seems to snap in Sherlock, just like that fortnight ago when he delved under your skirts and brought you to bliss in the home you soon will share.

“As my wife commands, then,” he growls, and already he is on his feet, discarding his vest and cravat, locking the door, and gazing at you with flagrant, untempered desire. In a flash of inspiration, he turns the handle on his gramophone, setting the cylinder spinning, and the beautiful, pure strains of a violin fill the room. You gasp softly and feel a shiver of excitement and longing run through your body at the application of his ingenious mind to such a devious purpose: anyone outside the room would no doubt think Sherlock himself was playing the violin, a perfectly appropriate way to while away an hour with his wife-to-be.

“You were so good for me last time,” he murmurs, stealing another kiss before sweeping you up into his arms. “Staying so quiet and polite even with my hand beneath your skirts. But now, my dear little bride…I very much wish to hear you.”

Sherlock shows an extraordinary facility as a lover already, easily carrying you to his bedroom without ever ceasing his kisses. He is eager, almost boyish, in his delight as he strips away the many layers of your gown, and easily diverted by each new inch of you he uncovers. You feel much the same, every moment torn between exploring the aspects of his body already on display to you and revealing more, and when he tosses his shirt aside, you find you cannot help yourself, even as your logical brain reminds your swooning heart that this is a business transaction: you run your hands across the hard planes of his chest, breathlessly exclaiming, “Oh, you are so handsome…”

The man practically preens at your words, not-so-very subtly flexing his muscles, and you laugh at what a peacock he has suddenly become.

“Have I made you vain, Mr. Holmes?” you tease, and he grins back at you, bright blue eyes sparkling as he strips every last stitch from your body.

“How can I help it when such a beauty sings my praises? That would turn any man’s head.”

Discarding the last of his own garments, he settles himself atop you, careful to bear his own weight lest you be completely enveloped by his immense frame—not that you would mind it in the slightest—and kisses a trail down your neck, smirking into a particularly sensitive spot as you gasp and arch at his attentions. “I perhaps ought to have mentioned this in my proposal,” he considers, nuzzling your breasts with soft kisses, teasing the peaks with his teeth and tongue—a maddening combination of tender and rough that has your pulse racing. “But I find you an exceptionally beautiful woman.”

His praise in turn makes you almost bashful, but he doesn’t allow you the slightest shame or shyness, parting your legs to look hungrily on your most tender place, laying kisses on your thighs and holding you tight as you giggle and squirm at the sensation.

“My god, what a sight. You really are perfect for me, in every way,” he pronounces, his fingers sliding easily between your petals to caress your bud, remembering perfectly from your first encounter just what makes you sigh…speed and pressure and even the way he speaks to you, low and comforting and stirring all at once. He has learned you like his famed violin, from a single hurried instance of intimacy. But you need not smother your moans this time as he seeks your pleasure with his deft, elegant hand, and each little sound that he elicits from you only seems to spur Sherlock on to new heights of wickedness, and he licks his lips wolfishly as he slides first one finger, and then a second, into your channel.

“Oh, Sherlock…’

“Yes, let me hear you. This is how I want you always, pleading and crying out for me—yes, just like that.”

You are offering him a litany of indecent sounds, but it is nothing compared to the devilish words he murmurs in return as he guides you to your peak:

“You bring out the most iniquitous contradictions in me. You…whom I have admired only at a distance this year or more…so respectable, so intelligent, graceful and gracious—yet with the slightest hint of your assent, I would take my pretty paragon and have you on your hands and knees for me, to breed this sweet, tight cunt…but that fantasy we will answer in time, for I must see your lovely face when you fall apart for me tonight, my darling wife…”

His gorgeous features are illuminated with wonder as you come apart on his hand, calling out his name and clutching at the bedsheets, completely helpless to your own pleasure.

“Oh, Sherlock, oh…more, please don’t stop…”

Sherlock moves to kneel between your thighs, drawing your legs about his hips and aligning his cock with your warm, wet slit. “Are you ready, Rosamund?”

His control is impeccable, but barely-leashed, and you can tell he wants nothing more than to thrust as deep within you as can be. You feel the slightest flicker of trepidation—he is so large, so strong, his sex thick and long and dripping already—Sherlock notes your hesitation at once.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he bids you, leaning down to lay a soothing kiss upon your lips. “You can take it; you were made for this, my love. Made for me.”

“I am yours,” you whisper, and with one smooth motion, you are joined. You barely feel a twinge as he enters you; he has taken such care of you that the delicious fullness and white-hot heat of your flesh embracing his melts away all tension, relieves any fear or pain. The sound of his sonorous, feral groan as he settles so deep makes you clench, and you are almost at your peak again already as he sets about a relentless rhythm, eyes burning into yours all the while.

“Oh, you feel like heaven,” he groans, and you begin to meet his thrusts with the rise of your hips. “Look how eager you are, just begging me to give you my cock, my seed, make you swell with my child. I can see you now, so full and round and gorgeous…everyone will know what you let me do to you,” he promises. “That you are mine—“

“Make me yours,” you echo, and he buries his face in your neck with a brazen moan. “Let go, please, Sherlock, give me our baby…”

Seeing this man truly unbound, free from all societal restraints and his personal gentility, is nothing shy of miraculous. He supports you in his arms most delicate work of art on the earth, but claims you ferociously, deep and fast and unyielding in his pursuit of your mutual pleasure, holding back only enough to give you your bliss first before he loses himself completely in the sensation of your softness, coming deep inside you with a roar.

You spend some minutes simply breathing together, savoring the beauty of this new closeness, and the precious hope that might already be taking root. At last, with a nod of agreement from you, he pulls out from your tender flesh, taking great care not to spill a drop.

“Keep all that in, wife,” he instructs, laying his palm flat against your slit. Then, with a wicked smile, he begin to rub at your bud with his fingertips, and you are so very sensitive, so over-stimulated, that you can hardly breath as he coaxes one more shuddering climax from your tender body. “Just to be certain it takes,” he says by way of explanation, as casually as if he were describing some chemical reaction. You try to stifle a giggle, but cannot, at his professorial tone. Your mirth is infectious, and you both laugh together, in rapturous joy.

“Thank god you are my wild and wanton girl,” he praises you. “I thought I would be driven mad by the memory of you, haunting my every moment. You have quite saved my sanity, if not my life, tonight.”

“I feel the same,” you agree, kissing him sweetly. This easy playfulness, such a hallmark of your courtship preserved even after this new step has been taken, sparks yet more mischief in you, and, lightly running your fingers through the hair on his chest, you murmur, “So, Mr. Holmes: you have admired me a year or more?”

You called me your love, is what you truly want to say. But surely that was the passion of the moment, the exchange of a single self for a shared bond, that overcame him…?

“Yes,” he admits, with a soft smile. “But I was entirely certain you would accept any number of the other offers set before you. I dared not hope…”

He trails off, and you nestle even tighter against him.

“Thank goodness I had the foresight to refuse them all. I…I was determined to wait for what felt truly right. It could have been no one but you.”

He kisses you tenderly, and just as you determine to summon all your whiles towards seducing him into a second time—for the sake of The Shared Purpose, of course—the clock strikes seven, far past the hour you were expected home. Sherlock groans petulantly when you escape his arms and start to piece together the various layers of your attires, but his sound of displeasure shifts to one of pride as he watches a trickle of his seed slip down your thighs.

“Just look at you,” he drawls, stretching out on the bed, and without the slightest blush or hesitation, begins to stroke his hardening cock, drinking in the sight of you, flushed all over, your hair loose about your head like a halo, every inch of your skin burnished by the setting sun.

“You will be simply incorrigible from this moment forward, won’t you, Sherlock?”

“Yes.”

“I’m expected to be home.“

“You’re expected to obey your husband.”

He rises from the bed and halts your search for your clothes, his arms encircling you from behind and his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

“Lie back down, Rosamund,” he commands, one hand toying with your breasts as the other comes to rest possessively over your abdomen. “You’re letting all my hard work go to waste—I’ll have to pin you down and fill you up all over again.”

You succumb immediately to his touch, allowing him to spin you around and arrange you on the bed to his liking: on hands and knees as he had whispered of before, presented fully to his lustful gaze. Looking back over your shoulder, you meet Sherlock’s piercing eyes and he smiles at you.

“My perfect wife…”

You sigh and give yourself over to bliss.

You’ll simply have to tell them you went on a very, very long walk.

Next Chapter: Part IV

Thank you so much to these darlings who so graciously reblogged and commented on the previous chapters!

@mis-lil-red @a-panda-doll @astheskycries @ghotifishreads @wolfsmom1 @mathle0matle @crazybutconfidentaf @inlovewithhisblueeyes

#sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill sherlock #henry!sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x ofc #henry!sherlock #enola holmes fanfic

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luckyqueenreign · 2 years

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The Story of Us - is a four-part series that will delve into MC (Gemma) and Suresh's relationship pre-villa.

Part One: The Beginning of The End

Part Two: The Night It All Ended is out now and you can click the link to read it ^^

"The story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now"

Tag List: @future-mrs-suresh @squishy-noodles @hi-im-karla @kunepie @fujihime-litg @brasister @kvngdomheartz @katsie @0shewrites0 @whati390 @smexilexi420 @viperidae94 @abecerra611 @misterytull

(Let me know if you want to be added to tag list)

Gemma couldn’t breathe. It felt like the time she and her older brother, Luke, were playing soccer and he tackled her hard, knocking the wind right out of her. She sat here now in the living room of her childhood home with the same stunned silence, not remembering how to draw a breath.

“Gemma? Honey, are you ok?” her mother Elle said as she stroked a loose strand of hair out of her face.

“Gem, this is just a temporary separation. Your mother and I have been arguing a lot and we thought some time apart might be good for us,” her father Will said, squeezing her hand that had gone numb from the shock.

Temporary separation. Temporary separation. Temporary separation. She tossed the words around so many times in her mind that they had become a jumbled mess.

Gemma couldn’t comprehend why they would ever need a temporary separation after 30 years of a seemingly happy relationship.

“B-but w-why?” she finally said as tears rolled down her face.

“Darling it’s complicated but your father and I are planning on going to therapy to work through it. We just need a little time apart first.”

“This doesn’t make any sense!” Gemma said exasperated as she got up quickly and headed towards the door.

“Gemma, quit acting like a petulant child and have a conversation with your mother and I,” Will said.

But she slammed the door behind her and raced to her car. Tears burned her face as she drove away.

Temporary separation.

She didn’t understand this. Her parents were always so happy, doting on one another, holding hands and stealing kisses when they thought the kids weren’t looking. Gemma always watched them in admiration, hoping and wishing on every star in the sky that one day she would have a relationship like theirs. And now that was all supposed to just be over?

Temporary separation.

“Luke,” she said crying into her phone. “Did you talk to mom and dad?”

“Yeah G, are you crying?” he said.

“Of course I’m crying! Our parents are basically getting a divorce and you’re calm?!”

“They said it was temporary to sort through their issues. Honestly, it sounded pretty healthy to me,” Luke said.

“What? Are you serious right now?”

“Gemma, they’re both adults. If being single is ultimately what will make them both happy, I'll support them. And you should stop being so selfish and support them too…you’re an adult now Gem -” She didn’t let her brother finish his thought, she hung up the phone in a fury tossing it on the passenger seat.

When she got home, she immediately removed her jeans and top, opting for her stretchy sweatpants and Suresh’s law school sweatshirt. It was still the early afternoon, but she crawled into bed hugging her pillows, letting herself cry. Gemma wanted to be alone in her thoughts and so she didn’t call Suresh to tell him about her parents’ separation, but she could hear him unlocking the door to her apartment and making his way inside.

“Gem?” He said, poking his head in her room and seeing if she was in there. When he saw her, he rushed over and climbed into bed with her. He moved the pillows she was hugging and pulled her onto his chest and held her close.

“R-resh…they’re…they’re…separating,” She said through sobs.

“Shhh, babe it’s ok. Everything is going to be ok,” he said, stroking her hair.

They stayed this way for what seemed like hours, with Suresh gently stroking her hair and her crying into his chest. At first, it was exactly what Gemma wanted, what she needed. Someone to be here for her in her hardest time. But then the heaviness of the day seemed to dawn on her and she couldn’t stop the train of negative thoughts from infiltrating her mind.

If my parents could separate after 30 years, who’s to say Suresh won’t leave me too?

She looked at him and he looked down at her with loving but worried eyes.

What am I going to do if he leaves me?

“How are you feeling, babe?” he asked.

I feel like you’re going to leave me.

“Still processing, but very sad,” she said.

Because one day, you’re going to wake up and realize I’m not what you want anymore.

Suresh kissed her forehead and hugged her tightly.

“Babe, I’m here for you and I love you so much. You know that, right?” he asked.

I love him so much, the thought of losing him literally makes my bones ache.

“I love you too, Resh,” she said as she snuggled closer, burying her face in his neck hoping that if she closed her eyes tight enough and breathed in the scent of his sandalwood cologne, the negative thoughts would just go away. But they didn’t. If anything, they only intensified.

In the morning, Gemma woke up to Suresh lightly kissing her jawline, when he realized she was awake, he gently pressed his lips on hers. He delicately traced her bottom lip with his tongue, waiting for her to let him enter. When she opened her mouth slightly, Suresh intensified the kiss, snaking his hand on her lower back and bringing her closer to him. Gemma lost herself in the kiss, hungrily reaching for Suresh she wrapped her arms around his body. She could already feel how hard he was as he pressed his arousal on her thigh. Normally this would have driven her mad and she would have climbed on top of him, but today she couldn’t concentrate.

It’s only a matter of time before he leaves you. Sex won’t save you.

Gemma pulled back from the kiss, gasping for air.

“Resh wait…I’m not in the mood right now.”

Suresh laughed as he kissed her neck, whispering, “Are you sure?” This time he moved his body a few inches over and pressed his arousal into the center of her sweatpants, right above her slit. He teased her playfully by motioning it in circles and pressing into her.

He never listens to you. He only does what he wants to do. He’ll do that until he leaves.

“Stop Suresh! I said I wasn’t in the mood.” She said as she pushed him off of her and got up from the bed.

“Babe, wait I’m sorry,” Suresh said with a mixture of confusion and hurt in his voice.

“I need to take a shower,” she said, slamming the door shut behind her and quickly locking it.

He doesn’t care, he’s not sorry.

Gemma turned the shower on and tried to drown out her negative thoughts but they were so loud and impossible to ignore.

As she made her way out of the bathroom, she could hear Suresh busying himself in her kitchen, cooking them breakfast like he did most mornings. She always loved sneaking up behind him and curling her arms around his waist, something about that always felt like home to her. Like he was her safe haven. But today she wanted to run far away from him. He was a constant reminder of everything she could lose, and she couldn’t bear to face him. She quickly got dressed and started to rush out of her apartment.

“G…where are you going?” He said from the hallway. “I made breakfast.”

“I’m sorry. I have to go.”

She rushed out before he could see the tears welling up in her eyes and before she even had a chance to say goodbye. She was too fragile right now to deal with both the voices in her head and her parents’ relationship problems. She drove in a haze to her office, and when she arrived she broke down and cried again. This time, not just for the demise of her parents’ relationship but how she treated Suresh that morning as well. She knew he was only trying to make her feel better and that he loved her but she could feel herself creating a protective distance away from him.

Over the next two weeks, Suresh tried everything to make Gemma feel better but nothing he did could possibly change the fact that she was struggling with her parents’ decision to separate.

“Suresh, I can’t talk, I'm about to walk into a meeting,” she said, angling her cell phone on her shoulder while shuffling papers in front of her.

“I’ll be quick…I made a reservation for dinner tonight. I’ll pick you up at 8,” he said.

“Resh…”

“8PM Gem. I haven’t seen you all week. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Resh.”

And she did miss him terribly. But the voices in her head that kept shouting her insecurities back at her, were quieter when he wasn’t around. As she drove home that night she mentally prepared herself for the night ahead, but a big part of her just didn’t feel like getting dressed up and going out tonight. She craved the safety and solace of her apartment, her too-old gray sweatpants and a steaming cup of tea. All she wanted to do tonight was curl up on the couch with Suresh, order take-out and finally talk and be together. She knew she had been pushing him away these last few weeks and she wanted to fix that tonight, show him how much she cared for him and loved him. But she didn’t need a fancy dress or a fancy restaurant to do that and she thought he’d understand. So when she got home, instead of changing into the new dress that he had purchased and was waiting for her when she arrived, she showered and changed into an old t-shirt and sweatpants. She ordered his favorite dishes from three different restaurants and she set the table for their feast. It wasn’t their original plan for tonight, but it was still going to be a chance for them to reconnect.

“Gemma, what is this?” Suresh asked, looking at her confused and slightly angry.

She looked up, she had been so distracted she hadn’t heard him come into the apartment.

“Oh, I changed my mind and thought we could stay in tonight.”

Suresh ran his fingers ponderously through his hair, his bicep bulging against his sleeve as he raised his arm.

“Gemma I planned a whole night. I bought you a new dress. Didn’t you get it?” he said with an edge in his voice.

“Yes, Resh but I just wanted to…”

“You wanted to what Gemma? Cancel our plans again? For the fourth time this week. At least the other times you texted me beforehand and didn’t have me show up like a mug,” he snapped at her.

“Resh…”

“No Gemma, I'm not done. You’ve been pulling away from me for weeks since your parents separated and it’s not fair. I’ve tried everything to show you that I love you and that I’m here for you but you keep pushing me away. We aren’t your parents Gemma. Why are you letting their decisions ruin what we have?” he growled.

She snapped out of her initial shock and glared at him.

“You love me? You’re here for me? But you can’t stay in one fucking night with me!? How are you showing me that you care?” She spat as she inched closer to him. “Let me remind you Suresh, my parents were married for 30 years, their vows were for better or for worse and right now I’m at my worst and you act like this. How could I possibly have any faith in what we have, when we’re not even strong enough to withstand this?”

Gemma could see a flicker of sadness cross Suresh’s eyes but then it was gone and replaced by his cold glare.

“WE ARE NOT YOUR PARENTS, GEMMA,” he yelled. “Why can’t you see that?” He didn't give her a chance to respond, he stormed out of her apartment slamming the door behind him, leaving Gemma alone.

What have you done? You pushed away the one good thing in your life.

Standing there in shock, Gemma didn’t try to hold back the tears that scorched her face. She knew she had created an unnecessary wedge between her and Suresh and that it was all her fault. She wasn’t her mom and Suresh wasn’t her dad. Their relationship wasn’t the same, so why did she feel the need to compare the two? She grabbed her phone and tried calling Suresh a few times but he ignored every attempt, so she tried texting him instead.

G: Babe I’m sorry you’re right…come back please

G: i love u resh i didnt want to go out but i still wanted to see you tonight i ordered from all your favorite places

G: Babe please don’t be like this. I’m sorry i have been pushing you away but i promise you that im done. I dont want to lose you

G: I’m going to make it up to you

But her messages weren’t going through. Where they were normally blue with the tiny font saying delivered underneath, they were now green. She hated that green bubble, it meant he shut off his phone for the night. Shut her off for the night. She hated that she didn’t know where she stood with him and she hated even more that she was the reason for that. She had pushed him away for weeks, had canceled their plans at the last minute and she was starting to see what a mistake that had all been.

Suresh loved her and he’d been trying to show her that in different ways recently and she’d been so unappreciative towards him. She needed a plan to rectify everything. A grand gesture. Something that would show him that he meant the world to her. And that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. She wasn’t going to lose Suresh, he was the greatest love of her life, and even though she hadn’t been acting that way towards him lately she knew what she had to do. Gemma ran to her laptop and started to google jewelry stores in Edinburgh.

#litg ff #litg suresh #litg mc #litg #litg ex in the villa #litg s5 #love island the game #ex in the villa #litg fanfic #litg fanfiction #luckyqueenreign

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medusapelagia · 8 months

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Eddie's Month Day 7 + Whumptober Day 7

written for @eddiemonth and @whumptober-archive

Prompts: Eddie’s month: Wayne | The Seeker - The Who | Warm

Whumptober: “I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.” - Alleyway | Radio Silence | “Can you hear me?”

Rating: Mature Relationship: Wayne Munson - Eddie Munson WT: major character death, grief, Vampire Eddie Munson, implied reference to depression WC: 1451

Eddie was always loud.

Since the first day he entered Wayne's life like a little hurricane, he was always surrounded by sounds of any kind.

He used to bang the doors, he always listened to his music, which was a mix of screaming and noises in Wayne’s opinion, at the highest volume. He did the same in his van, and the few times Wayne took Eddie’s van he almost got a heart attack every time he turned the van on and the music blasted from the radio.

Eddie was noisy. He was life. He was everything that Wayne missed without even knowing it.

Now that he was resting his eyes on a cot in the high school’s gym, even surrounded by thousands of people, everything felt too silent.

Every day Wayne wakes up, takes a cup of coffee from the hand of a smiling woman, and goes to the plant.

The only good thing in Wayne’s life is that the plant is still open so he can forget about the living hell his life is and lose himself in the monotone routine of the plant.

No one of his coworkers talks to him. They don’t know what to say. They know he lost a son in the earthquake but they also know that he was a murder suspect.

Innocent until proven guilty, that’s what the law says, but in everyone’s mind, Eddie killed that sweet girl.

So Wayne works alone, he eats alone, he goes back to the high school gym to sleep a few hours and then everything starts again. Every day is the same.

He keeps changing the missing person flyers because someone makes some stupid drawings on Eddie’s face when he is at work.

Wayne knows his kid, he knows he is too sensible to kill a fly… he is… he was… god.

His kid.

The boy he did his best to keep on the right track.

The boy he brought to live with him even if he didn’t know a single thing about kids.

The boy… his boy… his kid.

He wipes away a single tear and gets back to the gym, ready to eat some pj sandwiches and lie on the cot.

“Mr. Munson?” A kid calls him, and when he turns the kid has something in his hand. Something that Wayne knows too well.

Eddie’s guitar pick.

Wayne knows what it means. He has taken many dogtags from the bodies of his comrades during the war in Vietnam to bring them back to their families and give them some consolation. But consolation is not what he is feeling right now. He feels despair, anger, and pain.

But all these emotions have no words even if they scream loudly inside him.

He sits on his cot, the guitar picks in his fist, and for the first time in days, he lets the tears fall free.

Men don’t cry, that’s what his old man taught him, but he can’t really stop the overwhelming feelings that are too big to be contained in his body. So he cries. He doesn’t care if everyone is seeing him. He doesn’t care that there is a kid at his side and he should comfort him.

He cries.

Quietly as he has lived all his life.

***

After that day, every day becomes even longer.

The military comes and they give him a room in a seedy motel.

No more coffee poured by pretty housewives, no more murmurs in the night.

Radio silence.

That’s what they called it during the war.

That moment in which everything went quiet and all you had to do was wait.

And Wayne waits.

He waits for the federals to question him.

He waits for the journalist.

He waits for a call from the state’s prison.

He waits for a funeral, knowing he will be the only one attending.

He waits.

And waits.

Until one night something happens.

And it’s not one of the things he was waiting for.

***

He is walking through the woods, as he used to do when he was a kid.

There is a strange kind of blue snow falling to the ground, but Wayne is not worried.

There aren’t many things he is worried about right now.

He doesn’t care about expired bills, or money, or whatever.

He just keeps going because he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Wayne?” A voice calls him and Wayne freezes.

That voice is familiar. Too familiar.

“Eddie?”

Wayne sighs, he definitely lost it.

He is surprised that it took so long, but now he is officially as crazy as his mother.

At least he is not talking with plants.

“Wayne!” The voice calls again and then he hears something growling behind him. It sounds like a dog but not really.

“Wayne!”

A black shadow pushes him to the ground and then hisses at the dog.

Wayne looks at the person over him which… doesn’t really look like a person but looks a lot like… “Eddie?”

His skin is white, almost deathly pale, with big black veins.

“Wayne.”

He is his boy.

He doesn’t look like it but he definitely is his boy.

He hugs him tight. The boy is cold as marble but sturdy.

“You are alive! You are alive!” Wayne keeps murmuring, still lying on the ground.

Eddie nuzzles at him like an animal and keeps repeating “Wayne.”

“I thought I lost you. I really did. And I missed you so fucking much! I even missed your awful music!”

It doesn’t matter if Eddie looks different. The only thing that matters is that he is there.

“I missed you too, Wayne.” he replies, looking at him with eyes too dark.

“Let’s go home kid. I have a room in a motel. It’s not big but we could stay for a couple of days and then we will leave this horrible town behind us. I’ll drive you everywhere you want! Just… let me take you home, warm you up a little, and then we will leave, I promise you.”

Eddie sighs, getting up and helping Wayne get up too.

“Wayne… something happened and…”

“We will fix it! I know you didn’t kill the girl! You could have never…!”

“That’s not it.” He replies helping Wayne get up and he seems so much stronger than he was.

“Lifting amps really made you strong.”

“Yeah, that… and being a vampire.”

Wayne freezes. Ok. Maybe he is crazy like his mother after all.

“Wayne. Can you hear me?” Eddie asks, moving a hand in front of Wayne’s face.

“What… what did you say?”

Eddie sighs.

“Something happened. I… sort of… died?”

Wayne widens his eyes.

This can’t be happening.

He is dreaming. He must be still at his motel and all of this is just a strange dream, maybe a nightmare.

“I know it’s not easy to understand. But there is a war, between our dimension and this other dimension which is full of monsters and…”

“Are you… are you a monster?”

Eddie shrugs “In some ways. But I don’t kill people! I swear. I have eaten only rabbits. And a deer. Once. They are not easy to catch.”

“You eat them like… like you cooked them, right?”

“Wayne…”

Wayne knows nothing about monsters, dragons, and parallel dimensions. But even he knows that “Did you drink their blood?”

“That’s my thing now, I suppose. But, hey, look at the bright side, you will not have to scold me anymore because I drink only Mountain Drew and eat too many chips!”

That’s the bright side, uh?

Eddie gets closer to him “There are monsters in these woods, Wayne, you can’t stay here. You are too exposed.” he turns toward something Wayne can’t hear “Go to the Harringtons. The kids are there. They are making a new plan. They will explain everything to you.”

Wayne trembles, closing his hands in a fist to fight the desire to grab Eddie and hold him to his chest.

“You… you are dead. I didn’t… I didn’t protect you…I should have been there… I failed you. I failed you, Eddie.”

“Hey, hey, hey! You didn’t fail me, Wayne! My parents failed me, the school failed me, and even the fucking government failed me. Not you. Never.” Eddie smiles at him, putting a freezing arm on Wayne’s shoulder “Come on. I’ll come with you. These woods are not the ones you knew.” he says, then he adds “And we need to catch up, right?”

***

When they finally get to the Harrington house Wayne knows everything about evil creatures and scientific experiments and when his eyes meet Steve Harrington’s the boy extends his hand and says to him “Welcome to the resistance.”

#whumptober2023 #no. 7 #Radio Silence #Can you hear me?#stranger things #fic #major character death #grief #Vampire Eddie Munson #implied reference to depression #stranger things fanfic #my fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #eddiemonth #eddiemonth day 7 #medusapelagia #medusapelagia fanfic

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mochidreambubble · 1 year

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From Golden Grove, Love Sunset Bird

[ongoing fic]

Ao3 link

Chapters on Tumblr ~ 1 2 3 (you're here!) 4

previous - next

{Cove was your new best friend, but your fairy pen pal was also basically your best friend. It makes sense but not to Cove, but... But why is it he thinks you could only have one best friend anyways?}

[some notes from me before I continue, or you can just scroll down to the new chapter after the linebreak.

Comes back in here with a wedding pretzel and b/w ice cream sandwich like I didn’t leave this fic for months-

Few things of note going forward:

Due to OLNF clearly still being in progress, I’ve decided to do more of the first game for now. Though, for every B&A chapter out, in future, there will be the same number of NF POVs/Centric chapters.

It’s a little sad cause I wanted to do alternative POV chapters but that would just put this whole fic on hold instead (I do have one more OLNF chapter after this, but next time it will be unlikely)

I’ve also decided not to do a linear timeline, which I think is fine cause I’ll be labelling each chapter title with the step anyways? So maybe don't expect the next chapter for the respective MCs to be in the same or the next step cause I’ll likely just go back and forth on what I feel like writing to make it easier. Unless it’s a narrative thing I wanna follow up on.

(Also due to recent developments…. Maaaaaybe I won’t be sticking to Cove/MC, at least not straightforwardly)

And done, onward to the new chapter]

Three: Beginnings & Always Step 1 ~ “Nobody said I only could have 1 best friend”

You’d like to think you don’t get into fights that often. Maybe with Lizzie sometimes , which Mom and Ma always sat both of you down for cause siblings only had each other and you should talk things out.

But this was different. Cove was crying, which made you cry. You cried harder when he yelled that you weren’t friends anymore. What did you even do ?

You thought Cove and you got on pretty well over this summer. It was super great to have a kid your age for once, and one who didn’t move away once summer break was over. In fact, thanks to Cove, a lot had happened in just these few months alone. You barely had the time to write to your pen pal.

It made you feel kind of bad especially since, across the summer, you had at least 10 different postcards from them. Mom had left them in a neat pile and a colourful ribbon to make sure not a single postcard could go flying off. Which was silly because you’re sure postcards can’t fly.

You were waiting for Cove to come over. Ma promised to let both of you decorate the cupcakes she was baking, but only after you’ve both finished your weekend homework. It was criminal (were you using that phrase right?) that teachers gave soooo much homework. It was only the third week of the new school term too. It may have been cooler but you could still smell the summer spirit in the air.

Mr Holden said Cove would be there by 3pm on the dot. You think that means that Cove will be there on time?

You had your eyes glued to the clock in your room. But you got a little bored just looking at it, so you ended up reading the postcards your fairy friend sent instead. Their summer adventures back home were made up of carnivals (right in the middle of the city! Where did they have the space for that?) and two visits to the zoo. If not, they were spending time with their mother, on short trips to the nearest beach. There were a bunch of stickers. In fact, two postcards were mostly just stickers and a cute drawing smushed in there. Maybe they were wondering when you’d write something back…

There was one postcard scrawled with crayons that caught your eye. It was sent to you not long after the one you sent earlier in summer break.

Is your green friend smiling now? Cove? I wanted to send you candy to give to your new friend. Candy makes me happy.

Mama laughed when she read your letter. Mama says Cove’s papa is funny. Mama also said sometimes Mamas and Papas do funny things for us. Because we are their babies. But we are not babies anymore, I dunno why she says silly things like this.

You guess this maybe was the postcard that came with a small box of hard candies. Mom took one look at the postcard and gift and told you it was likely because these were harder to melt. It was a little sticky because of how hot it still was, you bet. But not a goopy mess.

With a quick glance at the clock, you decided you still had time. It was almost 3pm. There was totally time.

You took a piece of paper from your special drawer. It had all your sparkly pens and colour pencils. Most importantly, your pretty paper. Instead of white paper with lines, it was the colour of the sea with starfish and coral at the corners.

Hello little fairy!

Sorry I took so long to write to you. I had a lot of things to do this summer. Cove is a lot of fun, but he’s still not very smiley yet. But I think he is magic!!! Like for realsies!!!

You decided to start by telling the story of Cove and the Amazing Alexander. Not about how Cove’s balloon popped at the end though. It was still too sad…

You were only getting started when you heard Lizzie yell super loudly from downstairs that Cove was here. You jumped off the final two steps, touching down with a smack as your two feet landed. Mom yells out to be careful when she hears the telltale sound of what you just did.

“I’m okay!” You tell back, but you hear mom sigh. She worries about the silliest things for sure.

Cove was waiting for you, by himself, cause Lizzie had already joined Mom in the kitchen. You don’t think he waited all that long but you still felt kind of bad…

With a skip in your step, you went up to him just as he stood up, a smile on his face.

“Hi,” he greets you softly, fidgeting with his glasses.

It wasn’t all that cold yet, but he was already sporting a long-sleeved shirt. Maybe it was just cause it had been a while since he could, since he got his cast off recently.

“Heya Cove!” Part of you wanted to hug him, but Ma and Mom told you to still be extra careful even though he could finally get his cast off, so you made sure you smiled extra sparkly for him. “Thanks for coming over to help with the decorating!”

“Yeah, it sounded… Fun.”

You grab both his hands to give them an excited shake, but before you can lead him to the kitchen, your mom calls out from the island counter, cleaning up with Lizzie and helping dry some dishes.

“Not just yet kiddos, I’ve just put them in the oven, so it’ll be a while. How about you bring Cove up to your room, hm? I’ll call you two back down when they’re ready.”

“Yeah, I’m just helping mom cause she said I could lick the spoon for icing,” Lizzie says in her sing-song voice.

Mom makes a big show of clutching her chest. “Defeated by icing, oh Lizzie, you’re leaving your mom out to frost-”

Lizzie gives out a huff as she rolls her eyes and you giggle. “Sure thing, mom! C’mon Cove.”

He probably knows the way to your room by now, but you like holding his hand. Cove still takes the time to look around even though your room hasn’t changed since the last time he was here.

Well. Not exactly because he spots the difference right away.

“Postcards?”

Oh. Right. You spent all that time with Cove this summer, but you never really did tell him about your fairy pen pal, huh?

You pat a spot in your room for him to sit as you gather them up. “Mmhm, it’s from my friend in Chicago!”

Cove’s mouth forms an ‘O’ shape as you hand over the postcards. “How do you become friends with someone who lives far away?”

“We’re pen pals!” You say like it answers everything. Cove’s face tells you all you need to now - he was confused and your answer didn’t tell him anything, which meant he thought it was bad and unhelpful. So you grab another pile of postcards and short letters, plop down next to him and begin to explain.

Like how and why you started writing to them, who they were and details like they’re kind of like Shiloh in that they only lived with their mom, they were two years younger, they lived in the city and their home was kind of tiny, they liked doodling and collecting stickers…

Cove was already on the latest set of postcards as you add on, “And they’re my best friend!”

It was like a magic spell was cast and turned Cove to stone because he freezes entirely.

“...Cove?” You turn to look at them, small bubbles of panic rising.

“Your best friend?” He was whispering so softly, which didn’t help that he sounded like something was stuck in his throat. His eyebrows were slowly forming a frown.

“Y-yeah, but…. Cove, what’s wrong?”

“B-But you said we were best friends!” He stands up with a shout, causing you to jump up too with a shock.

You did kind of say that, when Cove asked if you were friends during the sleepover but…

He was already starting to cry which made your heart fast and loud.

“Of course you are Cove!”

“But you just said I wasn’t!”

“I didn’t say that!”

He tosses the postcard all over and stomps his foot. “Yes you did! You said your pen pal was your best friend!”

You looked at him confused and unsure, but find yourself yelling back. “Yeah! Both of you are my best friends!”

“No!” He shouts again, crossing his arms. “You can only have one best friend!”

And the two of you became stuck in a circle of yes, no and crying because all of it made you confused and upset. Why was he so mad about this?

It became so loud that Mom came up to see what was wrong. You ran over to hug and tried to explain. You’re not sure she understood you fully but she was nodding, at least. She must have called Mr Holden or something because by the time she brought both of you back downstairs still hiccuping the tears back, he had dropped in a little while later.

He looked between you and Cove, sat on opposite sides of the sofa. You didn’t even have the energy to greet him like usual, even when he smiled at you. Mom had pulled him aside and started to whisper to him. Mom handed him a tupperbox of cupcakes - Lizzie still decorated them as she watched you from the stool she was using to reach the high counter, glancing from Mom to you and Cove.

“C’mon Cove,” He came back over and ruffled his hair. He looked away when he realised you were watching which made you feel pain and you could feel the tears again. He gets up and follows Ciff out without any issue, and for the first time since Cove moved to Sunset Bird, he left without you saying ‘Goodbye’.

But who cares, he was being stupid. Why couldn’t he understand that you could have many precious best friends if you wanted?! Both of them were important to you after all…

And you try and explain that to Mom once Cove left, and to Ma again. If both of them could understand, why couldn’t Cove…

It had been a whole day since the fight with Cove, but you still felt upset. Not even dance practice felt fun…

Lizzie was even being nice to you, offering to play whatever game you picked once you got back. It’s things like this that make you really love her, even if Lizzie was bossy most of the time. But it still bothered you, even as you played with her, that by the time the sun was setting on a what should be a happy Sunday…

“Hey, where are you going?” Lizzie stands up just as you do, as you run back upstairs.

You were on a mission now, you decided as you grab a bunch of letters between you and your pen pal. You simply yell out as you swing the front door open that you’re going to the Holdens, your Mom yelling back Alright but you had to be back for dinner soon.

You knock with your free hand, the other squishing the small stack of paper to your body. Mr Holden opens the door with a surprise.

“Hiya Mr Holden, sorry about yesterday.”

“Oh, it’s alright. It seems like my boy made you quite upset too. But, are you here to-”

“See Cove? Yep, can I?”

You watch as Mr Holden thinks on it for a little while, then nods. “Of course, kiddo. Do you remember where Cove’s room is?”

You nod. This would be the second time you would have been there, the first was after the first day of school you had together with Cove. It was super lucky, the two of you were in the same class and your seats were side by side.

You thank Mr Holden and he heads back to the kitchen counter after he makes sure you were fully inside. You walk to Cove room door, taking a deep breath. The door opens before you even land a knock, Cove staring at you in surprise when he realised you were there.

You expected him to slam the door in your face. Lizzie does that to everyone when she’s mad…

But he just… Stands there, not even looking at you, his eyes staring right at the floor.

“Hey Cove,” you manage to say, but it was so soft that you weren’t sure about your plan anymore.

“Hi.”

Oh, at least he greeted you back, right?

“Um… So uh, I was wondering if I could come in for a bit.”

He doesn’t look up, instead shuffling back in. He left his room door open, so you walk in and close it after. You liked Cove’s room, even if it felt kind of empty at the moment. You were helping him add more to his shell collection.

Once you were both in there, standing a space apart, the silence came back. You take in another deep breath.

“Sorry!”

“ ‘m sorry.”

Huh?

Cove finally looks up at you, eyes filled with tears again. “Oh Cove, please don’t cry I’m-”

“I’m sorry,” he’s already crying but he repeats his apology again. “I still want us to be- Be friends!”

“Of course we’re still friends! Best friends even!”

“B-But-”

You take out some of the postcards from your other bestie and start to talk. “A-And you can be their best friend too! I sent them a letter at the start of summer and they sent me so many postcards and some of them were asking about you!”

He looks surprised and rubs at his eyes to stop the tears. “You told them about me?”

“Mmhm! I promise you, they’ll like you too! And we can all be best friends together so… So uh…”

You start to fumble and ramble, about how it should be fine to have more than one best friend anyways cause you should be allowed to make your own rules. And that whoever made that old rule was stupid because Cove and you could do anything you wanted to anyways!

“And you can help me write the next one too! I was gonna write about what I did this summer and you were there for almost all of it so…!!”

He nods at last, and the postcards and short letters go flying as you rush to hug him.

Mom looks at the rather thick envelope with a smile.

“You sure you got everything packed up in here, kids?”

You look to Cove and he gives a firm nod. “Yes… Uh, we made sure to read everything three times so we got everything.”

“The whooooole summer adventure,” you nod seriously, your hands together motion in a wide circle as you tell mom.

Mom laughs and ruffles both your heads, Cove ducking a little. Your mom promises to get it delivered and you grab onto Cove excitedly. You already can’t wait to hear back!

[last note from me this chapter: my friend 'weebnt_b' read through the new chapter but they're kind of not feeling too good, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know!

#cove holden #our life beginnings & always #my fic #my writing #our life now and forever #From Golden Grove Love Sunset Bird fic #We're still friends even if we're miles apart fic series

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roboticonography · 1 year

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First line fic meme

I was tagged by @laviejaguardia, thanks Lina! ❤️

Special shoutout to dynamic duo @doctorhelena and @buckywiththegoodhair86, who tagged me in a similar version of the same meme, but without the line about "conclusions".

Rules: post the first lines of your last 10 fics/chapters posted on AO3 (if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics) and try to draw some conclusions.

(P.S. I interpreted "first line" as "first paragraph." Also, I cheated a little on #10, because I enjoy that punchline.)

1. A New Name For Everything (Steve/Peggy)

It’s strange, Peggy thinks, to be back in Howard’s penthouse again.

2. When the Day Appears (Steve/Peggy)

The first day is an emotional whirlwind: they laugh, they cry, they argue, and they dance.

3. To Be Where You Are (Steve/Peggy)

“I don’t suppose anyone knows what happened to my razor,” said Steve, one chilly autumn afternoon.

4. The Nearness of You (Steve/Peggy)

The night before she’s due to leave town, Steve takes Peggy to a free movie night, at a park in his neighbourhood. He knows a lot of people would give him low marks for being cheap and unoriginal, but the only person he wants to impress doesn’t seem to mind.

5. Except Perhaps in Spring (Steve/Peggy)

As she would maintain for many years afterwards, Peggy hadn’t wanted to go to the pub in the first place.

6. Love Me Harder (Steve/Peggy)

It wasn’t until after the attack on Manhattan that Steve finally worked up the courage to call the number that Nick Fury had given him for Peggy Carter.

7. The Honeymoon Phase (Steve/Peggy)

Steve’s apartment in Brooklyn was easily as old as Steve himself, and he suspected some of the plumbing was original to the period. The aging wood floor sagged in some places, heaved in others, and felt slightly gritty, no matter how many times he swept and vacuumed. His bedroom was narrow and stuffy, with no closet; its single window had been painted shut, which was almost certainly a fire code violation. The walls were as thin and brittle as saltines, and a hot shower was a rare and elusive pursuit. Something—the appliances, the wiring, the ancient and temperamental radiator—was always breaking down.

8. All That Remains (Steve/Peggy)

A few weeks after Steve’s plane goes down, Peggy visits a tattoo parlour in London.

9. The Case of the Parisian Passenger (Steve/Peggy)

Mr. Jarvis stood on the wet tarmac, enjoying the peaceful chirp of crickets.

10. All Day, Every Day (Steve/Peggy)

Steve knew, objectively, that the time heist could have side effects. There was still a hell of a lot they didn’t know about the quantum realm; neither Bruce nor Scott had an entirely perfect understanding of the equipment; what Bruce had learned from the Ancient One about the flow of time had really only muddied the waters. Before Steve’s departure, Bruce and Scott had made at least half a dozen bets on how the mission would go. Running into a second version of Steve, already on Asgard, had just put Bruce ahead by twenty bucks.

Conclusions

I'm a big fan of a relatively mundane first line, usually one that stands completely alone. I like to ease into a story like getting into a warm bath. (Except in the case of All Day, Every Day, where I wanted the reader to feel the same confusion and disorientation Steve feels, and will continue to feel for several more chapters.) I also generally like to establish who the POV character is within the first paragraph.

Also, I tend to only describe settings if it tells us something about character or plot. That opener for The Honeymoon Phase really makes a whole meal out of Steve's sad apartment, but that's because (a) it tells us a lot about how stubborn Steve is, and to what extent he's willing to put up with minor annoyances to get something he wants and (b) later in the story, when Peggy spends all that time in Steve's apartment, we know she must really, deeply care about him to put up with painted-shut windows and cold showers.

Also, I wish I was able to finish fics a little faster. Ah, well.

It seems like most of my moots have already been tagged in this one, but if you haven't and you want to be, consider yourself tagged!

#a wild meme appeared #first line tag game

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wannagototheocean · 1 year

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sir

sir, i think i like you. i bully you on purpose (i planned your death on purpose too). but its fine, you’ll never like me anyways.

your wife is a saint. Mrs Grant. she let you name your kids those stupid medieval names, like henry and william. she is a saint.

today i found myself wondering what it would be like to take your last name. would it look good with my first? i wouldn’t hyphenate it. no. i wouldn’t do you the dishonour. i would take your last name. i would take multiple things for you. your wife took your last name.

i awkwardly find myself drawing parallels between your wife and i. she is a small white woman with funny coloured hair and lovely little dresses. she’s your wife so she must be your type. right? she is your sun, your moon, the reason you breathe. your day starts and end with her. your world starts and ends with her. she is the mother of your children. she has bore you two sons. I can see it. your wedding, so pretty. she was so pretty. you had a suit on and a tie. she wore her white dress and your mother wore her pearls.

she has cried on your shoulder oh so many times. you know the relationship she has with her father, you protect her from it. you have wept with her, to her, against her, for her. she has held your head as you cry. she sleeps in your arms. you cum in her womb. through sickness and in health, she has seen it all. the vow you both made. her to be yours. and you to be hers.

you have not vowed to me. not even to be a good teacher. you cannot control a class. you cannot control me. you give the boys too much attention and would rather talk about football and starwars than actually teach us. everything i do is for your attention and you do not even have the decency to palm me off a little. when you walk past me, you do not see the girl waiting for a smile. you see many students you once had, or will have, or do have. in one way or another. i must succumb to staring longingly at the reflection of light in your glasses, hoping you see my obedient eyes oh so dutiful. i am oh so dutiful.

i am not like your wife. i am tall. i am ugly. i am as wide as a whale that takes up too much space. i hollar as a man and whinge as a child. i open my mouth and you are disgusted with me. i disgust you. my stench disgusts you. the way i bat my eyes, twirl my hair, outlandishly disobey you, try to get you fired, i disgust you. or i should disgust you.

however somethings, i can make my eyes twinkle. and in the moments i hear you stutter, when you speak to me less harshly, when i feel your soul shake in the way only my soul does. i almost forget all the the times you have been mean to me. i almost forget that your wife has a life. i almost forget that her life is not mine.

i would never allow our children to be called such boring names. nor would i scream your name in bed. i would not because i do not indulge your quirky behaviours. i am a jealous girl. i could not see you talking to another girl let alone another woman. when those other girls look at you, when they put on lipgloss and show up early to your class, i would not allow it. i would be with you. we would spend our lunch breaks together. i would fuck you every single night. i would bind you to me. and at the end of the isle, i would speak your name in my voice that only you can recognise.

but sir sounds better. does it not?

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pointofvee · 2 years

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Missing: The Other Side - Rant/Review

I picked up this show on a whim, just cause I liked how spooky everything looked. And of course, we're in October so some ghosts are necessary. But since I'm the biggest wimp I know, I picked very pleasant ghosts.

With that intro let us dive into the premise of this kdrama. Kim Wook is a professional swindler (with a particular hate for capitalism and people who profit off of it). When one such heist draws him into a near death experience, he finds himself spiraling head first into a village full of ghosts (quite literally) -- who he learns are spirits of missing dead people on the live side of the veil. He also realises that he's one of the few rare people who can see this village while the rest of the living, keep living. Despite initial hesitance Wook finds himself helping solve the mysteries of the villagers' deaths so they can be found and hence move on but little does he expect to be challenged with bigger mysteries than his ability to see ghosts.

TW: Mentions of death, grief, loss, depression

As usual we're going to list all the things we liked first:

I. CONCEPT:

First of all the story has the haunting tone following it through every episode. But it’s grounded in kindness. I like how the dead can liven up a desolated place with all the memories they’ve made in this life — showing how important it is to cherish things in your life. Even how pain and trauma - exception to the moment you pass away - you bring it into the next stage, how it doesn’t dissipate just because one does not have a body now. We see how places the spirits exist in are completely repressed of light the moment they pass on from their middling form (one waiting to be discovered). Also how a person's grief can be so strong, their eyes can see the other side. The very physical embodiment is portrayed, of what it's like, to lose someone, what it takes to move past that and how it literally takes a village to move some boulders of your chest.

The writers could have easily slipped into making the show trauma porn but they've managed to achieve a delicate balance and sensitivity (I see you My Name)

II. ACTING:

If a drama is written to process grief, it most definitely makes you cry. This was not unexpected when I got to watching Missing. Everybody on the show does their best to embody their roles and do the script justice. For me it wasn't even Go Soo as Kim Wook that stood out, it was Heo Joon Ho. A part of me predicted that if he ever focused that quite intensity he often fills into his antagonist roles (Come and Hug Me for example) into portraying grief he’s perfectly capable of breaking my heart on screen. As Jang Pan Sook in the series, he did just that. His character’s isolation and deep resentment and relentless pursuit for peace of mind managed to make a lasting impression on me — I wanted to reach out through the screen to give him a hug. It lightened my heart every time there are moments of levity for him, every time he allows himself comfort from the people around him, every time he works hard to look past the anger festering inside. He builds this odd kind of courage inside me.

You also see how Mr. Jang carries his grief with him, looking for his missing daughter, stagnant in a permanent state of remorse to his wife for still not being able to join her in death cause he couldn’t find their daughter. Never letting even a single detail of his daughter’s face fade away from his memory by surrounding himself with her missing posters at home and deeply aggrieved towards the higher power that brought all the dead people to that town. Conflicted about wanting to see his daughter alive and so exhausting all options but also running to the veil every single time the bell at the village rang with hope cause he can finally fully grieve for the loss. We see how not knowing is a whole other way of torment besides knowing we've lost someone. Even if you don't watch it for any other reason, I would recommend you to watch this show just to see Mr. Jang.

III. COMPLEXITY AND COHERENCY:

Initially I thought the show was going to treat each missing person's case as a story in itself and hence the format is going to be episodic like the kdrama Tomorrow while we have each character's arc progressing in the backend. But what I thought were individual cases were tied so beautifully together to draw attention to a bigger mystery. They've managed to keep the mystery, provided the jaw drops but did it while the story was not written in a breakneck pace. I appreciate that the story was kept to 12 episodes instead of trying to stretch it further just to accommodate 16 episodes, as is the usual pattern for kdramas. The ending is left ambiguous to give possibility for another season, so we shall see. Some shows are good to be kept at a single season and for me this season has covered all of its tracks so I don't necessarily look forward to a sequel unless they can take a completely new direction and still keep the wonderful lulling tone and heart. [ I did hear rumors that Lee Jung Eun is going to be cast in Season 2, and if that's true I will faithfully watch the seq cause she's had my heart since When The Camellia Blooms]

IV. CINEMATOGRAPHY:

The set design is amazing, they had few working pieces and they made good use of it and the shots were very whimsical. The CGI never looked off-putting or awkwardly stuffed into a scene and most specifically it was not overdone.

List of things that work against the drama. (Disclaimer that these are things that I've picked up on a macro level)

I. When one adapts such a strong concept they want to make sure that the actors are never having a single lax moment. There were moments in the show where you’re conflicted cause you feel your heart ache cause of the incident that just took place, but your attention is distracted cause of the acting. Only few moments of course, but these moments either felt very caricaturistic or the nuance was lost and it came off too strong (not from Heo Joon Ho though, he was phenomenal).

II. Moon Yoo Kang as Kim Nam Gook (remember that guy who gets slapped by Yi Seo in Itaewon Class because he was a class A entitled douchebag? Yes, that one) was a surprise casting for me and he was severely underused for his part. His character is a very crucial piece of the puzzle but he doesn't have enough screen time and when his arc is done, you don't feel a lot of attachment to him despite the show trying to convince you through peripheral characters that you do.

Oh wow, I was trying to dig up more points from my memory about any other minor downfalls but I couldn't come up with any. Maybe it's cause of when I watched it, I'd probably be more aware of the shows flaws with time, or might gain more appreciation for it.

That's a wrap. I have more films and shows listed on my "to-watch and review" list and I'm excited to go through them as well! Hope you're having a good day wherever you are🍀

#kdrama review #tv show review #missing: the other side

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 2 years

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I’m listening to this Daniel Kitson radio show from 2006, and to be honest when I started it I thought I’d probably end up skipping some of the songs, because his whole thing is being into indie rock and I resent indie rock for being brought into folk festivals by organizers that want to draw in a young and cool crowd and think indie rock will do it. And they’re right, indie rock does draw in a young and cool crowd. The plan would work perfectly if indie rock were folk music, the drawback being that it fucking isn’t, and that doesn’t seem to bother the promoters.

That has, to be honest, probably poisoned me against some stuff that falls under an “indie rock” category (which is a pretty broad and nebulous term, but so is folk music, though the term “folk music” isn’t so broad that we should include Bon Iver in it) that I’d probably like. So I went into these radio recordings thinking I’d give the songs a shot and try to keep an open mind, and I’ve actually listened to most of these 2006 episodes now without skipping a single song. I’ve really liked most of them. It’s a bit weird because a few months ago I listened to some similar radio show episodes he did in 2009, and in that one I liked some of the songs but disliked others and most I thought were just okay. I genuinely cannot tell whether he’s playing better music in these ones (or music that’s more to my taste), or whether I’m just doing a better job at the open mindedness thing. But I’m really enjoying it.

Anyway, the show is Kitson playing songs, telling stories, talking about nothing, and sometimes playing stand-up comedy. So far he’s played Mitch Hedberg, Demitri Martin, and Rowan Atkinson, so, you know, characteristically eclectic. But that last one reminded me of how fucking good this sketch is, which is the actual reason I’m making this post, just to share Rowan Atkinson’s devil sketch. It was on the Rowan Atkinson stand-up album, which was in the rotation of Britcom CDs my dad used to play in the car when I was a kid, and this one was my absolute favourite. I had not heard or thought about the devil sketch in many years, but as I listened this morning to it playing on that radio show, I could still recite almost every word of it along with the recording.

youtube

Still amazingly funny. When it finished playing, Daniel Kitson actually said he was a bit disappointed, because it was good, but he hadn’t heard it in a long time and it wasn’t quite as good as he remembered. For once I disagree with him, it was exactly as funny as I remembered. He is amazingly funny. I’m now also remembering some other stuff I loved as a kid - my dad had VHS tapes of the first three Secret Policeman’s Ball shows, and I remember crying with laughter at Rowan Atkinson specifically in some of those sketches. Maybe I should try to find that again, see if it holds up too.

I mean, not everything holds up. I re-watched all of Mr. Bean in 2020, and it’s definitely less funny now that I’m no longer ten years old. And, you know, apologies to James Acaster and everything for venerating this. And Acaster aside, I’m not going to work too hard to talk about how great Rowan Atkinson is generally, when he’s just another comedian from that generation who was a very big deal and then got old and got with a woman half his age and now defends racist comments and complains about cancel culture. But Jesus Christ, he was sometimes very funny.

Oh, and in case anyone’s curious, of all the songs I’ve heard played on these radio episodes that I’m trying to hear with an open mind to indie rock, this is my favourite and one of a few that’ll get added to my collection.

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amberjazmyn · 6 months

Text

kian egan one-shot

𝓲𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓮 - "whenever you're ready, baby girl"

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 - sadness, girl dad!kian, child loss, terminal illness, crying, just genuinely upsetting, surrender by natalie taylor if that even counts as a warning

𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 - kian's little girl always seemed to draw the short straw in her short life. first, she was born way earlier than she was meant to be, had what seemed like hundreds of surgeries and hospital stays and was then diagnosed with terminal cancer that shortened her life which was always uncertain from the beginning.

𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻'𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮 - i know i seem to give the saddest and most depressing of scenarios to nicky and kian, but i am sorry but i promise i'll make sure i'll make the next kian imagine a happy one where he is a happy girl dad. also this is kind of made because kian has mentioned before that he would love to have a little girl so why i'm giving him a little girl fictionally and then having it die, i have no idea but, i am. as always, lyrics in bold italics, flashbacks in italics, present in normal font and it'll be written in lowercase because of how depressing it is.

masterlist

- - -

being diagnosed with cancer or really any illness at any age was a nightmare and indeed the worst thing that could happen to a family. however, for nine-year-old willow egan, daughter of westlife's kian egan and hollyoaks actress and wonderland's jodi albert, it was even more nightmarish. especially since everything about her illness and cancer diagnosis was posted on nearly every single social media site and magazine because of how high profile her parents arer and how famous that then made her and her baby brother by proxy. in saying that though, it didn't really bother the young nine-year-old too much because at the end of the day, she was able to share her experiences with her specific cancer and give those young people who were also dealing with the same thing that they had someone else their age who understood what they were going through and that ultimately, they weren't alone in their fight with cancer.

however, there did come a stage where willow could feel herself start to give up and, it seemed as though everyone in her family and extended westlife family could also see it happening, which terrified them.

we let the waters rise, we drifted to survive.

by the minute, willow was getting weaker and the cancer was getting so much stronger to the point where she felt like she was merely drifting, treading through the water to survive the day let alone the next one. not only was this having a weighing effect on willow, but it was also having the same effect on her parents, kian and jodi, her baby brother koa as well as the extended westlife family who she called her uncles, aunties and cousins. going through this with willow was starting to weigh everyone down. not because the girl was a burden, but because they knew she was getting weaker as the days went by and were getting ready to let go.

one year ago

it felt like all the walls in the doctor's office were closing in on kian and his wife jodi. they never imagined they'd be getting this news after another regular hospital trip for their first child, eight-year-old willow egan.

"...mr egan? kian, did you hear what i just told you?" willow's doctor, dr phelps questioned, kian blinked a couple of times before responding

"no, sorry, what did you say? could you please repeat that?" kian still sounded like he was so far away from dr phelps' office but did his best to not tune out this time since it seemed as though it was quite important what he was telling him and jodi

"i was saying that, with willow's recent diagnosis of terminal cancer, she can still try chemotherapy and maybe a little bit of radiotherapy but we are not certain that it'll work in the way it usually would if we had seen it earlier..."

ahh, yes, that's what the conversation was about, his eldest and only daughter had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. and they were talking about roads of treatment and how successful they could potentially be for a tiny little eight-year-old. kian could feel a sob building in his throat and it seemed like his wife could feel it too, holding her husband's hand tightly, she just wished they were anywhere but in dr phelps' office right now.

"...ah, umm, so, theoretically speaking, if our daughter...willow, was to undergo a round or couple of chemotherapy and maybe radiotherapy, how long would you say we'd have her with us, realistically?" kian gulped as he fiddled with the scrunched up tissue in his palm as he squeezed jodi's hand with the other one

"now, mr egan, i really couldn't tell you because this is so new and so late in finding the cancer, we truly have no idea how long it could potentially prolong her life. but, once the chemo and radiotherapy do start, then we can start estimating things like that..." dr phelps responded as kian felt his heart shatter

jodi feeling like she was holding it all together, his face almost crumbling as he then turned away from the doctor. then he caught a glimpse of his precious baby girl sitting ever so peacefully in the waiting room with her uncles nicky and shane. the both of them lovingly putting their hands up to take care of her whilst uncle mark put his hand up to take care of her baby brother koa.

"...she doesn't deserve this..." kian croaked out, bringing his tissue up to cover his face as jodi comforted her husband whilst dr phelps sighed solemnly

"...no, she doesn't kian, no one her age does. she's so young but, unfortunately, these things happen and it's absolutely cruel. but i promise, we'll do everything we can to make sure your little girl has the best chance of surviving and beating her cancer since she was so strong during all of her other surgeries and ailments," dr phelps was confident in the idea that once again, little willow was going to survive another diagnosis

but, heartbreakingly, kian and jodi thought otherwise and it seemed as though, in willow's eyes, she too thought the same thing as her parents

willow's pov

i lay in my hospital bed, a smile on my face as i saw my mum, dad and baby brother open the door and let in my three westlife uncles. leaving me alone to spend time with them whilst they went to get lunch. usually, it would only be two, maybe one, allowed in my room. but, by an exception rule, i was allowed to have more than just one or two in my room at once.

"hey will," uncle nicky smiled, closing the door behind him since he was the last one to file into the room

"hey, uncle nico!" i smiled as i then gave him a hug since i had already given uncle shane and uncle mark a hug beforehand

my smile then quickly disappeared as i caught a glimpse of my dad looking like he was crying. but, he was trying to be discrete about it as i looked out of the window behind uncle nico's shoulder. even though he was supposed to be getting lunch with mum and koa. it seemed like uncle nico, uncle shane and uncle mark all noticed it even though i also tried to be discrete about it.

"why are you suddenly so upset, will? you were just smiling a second ago, what's up chickadee?" uncle shane spoke up as he got himself comfortable on my bed, immediately grabbing my hand to hold - not for my comfort but for his even though it did make me feel ten times better

"dad's crying, uncle shay but he's trying to hide it even though he's supposed to be getting lunch with mum and koa. why won't he cry in front of me or when he thinks i can't see it? i just wish he'd be more vulnerable with me because i always tell him when i'm sad or when i'm scared... so why can't he?" i sighed as all three uncles, nico, shay and mark gave me empathetic smiles as uncle shay takes a big breath in, mark and nico letting shay explain

"well, my little chickadee, it's slightly complicated because, whilst your daddy has always been an emotional person like i am, it's different when it comes to you and koa. he doesn't tend to cry in front of you two because he knows that, one, koa won't completely understand why daddy's upset but does know something is wrong and two, he knows that if you see him cry that it'll either worry you or question him on why he's crying. he just doesn't want you to worry about why he's crying because sometimes, he's just crying because of how much he really loves you, koa and your mummy..." uncle shay trailed off as he caressed my hand comfortingly as i nodded my head, feeling somewhat better

"...he also wishes that if he could, he would switch places with you. have him be in this bed and sick but, marky, nico and i always tell him that that would have been even worse. we all wish that you didn't have to deal with this. because you always seemed to be given the short straws in life. but, we are all so glad that we still get to have you with us at this very moment, right now. because right now is what's important, okay? not tomorrow, not yesterday, not next week or the next week. today, right now, okay, you understand?" uncle shay explained as i smiled softly and nodded my head as i then smiled at uncle nico and uncle mark to reassure them

a knock at my door then got everyone's attention. my day nurse walked into my room, letting me know that i was being given another dose of treatment. even though i knew it wasn't really doing anything to help me as it used to when i first started it a year ago.

i needed you to stay, but i let you drift away

when eight-year-old willow was first diagnosed, although she needed everyone to stay, she began to drift away. away from her parents, her brother, uncles and aunties and even her cousins. although she didn't want to, she was doing it because she didn't want her family to see her like they were going to. so, before it was to start happening, she made sure to have everyone stay away from her. except, even though she thought it worked, it really didn't work, even though willow resisted at times.

willow's pov

having to hide my treatment from my baby brother and cousins for the first couple of months was probably the hardest thing ever. anytime they tried to come into my room to spend time with me, i'd push them away and tell them that i was tired or that i was feeling sick and couldn't spend time with them. which, in all fairness to me, wasn't always a lie since i do have cancer and that makes you feel ill. but, when i did start my chemo treatments, i was beginning to feel a lot better that i could realistically deal with hanging out and chatting with my cousins rather than entirely and selfishly shutting them out. however, there just came to a point where i couldn't hide the treatments any longer and, one day when it was me giving myself doses of chemo, my brother koa and my cousin nicole, who was holding koa, had run into my room. before nicole screamed, causing a whole frenzy and literal cavalier of parents, uncles and nurses to rush into my room as though something was wrong with me. but, to be fair, i couldn't blame nor be mad at nicole since i don't think any of my cousins or koa were told that some days, i would be giving myself solo dosages if my regular day nurses weren't available to do it for me. and since it was the first time they had seen me do it, let alone at all and had no idea i was even getting treatment, i understood nicole and koa's fear because i myself wanted to scream when i was told that i'd have to learn to do my own dosages as well.

"...nicole! willow! is everything okay? why did you scream nicole?!" uncle shane suddenly barges in, the rest of the cavalier behind him

only to see that i was calmly doing my chemo dosages calming him down. only for him to turn around and see nicole, holding koa to her chest, hugging each other. the both of them cramped near one of my chest of drawers in the far corner of my hospital room in distress

the moment uncle shane, dad, uncle nicky, uncle mark and mum saw that, it seemed like their hearts all individually broke.then, immediately, nicole saw my dad and bolted over to him after giving koa a sweet kiss on his head of hair and handing him over. before she then ran over to her own dad as well. watching it all go down made me feel like i was in trouble since i should have realised that nicole and koa were going to come in and that i should have waited until after they had left to do my chemo doses, not whilst they were walking in.

uncle nicky seemed to notice this and immediately took action whilst mum and dad calmed down a sobbing koa and whilst uncle mark and uncle shane calmed down a sobbing nicole, "oh, baby. willow, come here sweetheart!" uncle nicky whispered as he held me as tightly as he could whilst not messing up my ivs and drips that i had attached to me whilst receiving chemo

"is...is this all my fault uncle nicky? why koa and nicole are crying?" i whispered, too scared to speak any louder just in case i would get in trouble as uncle nicky's face nearly collapsed as he shook his head, his eyes sincere

"absolutely not chica! it is not your fault at all! whilst you knew that your brother and cousin were coming in to visit you, you didn't know when which was for sure not your fault at all! and it wasn't koa and nicole's fault either. not like koa would understand but they weren't even told that you were taking treatments or that some days you'd be doing it yourself. so don't put that blame on yourself, you don't need that extra baggage, babe. you are not in trouble at all," uncle nicky insisted as i nodded my head, wholeheartedly believing him as he hugged me again as i smiled softly

however, koa and nicole had been comforted enough to where they were able to hang out with me and talk, well, me and nicole did. koa just sat in my lap and was being cute. that was until they were quickly ushered out, along with uncle shane, uncle mark and uncle nicky when my nurses and parents looked devastated. as if they had some sad news they needed to tell me that was going to most definitely be sad. but, to me, the news seemed obvious so it confused me why mum and dad looked so upset.

my nurse then started to explain the news in more detail to mum and dad. but, because i had already overheard this news and already kind of seen it coming, i tuned out. only tuning back in when dad broke down in tears abruptly, apologising to the nurse, mum and me before walking out of the hospital room.

"...i...i am so sorry..." dad sobbed out as he then abruptly left, running down the hallway of the hospital floor as i tuned back in

and i was confused as i saw the way the family outside reacted. uncle shay giving nicole to uncle mark as he started to run after dad.

"...willow, sweetpea, did you hear anything that the nurse just said?" mum then spoke up as i slowly shook my head no as she took a breath in before smiling, slightly brushing my hair

"n...no, why? did i do something wrong, mam? where...where's daddy going? i...i need him, mummy..." i trailed off as fear engulfed me as mum hugged me before letting go and explaining to me what my nurse had said before dad ran off

"...oh, chickee, no, you haven't done anything wrong...it's just, your nurse was explaining to us that the chemo isn't working anymore, you know that right?" mum trembled, her hands resting on my shoulders

i was worried for less than a second before realising that it had been mentioned to me before. even though i did have a sense it stopped working properly as i nodded my head.

"yeah...yeah, of course, i know that, it was mentioned to me before," i smiled, obviously not understanding properly as mum gasped out a small cry, stopping herself from fully crying as i looked at her in confusion

"do you understand what that means, willow?" mum looked at me with a sad questioning look, it took me some time to process it but i slowly nodded my head

"yeah...yeah, it means that it's no longer effectively treating my cancer..." wait, the chemo is no longer effectively treating my cancer... does that mean i'm going to die before i turn ten?

"...wait, umm, nurse, could you...could you please go and find my dad? don't worry about me, i have mum with me, she knows what to do, thanks..." i was trying to comprehend all of this news and it was difficult

yet this hospital and these four walls have been basically my whole life. and especially considering this chemo hasn't been effectively working for ages and only now i've fully realised it?

"...of course willow. as soon as i find your dad, i'll invite him in," the nurse smiled and left with nothing more as i smiled back at her as i watched her leave

"thanks..." i breathed out as she left to find dad as it was now just mum and me as she then spoke up

"babe, why'd you send the nurse out to find dad?" that was all it took for me to collapse in her arms as i started to panic

"oh, babe, what's wrong?" she reacted, rubbing my back as she hugged me as tightly as she physically could as i slowly started to feel better

"i...i'm scared mummy, i...i don't want to die," i panicked as mum hugged me again and rubbed my back before pulling away, her hands on my shoulders

"darling, you are not going to die. you are going to be absolutely fine. we've only been told the results of the chemo treatments, we also have you in radiotherapy and still haven't been given the results about how that's going. so, who knows, maybe whilst the chemo isn't working, the radiotherapy might be and that's why it could be affecting the chemo results? don't always look on the negative side sweetheart," mum smiled softly, rubbing my shoulders as i nodded my head because mum did have a point - we still hadn't been given my radiotherapy results yet

however, in the split second of being comforted by my mum and feeling wide awake, i suddenly felt limp and grew tired. falling forwards into mum's grip, and in a state of pure quick thinking and keeping calm and collected, mum hit the emergency button. this then immediately paged one of my nurses to my room.

"mummy...i...i'm tired...i'm...i'm so tired..." i mumbled out sleepily as i felt mum's breathing quicken as she held me after her hand released the emergency button as i weakly smiled

"--nurses to room 452, cancer patient, nurses to room 452, cancer patient..." was heard over the loudspeakers through the hospital floor which i could tell would freak out the rest of my family since they all were aware of my room number

suddenly, doctors and nurses swarmed my room, immediately removing my mum's grip from me as they laid me back down properly on my bed. the last thing i remembered hearing was the nurse screaming, "everyone get out now!"

my love, where are you? my love, where are you?

thankfully, the real reason why willow was tired wasn't that she was about to die. it was just simply because of the chemo dosage. she had accidentally given herself a little too much than she was supposed to. and it was suspected that it happened when the koa, nicole panic situation happened. which, at first worried everyone but, it was quickly levelled properly and willow was fine again. she was now in a deep sleep and in a place of everything being at the levels they were supposed to be. however, willow could tell that her dad was resting next to his daughter and silently crying whilst uncle shay tried to calm him down as jodi took care of the kids.

willow's pov

thankfully, after the scare i had with my chemo dosage, i woke up around four-ish hours later. but, i was keepin my eyes closed, simply resting them whilst dad cried into my hand that i had laid at my side as he caressed it. uncle shay sat next to him and comforted him. even though i was resting my eyes and somewhat awake, i could hear him whisper.

"come on baby, where's all your energy gone? you've never been this tired before, what happened?" he whispered into my hand as i heard him cry as i could feel uncle shay try to comfort him

"it's not gone completely kino. she's just storing it all before using it when she's got all of it. she's still your daughter," uncle shay whispered to my dad as i smiled, he was right, i hadn't gone anywhere

"where is my little girl, will? open your eyes babe, it's been four hours! what's better up there as your reason to not open your eyes? come on darling, i wanna see your blue eyes!" dad started to sob and i broke my heart, now i understood why he always ran away from me when he started to cry as my eyes started to flutter open, uncle shay nudging dad to look up from my hands

"d...daddy," i mumbled as i slowly sat myself up, uncle shay nudging dad to look up, when he did he smiled small

"willow...are you okay? is something hurting? are you hungry? do you..."

"...daddy, i'm fine, calm down, please. i'm just tired but, nothing that a splash of water to the face and some food can't fix. i promise i am okay and, to answer your question, even if it was rhetorical, my energy hasn't completely disappeared. it's just halfway full and i'm wanting it to be all the way full before i start using it. and your little girl hasn't gone anywhere, i'm still here daddy," i smiled as i combed my fingers through his hair as he smiled, it slowly started to reach his eyes as tears welled in his eyes

"i'm never leaving daddy..."

whenever you're ready, whenever you're ready

willow was slowly starting to deteriorate and it was painful. not in a physical sense but in a mental sense. okay, maybe it physically hurt a litlte bit but, the girl never said anything because she didn't want to hear her doctors and nurses talking anymore. and she didn't want them giving her more harmful drugs in her system. however, willow's hospice carer and main oncologist, dr phelps realised what was going on. and then told willow's current guests, couins nicole and rocco to leave so dr phelps could talk to willow in private.

willow's pov

dr phelps knew something was up, he knew i was in pain. physically and mentally. however, this was the first time in a while that he was questioning me about it.

closing the door on my cousins, nicole and rocco, he sat down and gave me a raised eyebrow, "okay, come on small one. tell me what's up? there's something going on that you're not telling the rest of your family. so, tell me, what's going on?" dr phelps tilted his head to look at me, i had never felt this weak or small in my entire life as i huffed

"nothing dr phelps, i'm fine," i lied, again

yeah, this was something i had been doing this past month. especially considering i basically only had this month left before i drop dead anyway. so, might as well lie, right? which, when you remember the fact i'm nine years old and i'm saying this, is quite sad

"no, you're not willow. i've been by your side for the entire year and a half that you've gone through this. this is the exact opposite of how you acted so, what's wrong? you know if you don't or can't tell you parents, uncles or aunties, you can and have to tell me. so, spill, what is going through that little undeveloped head of yours?" although i really didn't want to laugh, dr phelps did always find a way in how he did his consults to make it lighthearted and comedic in the right places as i smiled

"seriously? do i have to?" i joked with a small giggle, acting like the teenager i'd never get to be as dr phelps nodded his head with a half smile

"uh-huh, come on small one. cough it up, what's wrong?" dr phelps smiled as i huffed, explaining everything to him, having no clue that my dad and uncle shay had walked past, hearing it all

"i'm tired dr phelps. like, in a way i've never been before and i...i'm so sore. the amount of pain i'm in is so painful it feels like i'm in pain every day. why...why can't it just stop doctor?" i was wanting to cry but, i couldn't because of how unbearable the pain was getting

"i know small one, i know how tired you are. but, are you able to hold on a little bit longer? just a little? i mean, it's almost your daddy's birthday. and, i know for a fact, even though i shouldn't say this, that one of your daddy's birthday wishes is for you to be there with the family and sing him happy birthday. you think you could hold on a little longer for that?" dr phelps stroked my cheeks as i shrugged my shoulders - i've gotten so tired that i'm just not so sure how much longer i can continue this fight, even though getting to daddy's next birthday would be amazing

"i...i want to but, i...i don't know anymore dr phelps," i mumbled when i heard a sob muffled by either a hand or someone's shoulder

looking past dr phelps, the door opened, and i noticed dad and uncle shay - dad crying into uncle shay's shoulder as uncle shay tried to once again comfort him.

"i...i'm sorry daddy but, i-i'm just so tired..." my eyes started to close as dr phelps let them know that i was sleeping, i was fine and my heart machine and the others alike were still working normally, i was just sleeping

"...it's alright guys, willow is okay. she's just sleeping, she's not dead," dr phelps smiled as they all nodded their heads, breathing a sigh of relief

"thanks, dr phelps. i think we're okay to watch her now. go and eat something, i'm sure you're starving, thank you again," dad whispered as dr phelps nodded his head and left shortly after as i felt dad grab my hand

whenever you're ready, whenever you're ready

willow was on the last stretch of her life before her cancer would take over her life and slowly kill her. she had been spending the last month on hospice treatment at her home in sligo with her family, the extended westlife family and dr phelps. the thing that hurt everyone the most other than the obvious was how much younger she looked. even though she was still just a kid at nine-years-old. she was weak, skinny and basically unrecognisable. to the point where baby koa sometimes couldn't recognise willow. she had just helped her family celebrate her dad's birthday just three weeks shy of coming back home for hospice care. she managed to get healthy enough to sit on her daddy's lap at a restaurant and sing happy birthday to him with the rest of the family. however, straight after, willow's health quickly declined and had her bedridden ever since.

willow's pov

i was so tired and weak and i always felt so sick that all i wanted to do was just sleep. however, i knew if i did close my eyes, there was a change i wouldn't open them again. and that would, no pun intended, kill my entire family but especially my dad. so, for the sake of my dad and the rest of my family, i tried. i tried so hard to keep my eyes open until i physically couldn't any longer.

"hey chickadee, you alright sweetpea?" uncle mark yawned as he slowly woke up, uncle shane already awake, nudging dad and uncle nico as they opened their eyes as well

for context, these four crazies had been with me all night. whilst mum and the other spouses volunteered to watch the other children whilst dr phelps could actually sleep through the night properly. because, normally, it's dr phelps that stays with me overnight in my bedroom, not my family.

"mm, i've been better uncle marky but, you know, it's life," i smirked weakley as he gave me a sad smile

dad hadn't let go of my hand, i started to stroke my finger against his hand as i gave him a small smile, "daddy, will i be forgotten about?" i mumble as dad gasps out, tears slowly landing on my hand

"oh, honey, no, never. you'll always be with me, mummy and koa. koa will be told everything about his older sister," he sobbed softly as i nodded my head, barely even able to acknowledge my other uncles who watched on in devastation

"daddy? i'm...i'm tired. can i go to sleep? when can i go home?" i was so weak and tired, i had never felt so little and like an infant until now

dad sobbed again, knowing the "home" i meant wasn't our physical home which my bedroom was in right now. uncle nico and uncle shay tried to comfort him whilst uncle mark comforted me.

"whenever you're ready, whenever you're ready baby girl," he sobbed into my hand as i breathed out softly, a small smile on face

can we, can we surrender? can we, can we surrender?"

it was now coming up to willow's last few days alive. and she was getting even more weaker if that was possible, as the days went on. she was slowly starting to surrender to her cancer and was wanting her dad and the family to do the same thing as well. they didn't deserve this. to have to constantly take care of her every single day when her dad and uncles were meant to be going on their last ever, farewell tour as westlife. but, it seemed as though since the birth of koa, back in december of 2011, and the cancer diagnosis and everything else with the westlife greatest hits compilation album and farewell tour, they were for now, halting their asian leg of the farewell tour until further notice. sacrificing it all to take care of her in her last months alive. willow saw it as something they didn't need, an extra "thing" they didn't need stressing over but they didn't. they all saw it as being heroes and just doing what was right. being together as a band a little bit longer before they end it so they could take care of their dying daughter and niece.

willow's pov

today was a quiet day, no one really said anything. as though everyone knew that i was coming to the last stretch of my life. so, dad, uncle nico, uncle mark and uncle shane all sat around my bed. whilst mum, aunty georgina, aunty gilian and their kids/my siblings sat around my room. they were all so upset and it was the first time i had everyone in my room all at the same time since leaving the hospital and coming home. but, it was the first time i had really seen dad so upset. sure, i had seen and heard him cry plenty of times but, not like this. and it sucked. i hated seeing anyone upset but none more so than my family, especially my dad. because it made me feel helpless, i mean, more than i already was. i literally couldn't move or do anything to make him feel better. hell, the only thing he wanted was for me to get better but, that was the one thing i definitely couldn't and have failed to do. slowly, the family started to trail out of my room leaving uncle mark with me. they all took advantage of the new starbucks and convenience store that had been built right on the corner of the street we live on. the rest of the family decided to walk over to for some lunch whilst uncle mark stayed back with me as that was the rule. i always needed at least one person to stay with me at all times, day and night.

"wanna know a secret, chickadee?" uncle mark whispered as i looked up at him, mustering all the strength i had to hold his hand

"what is it uncle marky?" i spoke softly, caressing his hand as he smiled

"i'm scared," what he said was so simple but it was heartbreaking as i nodded my head, believing him

"yeah? do you wanna know my secret?" i whispered as i held his hand slightly tighter as he combed his fingers through my hair as he nodded

"yeah, what is it?" he responded with a smile as i smiled back

"i'm scared too," i gulped as uncle mark nodded his head

but he didn't bring it back up straight away which confused me. until he finally did lift his head back up when a exposed tear that i don't think he meant to release streamed down his cheek.

"oh, uncle marky, don't cry," i whispered, slowly bringing my finger up to wipe it away which makes him laugh softly

"i'm scared, chickadee, of course, i'm going to cry," he whispered back as i smiled again, my finger that wiped his tear slowly coming back down to rest at my side

"you'll be fine, i promise uncle marky," i smiled as i fiddled weakly with my blanket as uncle mark hummed

"how do you know, will? you won't be here for it?" he whimpered as i pressed my lips together before bringing my finger up again to wipe another one one of his tears

"i'll always be here uncle mark, you just won't see me," i smiled as he sniffled, trying to look away as i struggled in grabbing his chin to look at me

"i...i'll miss you little chickadee," uncle mark whimpered as more tears fell down his cheeks, chuckling, not because i was insensitive but because i was thinking the same thing

"i'll miss you too uncle marky but, it's okay. i'll be th ghost that haunts you in your dreams every night *tearful giggles*. which sounds awful so, maybe not in your dreams. but, i'll be keeping you - all of you guys - safe. i'll give you signs every single day. if you ever need anything, just call my name, and i'll be there," i whispered to him as he nodded his head

he let his head fall into my arm as i cooed, my hand curving around the back of his head. i. then smoothed his hair to calm him down.

can we, can we surrender? i surrender

just like the day earlier, before willow and her family, said anything, it was figured out that she'd be spending some alone time with uncle shane. in the same way she did with uncle mark yesterday. with uncle shane crying and willow trying to comfort him, soothing him, the nine-year-old suddenly felt at peace. almost as if her surrender was coming to its end. just like yesterday, uncle shane had taken advantage of everyone else going around the corner for lunch. so, this time it was uncle shane that stayed with willow.

willow's pov

"...willow...willow..." whispering to wake me up, my eyes fluttered open and i woke up, uncle shane was sitting next to me

a small smile that barely reached his eyes on his face as he relaxed knowing i was still alive.

"...what's wrong uncle shay? are you okay?" i mumbled with worry, uncle shay scoffed and shook his head

his lip then trembled as if he was about to cry - oh no, please uncle shay, don't cry. i feel like all i've seen lately is you guys cry or be sad. and i just want us to get through a day without someone crying.

"i don't care if i'm okay, are you okay willow?" he responded as i was taken aback - i had never really been asked that question in a while and, i wasn't so sure how to give a truthful answer

"umm...yeah i'm fi--" just as i was about to lie, uncle shay caught me and prevented me even though i think he knew

he knew just like i did, that i wasn't lying on purpose. but because i just didn't know how to truthfully answer the question as he swallowed back a sob.

"--no you're not willow, please baby. don't lie to me, please tell me the truth sweetheart," he choked out as i looked up at him as my lip trembled

"i...i don't know uncle shay. i'm just, tired...so tired and i..." he cut me off, sobs softly wracking his body as his head fell onto my arm

"...please don't say it willow, please don't say it..." he sobbed as i took in a deep breath, as deep as i could and i whispered it

"...i surrender...i'm ready..." i whispered as i fell asleep, my heart machine beating steadily, uncle shay quietly sobbing as he brushed my hair back with one hand whilst the other one wiped away his tears

no one will win this time, i just want you back, i'm running to your side

it continued to come to willow's final days on earth and having one-on-one time with her family. and today, it was with uncle nico. also the girl when waking up after uncle shay had fallen asleep, started to write some letters for her family. she just hoped they were intelligible enough to be understood.

willow's pov

as i woke up from my short little nap, taking a quick look at my vitals, to make sure i didn't need to scream for dr phelps, i smiled. i saw uncle nico. with a small smile, with his arms crossed and his feet weirdly crossed as he rested his weight on the side post of my door frame.

"hey goober, am i allowed to enter your counselling room?" uncle nico joked as i smiled and laughed slightly

this entire time, uncle nico had been trying to make me laugh and, he finally did it. and, in all honesty, the both of us couldn't have been happier.

"a nine-year-old is qualified enough to be a therapist? nice joke uncle nico *giggles*. but, yes, you may enter, no one is stopping you from entering. as, this appointment is all yours, mr byrne. speaking of, what's up uncle nico, how are you dealing with this?" and yes, it went from zero to a hundred in seriousness quickly

but, it was because it is a serious topic as we both mirrored each other. crossed over arms and small smiles on our faces.

"i mean, i've been better but, i'm alright. but, most importantly, how are you willow? you haven't really cried once, why haven't you cried? you're meant to cry willow," uncle nico explained, his voice getting shaky quickly as i took in a deep breath and shrugged my shoulders

"i dunno," i shrugged, honestly, i had no idea why i hadn't cried yet

it was maybe because i didn't want to seem weaker than i already am.

"you've got to know willow, please. before this whole thing became this, you were always crying. almost every day and now it's the other way around, why?" uncle nico pleaded as, once again, i just shrugged my shoulders

"i don't know uncle nico, that's my honest response," i shrugged as uncle nico just bit his lip to stop his sobs from getting too loud

"just know that you are allowed to cry babe, no one is stopping you. hell, if you need to scream, just scream and we'll all be there to make it go away," uncle nico softly smiled as he gave me a kiss on the head as he then started to leave shortly after

but, before he could fully leave, i stopped him.

"...uncle nico, wait..." i called out, uncle nico stopping and turning around, smiling small

"...what's up babe, you okay?" he asked as he walked back over as i nodded my head but handed him something

"yeah, i'm okay. i just, i wanted to give you these since dr phelps can't take them. before you ask, i wrote everyone a letter as well as added a photo so you really don't forget me. and for the kids and my little egan, they have a separate letter even though i know they won't understand it until they're a lot older. and promise me you won't let them read the letters until after i die..." i muttered as i handed uncle nico the letters, i could tell he was struggling to accept the letters but did so anyway

"of course, i will. i'll make sure we won't forget you. i promise baby girl. thank you, willow," he whispered, kissing my cheek as i smiled as he walked out of my room for the shift change with dr phelps

flying my white flag, my white flag. my love, where are you, my love, where are you?

the countdown on willow's life was really quickly coming to an end and she wanted to make sure she got all the love, hugs and kisses and tears until her last breath. since the egan had said her final goodbye her baby brother koa, again a baby and has no clue what's happening, cousins, uncles, aunties and parents, she had forced her dad and uncles to slowly get back into the rehearsals for their farewell tour. and this was so they were still working to some degree. and, on one of the days off, dr phelps let willow be alone with her dad and uncles, not wanting to ruin it with them. and, it was comforting for the girl. the only talk between the group was every single memory that they shared together. willow, her dad, uncle nico, uncle shay and uncle mark were all cuddled up on the bed together.

willow's pov

talking about all the memories i've shared with my dad and uncles is the best way i could possibly begin the end of my time on this earth. dad, uncle nico, uncle shay and uncle mark were all cuddled up together on my bed. thankful that it was quite large so, it was nice being so close to each other because it was truly comforting.

"...oh oh oh! i just remembered another one!" uncle shay piped out as we all laughed at the tone of his voice - it went high-pitched for those who were wondering why it was funny

"i remember we were on the late late show, and we were being interviewed and performing our new single at the time. willow, you were in the audience but you were so calm and collected that ryan didn't know you were there until the end when i was mentioned. and you threw your hands up in such excitement because it was the first time you were being shouted out whilst being at a live interview with us. it was the cutest thing ever and i literally remember that like it was yesterday!" uncle shay explained as we all smiled as i grabbed my drink bottle to have a drink to disguise an oncoming cough, feeling fine afterwards

"wow, i totally forgot about that shay, does anyone have any others?" uncle mark giggled out as dad piped up for the first time in a while

"i have one..." dad piped up as we all turned to look at my dad who now looked as though he spends his days crying - which, he basically does at this stage

"what is it kino?" uncle nico smiled as dad took in a deep breath, puling me closer to him as i giggled softly

"when you ran on stage for the first time. you were waiting backstage with mum but got too excited that the moment you knew she wasn't looking, you took that as your chance...and you ran straight over to me. it was just aftere you got your cancer diagnosis and before we halted everything westlife. you had been looking forward to that show for so long that no one could even think to be mad at you, not even the host of the tv show, when you ran on stage to give me a hug and sing "you raise me up" with us," dad cuddled into me as i smiled - yeah that was a memory of mine that i remembered and well too

"another one was when me and koa surprised mum on her birthday by making her that photo album. even though i was the one that made it considering koa's a baby. but it was really cute seeing her reaction and how excited she was to receive it," i giggled softly as dad and my uncles agreed

just as we were about to continue our trip down memory lane, a knock came on my door. dr phelps behind it as he gave an apologetic look that he had to cut our time together short but, we understood.

"...hey guys. i am so sorry to do this but, i am afraid it is time to hook willow back up to all of her other machines that isn't her life-support machine. but, whilst i'm doing this, if anyone does have any concerns, queries or anything, do feel free to ask. and, if she's able to, willow can help me answer them, right wills?" dr phelps winked as i smiled and nodded my head

"of course, so, any questions?" i smiled softly as dad moved away from the bed, as did uncle mark, uncle shay and uncle nico so dr phelps could hook me up to the other machines again

reason being was for a certain amount everyday, i'd have some time off of those machines, except for my life-support machine. even though i should have been kept on all of these machines, it was only because i was coming to the end of my life that i was taking breaks from the other crucial machines i was hooked up to.

i then noticed that uncle nico had a question and he spoke up, "willow..." he begun as i smiled

"...yeah uncle nico, you got a question?" smiling at my uncle, i could tell that nico was going to break his own heart and then everyone else's with his question but i knew he had to ask it anyway

"how long will it take for you to die when all the machines are turned off, not just these ones you're getting hooked back onto?" uncle nico gave me a worried look as i smiled, knowing he was terrified of seeing it with his own eyes

"it depends, uncle nico. and if i'm right, it could take a couple of hours or an entire day, is that right dr phelps?" i responded, still asking dr phelps for help as he nods his head, letting me know i was correct

"yes, however, whilst we're talking about life support machines, willow can obviously die before we make the decision to turn her off life support if and when we come to that decision. because, sadly, we will have to come to that choice. like anyone on life support, whether it's due to cancer or because they're clinically brain dead or whatever, of course they can succumb to whatever caused them to be on life support to have them pass away before their day of their life support getting turned off happens. it just means the life-support machine will still beep because that's how we'll know that it's happened and we'll still have to turn it off. just, it wouldn't be the main reason why they've passed on, it'll just be that they've passed on before having to manually take her off of life-support." dr phelps expanded and i could tell that nearly took uncle nico to his knees

he managed to compose himself however as he nodded his head and squeezed my hand as i squeezed it back.

"any other questions?" i smiled as uncle shay took in a deep breath, dad staying frozen, obviously knowing the answers to these questions

which is why he didn't say anything, not that i think he wanted to say anything anyway which was fair.

"will it hurt? like, will you be able to feel any of it happening?" another thing that uncle shane and the rest of my family had been worried about when we were all told that i'd die soon - if it would hurt as i smiled

as dr phelps shook his head, i responded, "not at all uncle shay, it'll be like falling asleep or as though your blinking but you don't open your eyes to blink again," i smiled as i grabbed a tight squeeze of uncle shay's hand as he nodded his head

i then looked at uncle mark, i knew he wanted to say something. a way to stall dr phelps from eventually turning off the machines.

so, he did, "how would you feel if we went back to proper rehearsals for the farewell tour and interviews for the next week? would you be okay?" uncle mark said softly as my eyes lit up, nodding my head

"oh my gosh! i'd love for you guys to go back to rehearsals and interviews for the farewell tour for the next week! seriously! i can have mum and if you want, you can have the aunties here as well!" i was so excited as i think that released a lot of stress off of not just dad but my uncles as well

"well, then, that just leaves us to dedicate the farewell tour and the interview promotions to you! and i don't care what you say!" uncle shane buts in which makes us all giggle

"oh, thank you uncle shay! you know you didn't need to do that! i love you!" i laughed as uncle shay hugged me again as he kissed my face

"nope, we're doing it! no matter how many times you refuse it, these interviews and farewell tour is dedicated to you. we also agreed in advance anyway that they'd be dedicated to you so, no take backs!" uncle shay smiled as i rolled my eyes and smiled

"okay fine, if you feel like you need to, here is my full permission!" i smiled as my dad and uncles cheered, making me giggle

my love, where are you? my love, where are you?

the rehearsals for the farewell tour and interviews to promote it were over and they were on the third show of their final ever tour as westlife. it was the third show. the third show of their final tour that willow stayed alive. when, suddenly, during aunty georgina's shift of looking after her niece, willow's life support machine started to beat unevenly. that was when dr phelps said that, willow's time had come and aunty georgina had to say goodbye. georgina, of course, freaked out. the band were on stage in newcastle, united kingdom, nowhere near ireland. whilst the lads were performing on stage, she rang their tour manager, baz whelan. telling him that it had happened peacefully and that it would be better if the rest of the show, not the whole tour, just the show, had been cancelled. just so the lads could fly over to ireland and say their goodbyes to their daughter and niece.

willow's pov

since the last catch up, i managed to keep strong throughout the whole promotional interviews for the farewell tour and their rehearsals. and today was the third show of the entire tour. they were currently in newcastle, united kingdom for the first of their five consecutive shows there. even though i promised them i'd be alive by the time they finished their tour, being well enough to see their last ever show on june 23rd 2012 in croke park, dublin. but, i had a feeling that i wasn't going to be able to do that. but, i did not think i'd get to show three and that would be the day it'd happen. as i half slept peacefully, with aunty georgina, uncle nico's wife, softly singing to me and cuddling me in bed, my life support machine started to go awol as did my body. straight away, without hesitation, aunty georgina shot right up, running to get dr phelps. this is it, i'm going to die tonight. i'm scared, heck, what's a word that means the same thing as scared but means even more? i mean, i genuinely thought i'd make it at least, at least, to halfway through or even their first of their final weekend at croker, not their third show in newcastle!

"...aunty g, i...i'm tired, when can i go? i'm so tired," i sobbed, for the first time. wishing the rest of the family were here, so they knew i wasn't in pain

"oh, chickadee, it's alright baby girl!" aunty georgina soothed, running her fingers through my hair as i weakly smiled

"g...g, when...when can i let...let go?" it was like i was five again when i first seriously injured myself - i felt so young and like i was koa's age again as i sobbed weakly

"whenever you're ready baby girl, whenever you're ready," she whispered as i whimpered and then, after another verse of georgina singing, it happened, my life support machine started going, my body going, getting ready to flatline

beep....beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...beeeeeeeeeeeeeee....

i could hear everything. i could hear aunty georgina and dr phelps running to the bed. i could hear aunty georgina screaming at dr phelps to try and keep me alive just for a few hours longer so dad and my uncles could see me alive once more. just one last time. however, dr phelps couldn't so, aunty georgina, screamed and sobbed down the phone line. grabbing her phone to ring baz whelan, westlife's security guard telling him i was gone. hearing aunty georgina cry and scream like that hurt, it felt like i was getting thrown into a wall or getting stabbed near my heart.

"...dr phelps! please! do something! just keep her alive for a few hours longer please!" aunty georgina screamed, sobbing as i could just picture dr phelps and him shaking his head, telling aunty georgina that he, unfortunately, couldn't and that, it was time to pull the plug

"georgina, please, darling, i can't. i'm not allowed to, there is nothing more for me to do for your niece. she wasn't in any pain darling, you could see that, she is in complete peace. she was happy that you were with her in her last moments when both of her parents couldn't be. she couldn't feel anything at all. she was at peace with it, please, i know it is hard but, it's time to let her go georgina," dr phelps said softly as aunty georgina's cries got louder and more grief-stricken

"i...i can't let her go, dr phelps! please, just a little bit longer, let her parents and her uncles fly home to see her, please! let them say goodbye!" aunty georgina cried out as dr phelps just shook his head again, he couldn't, there was nothing else that could have been done to keep me alive

"i'm sorry georgina but, i have to. are you stable enough to ring baz to let him know so he can pass this information to the guys?" dr phelps spoke calmly but with a tinge of sadness as aunty georgina nodded her head

"yes," aunty georgina was trying so hard to calm herself down before calling baz

nicky's pov

the amount of fun the four of us were having on this farewell tour was insane. i genuinely never though that we'd be able to get this happy considering that was going on at home with our daughter/niece willow and my wife georgina who was looking after her. however, as we finished singing "uptown girl", baz came out on stage. he looked distressed and panicked. i bought my mic up to my mouth and i momentarily paused the show. the fans looked worried as if they had a slight idea of what was happening. since, it was very well known, not just in the westlife circle, about willow's cancer and her recent decline in health.

"...i...i am terribly sorry newcastle but it seems as though we need to momentarily pause the show. please, stick with us and we'll be back again as soon as possible, thanks guys! see you soon!" i announced as i looked between baz and kian - both of them looking like the sheer painting of distress and grief

when only, just a second ago, mark had made kian laugh. the first time the dad had laughed in what felt like forever. but then, in a split second, he was back to his grief-stricken face.

all four of us ran off stage to where baz was as he fights with himself as to how he should tell us. kian grabs ahold of my arm, which i don't mind. this could very well possibly be about willow. i also snake my arm around his waist and pull him close to me. then, baz dropped the gauntlet and told us when everything just came crashing down around us, not just kian, all of us.

"...guys, before i tell you this news, i want you all to take a deep breath and compose yourselves, okay?" baz begins as kian looks at me, without even needing to be told, he already knew what baz was going to say and my heart shattered at the look in kian's eyes

"what's wrong baz? are willow and g okay?" shane questioned, hoping they were okay as baz gave a slight shake of the head

"i...i'm sorry guys but, no, she isn't okay. g just called me in absolute hysterics. willow was half asleep half awake, g was with her, singing her to sleep and cuddling when, out of nowhere, willow's life support machine went awol. as did willow's body and then it stopped..." hearing that just completed my shattered heart but it obliterated kian's heart

he was hysterical and i had no idea what to do. kian's legs had almost collapsed from underneath him and i had no idea what to do. so, i just fell down with him, grabbing him just in time and turned his head into my shoulder, his body into mine. and he wept as i rubbed his back, his fingers digging into my back, not caring if it hurt - even though i knew it wasn't going to help him and nothing any of us did was going to bring willow back, it was the one thing i could do to help him control something.

the silence that filled the dressing room was piercing. it was so painfully quiet as i looked at baz to continue telling us what happened. although i knew kian didn't want to hear it, it was just so we had clarity. all i needed to know was if it hurt my niece or not.

"...was...was it painful? like, was she in any pain?" i stammered out as i could feel the tears welling in my eyes stream down my cheeks as i took in a shaky breath, holding kian tightly - baz giving me an emapthetic look

"not at all, nicky. georgina was told by dr phelps that it did not hurt at all and that she was in complete peace. she couldn't feel a single thing nicky. i'm going to announce to the fans that tonight's show will be cancelled but the rest of the five shows in newcastle will be done at a later, pushed back date," baz then announced as the four of us just stood in shock as we looked at each other and nodded our heads

"thank you baz. thanks so much. we'll grab our stuff and get to the car so we can get to the jet," i gulped as i knew this meant that the whole car ride and then plane back to ireland, kian would be inconsolable and so would jodi

and that, that made the rest of us feel horrible because we were all parents in this family, excluding mark, who was the fun uncle for our children.

the drive to the plane and then the plane ride was awful. straight up awful. no one could say anything, not even the songs of the radio in the car or jet could make us sing. it was as though they knew the bereavement that we had just gone through. as every single song was one sad song after another. kian couldn't stop crying, which, we didn't blame him for, whilst jodi held him close. whilst shane and gillian were told to keep an eye on me since i was the only one without my partner since she was already at the house back in ireland with dr phelps and willow. and mark and his partner were wondering how on earth we were going to tell our kids since they were all staying together with our parents.

finally arriving at the house in sligo, we were all dreading it. seeing all our cars there, telling us that whilst it seemed like it to others, we actually weren't there at all during willow's last moments. then, finally, for the first time since telling us, baz spoke up. letting us know that we had arrived and it was time for us to go inside the house.

"...come on lads, we're here," baz spoke softly, now this was something we were all scared of happening during the promotional interviews and rehearsals for the farewell tour - not during the tour itself - willow dying and us not being there for her

walking into the house felt strange. it felt eerie and like it was the most obvious thing that someone, a literal child, my niece and my best friend's daughter, willow, had just died. i grabbed a tight hold of kian whilst shane and gillian took care of jodi. my hand snaking around kian's waist as we walked into the house. georgina, my wife, is the first person we saw. it was so easy to tell that she had been crying the whole time, just like kian. she didn't say anything, we didn't need her to. i just included georgina into the hold i had with kian and i just held the both of them tightly as they both cried. i then went up to willow's room quickly to grab the letters before coming back down where everyone else had taken a seat on the couch.

"good that everyone is sat down but umm, i have something i need to give to you all..." i trailed off as i noticed how everyone watched me with such intensity

"...these. willow made me promise her that i would keep these letters a secret and that i would give them to you or even mention them until she died. we have the choice of reading them aloud to each other now or reading them privately whenever you feel ready to do so. there is one for each of us. including our children, kian and jodi and...and a letter for little koa that has been separated from their cousins. and along with the letter she added a photo of herself so we wouldn't forget her," i was so calm, except for the little falter when mentioning baby koa's letter and it was scary

but, honestly, i think it was nice for them all but kian and jodi especially, to have someone to be so calm. i then gulped, grabbing my own letter as well as kian's, ours being the two on the top.

"thanks, nico," kian muttered, jodi smiling gratefully as i smiled at the both of them with a small head nod

"of course kino," i smiled softly as i then walked out, with the idea to read my own letter privately because i knew i would cry and i didn't want to cry in front of everyone nor set kian and jodi off

i then walked into willow's room for one last goodbye alongside kian, jodi having just stepped out as i stepped in.

whenever you're ready, whenever you're ready

sliding our letters on the bedside table, kian and i were sitting with willow. she looked like she was fast asleep like she was about to wake up from that sleep. tightly holding his daughter's hand, kian refused to believe it, his eyes looking at his letter. he refused to believe that his only and eldest baby girl had actually died and done so peacefully. he wanted to believe that she was just going to wake up. holding her hand like he was and watching her like this took him back, all the way back to when he was meeting her for the very first time. and he would have her sleeping on his bare chest. yeah, sorry jodi, sleep time with willow was always going to be a daddy/daughter thing. except, that wasn't what was going to happen this time. this time, she was nine, staying at that age forever, and kian was in his early thirties, thereabouts and she wasn't going to wake up from a nap and have some quality time with her dad. this time, she was sleeping forever, peacefully. no more pain and suffering. no more crying in private, behind her family's back, even though we suspected it. no more being tired and scared if she was going to wake up the next time or not. this time, willow knew what the true meaning of peace meant. and she was only nine, not allowed to get another year older as the rest of her family would. not allowed to get to watch her baby brother grow up and potentially watch him become an older brother, her an older sister.

kian's pov

i wasn't ready for this. i was never going to be ready for this day to come. she looked like she was three again, having her afternoon nap. so she could get energised for some more playtime with her daddy, which was me. she looked so peaceful like she was sleeping. seeing her like this was a double-edged sword. on one side, made me happy because, like her gandpa kevin, she was no longer in any pain and she was now going to live life with her grandpa forever free and in peaceful, painless bliss. however, on the other side, it made me upset, taking me back to that day we had to do the same thing with my dad. and the fact that she was no longer allowed to have her tenth birthday, or even her eleventh birthday. not even her twelfth or thirteenth birthdays either. she wasn't even allowed to watch her baby brother koa grow up or have them become potential older siblings in the future. i just wanted my daughter to wake up and wipe away me and her mum's tears away and tell us that she was okay. that she was going to survive another day with me, with us, her family. for the first time that nicky and i had been in here, i spoke up.

"...she...she looks so peaceful nicky. like she's three again and i'm still going crazy at the fact that i have a daughter as my firstborn," i whimpered out as nicky sighed as he rubbed my back

"yeah, she really does kino," nicky smiled softly as i snifflled, wiping a tear from my cheek as i smiled as well

"i...i always told her that, if she needs to leave, she can do it whenever she was ready. i never wanted her to be in pain nicky. neither did jodi, but, i just wish her ready was our ready..." i choked out as nicky pulled me in for a hug as i cried again

"i know kino, i know," he whispered repeatedly as i continued to cry

"i...i miss my daughter," i sobbed out as i could feel nicky tighten as if he was keeping himself from crying in front of me

"have you read the letter yet, kino? maybe that could help?" nicky whispered as i staggered and grabbed the letter

"no, i...i can't. it hurts too much to even look over at it," i whispered, tears stinging my waterline and cheeks as nicky smiled small

"it's okay kino, i can't read mine either. i thought i could but, i really couldn't. maybe we'll read them as a group together in a few weeks, maybe that'll be easier," nicky whispered as i nodded my head, just resting it on his shoulder

whenever you're ready, whenever you're ready

now, kian left and it was just nicky and willow. it was the next day after being told willow had died. unlike kian, nicky couldn't find it within him to leave his niece alone for the night. dr phelps had requested at least a week or less from the coroner's before arriving to take willow's body away. nicky just couldn't bring himself to leace her in that room on her own. he felt like he was being begged without willow even saying anything for him to stay with her. and, he did. he talked to her and he cried and that was the circle of events that he did throughout the night until he fell asleep. his head resting on willow's exposed and untouched arm.

nicky's pov

i just couldn't do it. i couldn't leave willow alone. i just couldn't. unlike kian and jodi since they had to continue taking care of koa, i wasn't able to. i felt as though willow, without even saying anything, was asking me to stay with her. so, i just started to talk to her. with that obviously came the crying as she actually couldn't respond. and that just made me upset that i wasn't getting any responses from my niece. which then made me feel weird for talking to my deceased niece. this then kept on going on a repeated cycle until i fell asleep. resting my head on her exposed and untouched arm.

"...it feels so weird without you goober. it's like, i don't know. nothing seems fun anymore. our farewell tour will no longer be properly exciting anymore. sure, it's only been a day since you died but, i've never seen your dad so burnt out and exhausted. i'm scared willow, what are we going to do without you? what are we going to do without you after westlife ends?" i cried out, i was truly lost, what were we going to do?

after this next tour, the farewell tour, we were saying goodbye to everything we knew in westlife. we had fourteen great years and we had willow for nine of those fourteen. now she was gone. and it was like i was having to rebuild my life all over again after my dad died, a similar thing probably going through kian's mind too, since his dad also died in the same year as mine did.

"please, willow, don't do this to us. we always told you to leave whenever you were ready but, why didn't you understand we meant our ready, not your ready!" i sobbed out once again, crying into willow's clean white bedsheets

"fuck sake! it feels like our little westlife family has just stopped spinning but everyone else's continues to spin around us. what are we going to do? what will we do now?" i couldn't stop crying, it was quite embarrassing. however, i slowly found myself getting tired

"i love you so much willow. whilst hurting nucal hurt, and is something i'll never understand for the rest of my life, i'll never be able to understand this. the loss of my beautiful, sweet, forever young niece. god, willow, if you're up there with nucal and grandpa kev, please let them know that we love them and miss them," i sobbed out as i felt my eyes close and all of a sudden, i was knocked out asleep, my head resting on willow's exposed and untouched arm

can we, can we surrender? can we, can we surrender? I surrender, I surrender

liked by jodialbert, nickybyrneinsta, shanefilanofficial, markusmoments, georginaahernbyrne, caileano, gilianfilansligo, rokeating and 777k others

kianegan willow storm egan. she was me and my wife's first and only daughter. andw e got the honour of having her as ours for nine years. and how i wish every single day i open my eyes that willow got to do the same thing and have more than just nine years. ever since the day jodi and i found out we were pregnant with little willow, we knew it was a risk to keep her and continue the pregnancy. but, we did anyway and boy are we glad we did. whilst this post only shows me, jodi and willow, it's only because all the other photos that willow has with her baby brother koa are from their last few days together. and because koa is so young and doesn't know what's just happened and the beveravement we've just had, i don't want to share them online, not now anyway. watching my eight-year-old get diagnosed with cancer and then get to see her celebrate her ninth birthday, help celebrate her mummy's birthday as well as her baby brother's birth as well as my own birthday will always be something we are so grateful for as a family. even though she didn't get to see her tenth birthday and every other birthday after that whilst the rest of us get to turn another year older and koa growing up. watching little willow go through her cancer and then the short amount of treatment we had her on for, we always told her that whenever she was ready to go, she could go. but, no one who loses anyone to cancer or any terminal illness admits that when they say that statement, they don't mean when their family member is ready to go. they mean when everybody else is ready. and that wasn't any different for me and my family with willow, nor was it with my own dad, my kids grandfather. we didn't want her to leave when she was ready because we knew it would be way before the rest of us were ready. but, now writing this and posting it halfway through westlife's farewell tour, i am so proud of my daughter for letting go when she was ready to. and not feeling like she had to wait for everyone else around her to be ready for her to leave. she knew she wasn't going to be painless unless she let herself go and she has done just that. like i mention literally everywhere and anywhere i can, being your daddy, willow storm, was the best thing in the world for me. and i have no doubts that your mummy would say the very same thing. we all love you to the moon, the stars and the milky way, chickadee. daddy will talk to you soon, sleep tight princess 🤍

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jodialbert our beautiful little girl. your beautiful mini-me 🤍

kianegan jodialbert i know babe 🤍 she really was a mini-me

nickybyrneinsta breaking my heart here, kino! we miss you every day willow 🤍

kianegan nickybyrneinsta sorry nico but i can't deal with the feeling of people forgetting her. and i miss her too 🤍

shanefilanofficial my god, kian, when will my tears stop? i miss your cuddles, willow 🤍

kianegan shanefilanofficial good question i have no idea and she gave the best cuddles didn't she?

markusmoments all of these photos and more and i still wish she was here so we could take more 🤍

kianegan markusmoments i know. i think about that every day and my heart shatters

georginaahernbyrne our sweet willow storm. miss you, baby girl 🤍

kianegan georginaahernbyrne 🤍🤍

caileano awe kian, this is beautiful. miss you willow 🤍

kianegan caileano thank you cailean 🤍

gillianfilansligo oh stop it kian! my heart is broken in two 🤍

kianegan gillianfilansligo i don't want people to forget my daughter gillian 🤍

rokeating i cannot even imagine how these last two months have been for you guys. willow was such a sweet little girl. i remember how much she loved and doted on baby koa 🤍

kianegan rokeating i can't either and then i remember. and she really was, she was such a sweet soul with way too much love to carry in her tiny body, especially for her brother koa🤍

- - -

this was a one-shot that i wrote way back when in 2020 when corona-rona was really scary and a big bad wolf and it feels both so strange but amazing to rewrite it three-odd years later to see the difference in writing skills and improvements. and apologies are in order for how depressing it is. i did consider changing willow's age since i don't really write about a lot of young children passing away but, i decided to keep it as is because i think it makes the story more impactful because it's not just "old" people that die of terminal illnesses like cancer. but, anyway, i hope in some way you enjoyed reading this as whilst it is sad, i did enjoy rewriting this.

ok ily bye xx

wc; 12251

#westlife #kian egan #nicky byrne #shane filan #mark feehily #angst #surrender #"whenever you're ready

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conwayzimmerman99 · 2 years

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luckyqueenreign · 1 year

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I posted 1,724 times in 2022

That's 1,724 more posts than 2021!

1,497 posts created (87%)

227 posts reblogged (13%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

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I tagged 1,463 of my posts in 2022

Only 15% of my posts had no tags

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Longest Tag: 82 characters

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