#this whole fic is full of lines and moments that just make me. emotional

[fireworkss-exe]

thinking about what sophie kelly might look like across the adaptations... @glitter-ink

[omgeto]

☆ GHOSTING — GETO SUGURU X READER

summary: after being made aware of your long term ex boyfriends plans to 'fix' the world, you knew that you had to try and stop him. but seeing him for the first time in a decade; all the love, the hate, the heartbreak comes right back to you both and you realise you care about him a lot more than you thought.

wc: 4.7k (of pure goodness....)

cw: afab!reader, mdni, angst to fluff (kinda) cult leader ex boyfriend!geto, kinda sorta canon (its the day that geto yk...) he eats you out like its his last meal, half hate fucking, full making love, and a whole lot of geto being culty and cunty. this one has a plot people!!

authors note: guys yk I love a good exes to lovers fic so the argument in this one hits different and the whole idea of you and suguru breaking up just before he runs off to run his cult really gets to me, so I hope you enjoy this one.

geto suguru hasn’t seen you in years, in almost a decade, and is still reeling harshly from how you left him when he needed you. but somehow he finds himself rushing to meet you when he gets the four word text from your number—which is still saved in his phone under ‘my girl’— saying, ‘we need to talk.’

he knows exactly what you want to speak about, he could easily put together why today of all days you’d want to see —after vanishing him for just over a decade. he figured gojo probably gave word to you, as from when you’ve been young and growing up together, you’ve all known that if gojo couldn’t get through to him, you could.

he opens the door to your apartment, knowing that you wouldn’t have locked it—you always had a habit of leaving it open for him. and there you are, standing in the dimly lit room, waiting for his arrival. the years have etched subtle changes onto your face and in your demeanour, but the essence of who you are remains unchanged. time may have separated you, but in this moment, it feels as though it has never passed.

“you can't do this,” is the first thing you say, your voice steady despite the unexpected surge of emotions upon seeing him again. you didn't think seeing him after all this time would affect you, but it did. his hair is longer, his frame more imposing, but that unmistakable smirk remains, a haunting reminder of the man you once knew.

“wow right to the chase,” he chuckles bitterly, his presence taking up the room as he enters the room further, “i forgot you never really had a thing for beating around the bush.”

you meet his bitter chuckle with a steady gaze, your resolve unwavering. the years of separation have done nothing to diminish the intensity of your connection, the push and pull between you two.

"it's not the time for games, suguru," you reply, your tone serious. "you know why i called you here."

he sighs, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. the weight of his plans, the burden he carries, is evident in the lines etched on his face. "i figured you'd call sooner or later."

the room seems to shrink as the gravity of the situation hangs between you. the man you once knew, the one who could make your heart race with a smile, now stands before you, shrouded in darkness.

"i won't let you go through with this," you say firmly, your eyes never leaving his. "there's another way, suguru. there has to be."

for a moment, his façade cracks, and you catch a glimpse of the person he used to be, the one who believed in a better world. but then the hardness returns to his eyes, and he steps closer, his presence overwhelming.

"you always were too idealistic," he mutters, almost to himself. "but i can't turn back now. the world needs this change."

"what happened to you?" you snap out, your words laced with a bitter edge that hangs heavily in the air. it's a question that carries the weight of your years of frustration, anger, and confusion. but you knew what happened to him; everyone knew.

his reaction is immediate, and the room seems to tremble with his anger. his gaze narrows, and the atmosphere becomes charged with tension. "you don't get to ask that," he spits out, his voice dripping with bitterness. "you left, remember? you abandoned me when i needed you the most."

“it wasn’t like that,” you argue, leaning forward, your body tense. “by the time i left you were already gone, being physically present in a relationship doesn’t mean anything if your mind is fucking checked out all the time. at that point i was just dating a shell of you.” 

“is that how you justify it?" he retorts, his anger unabated. "you think leaving was the solution?”

you clench your fists, your own anger rising to meet his. "i did what i had to do to protect myself, suguru. you were spiralling, consumed by your own darkness. I couldn't save you"

his eyes blaze with a mixture of fury and hurt. "you think i needed saving?

“you still need saving,” you scoff gesturing to him standing right in front of you, “just because you couldn’t save—”

“don’t even go there,” he interrupts, his hand raising to stop you. he knew you were talking about riko, “i’ve made peace with that.”

“oh have you?” you accuse, “since it seems to me, you’ve been on a killing spree, ever since.”

“other people died y’know,” he hisses out, “remember haibara? he was your fucking friend, but you weren’t even there.”

“this isn’t about me,” you say disregarding his comment, regret seeping through you, “you think i haven’t kept tabs on you since i’ve been away. who have you become?”

he glares at you, his anger evident. "i've become what the world needs," he snaps, his voice heavy. "someone willing to do what it takes to change things."

"and is killing a village full of people the way to do that?" you challenge, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow. "killing your..." You pause, overwhelmed by the thoughts and images of what he's done. "was killing your parents worth it?"

his expression hardens, and for a moment, you see a glimmer of regret in his eyes, but it's quickly masked by his resolve. "i had to make sacrifices," he says coldly. "it's a small price to pay for a greater cause."

“you can’t truly think that,” you say, taking a step closer to him, your fists still clenched at your sides. “how did it feel killing them then? to take away the lives of your own parents who were innocent?” you probe, you knew that there was some part of him that must feel bad.”

“you’re about… ten years too late to be trying to have this conversation with me,” he shrugs, the turmoil that geto felt when he first set out on his mission has ceased. the guilt he felt for killing his parents, even the grief he had for something that he caused, wasn’t a factor for him anymore.

your frustration boils over as you press him further. "so, you've become heartless, then?" you challenge. the room seems to tighten around you as you await his response. "a cold-blooded killer who's convinced himself that the ends justify the means?"

geto's gaze narrows, his patience dwindling. "it's not about being heartless. it's about doing what's necessary to achieve our goals."

"your goals," you emphasise, "not mine. and not the goals of the innocent people you've hurt along the way."

he sighs, exasperation creeping into his voice. "you always had a way of making everything so complicated, questioning every choice. you left because you couldn't handle the real world."

you shake your head, unwilling to accept his justifications. "no, i left because i couldn't stand by and watch you become a monster."

“so i’m just a monster, yeah?” he retorts, stepping towards you, his anger evident across his face, you could see your words triggered him, and as he gets closer you could feel your facade faltering. 

your heart races as he approaches, and you raise a hand instinctively, palm out, to signal him to stop. "don't come any closer," you warn, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. there was no rational reason to be scared of him, you’ve known him for years, and despite everything that he’s done —what he’s become— there was still a part of you that believed that he wouldn’t hurt you.

but geto ignores your plea, his determination unwavering. he grabs your hand firmly, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the intensity of the moment. his dark eyes bore into yours, and he speaks in a low, taunting tone, "why? are you scared that with me being this close, you're going to realise that you loved a monster? that you're still in love with him?"

you grit your teeth, refusing to let him get under your skin. "suguru, you don't get to manipulate me with your twisted version of love," you retort, your voice laced with defiance. "i won't let you use my feelings against me.

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you're torn between the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. the memories of the love you once shared, the pain of his transformation into something unrecognisable, and the lingering attraction between you all crash together in this charged moment.

you try to pull your hand away, to regain control of the situation, but geto's grip tightens, preventing your escape. his face inches closer to yours, and despite your better judgement, your breath hitches. “manipulation, huh?” geto muses, his mouth so close to yours that you feel his breath faintly brush across your lips. you look up at him through your lowered eyelashes, and in that fleeting pause, so small that it’s almost imperceptible, you find yourself considering the gravity of your actions, if only for a moment.

the feeling of doubt is short lived, as you press your lips against geto’s, his mouth immediately moulding into yours. the kiss is searing, as you push your bodies against each other, he releases your hand from his grip, his hands move to cradle your head, holding it in place as he deepens the kiss, bruising your lips with his.

everything about geto is familiar, the taste of him, the warmth of his mouth, the way he consumes you. his tongue explores yours, wrestling for control as your arms scratch at him trying to tug off his robe. you wanted him to feel you, all of you—your touch, your lips, your hurt, your anger, the love that you still have that you thought was small. but after seeing him, kissing him, you realise is still an overwhelmingly large part of you.

you pull apart to catch your breath, staring hard at each other, but there’s barely a moment wasted before your back on eachother. kissing each other feverishly, as you rip off each other's clothes, he pushes you hard, your back slamming against the nearest piece of furniture as his mouth latches onto your neck. his kisses cascade down your body, stopping at your breasts as he unhooks your bra, tossing it aside.

“i missed these,” he murmurs, as his lips descend onto your tits, his face nuzzling at your chest as he sucks and pulls at your nipples with his teeth. “and i missed this,” he continues to mumble, his hands cupping your clothed pussy, his finger lightly caressing your slit. 

you arch forward into his touch, wanting to feel him more and chuckles saying, “even after all these years, you still respond to my touch just the same.” his fingers plunge into your panties, brushing against your clit and he smirks as your lips part a stifled moan escaping your lips—proving his point.

“s-shut up,” you hiss out, as you slowly start to gyrate against his fingers. although it was obvious from the way you were already soaking your underwear, you didn’t want to admit how good he is actually making you feel—you just couldn’t give him the satisfaction. geto raises his eyebrows at you in amusement, as he watches you bite your lip trying to contain your moans, as his fingers inch into your inviting pussy.

geto’s body moves down yours as he removes his lips from your tits, continues to press kisses down your stomach, as he drops down to his knees —his eyes level with your cunt. he presses a kiss to your covered pussy, before sliding off your panties. his mouth is just about to latch onto you but he pauses looking up at you, his gaze unwavering, “you want this right?” you nod slowly, your anticipation brewing as your eyes lock onto his, “use your words.”

you release an exasperated huff, but he remains steadfast, his raised eyebrow a silent declaration that he won't act until you tell him what he wants to hear. the room seems to pulse with tension, the growing desire between you mounting with each heartbeat.

your hands slide it’s way into his hair, pushing your fingers through his scalp, as you grin, you voice is low and sultry as you say, “i want it.” his mouth envelopes your pussy and you push his head into you deeper, forcing your nose into your arousal. he inhales you, taking in your scent as he presses his face in your cunt. 

“such a pretty pussy,” he mutters lowly, you could feel the vibrations spread through your pussy. his tongue strokes down your slit, before pushing into you, he twists and slurps at you trying to suck out all of your juices. 

geto nibbles at your clit, tugging at it with his teeth before bringing his fingers back to cunt. shoving two fingers in roughly. you pull his hair harshly, the feeling of his mouth sucking on your clit leaving your mind blank. “ah f-fuck,” you cry out, as geto’s strokes grow more intense.

“c’mon let me hear you more,” geto prompts, pulling away slightly from your pussy, his lips plump and coated from your wetness. he grabs one of your legs and hikes it over his shoulder, the angle allowing him to force his fingers into you further, curling them up in your pussy as he goes back to shoving his face in your sobbing cunt.

you grind your pussy in his face, working with him in getting you off. both of your movements were frantic, geto is eating your pussy with such eagerness, hungrily trying to drink all of your cum. “i’m close s-sugu i’m—” you choke out, feeling yourself slipping down the wall you pressed against, but geto holds you upright, his large hand keeping your thigh hooked over his shoulder and roughly pushing you up against the wall.

geto grins against your cunt, your moans and cries is a sound he didn’t realise how much he missed until he heard them now. you laboured breathing, stammered sentences told him that you were reading cum, but he just had to push you further. so he adds one more finger, sending it straight to your spot, twisting and pushing it in your pussy so hard that tears brim your eyes. he was so relentless, you always loved that about him, how he knows your body in and out, he knew exactly where to touch, and just how far he should push to have you becoming a mess for him.

you couldn’t take him anymore, so you cum, hard. your pussy releasing ropes and ropes of cum, all over geto’s fingers and his face, and he laps at it, munching all your cum with excitement. “i know you can give me more than that,” he muses, pressing his thumb down on your clit, rubbing at it aggressively as you cum. your eyes roll back, as he repeatedly flicks at your cum, and before you know it, you're squirting all over his face.

geto’s eyes widen, and he doesn’t stop playing with your pussy, until you bow your head in submission, worn out from all the cum you’ve released over him. your hands slide out of his hair, as you try and catch your breath and geto peppers your cunt and your thighs with kisses finally letting your thigh come off his shoulders. “damn your pussy’s still as sweet as ever.”

“stop with the talking,” you mumble, as you pull him up to his feet, your lips forcing their way back onto him. your hands frantically explore each other's bodies as you drag him to your bedroom, pushing him on your bed. “i can’t fucking stand you,” you mutter to yourself, your denial evident, as you straddle him, pulling his dick out of his boxers.

you pause briefly at the sight, his thick, long dick staring at you. you hear geto chuckle at your reaction, your eyes meet his with a challenging look exchanged between you, he raises his eyebrow at you, a silent dare on whether you’ll actually be able to get the control that you’re aiming to have. 

you hover over his dick, your pussy still dripping, geto bites his lip in anticipation as you tease him, slowly edging yourself down onto him. your pussy greedily, takes in his dick as you force yourself down on him as immediately fills you, stretching out your cunt with one push. you start to ride him, hard and fast, rocking your body forward as you bounce up and down on him, your hand pressing down on his stomach to keep you steady.

geto sits up, stifling a moan as he feels your cunt clench around his dick with everyone of your movements. he tries to thrust up into you, but he just can’t match the relentless rhythm you had, “f-fuck,” he exhales, a moan escaping his mouth, and you smirk —you have him just where you wanted him.

“you alright there suguru?” you mock, the grin spread across your face unmissable as you grind yourself down against him, tightening your pussy around his pole as you slid up and down. the bite on his lip hardens as he pulls it further between his teeth to suppress another moan.

but geto doesn’t submit for long, his hand slaps you across your tits and his fingers pinch your nipples, twisting and tugging them, causing you to arch your back as you wail. “d’you r-really think you run shit here?” he groans, flicking at your nipples with every word, “you’ll never be in control, not with me,” he taunts.

“oh really?” you retort, as you still continue to move your ass, meeting his hips. you can feel him start to pick up his pace, trying to match yours, his hips slightly thrusting upwards, his dick pushing into you deeper.

“yeah,” he says confidently through gritted teeth, one of his hands pulling away from your nipples and onto your ass, harshly grabbing one of your cheeks to steady himself as he drills into you further, “because you’re still my girl.” 

you still at his words, you knew he didn’t mean it but you couldn’t help but react to the name that he always used to refer to you as. geto could see your eyes become vacant, as you think back to the memories when you were truly his girl. you used to revel in that —the feeling of being his. he takes advantage of your pause, your rhythm halted as he takes over, now setting the pace as he charges his dick into you, stuffing you further. 

“suguru f-fuck you’re so—” you sob out, as he breaks down your wall, his strokes hitting your spot perfectly. your body buckles, crumbling at the force that geto was using as he repeatedly thrusts into you, his hand pushing you in further so his dick can get an even better angle in you.

“i’m so what?” he retorts, knowing you wouldn’t be able to string an answer together from the way he is fucking you dumb. geto couldn’t deny that he is getting some joy out seeing you all drunk on his dick, reduced to nothing but moans and incoherent sentences, he liked being the one to break you down. “am i still a monster, someone you can’t stand being around?”

you sloppily nod your head, trying to keep some resolve, but your efforts are pointless since all the insults and accusations you were spouting earlier are now futile, you lost your care in getting him to do the right thing, all you want now is for him to stay like this — inside of you. 

“s-shit i can’t take it a-anymore im gonna cu—” you force out, clenching yourself around little his dick hard as you feel your orgasm building up. but geto’s movements stop for a second as he pulls his dick out of you, flipping you over, your back landing hard on your bed. he leans over you, his focus fixed on you, but at this point, his eyes don’t hold the same heartache, and hurt that they did when he first stepped into your house. the geto that is looking at you now, is the one who’d always look at you everyday, ten years ago —with love and longing.

he strokes his dick down your aching pussy, teasing you with it, but just before he puts it in, his hand caresses your face cupping your chin as he says, “when i said you were still my girl, i meant it y’know?” and your lips part in surprise at his admission. “although it hurt me, when you left me, you just never stopped being my girl.”

“suguru i-i don’t know what to say,” you stammer, and you didn’t realise until he swipes under your eye, that you were crying. there was so much more to your relationship with geto than just some highschool romance, you loved another, and no one could tell you otherwise. 

“tell me that you are,” he prompts, now pressing kisses to your tear stained face, his lips moving down to yours, “tell me that you are still my girl,” he finishes in between kisses. his hopeful eyes still remain on yours, and you could feel him slowly inching his dick into you.

you wrap your legs around his back, your arms hooking around his neck as you pull his head next to yours, your mouth near his ear as you whisper, “i am still yours.” he pushes his dick back into you, his strokes deep and slow. it was different from before, there was no competition or hate between you as you fucked, you didn’t have a point to prove other than the fact that you still loved each other. 

geto’s moans are loud, he has nothing to hold back as he growls lowly in your ear. the way he holds you, and takes his time kisses you and fucking you as if he was accounting for this potentially being his last ever time doing so. “i’ll never get enough of this.”

“then don’t go,” you whine, and your words hold a deeper meaning that you both knew but won’t acknowledge knowing it is pointless to discuss any further. you pull him into you deeper, your thighs clenching around him as your hold tightens. 

the feeling of you pulling him in, has him clenching his eyes as your pussy takes him in, his mouth takes yours in a powerful kiss, before he mumbles “you gonna let me cum in you, leave you with every last bit of me.” you don’t even respond, just deepening the kiss, your head shaking in agreement.

you both cum together, geto spraying your walls as he sinks his face into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth into your exposed flesh as he continues to shoot ropes of cum inside of you. you claw at his back as you feel all of him enter you, your cum mixing with his as you cry out in full pleasure.

his forehead rests against yours, as the last bits of his cum enter you and neither of you say anything, all that can be heard is just heavy breaths coming from the both of you. you didn’t know what was to happen now, there was still so much left unsaid, unresolved and things have changed now that geto is literally stuffed inside of you.

geto is about to pull out of you finally, but you stop him muttering a faint, “stay,” and he does. he knows he had somewhere to be, things to do that are bigger than the both of you, but he just couldn’t leave when you ask him to stay. he manoeuvres your body so that you now lay atop him, comfortably cockwarming him as he thumb brushes gentle strokes down your arm.

“y’know i’ve got these two girls, who i think would love you,” he muses.

“what? did you manage to become a father whilst i was away?” you tease.

“something like that, yeah,” he mumbles, a small smile forming on his face as thoughts of nanako and mimiko flash through his mind — they’re a bittersweet reminder of the new life he’s built without you, one that you wouldn’t be able to fit in. it wasn’t that long ago that you’d have thoughts about geto fathering your own kids, dreams of somewhat of a domestic life that you’d now never get to have with him.

“well maybe i can meet them,” you say non-committedly.

“yeah maybe…” his voice falters, as you both know that it would never happen.

“do you enjoy it then?” you ask, “this ‘new’ life of yours.” you could tell just by the brief mention of nanako and mimiko and the way he carries himself that he does enjoy his life, but you were hoping that he’d still answer no.

geto hesitates for a moment, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as he contemplates your question, “i…” he begins, his gaze returning to yours, “i won’t lie. it’s different, and there’s moments i find true solace in it, this has been my life for a long time now, so it’s just something i’ve really gotten used to.”

“and you’re happy to go back to it, after this?” your question is loaded, and you feel dumb for even asking but when you did call him over to get him to not go through with his plans, of course your motivations have slightly changed, but your goal is still the same. 

 “i don’t think you should ask me to make a choice, knowing that im not going to choose you,” he grits out, he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, but 

“you’re not gonna win you know, satoru wouldn’t let it happen,” you couldn’t help yourself, the rejection he just gave you stung, and you wanted him to feel what you felt.

but geto doesn’t bite, he knows you’re hurting—that he’s the cause of it, so he lets you hurt, his hold tightening comfortably as you sulk in his arms. geto places a kiss on your temple, ignoring your comment as he concludes, “let’s just not, okay?”

geto stays with you until your breathing settles into a steady rhythm, and you don’t notice him slipping out of you. he cleans you up and tucks you into your bedsheets, giving you one final stare as if he’s trying to keep a mental image of how you look when he’s last seen you. his lips meet yours in a final, chaste kiss and he mutters a promise that he didn’t think you’d hear, but you do, stirring awake as his lips leave yours, “i’ll see you again… eventually.”

you wake up to an empty room, the warmth of geto's presence replaced by a stark emptiness. the realisation hits you like a wave of cold water – he's gone, leaving nothing behind but soiled sheets and a hollow ache in your chest. there's no note, no message, no trace of his ever being there, except for the lingering scent of him that clings to the air. you know that someone will eventually inform you of the outcome of the night, but deep down, you already suspect that his last promise to you will end up being broken.

AN: first like proper proper real juicy fic that ive written in a long time imo and its just like this took me so long since im soooo sensitive about my geto fics and im just like overly critical about my angsty and fluff and plot fics and my smut and JUST EVERYTHING but I managed to get it all done and I think some parts of this really hit hard. the ending is ofc bittersweet since if we go by canon, he goes and yuta beats his fuckinggg ass and he dies wtf but... the true ending is really up to your imagination. (not really) like dont even think about the ending just focus on the fact that they NEVER TELL EACHOTHER THAT THEY LOVE EACH OTHER BECAUSE UR SO IN LOVE THAT YOU ADMITTING THAT UR STILL 'HIS GIRL' IS ALL THE CONFIRMATION HE NEEDS. my finished an are sooo long why because I FUCKING CAN SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY, PLEASE LMK UR THOUGHTS AND SLAY ALL DAY also thank you @kazushawty and @biscuitsngravie for reading and supporting me 🥹🥹

[xtra7s]

Hi hi omg i love your writing it’s amazing! Can i request a Reneè fic where reader is in a famous band and admits in an interview how much she loves and admires Reneè (yk that clip where Reneè is like “Date me” for Rachel Mcadams) and Reneè responds and they get close and collaborate or whatever you want!

𝐄𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐝

Pairing: Renee Rapp x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N, the bassist for Eclipsed, gives Renee some props during an interview and ends up hanging out with her.

Content: mainly fluff

Word Count: 2k

a/n: okay so this one was a bit confusing to write mainly because I felt like nothing was really going on, I didnt know if you wanted smut or something else so I apologize if it isnt what u wanted :(

masterlist

The excitement buzzed in the air as Y/N YL/N, the talented bassist of the rising rock band "Eclipsed," prepared for a much-anticipated interview. The band had been making waves in the music scene, and the media was eager to learn more about the individuals behind the electrifying sound. Y/N, known for their skillful bass playing and enigmatic stage presence, was ready to share their journey.

The interview took place in a trendy studio, with the band seated on a chic, modern couch. Y/N's fingers idly traced the frets on their bass, a well-worn instrument that had seen countless gigs and late-night jam sessions. The interviewer, a music journalist with an infectious passion for the industry, dove straight into the questions.

"So, Y/N, let's start with your musical journey. How did you find your way to the bass guitar?" the interviewer inquired, leaning forward.

Y/N grinned, the memory of their musical awakening evident in their eyes. "I actually started with the guitar, but one day, I heard this deep, resonant bass line that just spoke to me. It was like the heartbeat of the song, and from that moment, I was hooked. I switched to the bass, and it felt like coming home."

The rest of the band nodded in agreement, acknowledging the pivotal role Y/N played in shaping the band's distinctive sound. The lead singer, Maya, chimed in, "Y/N brings a unique energy to our music. The bass lines add a whole new layer, creating this dynamic and powerful sonic landscape."

As the conversation flowed, the interviewer shifted gears, asking about the band's creative process. Drummer Alex spoke about the collaborative nature of their songwriting, while the guitarist, Jake, discussed the influences that shaped their sound. Y/N interjected with tales of late-night jam sessions and the organic evolution of their music.

"We all bring something different to the table," Y/N explained. "It's like a musical potluck. Each of us has our own tastes and influences, and when we come together, it creates this fusion of sound that defines Eclipsed."

The conversation turned to the band's recent successes, including a sold-out show and a growing fan base. Y/N's eyes sparkled with gratitude as they reflected on the journey.

"It's been incredible," Y/N shared. "Our fans are amazing. They connect with the raw emotion in our music, and that's the most rewarding part. Music is a language that transcends words, and seeing people resonate with what we create is truly humbling."

As the interview with Eclipsed continued, the interviewer shifted gears, a mischievous glint in their eyes.

"Now, Y/N, the music world is full of incredible artists, and one rising star who seems to have captured a lot of attention is Renee Rapp. Have you had the chance to meet her, and what are your thoughts on her music?" the interviewer inquired, a sly smile playing on their lips.

Y/N's expression lit up at the mention of Renee Rapp. "Oh, Renee is fantastic! I haven't had the pleasure of meeting her in person yet, but I'm a big fan of her work. Her music has this raw authenticity that really resonates with me. It's always refreshing to see artists who pour their heart and soul into their craft."

The rest of the band nodded in agreement, expressing their admiration for Renee Rapp's talent. Maya, the lead singer, chimed in, "I love how she fearlessly embraces her uniqueness. It's inspiring to see artists who aren't afraid to be true to themselves, both in their music and their persona."

The interviewer pressed a bit further, asking if there were any specific songs or aspects of Renee Rapp's music that Y/N found particularly inspiring. Y/N thought for a moment before responding, "I really connect with the way she uses her voice to convey emotion. It's powerful and evocative. As musicians, we're always drawn to those artists who can create a genuine connection with their audience, and Renee does that exceptionally well."

The conversation then meandered into a discussion about musical influences, with each band member sharing their favorite artists and the impact those musicians had on their own sound. It was clear that Eclipsed Echoes drew inspiration from a diverse range of genres and artists, contributing to the richness of their music.

"And, Y/N, given that you've expressed admiration for Renee Rapp's talent, do you have any comments for her?" the interviewer asked, a faint hint of curiosity in their tone.

Y/N, ever composed, smiled with her teeth. "I do,-" She paused, looking at the camera directly. "Keep your head up, bitch. you're effortlessly you and that shit is wicked. You gotta remember the comments of your loved ones are the only ones that matter."

The rest of the band nodded in agreement, sensing the delicate nature of the question. Maya, the lead singer, added, "Absolutely. It's crucial to separate someone's art from their personal lives. We're all here because of our love for music, and that's what we should celebrate."

The interviewer, quickly shifted gears steering the conversation back toward the band's music and upcoming projects. Y/N, always poised and focused on the music, gracefully navigated through the interview, steering it away from personal matters and back into the realm of creativity and passion.

As the interview concluded, it was evident that the members of Eclipsed were not only talented musicians but also individuals who valued respect and professionalism in their interactions. The episode served as a reminder that, while curiosity about an artist's personal life may arise, the primary focus should always remain on the artistry and creativity that unite the diverse and dynamic world of music.

A few days after the interview, Y/N found a pleasant surprise in their Instagram inbox. It was a message from none other than Renee Rapp herself. Excitement bubbled within Y/N as they read the message.

"Hey Y/N! 🌟 I caught your interview, and it was awesome hearing your thoughts on my music. Your band's sound is killer! Would love to chat more and maybe hang out sometime. What do you say?"

Y/N quickly replied, expressing their gratitude and enthusiasm for the unexpected message. The conversation flowed effortlessly as they exchanged thoughts about music, shared favorite artists, and found common ground in their passion for creating authentic, powerful art.

Renee suggested meeting up for a casual hangout, perhaps grabbing coffee or exploring a local record store. Y/N eagerly agreed, and plans were set in motion for a meeting between two talented musicians who had connected through their shared love for the art form.

As the day of the meetup arrived, Y/N couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. They met Renee at a cozy cafe, and from the moment they greeted each other, it was clear that the connection extended beyond the digital realm. The conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter, shared stories of musical journeys, and a mutual appreciation for the creative process.

Y/N and Renee's casual hangout unfolded into an afternoon of shared laughter, animated discussions about music, and an undeniable chemistry that lingered in the air. The cozy cafe provided the perfect backdrop for their burgeoning connection, with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enhancing the warmth of the atmosphere.

As they chatted about their favorite bands and musical influences, Y/N couldn't help but be captivated by Renee's infectious enthusiasm. The conversation flowed seamlessly between topics, from the intricacies of songwriting to the exhilarating rush of performing on stage. Each shared anecdote deepened the connection, forging a bond between two artists who understood the unique challenges and joys of their chosen path.

The flirtatious banter began subtly, with playful glances and gentle teasing. Renee's laughter resonated like a melody, and Y/N found themselves drawn to her magnetic energy. As they strolled through a nearby record store, fingers lightly brushing against vinyl covers and sharing recommendations, the air seemed charged with an unspoken tension.

At a moment of quiet contemplation in the record store, Renee's gaze met Y/N's, and a playful smirk played on her lips. "You know," she said with a twinkle in her eye, "your interview made me curious. You mentioned appreciating someone's art without focusing on appearance. Do you always manage to separate the two?"

Y/N felt a flush of warmth creeping up their cheeks, realizing the subtle shift in the conversation. With a coy smile, they responded, "Well, I believe in appreciating the beauty in everything, whether it's in the artistry of music or… other things."

The air between them crackled with a newfound tension, and as they continued to explore the record store, the playful exchanges deepened into a more overt flirtation. A gentle touch on the arm here, a lingering gaze there—each gesture spoke volumes, creating an atmosphere charged with unspoken desire.

As they wrapped up their hangout, Y/N and Renee exchanged contact information, promising to meet again soon. The connection they forged went beyond the shared love for music, evolving into a magnetic attraction that lingered in the air, leaving both of them eager to explore the potential of this unexpected and thrilling connection.

In the days that followed their initial hangout, Y/N and Renee's connection deepened through playful messages and shared playlists. Their conversations became increasingly laced with flirtatious undertones, a dance of words that hinted at a mutual attraction.

One evening, Y/N received a message from Renee suggesting a joint songwriting session. The prospect of collaborating ignited a spark of excitement in Y/N, and they eagerly agreed. As they settled into the cozy ambiance of Y/N's home studio, surrounded by musical instruments and the gentle hum of creativity, the air seemed charged with both anticipation and a growing sense of intimacy.

As they worked on a new song, Y/N couldn't help but notice the subtle shifts in Renee's body language—the way she would lean in slightly, the lingering touches on shared instruments, and the occasional laughter that held a hint of something more. The energy between them was palpable, a magnetic force drawing them closer with each passing moment.

Renee, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, suggested taking a break and grabbing a snack from the kitchen.

As Y/N and Renee took a break in the cozy kitchen, the atmosphere crackled with a potent blend of creative energy and unspoken desire. The shared laughter and flirtatious banter lingered in the air, creating a magnetic pull that neither could ignore. Renee, feeling the palpable tension, decided to take a bold step.

As they stood near the kitchen island, discussing the finer details of their latest composition, Renee's gaze lingered on Y/N's lips. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she leaned in, closing the distance between them and placing her hands on Y/N's waist. Time seemed to slow as Y/N felt the soft warmth of Renee's lips pressing against their own, and their back hitting the counter.

The kiss was electric, a spontaneous spark that ignited a fire between them. Y/N, momentarily stunned, soon reciprocated, their hands instinctively finding each other in a gentle embrace. The kitchen became a canvas for this unexpected moment, a dance of passion and shared connection against the backdrop of a creative haven.

Breaking the kiss, Renee grinned, her eyes filled with a mixture of playfulness and genuine affection. "Well, that was unexpected," she teased, her fingers gently tracing patterns on Y/N's arm.

Y/N, catching their breath, couldn't help but smile in response. "Glad you did it, Renee."

The shared laughter that followed sealed the moment, turning the kitchen into a haven where the boundaries between music and personal connection blurred. As they chatted over a plate of shared snacks, their knees brushed against each other under the table, creating a subtle yet electrifying connection. As they returned to their songwriting session, the newfound intimacy lingered, infusing their creative collaboration with an electrifying energy that promised more harmonies to come. The kitchen island, witness to the impromptu kiss, became a symbol of the uncharted territory their connection was now exploring.

[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Imagines

insolitus | yjw.

pairings: yang jungwon x reader

synopsis: you’ve always thought jungwon is out of this world, out of ordinary. he’s someone who seems familiar but at the same time mysterious for almost everybody. you didn’t expect that he himself will unfold more of him with you and it was an insolitus experience.

word counts: 2k

warnings: yandere themes, mention of murder, violence, obsessive love, grammatical errors. (let me know if i missed some)

note: this have a part two. it was not yet ready to be released, but since some anons kept telling me to stop writing then they leave me no choice but to post something. ehe. anyway, i will fix this probably tomorrow since it doesn’t have a picture for this fic. send me asks about what you think about this. love reading your comments and replies. i love you all, please keep safe.

© eeunoia 2024 — all rights reserved.

The whole room was quiet. You might think that it was vacant, but there are two persons inside. The defeaning silence almost suffocate the officer sitting at one of the chairs. He sighs trying to lift whatever that heavy feeling he’s having ever since he entered this room.

The bright light gives a full view of the face of 17 year old, Yang Jungwon. At first look he seems to be like a normal guy, but for some reasons Officer Nam gets some odd feeling from this boy.

He draws in a sigh then taps lightly over the table while his other hand grips tightly at the folder he was holding. His eyes darted at the boy whose head hangs low at the moment and hands resting over his lap.

Despite the soft looking face, the officer couldn’t help but to feel chills while looking over his blood stained school uniform. He even have some over his face that already turned into brownish color after drying up over time.

“Okay, let me ask you again.” Office Nam cleared his throat and leaned over the table, the only thing that keeping them apart.

“I already told you, I don’t know who did it or what happened to him.” Jungwon says in a low tone, sticking to the words he said the first time they asked him.

“The blood on your shirt—” he raises his head and his brows folds in a remorseful way.

“I told y-you Sir, I found him and tried to help! His blood got all over me because of that.” Jungwon explains and he looked very convincing. The words he mutters are acceptable, but his eyes looked so blank. The police officer couldn’t point out what’s wrong, but his eyes looked so emotionless.

He kept his lips pursed into a thin line and stared at him straight to his eyes. Usually, kids his age will be in panic and can even broke into tears specially after being involve in a very serious crime. But he is different. Yang Jungwon, despite having the look of remorse and worries—makes him feel very wary. Its very unsettling.

He shuts his eyes for a while then sighs. “Okay, let’s say what you’re saying are true. But we still can’t let you go because you are our only lead to solve this crime.”

He doesn’t exactly know what he expects to happen next, but nothing prepares him for what’s about to unfold in front of him.

“So annoying.” the boy muttered lowly but enough for the officer to hear.

“Excuse me?” he asks just to make sure he heard him right.

From looking so uneasy and worried, Jungwon raises his head then leans his back comfortably over the chair. His forehead relaxed causing for the crease on it to disappear. He tilt his head while staring deadly straight to the police officer.

Shivers came rushing through the police officer’s whole body.

“I did it.” he said it so naturally. Like confessing from stealing a candy.

The corner of his lips lifts up a bit, “I killed him.” he confessed that made the officer sick in the stomach.

His heart felt like it stopped beating, cold sweats showers him and his hand froze at the sudden confession from the boy. He couldn’t properly express his own emotions because of the utter shock. He doesn’t know if it was from how the boy says those horrifying words so naturally or how he doesn’t look even bothered about it that made him like this.

It made the officer think if he’s aware of the crime he just committed. The lack of remorse and guilt are evident through his eyes. Its almost impossible to believe.

“You want to know how I did it?” he licked his lower lip and slightly straighten his back. “I grabbed a bottle and broke it. I used the sharp edges to stab him on his stomach, heart and neck.” he says and a sinister smile made it to his lips.

He leans closer, “And I repeat it again and again and again. Until he basically stopped breathing and died.” he even gave a shoulder shrug and rested his back again on the chair.

“W-Why...” the officer’s lips shakes as he stutter through his own words.

“I just want to.” Jungwon smiles as his eyes still looked dead.

Countless criminals with such horrible crimes had confessed inside this office. But this is the very first time that one actually scared and made Mr. Nam tremble in fear.

Despite all of these, he tried to gather his thoughts and composed himself. His hand slowly went down near his gun, preparing himself to anything that can happen.

“Do you know w-what consequences awaits for you because of what you did?”

Jungwon shrugs his shoulder off. “Yeah, I’m not stupid.”

The way he say every words confidently just makes the atmosphere even heavier. Normally they should be begging to take it easy on them or pleading not guilty for the crime they’re being accounted for.

But this kid...

“You can be jailed.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Yes you are a minor, but you can still serve juvenile for a few years before we can transfer you to an actual prison.” his jaw clenches together with his fist, trying to make himself look stronger. Well he has to. He’s way older than him, have more built and training. He’s also the adult inside the room so if anything, he should have the upper hand between them, right?

“Oh really?” his tone sounded so monotonous like as if it was the most boring thing he had ever heard that day.

Even before the officer can utter another word, the door to the interrogation room bursted open then revealed a man wearing a neatly ironed suit while carrying a suit case.

Officer Nam’s forehead furrowed hardly and he was about to tell them to go out as he's in the middle of a very confidential case only to be caught off guard.

He starts to wonder why this man is standing there and behind him is their Chief of Police following him like a loyal dog.

The boy didn’t even bothered looking at the newly arrived people. He rolled his eyes looking so bored and tired of this place.

“What do you think my father will feel when he knew I was here for two hours?” Jungwon asks the man that just arrived. His eyes looked dead and bored, tone serious and cold before he slowly stood up from his sit.

His aura was totally different. It was like Jungwon is a scared sheep a while ago that he used to look after, asking him what happened and so on so fort. Then suddenly that very same sheep tears off his sheep skin and revealed his true self. A fox. A predator.

Officer Nam snapped back to his senses and it took him time to realize what’s going on. His shoulder fell along with the hope to serve justice when he looked at one of the greatest lawyers in South Korea bowing at Yang Jungwon like he was so sorry for letting him stay in this interrogation room for too long.

Jungwon smirks looked so sly as he walks away from that room, the Chief even made way and apologizes for the hold. The young boy strides the police station’s hallway like a free man oozing with nothing but pride and power. Like as if he didn’t just do something horrible. As if he didn’t just killed somebody.

“Nam, we need to talk.” their Chief Officer says in a very strict tone while he closes the door behind his back.

Officer Nam kept his mouth shut and tries hard to keep his composure. His jaw clenches along with his fists under the table and his thoughts starts to wander mindlessly.

He doesn’t even need to hear what their Chief officer was about to discuss with him. He’s already aware of it. At this point, all there left is to surrender and just force himself to turn blind eye to this injustice.

After-all, he is nothing up against the Governor’s youngest son, Yang Jungwon.

They said that out of the hundred people you walk across the world, at least 1 of them are a psychopath. They can blend into the society naturally like they’re truly part of it. Like they’re totally normal and not thinking of unaliving someone in the worst way all the time.

Now, to identify that small percentage of the population started to become totally difficult. You can never know which one of the people you interact with are part of them. It can be your neighbor who greets you with big smiles every morning, it can be the traffic officer who helps you cross the street, the taxi driver, the guard by the gates of your school, your teacher or your classmates.

But never in a million chances that you will think that it can be Yang Jungwon. There is no way someone as sweet and perfect as Jungwon can be part of them. No, never. He’s undeniably handsome, from a good family, polite, responsible—president of the student council, top of your class, kind, athletic, talented, have dimples and always talks in the sweetes softest way. If one will have to point someone who is an epitome of an angel, he can be that.

So why are you inside this dark room, cuffed to a steel bar, face drenched with sweat and tears and totally scared for your life after being kidnapped by him? By Yang Jungwon.

You completely blanked out from the series of events that just occured hours ago. You remembered being with (name), arguing about how he’s so controlling and tiring for you. He was shouting at you and grabbing you over your wrist. You are expecting a slap or your hair being pulled by him, but the next thing you knew, he was down on the floor showering over his own blood. Yang Jungwon stands beside you, staring blankly at him while holding a broken bottle he just used to stab your boyfriend to death.

And the moment it finally dawned onto you, you tried to run away from him. It was too late. Jungwon manages to catch you and covered your mouth with this cloth that made you lose consciousness.

A faint creeking sound from the door made you snap back to reality. Your head perks up, eyes a little bit hopeful while heart still beats in an inconsistent pace.

“H-Help.” you tried to say, slightly choking your words because of the shock you’ve just been to.

Lights emits when it cracks open causing for you to squint your eyes slightly. The moment you saw who it was, you gulped and the corner of your eyes burns. Chest rises up and down, feeling suffocated out of fear.

Yang Jungwon stood proudly by the door. The light blue uniform coat was too familiar for you as it was what boys in your school wears almost everyday. He stares without saying anything before he slightly moves his shoulder to take off his blood stained coat.

The person beside him was quick to assist him.

“Did she eat already?” he asks casually, eyes still darted at your direction.

You trembles in fear and stares away from time to time, couldn’t really hold the eye contact longer than five seconds.

“No, young master.”

He rolls his eyes as he looked over the person beside him. Fear reflects his face as he bow his head nervously. Jungwon kept his eyes at him before he sighs and tilts his head to the side. You can almost hear that person’s sigh of relief when Jungwon started walking towards your way.

Fear flows through your system like a water as you try to push yourself near the wall, away from him. When he’s close enough, he crouches down and scanned you from head to toe.

Jungwon could not explain how excited he is as he stare at you. He couldn’t help but to let a small smile shed over his pretty lips, satisfied.

“Tell me this isn’t a dream.” he mumbles, only enough for you to hear. Tears pooled your eyes and they flow continuously to your pretty face.

Jungwon pursed his lips and stretches his hand closer to you. He gently cupped your face and using his thumb, he wiped off your tears. Despite the soft touches he gradually give you, it made you flinch but Jungwon tries to ignore it for the mean time. For now, he still couldn’t handle the thrill of having you here together with him.

“My pretty girl.” he whispers with so much adoration, eyes almost flashing heart shapes as he stares at you.

“Even if you’re crying, you are still gorgeous.” he added that made you feel sick in the stomach.

“D-Don’t touch me.” you finally manages to say as you move your face away from his touch. The smile on Jungwon’s lips fell and his eyes turned dark after what you did.

It quickly sent shivers through your spine, but you try your best not to let him see how terrified you are to him.

As he carefully scan you, he noticed how your body is shaking and his mood switches right away. Its quite fascinating even for you.

“You’re shaking, baby. Are you cold?” he asks sounding so gentle. It was almost like the same Jungwon you see around campus. It was unbelievable.

“Here,” he says after someone handed him a blanket.

He slowly helped you to wrap it over your shoulder. Suddenly, the hunger and the tiredness from resisting for hours kicked in. You have no remaining energy to even resist anymore or to even shove his hand away. Jungwon gets too excited when you let him take care of you. Its not like you have a choice.

“You’re a m-murderer.” it almost came out as a mumble, but when he stops from gently caressing your arm you knew he heard it. He looked at you and you didn’t saw any guilt. None.

“Do you hate me?” he raised his hand from holding your arm to touching your face, he cares it so gently again like you’re a very fragile thing for him.

You kept your mouth shut and just shoot him glares while tears stream down your eyes.

“He’s a terrible boyfriend anyway. He hurts you and he’s so lame.” his eyes follows a tear that escaped your eye and he went to wipe it again.

“Don’t waste your tears for him. I actually did you a favor.” and he brushes hairs stuck at your skin.

“B-By killing him?”

Jungwon pursed his lips and memory of your boyfriend screaming out of pain flashes through him for a while. He almost rolled his eyes at how pathetic he sounded a while ago, but he stopped himself.

“He doesn’t deserve you and so I thought you could use a new boyfriend.” he clenches his jaw and while holding an eye contact, he leans in and placed a soft kiss at your shoulderblades.

He almost lose his mind when he inhaled your familiar scent. The very same scent he grew addicted to. Now, he doesn’t have to settle on watching you from a far and trying to use every reasons he can use just to have a small talk with you. Now, you are here with him and you belong to him. He couldn’t be happier.

You shut your eyes and shake your head slowly, whimpering.

“P-Please just let me g-go.” your voice cracks from screaming and crying too much.

“Don’t worry, I will.” he smiled and you looked at him hopeful.

“R-Really?”

He nods his head, “Once I finally tamed and make you submit to me completely.”

Your stomach churns and hope starting to crumble down once again.

“You are a monster! Y-You will rot in hell.”

Jungwon stood up and stared down at you. His strict, cold eyes sent direct shivers down to your spine. He slides both of his hand inside his pockets while he continues looking at you.

“If that’s the price I have to pay to have you in this lifetime,” he stalls his words and smiles. “I will gladly accept my fate.”

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[dsireland86]

Okay can you please make a Emotional Dad Folio x fem reader fic who after a tough and risky labor gets to see his wife and baby safe and sound finally. But even better him finally getting to hold his baby for the first time and just having a full tears and snot breakdown cause he was scared and is just happy they're okay

This is just the sweetest. I had this whole scenario played out in my head before I even wrote it down 😁🥰

Emotional Dad

Tag list:

@philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lacy1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @dizzylmwahh @supersquirrel1996 @kenjipepsi1 @blackveilomens @chey-h

I wasn't even sure I wanted kids until the moment my girl came to me with something in her hand. Y/N was glowing and never looked as pretty as she did in that moment when she told me to close my eyes. Her excitement made me excited. After pecking her lips, I closed my eyes. The item she put in my hands weighed about as much as a feather, so when Y/N told me to open my eyes, what I saw wasn't at all what I expected; a pregnancy test with two blue lines. She was pregnant. It was then I realized that the idea of having a baby was really something I wanted, but only because it was with the woman standing in front of me. Picking her up, I hugged and kissed Y/N, assuring her I was thrilled about us having a baby, and as the months went by and her belly grew bigger and bigger, the anticipation of meeting our child grew. Thankfully, our love making didn't stop. Y/N was even more beautiful with our baby growing inside her, making her so irresistible that I found it difficult to keep my hands off of her. The first few months were nothing, but as the baby got bigger so did her belly making it kind of hard. I grew nervous, even after reading everything I did about it, but Y/N reassured me that it was okay and that it wouldn't hurt the baby. After that, it was game on, buddy, and we made some of the best love the two of us had ever had. We were happy, and so ready to meet our little one, but not just yet. There was still a little while to go before that could happen. Or so we thought.

"Nick! Nick! Wake up, please!" Y/N shrieked in pain as she sat up in bed clutching her belly. "Oh god, it freaking hurts." 

Folio sat up, completely startled.

"What is it, sweetheart?" he asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes. "I don't know! Something hurts, really bad, ohhh! Ouch!"

Y/N started crying, gripping the bed sheets tightly. Folio jumped out of bed, slipping on a pair of jeans, socks and his shoes, before grabbing his keys and wallet. Sending a quick text to the guys in a group chat, he leapt over to Y/N's side of the bed.

"Is it contractions? The, er, the ones you say aren't real?" "Braxton Hicks, and no, this is not them. Oh god! Baby, something is wrong!"

Folio placed his hand on his wife's belly, feeling just how active their little one was. But he noticed that something didn't feel right. Lifting Y/N's shirt, the round shape of her belly made him grin. He was definitely going to miss it and the feeling of their baby moving around inside. He leaned down and kissed it while gently running his hands all over, pushing on certain spots and noting things that once felt familiar didn't anymore. In Y/N's lower abdomen where the baby's head should be, there were movements that shouldn't, and feeling up the middle of her belly, he no longer felt the tightness of where the little knees and feet should be. Folio frowned, fearing that what he was thinking might be true. Y/N shrieked in pain, screaming through a loud cry.

"Nick! Make it stop! Please!" she begged, grabbing his arm. "Okay, baby. Alright," he said as calmly as he could. Throwing a shirt on, he helped Y/N up and to the car, running back in to grab the overnight bags.

All the way to the hospital, Y/N held on to her husband's arm, gripping his hand tighter each time the pain came. Her cries and pleas for the pain to stop wrecked his heart and it killed him knowing he couldn't stop it or take any of it away.

"Nick, I love you," Y/N said breathlessly through her pain. "Thank you for being here. Thank you for being so nice."

Folio chuckled.

"I love you, too, Sweetheart. We're going to get through this, okay? It might not seem okay right now, but in the end everything's going to be alright. And hopefully, soon, we'll be holding our baby."

Y/N looked over at him and smiled the best she could despite the pain, nodding quickly right before another wave of pain hit. Finally getting to the hospital, Folio walked Y/N into the labor and delivery ward, calling for help the moment they stepped in. A nurse brought over a wheelchair and helped Y/N sit then wheeled her through a set of double doors as Folio filled out paperwork and informed them on what was happening.

"Wait! Where are you taking her?" Folio asked in a panic, abandoning the paperwork. "Mr. Folio, it's fine. Your wife is being taken to a room. I'll take you there once you're finished."

Nick sighed, running his hand through his hair. He'd been trying his hardest to keep it together for Y/N, but now that he wasn't with her, he felt like he might fall apart. The doors behind him opened and in walked his four brothers, instantly making him feel better.

"What's the word, Folio," Noah asked, his tone thick with concern.

Nick shook his head.

"I'm about to head back. She's in a room, I think." "Do you know what happened? Why is she in so much pain?" asked Jolly.

Folio sighed. "I think, and I could be wrong; God I hope I'm wrong, but I think the baby is breached."

The guys looked at one another, some of them shrugging.

"It means the baby is trying to come out feet and bottom first instead of head first," Folio explained with a sigh. "Oh, fuck no!" Matt cried, biting his knuckle. “Couldn’t that seriously hurt her and the baby?” Nicholas asked.

Before anyone could answer, the double doors opened and a different nurse than before came out.

"Mr. Folio, can you please come with me?" "What's wrong? Is my wife okay?" "Can you please just come with me, sir,” the nurse beckoned Nick towards the double doors.

"Can they come, too?" he asked, nodding at the other four.

The nurse creased her forehead and pursed her lips.

"Are they yours or your wife's family?" "One hundred percent we are," Jolly spoke up.

The nurse cracked a smile, nodding sharply.

"Fine. Follow me."

She led them down the hall, to the right, down another short hall, and to the right again, stopping at a door to a waiting room. Folio looked at her confused.

"Wait. What about the room she was supposed to be in? I thought she was going into a delivery room."

Folio's heart started pounding.

"She was, but then something happened and they had to take her to surgery," the nurse said softly. She opened the door and ushered the boys in. "Hold up! Surgery! What do you mean surgery," Noah snapped.

Nick thought he was going to be sick. He was bent over, breathing hard and trying not to panic, but the thought of something terrible happening to his wife and child felt like his world was crashing down on him.

"Mrs. Folio is in surgery because the baby is breached. If you don't know what that means," "We know what it means," Matt interrupted, scowling at the nurse. She scowled right back. "Will they be alright?"

Folio was motionless, standing next to Nicholas. He felt sick, unable to move. He looked at the nurse as two small tears slid down his cheeks.

"I can't say. I don't have enough information. You all can wait here until a surgical nurse comes out and gives you better information. Should be within the hour."

With that, she turned and walked out another door, opposite the one they came in.

Folio paced. He sat, he paced, he ran his hands consistently through his hair, bit his nails, and then sat some more. He fought the tears, but lost the battle, allowing them to fall as he thought about the idea of losing Y/N. A world without her was one he didn't want to think about. Then he thought about his child, the little life he had yet to meet. He didn't even know the sex yet because he and Y/N chose to find out at birth. The tears fell harder as Nick sat back down, covering his face in his hands. After what felt like hours, a nurse came into the waiting room. She wasn't smiling, but not a lot of the nurses in the hospital did, as Nick picked up on.

"Mr. Folio, I need you to come with me, please," she ordered. All of them started to follow her, but she stopped them. "Only you."

Folio looked from her to the guys, then back to the nurse.

"Okay," he agreed, weakly.

He knew what was coming. He could feel it as he walked the hall, following the nurse closely. His wife was dead, and possibly their child, too. It was obvious from the way the nurse looked at him and spoke. The thought made Folio cry harder, no longer caring who saw.

Weeping silently, they rounded a corner, stopping at a room with a closed door. Gently knocking, the nurse opened the door and they entered into a dimly lit room. It took a moment for Nick's eyes to adjust, but when they did the first thing he saw was Y/N. She was alive and well, resting comfortably in a bed with their baby in her arms. Folio gasped, the very intake of breath hitching in the back of his throat.

"Did you think something bad had happened?" the nurse whispered. Nick huffed a light laugh, pushing his hair back. "Yeah, kind of."

The nurse placed her hand on Folio's back and patted it gently.

"They're both perfectly fine. Your wife went through it, but she's a fighter. You better worship the ground she walks on from now on."

Folio grinned.

"I already do, ma'am." "Good. Then go be with your girls. They need you."

Folio froze, eyes widening.

"Girls?"

The nurse smiled big.

"You didn't know you were having a daughter?" "No. We decided to wait." "Well, now the wait is over."

Folio smiled, focusing his attention back to his girls as the nurse left the room. The sound of the door closing caught Y/N's attention. She looked up and smiled the moment her eyes landed on her husband.

"Nick! Come here! Come meet our daughter!" she said quietly as to not wake the sleeping child.

Nick's chest no longer ached. He was able to take a deep breath as he urgently made his way over to the bed, never taking his eyes off his wife. Even though she looked exhausted, Y/N was still the most beautiful thing ever to him. She was alive. She was healthy. She was his.

"Are you okay? You look worried."

Y/N took his hand and brought it to her face, kissing his palm sweetly.

"Yeah," Folio smiled even though his eyes welled up with tears. "I'm fine. Just really happy you're okay. Both of you."

He wasn't about to indulge his wife with his fears and worries of the past hour. He'd save that for another day. He shifted his gaze from Y/N to the sleeping bundle in her arms; his daughter.

"Do you want to hold her?"

Nick's eyes swiftly looked at Y/N's.

"But she's asleep." "That's okay. She won't mind. I'm sure she wants to finally meet her daddy," Y/N said sweetly to him.

At first, he was terrified, but after leaning over and taking the tiny baby into his arms, Folio had never felt more happy and complete as he did right then. She fit perfectly in the cook of his arm, all bundled up in her tiny pink blanket. Her little button nose and small thin lips were like those of a baby doll, and for a brief moment, Folio thought he might accidently break her. And that's when he broke. Tears ran down his face as he cried, gazing upon the face of his little girl, and he sniffed and sniffed as the tears fell onto her blanket.

"Babe, what's wrong?" Y/N asked gently.

At first, Folio just shook his head, unable to speak.

"Hey, come here, come sit with me," she patted the spot on the bed in front of her.

"Talk to me, Nick. Tell me what you're thinking."

"I thought I lost you," he said, his voice breaking. "I didn't know what happened to you when they took you back through those double doors."

Y/N's shoulders fell.

"Babe, oh no, I'm so sorry," she apologized, laying her forehead on her husband's shoulder and placing her hand on his thigh.

"I waited for over an hour and no one could or wouldn't tell me anything. I didn't know what to think. When they told me that the baby was breached, it almost killed me. I knew back at the house that something didn't feel right when I laid my hands on your belly, but I wasn't prepared for everything that happened. I just..."

Folio hung his head, weeping quietly. His shoulders shook as he hugged his daughter to his chest, silently thanking God that she was okay.

"Nick, baby, I'm so sorry you went through all of that," Y/N apologized, choking up on her words. "Everything on our end went okay; just really fast. They told me she was breached and that made everything make sense. I wasn't really scared about the surgery, but just freaked out because you weren't with me. They told me you couldn't be because it was an emergency procedure. But I didn't feel anything and it was all over quicker than I realized."

Folio nodded, wiping his nose on the should of his shirt before placing a kiss on his daughter's head.

"Where do I lay her?" "Right here," Y/N told him, pointing to the rolling bassinet next to her.

Nick laid the baby down, caressing her little cheek before leaving her to find his wife. He stood over her, admiring the face he loved so much, thankful that they were finally together again. Y/N carefully scooted over some and Nick climbed in, throwing his arm around her shoulder where she settled in comfortably. Having him close to her again made Y/N feel complete.

"I love you, Nick. "I love you, too Sweetheart, and our little angel." "I realize she needs a name, right?"

Nick could hear the smile in her voice.

"Any ideas?" "No. You?" "Not yet. Let's get to know her a little first." "She needs one before we leave the hospital."

Folio smiled, kissing his wife's forehead.

"She'll have one."

Y/N grinned, burying herself deeper into Folio's side where she fell asleep almost instantly.

[remus-poopin]

What are your top HP fics based on writing? Like things that are just beautiful to read

Wow I think I’m answering this 3 months late sorry aghh. Again, I don’t read as many fics as I would like to, but I’ve been changing that recently and these are 4 that have really stood out to me in terms of writing!

Savour the Moment by - @evesaintyves

This fic made me both sad and hungry

This is a truly beautiful portrait of Molly and her relationship with Ginny. I really love how effortlessly this weaves in the food and cooking imagery with the emotions of the characters. The descriptions are so detailed and vivid that you can practically taste the cakes and pies off of the words alone.

Grief is hanging over this fic heavy, grief from Molly with her brothers and grief yet to come from Ginny. These two very different women, who also feel things very differently, have an extremely engaging back and forth of attempted connections. Both of them want it but aren’t able to easily get there with each other, and that struggle was very compelling to me.

Really such a great fic, I always find myself coming back to it

Favorite quotes:

“Molly has always tasted her memories. Perhaps that's why she's always been a bit thick round the middle: food relishes the good times, is the physical stuff of love. Ever since she was a little girl: plum pudding was Christmas and summers were cherry ice cream and chocolate flake. The time she broke her ankle jumping down from a tree, to this day, is the chalk flavor of Skele-Gro and a limp cucumber sandwich from the St Mungo's cafeteria. Her mother is sweet milky tea and her father is cottage pie with mushrooms, his favourite, flavoured with the smoke of his pipe in the air.”

“She learned to cook at her own mother's elbow and she is full of warm, creamy, ginger-flavoured memories of it. But Ginny's never liked being in the kitchen with her mum. She wants to be out with the boys, flying on broomsticks, getting jostled and scraped and braying coarse laughter through a mouthful of blood. That's why, when she thinks about Ginny, it's not the cream tea and swiss roll flavours she expected when she learned she was finally having a girl. It's rain-drenched popcorn at the Quidditch match and the salt of a kiss on Ginny's sweaty, gritty forehead.”

Sparkling Cyanide - @saintsenara

The house elf plot-line in the hp books leaves MUCH to be desired when it comes to fully and unequivocally condemning slavery. Due to this, you might find that me and my black ass are, shockingly, not its biggest fans.

However this fic is a brilliant look into elves’ oppression and enslavement AND their culture and agency.

This fic focuses on the death of Hepzibah Smith and the conditions surrounding and leading up to it. Specifically the subjugation of Elves and how that system encourages the idea of them as docile, unintelligent, and submissive (And how this perception can be wielded against the wizards that enslave them).

What I find so striking about this fic is how language is centered as a tool to illustrate the functions of colonial mindsets. I think this does a fantastic job at subverting the trope of “improper English = stupidity” that HP uses so frequently.

This was an extremely satisfying and moving read!

Favorite quotes:

“Come quickly and stop faffing,’ Mes Ebhsebbá says to Eokhí. She is clicking her fingers at Eokhí, like there is magic in her fingers. There is magic in Eokhí’s fingers. She is able to make the whole house fall to the ground if she is wanting to.”

“They is not knowing that we is knowing how to take the lives we is wanting from them. And that is why they is not thinking about how many weapons they is putting in kitchens.”

The Seven names of Mrs Zabini - @artemisia-black

And if I said that she did nothing wrong then what?

I’ve mentioned this fic several times before but I don’t think I’ll ever be over it. The way this is written is actually masterful; the attention to details, the poetic language, the characterization. I’m going to scream.

There is just something about this fic that entrances me. This is actually my favorite genre of story, the “good for her!” category, and whenever I read/watch these I go temporarily insane.

Because this is in first person we’re really getting into Mrs. Zabini’s mindset and the traumas that inform it, and this is extremely effective/convincing in making you stay on her side even while she is committing cold blooded murder.

Another thing I love about this is how the actual murders are so casually placed in the story, in comparison with how rich the rest of the imagery that Mrs. Zabini is describing. It’s almost like an afterthought. It makes her sound so much colder and more calculating than if there was a long depiction of each individual killing, so I thought that was a really brilliant writing choice.

If you love Gone Girl definitely give this a read!

Favorite quotes:

“There is a reason that Venus herself emerges from her half shell as a fully formed woman, blinking naively into existence. This is what men actually desire, a goddess who knows nothing of the world and so is more easily amused by the trinkets he throws at her. A divine being who is blissfully unaware of her own divinity. A being who had no thought but him and who cannot function outside of him.”

“I had gone to my wedding bed expecting a transformative experience where his penis would alchemise me from a girl into a woman. An expectation I had imbibed from a society that exalts the wonder of the male member. Instead, as I lay there shivering with his rotten seed running down my leg, I felt used and disgusted at the man I had been condemned to spend the rest of my life servicing”

“And as I rattled around our isolated country house, I believed him. Hiding myself from mirrors, starving my body in order to obtain the concave stomach and taut thighs that he so desired. But when I corrected one perceived flaw, he would find another. Peppering his insults with crumbs of tenderness that lured and trapped me in reality of his making.”

The Secret in the Heart of the Forest by @myrskytuuli

This one has it all: accidental cannibalism, ancient rituals, Snape sass, feral Lily, elf politics, generational trauma, fairy induced psychosis, and most importantly the Marauders + Sev and Lily + Regulus and Narcissa all teamed up. Oh yeah I’m eating this up

This one is longer than the others so I’m really going to try to make this as brief as I can but this fic is actually insane because it’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a hp fic and I think I could talk about it forever.

I was genuinely so giddy reading this. There were so many twists and turns and it remained gripping the whole time. This is a psychedelic fever dream, introspective character study, horror adventure and a beautiful tale of friendship all wrapped in one. I absolutely loved everyone’s characterization here, they’re all so beautifully flawed and you can really understand where they are coming from on a personal level but also on a sociological level, I think the author did a MASTERFUL job at this.

The worldbuilding is INSANELY good (the interlude chapters revolving around each of their mothers made me cry repeatedly. And Elieens chapter is just incredible, I have no words). And the pacing is just excellent, I never felt like any of the growth was forced or unearned.

This storytelling is also amazing, whenever there was a theme or reference brought up before in the story that got tied back in again, my mouth would physically drop because it was so seamless yet so meaningful and impactful.

(Sorry but I just need to talk about characterization for a brief minute because this has some of my favorite characterizations that I’ve ever read of some of these characters:

This is my absolute favorite Lily. Like ever. She feels so real here with her anger and flaws and quirks. She is neither villainized nor deified but a full fleshed out character. I just love her!

This is also my favorite James! James is usually a tough character for me to stay engaged with but this fic does an excellent job at balancing his strengths and flaws while keeping him compelling.

This Snape is PERFECT!!! I actually don’t think I can describe how much I love this depiction, all I can say is if you’re a Snape lover who enjoys him being a lil shit you should read this.

Also Peter is just incredible here, too often is he forgotten but this fic really does him justice.

Ok I’ll stop but just know that I could go on and on about all of these characters)

And seeing these characters who would normally hate each other come together to build meaningful bonds while they grow with their own issues is actually cathartic.

If you are a Marauder and Snape fan this is required reading, I really can’t recommend this enough!

Favorite quotes (there were way too many omg):

“Sirius had been angry for a long time now. Sometimes Sirius wondered if he had been born angry, if his first cry had never truly ended”

“Remus had said nothing after that. He was becoming a champion of saying nothing.”

“‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘I won’t forgive what you did to me.’ Severus said back with conviction.

‘Good.’ Sirius said with equal conviction.”

“At this point, Lily had arrived like the loyal shadow she tended to be around Snape, spitting out an angry ‘What the fuck?’”

“Sometimes he burned with the need to yank himself free of Lily and the blade of love hanging between them. To hurt her when she stepped over Severus' abused body like an avenging angel that looked down at him and made him look small, dirty, used and worthless. A worm crawling in the mud.”

Ok that’s all for now! I definitely think you should give all these a read!!

[markantonys]

bridgerton s3 part 2 thoughts! full spoilers for the whole season, and i will also discuss some book spoilers relating to the future siblings - i haven't read the books and never will, but i know the main points of most of the siblings' stories due to Existing Online. haha i also briefly discuss some wheel of time book spoilers because i was reminded of a certain WOT couple at one point in these episodes!

first things first: I AM SO EXCITED THAT WE GOT NOT ONE BUT TWO (2)!!!!!!!!! CANONICALLY QUEER BRIDGERTON SIBLINGS!!!! AND MY TWO FAVORITES, AT THAT!!!! but i will save that for discussion at the end of the post because it is BY FAR my favorite aspect of these episodes.

but even with that aside, i definitely liked this half a lot more than part 1! screentime felt more balanced and it didn't feel like the sideplots were eating up as much time as it did in part 1.

penelope and colin storyline

they were Fine to me in part 1, but their story was more compelling in this half since we moved on from bland run-of-the-mill childhood-friends-to-lovers and into the meaty and much more unique emotional drama of how penelope being lady whistledown affects their relationship. just as i'd hoped for! and i thought the pacing of this was pretty good too because colin found out early enough that he had enough time left in the season to react properly and work through it, rather than it being some 11th-hour reveal that's hastily swept aside to make way for the HEA. it was juuuuust when i was starting to feel that the "colin makes a hater comment about LW in front of penelope, causing her to look ill with anxiety" shtick was getting old that he found out the truth, so, pretty good timing.

colin was more interesting in this half due to wrestling with the whole "penelope is LW" reveal, but overall, in the season as a whole, he was kinda giving us nothing. they really dropped the ball on him because he just never at any point felt like the co-lead character of the season. for daphne & simon and kate & anthony it felt like a pretty balanced exploration of both characters as individuals on top of the romance, but this season it was 100% the penelope show and colin felt basically like a prop. and penelope's a great character and had great stuff this season, so i enjoyed all the time spent on her, but we needed more for colin to go along with it. after 8 episodes, i still don't feel i know much about who he is as a person besides that he's nice and loyal. although on the flipside, i have no problem with male characters whose entire personality is loving their wives haha i love that shit! so a warm welcome for colin into the Wifeguy Club!

speaking of wifeguys, time for my WOT connection, which is that penelope and colin were SO gawene-coded in a couple scenes that it actually killed me! colin's lil arc of feeling kinda jealous of/intimidated by penelope's power as LW at first and most importantly his "what use can i ever be to her when she's so self-sufficient and doesn't need anything from me?" worries, culminating in him realizing "if the only thing i do in my life is love and support such an incredible woman, i'll be completely satisfied" (paraphrasing), i was like, that is soooo TOM gawyn with egwene being amyrlin!!! and when penelope had that line to him about like "i don't need you to take care of me, i never loved you because of what you can do for me, but because you're kind" (paraphrasing) i gasped and clapped my hand to my forehead because it was almost exactly what i had egwene saying to gawyn in my fic chapter that i posted mere days ago!!!!! literally shook to my core haha i was the leo dicaprio pointing at the TV meme x10 in that moment.

eloise and cressida storyline

wonderful to see eloise and penelope's friendship mended! i thought that whole arc was really well done this season, and especially in this half when eloise is dealing with her ex-bff being engaged to her brother who doesn't know she's LW but eloise knows and feels caught in the middle, just lots of messy, complicated emotions in that whole situation and they did a great job with all that.

i really enjoyed cressida in the first half of the season, but in this half it felt like she got a bit too much time. she also kinda reverted back to her mean girl ways (though out of desperation rather than malice), which was less interesting than the different, softer side we saw from her in the first half and made her time in this half feel like more of a drag. but overall, she's a very layered character and the actress did a fantastic job with her, and in this half of the season i always understood why she was doing what she was doing and sympathized with her. it can't be said that she didn't fuck around and find out, but i still felt bad for her in the end! i really liked the moment when colin with his rose-tinted glasses was like "but your family will forgive you and all will be well!" because that's what family has always been like to him, and cressida was like "ummm no, some of us have shitty families and you bridgertons are too naive to realize that", it was a very good moment.

(i will also say, i know this is a highly unpopular opinion for a queer bridgerton fan to have, but i was never on the eloise/cressida train haha i can 100% see the vibes that others picked up on, but they just never did anything for me for whatever reason! i know eloise was the "obvious" choice for a wlw bridgerton but i personally am so SO thrilled that they went for francesca instead, i guess just because i connect so deeply with her character in a way i never have with eloise. also, now that i'm thinking about it, i think eloise vibes the most like aroace to me, i struggle to picture her having a relationship with *anyone* of any gender.)

other storylines

i'm so happy for violet and marcus!! crossing my fingers that we'll see more of them in s4 since their romance is only just budding; it would be so interesting to see him interacting with her kids and getting integrated into the family dynamic (and for us to meet his kids too! though i acknowledge we don't need MORE side characters haha). and i loved the danbury siblings scenes and them getting to the root of their childhood issues and working them out. and of course, violet and lady danbury continue to be THE best duo of all time <33 i adore their friendship so so much, i can't even describe how much!

we got more time with kate and anthony in this half, and all of it was perfect. they're gonna be parents!!!! though alas, it seems like they've made their final exit from the show with them going off to live in india for a while. sad to see them go, but not surprised at all. i see lots of book fans whining about the prior leads leaving and how it's weird for daphne to not be at her own brother's wedding etc, and i do agree that the show/family is gonna start feeling kinda empty as the older siblings & spouses exit, but that's just a necessity of this medium. you can't have main cast be contracted for 6 more seasons just to show up for 2 lines of dialogue per season and hang out in the background of wedding scenes. you can do that in a book, but you can't do it in a tv show. just something we have to live with! and a lot of the complaints take such a "how DARE these actors want to move on with their lives and do other projects instead of dropping everything to prioritize having a minor role on bridgerton for the rest of this decade" tone, which stinks of Fan Entitlement.

i am curious about what might become of penelope, because it sounds like she's kinda continuing whistledown but just as herself and in a more responsible manner that won't hurt people (tho idk how a gossip column can possibly NOT hurt anyone haha the whole "penelope shouldn't give up LW because it's Feminist and Empowering and Gives A Voice To The Voiceless" narrative kinda had me going X Doubt). update: i just saw an interview with the showrunner where she confirmed that penelope will be in s4 and have a storyline. nice!

the featheringtons had much less in this half which i was glad about and they were taken more seriously and not just treated as comic relief, and portia had some really good scenes with penelope.

there was also much less of the mondriches, which i was fine with; i'm very fond of them and enjoyed their stuff this season, but it felt appropriate that they took more of a backseat in this half. i was sad will had to give up the club though! it felt like he had to fully capitulate to the ton and give up his own work that he's passionate about in order to win the esteem of snobby aristocrats, which was a bummer. the showrunner interview mentioned we'll be seeing them again in s4 and will be seeing some more of will's friendship with benedict, so i'm happy about that!

NOW ONTO THE GAYS!!!!

we've all been yearning for bi benedict ever since s1, and i can't BELIEVE it actually happened!!!! i'm over the moon!!!! and i'm so glad i watched the episodes straightaway without having seen any spoilers first so i got to experience the "holy shit, are they............are they going where i think they're going????" adrenaline rush completely pure and unknowing. it was the absolute most wonderful surprise!!! i'll give a lil summary here for those who are curious about how much queer content there actually is.

so, in episode 7 (or maybe it was the end of 6?) benedict gets invited to dinner with his female FWB and her male friend, who turns out to be her other FWB. AS SOON AS this invitation was extended i was like "oho, is benedict going to be needing 3 tickets to challengers?" so imagine my delight when it turned out that indeed, the 2 FWBs invited him in hopes of a threesome! benedict has a very brief moment of connection with/attraction to the man, and then he gets propositioned, but he's flustered and leaves. he returns to talk to his own FWB the next day and she explains to him about bisexuality and he's like icarly interesting.jpg and says that he's met men who like other men in the past but that he himself has never felt attracted to a man "before" (implying that last night, he did, for the first time). he does some soul-searching and then leaves his own brother's wedding reception to go have a threesome, which is extremely biconic of him. (at the wedding he also gives eloise a nice speech about how love is infinite, in the context of her worrying that colin and penelope marrying each other means they'll have less time for her, but it vibed to me like benedict is poly as well as bi, but who knows if that will go any further than this FWB threesome situation; i'd imagine his endgame will still be a monogamous relationship, but you never know!)

this storyline concludes with the female FWB admitting that she's caught feelings for benedict and wants to become serious (and monogamous) with him, but he politely turns her down because he feels "free" for the first time and wants to keep exploring life and isn't interested in a serious relationship right now, and might not ever be. my only gripe with the storyline is that i wish the male FWB had been introduced an episode or two earlier so we could watch benedict building a connection with him and feeling a budding attraction for an episode or two before the initial threesome proposition occurs to trigger him to actually acknowledge that attraction; as it is, it all happens kind of abruptly and our boy speedruns his entire bi awakening in the span of a single episode, bless him lmao but i'm assuming neither FWB will appear in s4 (they felt like one-season characters to me), so if so, it's fine to not spend too much time developing those specific relationships. the Point of the storyline was for benedict to realize he likes men too and likes non-conventional relationships, and that was accomplished with flying colors!

later on there's reference to "next year's masquerade ball" and i know a masquerade ball is where benedict first meets his endgame love interest in the books, so it seems just about guaranteed that s4 will be about benedict's book. i'm super curious about what direction it will go in! in the book, it sounds like their trope is Forbidden Romance, with the forbidden aspect being class difference (he's an aristocrat and she's a servant), so adding some kind of queer element as an additional reason for why it's Forbidden feels like a viable option, especially after s3 took pains to establish that benedict is interested in queer/non-traditional relationships.

but what form might that hypothetical queer element take? a monogamous m/m romance with genderbent sophie? or could we see trans or genderqueer sophie, in line with the cinderella metaphors about masquerade and disguise and identity and presenting differently in different environments? or might they go for some kind of poly or open relationship endgame for benedict? i don't know! there's so many options! it's also entirely possible that sophie will remain a cis woman and benedict will have a monogamous endgame with her, which i would also welcome because it is actually VERY rare to see rep of bi people ending up very happy in monogamous different-gender relationships, while still remaining firmly bi (most of the time bi characters end up in same-gender relationships, or end up in different-gender ones while dismissing their prior same-gender attractions as just a phase, or are chaotic sluts who cheat because they aren't content with only being with one person).

now on to francesca. we know for 100% fact that her love interest has been genderbent into a woman, because she was introduced at the end of the final episode! so francesca's endgame love story is guaranteed to be wlw, which is so exciting! (for context, her book endgame love interest is john's cousin michael stirling, and in the show she met john's cousin michaela stirling, so that's how we know with 100% certainty.)

taking it back a bit to the rest of her story this season, we see her and john courting, then getting engaged and married in a small wedding at bridgerton house with just the family, because they both hate being the center of attention. it was all incredibly wholesome introvert4introvert content and i adored it!!!! kept going "this is literally my ideal marriage" during so many of their scenes haha

but there is somewhat of a question of, is francesca actually attracted to john/men in general? throughout the season and even after the introduction of michaela stirling, i assumed yes; francesca clearly adores john and states that she loves him, and her body language around him seemed to me to show attraction. but after finishing the season and reading discussion online, i saw people saying that francesca seemed disappointed with kissing john at their wedding (which i'd interpreted as her just feeling shy about kissing him in front of people) and that it was a marked contrast to how flustered and interested she is when she meets michaela. so for me, the jury's out on whether she's more bi-leaning or lesbian-leaning; now that i know canon wlw francesca is a thing, i'd need to rewatch the season again to analyze her behavior with john more closely to decide what vibe i'm getting there! because on first watch it wasn't even on my radar to consider that maybe she's not actually attracted to men.

i will admit, i would be kinda disappointed if she *isn't* truly in love with john, just for the fact that i found it so delightful and refreshing to see a quiet romance that's so different from the loud melodramatic ones, as is discussed many many times during francesca's storyline this season. and i did notice that francesca tripping over her words upon meeting michaela is exactly what violet had said she did when she first met her late husband, and violet was bringing this up to say "but your way of loving john is different from that and that's valid". so i definitely CAN imagine that maybe they're making a deliberate point here that, actually, the reason why francesca's love for john looks so different from other characters' for their spouses is because she does NOT in fact have spousal love for him, but rather platonic love that she's misinterpreted as romantic. but i would just be mildly annoyed if The Point turned out to be "actually, violet is right and True Romantic Love must always be flustering and tongue-tying and dramatic" lmao but that's a personal gripe for me as a very quiet person who loved seeing the type of romantic relationship i would prefer depicted with francesca and john; i can also see the counterargument that a storyline of a repressed lesbian trying to untangle her actual feelings from comphet and societal expectations would be very powerful and important! and particularly interesting to explore in this regency context.

now on to some bigger book spoilers. so from what i understand, in the books, john dies, leaving francesca as a widow, and her love story with michael is about dealing with grief and learning to open herself up to love again after loss. i've seen the argument that francesca actually being a lesbian who wasn't genuinely in love with john would cheapen this storyline, and i can see that point for sure, but otoh it's abundantly clear that she does have a very deep care and love for him regardless of whether or not it's romantic/sexual, so i think no matter what, we will still see her being very affected and pained by his death and struggling with guilt about falling for someone else (his cousin! a woman!) etc.

what i'm most curious about here is the timing! there was some leak that michaela's actress is allegedly booked as a small part in s3 and a main role in s4. i'd been wondering if maybe they would start combining books, but in the interview i read, the showrunner confirmed that the plan is still to do only one book/sibling per season, so it seems that s4 will only be benedict's book. which makes sense, because i believe in the books francesca is married to john for 2 years before he dies and then it's another few years before she starts romancing michael, so i'd guess s4 will just see francesca develop a friendship with michaela and then maybe john dies towards the end of the season, then we do a timeskip between seasons and s5 is about francesca and michaela. but then there's still eloise to contend with, maybe she would be s5 and francesca not until 6.

i really really hope we'll get some francesca-benedict bonding next season (or s5/6 depending on the timing of francesca having her gay realization; it seems still subconscious for her as of now) since they are officially The Queer Siblings!!! i need to see them find this out about each other and talk about it together and be confidants for each other. it will also be so fascinating to see violet & the other siblings react to a queer bridgerton endgame romance. violet wants her kids to be happy, but she sometimes struggles with realizing that what happiness looks like to them may not align exactly with what happiness looks like to her, so i could definitely see her needing to take a moment to readjust her perspective and realize that francesca not being able to legally marry michaela in a public manner known to all of the ton and have biological kids with her doesn't mean they can't be just as happy as her straight kids and their partners. (on that note, i remember that in the past people have suggested francesca could be a great candidate for a wlw bridgerton because her status as a widow allows her a lot more societal freedom than a never-married woman, so i love that the show went with her! i can totally see her endgame being that of a respectable widow living peacefully in the countryside with her Dear Friend.)

i remember straightaway francesca set off my gaydar in 3x01 when she was reluctant about entering the marriage mart and dismissive at the idea of finding True Love and going ??? when people asked what qualities she wanted in a husband, and there was a scene of her talking with other debutante girls and i went "man i would love it if she got a girlfriend" but never in a million years did i actually think that was a real possibility! so i'm SO thrilled that they're going there, and like i mentioned before i quite like that they went with the polite introvert sister instead of the outspoken rebel sister to be the gay one because it just feels like a subversion of expectations and stereotypes for me, and because all season i'd been seeing so much of myself in francesca and then, finding out she's gay like me!!!! cherry on top!! and then for michaela, in the books i believe michael is yet another rake, which the show sets up for michaela too with her joking about being even more scandalous than john's stories might make her out to be - the rake is the backbone of the regency romance genre, so getting to see a wlw version of the trope with a female rake is going to be SO much fun!! esp with the setup that francesca is fairly society-conforming as of now; michaela broadening her horizons could be something interesting to explore.

wow this post got super long lmao i'm just so excited! canon queer bridgerton siblings singlehandedly turned this show from "i casually enjoy it as a few hours of fun which i forget about soon after it's over" to "i'm literally frothing at the mouth i need the next season NOW" and That is the power of representation, baby!

[maledictusfotum]

Heya I saw you like Severitus too 😁😁

(I noticed it after your amazing little Fanart of Obscured and it's so beautiful and sad at the same time 🥺😭😭 do you have others favorite chapters of this fanfic?)

But I'm curious 👀

Have you a favorite Severitus fanfics list 👀 ?

first off, thank you <3 I love Obscured all the way through, my all time favorite chapters would be chapters 18 and 19 respectively and chapter 5 though mainly for the hurt/comfort, drama, angst and just brilliant writing I am glad you asked about my severitus favorites because I have a comprehensive list of all my favorite Severitus fics and have had them lined up for my weekly rereads and now I get to share them...this is my moment this is not a "oh this fic is on this number because its better than the others" because to me, most of these fics are as good as the other and each deserve their own respect for good writing and storylines :) there's no real organization to this it just is so lets get down to it 1. Like None Other series-this series always makes it onto the Severitus fic recs but im adding it too because I adore it sm. mainly for the magic lore and Harry growth and generally just some good fucking Severitus and ofc im a stickler for Draco being thrown into that dynamic as well so. yes, lovely series 2. A Patchwork Family-there is no universe where this fic doesn't make it to this list, the Severitus, the childhood trauma, the ptsd healing, the emotional hurt/comfort...I enjoy the first one immensely and am so so so hyped for the sequel and just from the first chapter im even more ecstatic bc now we incorporate MORE trauma and yes I could yap forever about this 3. Obscured-do I have to even explain why this is on here. you have no idea how much this fic inspired my hyper fixation on Obscurials...no, I had not watched Fantastic Beasts before reading this fic, but I definitely did after and I woke everyone up screaming every time Credence made an appearance...the ADHD is strong in me. anyway this fic's writing is so damn good its like eating a hot meal or a full night of sleep its so satisfying for me personally, and the author is also a Six of Crows fan and I can glean the inspiration and when have I ever been denied the joys of Grishaverse writing. NEVER 4. Digging for Bones-okay so this fic??? its dark. its sometimes a bit TOO dark, but I enjoy it nonetheless, its always gotten quite a few tears from me...AND it includes magic lore, so I obviously was all over that. the Severitus is good, this whole fic radiates rainy day vibes and is just generally nice despite the morose energy 5. O Mine Enemy-this was one of my first glimpses into Severitus and...it's just lovely. a lovely fic, a lovely time all around, I enjoy it immensely every time I read it, the hurt/comfort is amazing and the Severitus is delicious here. the writing style is super satisfying to me and its just a good time all around (I had to split this in two bc my computer is being odd)

[morningsharksworld]

Right, but what if - Hazard and Reader who's a tattoo artist

ALSO I LOVE YOUR FICS, EACH AND EVERY ONE IS SO GOOD

DARE

Hazard x Tattoo Artist!Reader [REQUEST]

A/N: OKAY SO hear me out first, me and a couple of friends were on VC one day looking at Hazards emotes n shit right. We notice something on his sitting emote. Although dude is decked out head to toe with spikes or just overall darker clothing his lower back however, is EXTREMELY empty no mods, no marks, NOTHING, NADA.

And if you ask me, it’s perfect spot for one specific tattoo

A tramp stamp tattoo

Summary: Hazard lost a bet :]

Hazard stood outside Lucky 13 Ink, glaring at the neon skull above the door as it flickered mockingly. He adjusted his jacket, grumbling under his breath, his Scottish accent thickened by frustration.

“Fuckin’ stupid bet” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Coulda just taken the bloody fold, but nooo, Hazard’s got tae go all in.”

His so-called friends—Boomslang, Jackdaw, and Revel—had been unbearable ever since the bet. The three had orchestrated his downfall with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, and now here he was, about to get a tramp stamp.

If they thought they were picking the design, though, they had another thing coming. He’d take the hit, aye, but on his own terms.

With a resigned sigh, he shoved open the door. A bell jingled overhead, announcing his arrival.

The shop was dimly lit, with glowing panels on the walls showcasing intricate tattoo designs that looked like something out of a cyberpunk fever dream. A low bassline hummed in the background, vibrating through his boots.

You were behind the counter, sketching on a glowing tablet. The mechanical arm you were using whirred softly as you worked, the faint blue light from its wiring casting shadows on your face.

Without looking up, you spoke. “Walk-ins are welcome, but if you’re here for a bad decision, I’ll need to see some ID first.”

Hazard froze, caught off guard by your dry tone. “Eh? Whit’s that supposed tae mean?”

Finally, you looked up, eyeing him critically before smirking. “Let me guess. Lost a bet?”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Ach, why does every bugger keep sayin’ that?”

You leaned on the counter, amused. “Because no one who looks exactly like you walks in asking for a tattoo last minute unless they’ve been bullied into it. So, what’s it gonna be? A little butterfly? Maybe some flames? Or a nice, dainty bow?”

Hazard scowled, his pride taking yet another hit. “Something cool, alright? Lower back. But make it look decent, aye?”

Your smirk widened. “Cool? You’re giving a lot to work here big guy.”

=====

You set to work on your tablet, the stylus gliding across the screen as glowing shapes materialized. Hazard leaned on the counter, his scowl softening into curiosity as he watched you work.

“So” you said after a moment, not looking up, “what kind of bet are we talking about?”

“Poker” he grumbled. “Thought I had a full house. Turns out, the bastards rigged the whole game. Loser gets a tramp stamp. Apparently, that’s me.”

You laughed softly, the sound light and teasing. “Sounds like you need better friends.”

“They’re eejits” he admitted, “but they’re my eejits.” He smiled softly to himself.

You glanced up at him briefly, your smirk softening. “Fair enough. Good thing you came here, though. I don’t do embarrassing tattoos. Only masterpieces.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Aye? And whit’s yer idea o’ a masterpiece?”

You turned the tablet toward him, revealing the design.

Hazard blinked, his jaw tightening slightly as he took in the image. It was stunning—a cybersigil that looked alive, its sharp, glowing lines forming an intricate symbol that pulsed with an almost otherworldly energy. It was futuristic and ancient all at once, like something ripped straight from the digital ether.

“Well?” you asked, clearly enjoying his stunned silence.

“This…” He hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “This is Fuckin brilliant!.”

You grinned. “Thought you’d like it. Ready to make it official?”

“Aye” he said, his voice steadier now. “Let’s get it done.”

=====

Hazard shifted in the chair as the tattoo gun buzzed to life.

“Relax” you said, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’ve done this a thousand times. You’re in good hands.”

“Relax, ye say?” he muttered, gripping the chair. “Aye, easy for you tae say. Yer no’ the one about tae be permanently marked.”

You chuckled, leaning in as you worked. “Trust me, it’s not that bad. You’d be surprised how many tough guys turn into babies once the needle starts.”

“I’m nae a bloody baby” he shot back, though his knuckles whitened as the needle touched his skin.

“Uh-huh” you said, your tone dripping with amusement. “Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

Hazard huffed, trying to focus on anything but the sting of the needle. “So” he said after a moment, “ye think this’ll shut ma pals up?”

“Oh, absolutely” you replied. “But when they see this, they’re gonna be jealous. This thing’s a work of art.”

“Aye, well, it better be” he said with a smirk. “Dinnae want tae hear about this for the rest of ma days.”

You chuckled to yourself and went back to concentrating, as you worked, your eyes occasionally flicked over to him. At one point, you caught sight of his muscles flexing as he tensed up. You couldn’t help but smirk.

“Not bad” you said casually, breaking the silence. “You’ve got some serious muscle, huh?”

Hazard’s ears turned slightly red at the unexpected compliment, but he hid it behind a half-grin. “Aye, well, nae bad for a guy who spends his time blowing stuff up, eh?”

You chuckled, your mechanical arm adjusting to get the perfect angle. “Well, I’d say it’s paying off. You’ve got a solid build. Could probably lift a ton and still look good doing it.”

Hazard’s jaw dropped slightly, then he flashed a cocky grin. “Ah, ye like what ye see, then?”

You looked at him with a playful, teasing glint in your eyes. “Oh, yeah. You’ve definitely got the look for a tattoo like this. It's like the tattoo was made for you.”

Hazard shifted a bit but was clearly flattered by the compliment. “Ha! Guess ye’ve got an eye for these things, eh?”

You smiled as you continued to work, the needle buzzing steadily. “I’m just stating the obvious. You’ve earned that design—looking like you do.”

“Ach, ye’ll make me blush if ye keep this up” he grumbled, though there was a definite smile behind his words.

=====

When you finished, you wiped down the tattoo and handed him a mirror.

Hazard twisted in the chair, craning his neck to see the design. His eyes widened slightly as he took it in—the cybersigil glowed faintly, the sharp lines and flowing patterns perfectly complementing his form.

“Fuckin’ hell” he muttered, a rare grin spreading across his face. “That’s… that’s somethin’ else.”

“Told you I don’t do ugly tattoos” you said, clearly pleased with his reaction.

He stood, adjusting his shirt carefully over the fresh ink. “Aye, thanks for no’ makin’ me look like a complete eejit. Yer a lifesaver.”

“Anytime” you said, handing him a care sheet and your card. “Take care of it, and come back if you ever want more ink. Or, you know, if your friends rope you into another dumb bet.”

He took the card, your fingers brushing his for a brief moment. “I might just do that.”

=====

Back at the hideout, Boomslang, Jackdaw, and Revel were waiting, drinks in hand and smug grins plastered across their faces.

“Well?” Boomslang said, leaning forward eagerly. “Let’s see it!”

Hazard sighed, turning around and lifting his shirt just enough to reveal the glowing cybersigil.

“What the hell?” Jackdaw muttered, squinting at the intricate design. “That’s… that’s actually cool.”

Revel whistled. “Mate, you got a bloody masterpiece back there.”

Boomslang frowned, his smug grin replaced with a scowl. “This doesn’t feel like a loss. You cheated.”

Hazard smirked, dropping his shirt and leaning back in his chair. “Can’t help it if I’ve got good taste, eh?”

As his friends bickered about the fairness of his “punishment” Hazard found his mind drifting back to you—the way you worked with such precision, your sharp wit, and the easy confidence that had made him feel like this whole ordeal wasn’t such a disaster after all.

Maybe losing that bet wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened.

[wadesbedtimestories]

Sleepytime Tea (Wade Talks in His Sleep) by dinosaurstars (T)

3636 words, 1/1 chapter

“I–I–” For once, Wade can’t think of anything to say. Shit. Logan’s eyes are barely visible in the near darkness, but Wade can feel his gaze nonetheless. It isn’t the piercing glare he’s usually graced with. Fuck. As the moment stretches on, there’s nothing to fill the silence but Wade’s breaths, the soft pants of wounded prey staring up at its soon-to-be killer. But Logan seems perfectly content to wait, and it’s only then that Wade realizes that Logan’s holding his hand. It makes his insides feel like they’re twisting into balloon animals in a not-fun way, and Wade thinks that six adamantium claws directly to the chest would be easier to take. His lungs already feel like they’re full of blood. Strapped down. Can’t move. Can’t breathe. His skin feels like it’s turning inside out. He can see his reflection in the glass of the hyperbaric chamber, can hear himself scream while he watches himself turn into a monster. Francis. Francis. “I was a mermaid in H20: Just Add Water and the condensation from my water bottle made me transform during my class trip to the beach.” The words tumble from Wade’s mouth like a waterfall. Finally.

author's tags: nightmares, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, wade is bad at feelings, wade has ptsd, protective logan, sexual tension

my tags: emotional hurt/comfort, nightmares, wade wilson has ptsd, protective logan, happy ending

review (light spoilers):

good morninggg it's been a long time. i have a whole list of recs to get to but this is one i read last night, because i woke up this morning still thinking of a line from this fic. it wasn't even really a line related to the general premise but god it blew me away. anyway!

this is one of those fics where one of them has a nightmare and is comforted. not a new plot by any means but beautifully written and characterised nonetheless! one of my favourite things about this fic is how much character is snuck into it just through a couple of words thrown into some lines, that just tell you so much about wade and logan in a way you could very easily miss. the author is also great at writing logan's instinctive (protective, animalistic) thoughts and wade's stream of consciousness dialogue. it just makes for such a good balance between angsty and entertaining

this isn't even an established relationship or getting together but that isn't always necessary for their dynamic to shine through, and this fic proves it. it's so tender and they find such comfort and relatability in each other that you are basically implicitly handed the certainty that it will all be ok.

favourite lines (also light spoilers):

He opens his mouth to do just that, but a trembling overtakes his body and shakes the words from him.

He casts his eyes to the heavens, expecting the dull ache when it makes him think of Kurt. (!!!!!!!!!! this fucking line oh my god)

read (and comment on!) the fic

masterpost

[laventadorn]

This is half about danmei, which isn't the main or even tertiary purpose of this blog, BUT also half about writing in general, so here I stick it.

I've been reading danmei since 2020 but I've really struggled to write anything for it. If i measure success by just getting something going, the fic I'm currently working on is the most "successful" venture I've had. It took me ages to even crank out the opening scenes. Despite longing to write in the New Hyperfixation for a long time, I just couldn't grok it.

Initially I thought it was unfamiliarity with the background of the culture the media was based in. With HP, for example, there is a whole lot of English culture that's easily accessible to me, and I studied British literature in school for years. Obviously this isn't the same thing as being English, but it gave me enough of a background to fake it that once when i applied to a graduate program in England, they thought I was actually English.

But with china, there is so much I don't understand and can't access in the same way, so I thought perhaps that was the problem.

But now I'm thinking it's more about the literary approach.

The tradition I learned to write in is one of realism. I often cite Jane Austen as my favorite author; she was a writer of realism: people, situations, and style are all as close to reality as possible. She was actually one of the most hard-line realist writers of the time, even meticulously accurate in minutiae such as how long it took to travel between cities, or when you could reasonably expect to receive a letter. The way she renders character is also heavily based in the psychology of real people, especially in the latter half of her career. And I love the psychology of character. Nothing interests me more as a reader or a writer. It's what I use as a foundation for writing: how to render people and their emotional responses within a tradition of realism, so that they feel (as much as possible, given that i also love fantasy) like genuine human beings.

But this is not, in my experience of it, what Chinese BL is about.

Now, the first of my caveats is that plenty of western media isn't, either (though fandom tends to be obsessed with it to the point of mania, where a character's psychology is microscopically detailed, in particular their responses to trauma). But western media often maintains a veneer of it -- my favorite marvel movie is Captain America: the Winter Soldier, which features Steve feeling purposeless and empty in a world he no longer fits in. (And then his internal conflict is symbolically made external with the reappearance of his dearest friend, whose mind has been wiped to forget him.) That whole movie revolves around Steve's psychology. And that's a big budget blockbuster movie chock full of punchy, blow-uppy action scenes. It still finds time to make a character feel depressed and lost.

(They then did absolutely nothing interesting with it, but you know. They had a single moment.)

To a certain extent, if western media is character based, it has to explore the characters' mental state, and tries to do so in a way that enlightens both the audience and the character, opening up their dark parts and forcing them to change. We probably have Joseph Campbell to thank for a lot of this; his Hero's Journey was modeled heavily on the works of Carl Jung, the psychologist. In fact, Carl Jung was hugely influential in English-speaking literary criticism of the 1970's. (I say "English speaking" because that's the only field I'm familiar with.) To give you the biggest example I know of, Ursula K. le Guin's phenomenal Earthsea trilogy is steeped in Jungian psychology, no book more so than the opening novel, A Wizard of Earthsea. The climax of that novel blew my mind, by the way.

My second caveat is this: it's not that the patterns of Chinese BL don't have character work, or that they aren't concerned with the character's interiority. With my fixation on character, if those things were entirely absent, I wouldn't be reading these books. It's more that the media tradition of hyper-focus on the characters' mental state, the delicate unfolding of their psychology, is not what drives the media. The characters do suffer, and they have feelings and desires, but they are often preternaturally strong-willed and able to withstand horrific trauma while still maintaining their sense of self.

(Two characters really come to mind. One is Chang Geng from Sha Po Lang, whose "mother" repeatedly puts him through such intense physical and psychological abuse in his childhood that you wonder how anyone could possibly stay sane. But he's also been injected with a magical poison that will drive him insane, and gives him bloody nightmares every night, and requires him to drink blood -- you get the idea. The other is Gu Mang from Yuwu: Remnants of Filth, who goes through things that are just mind-bogglingly Yiiiikes. Each of them feels the pain, but realism isn't where we're trying to arrive at, because it would be impossible for a real person to hold it together under the things they endured. But neither of them is supposed to be like a real person. Chang Geng, Gu Mang, is supposed to be more.)

Nothing is always. To use the novel I'm writing for as an obvious example toward some measure of realism, Xie Lian spends Book 4 being deeply traumatized; it's part of his character journey and essential to the plot. But his character psychology is still not based in realism. It wasn't designed to be. MXTX herself said in her afterword for TGCF that neither Hua Cheng nor Xie Lian were remotely like real people, because they weren't supposed to be. They were supposed to be larger than life, more than mere existence.

So when I am puttering around with my Psychology of the Individual writing tool, I get a bit wrong-footed because the entire way that I approach writing does not seamlessly settle into this brave new frontier. How can I realistically explore the emotions and mind of people who are not written to be like real people at all? That's what's truly been stumping me.

[suzy-queued]

DVD Commentary: Out of Nowhere

I got a request from @doshiart for behind-the-scenes commentary from Out of Nowhere. @shamelessdvdcommentary

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc) 86,511 words, 15-chapters. I wrote it between November 2022 - January 2024.

What was the initial inspiration for your story? I love murder ballads. I love graphic novels. So when I saw the book In the Pines at my local library, I snatched it up. This book takes old murder ballads and turns them into short stories, told in graphic format. My favorite one was "Where the Wild Roses Grow," based on the Nick Cave song.

I took some very loose elements from this story: A secluded property, a guy escaping from prison, a person protecting their family's gold. The prisoner wooing the gold protector in order to get close enough to rob them. Doesn't that scream Gallavich?

In the murder ballad there's, well, murder. The prisoner dies by the end. Boy, was I tempted to do that in my story.

What was your favorite scene to write? In each story, there's a scene that pops in my head early on that I base the whole setup around. It's the one that I'm gleefully waiting to write. For this story, it was the "cleaning guns" scene in chapter 7, when the sexual tension is high and Ian tantalizes Mickey as he works.

How did you come up with the title? My favorite murder ballad of all time is "El Paso" by Marty Robbins. There's a line in that song, "From out of nowhere, Felina has found me."

The placeholder title was "Gallagher Gold."

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice? I made this note early on: "Ian has a high PHYSICAL IQ. Mickey has a high VISUAL IQ." I used that to make character decisions throughout. Ian was good with his body and his posture. He was good at carrying things and balancing things, climbing and shooting. Mickey was obsessive about patterns and puzzles and solving challenges.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this? Chapter 13, oh my god. That's the hardest thing I've ever written. I was dreading it for months. It's a tense culmination of everything the story has been building to: love, betrayal, physical and emotional pain. The land gets torn up, and so does their relationship. I overcame it by taking lots of deep breaths and writing small chunks every day. I made sure that every sentence was exactly what I wanted to convey, without letting the prose take its own (lazier) path.

Favorite line in the story? “I’m not a fucking Viper.”

Did the storyline change in any way as you wrote the story? When I started this story, I was sure that I didn't want to do another long multi-chap fic. I outlined it as a 5-chapter short, maybe 30,000 words. Then the "what if" whispers started happening, and it grew to a full 15-chapter outline. Most of the chapters had very short descriptions. One was just "fun and games on the land." One was just "This wasn’t supposed to happen, Gallagher."

Other possible settings included: an abandoned church with a small cemetery, and old hospital, a forgotten amusement park. I wrote "somewhere old-timey that would have land."

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterization, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc) The art! I had so much fun with it. I based the style off the old Penguin classics, like the Grapes of Wrath cover below. (Where they had the little penguin, I put the double-triangle Viper tattoo). I'm also showing my concept sketch for chapter 1 art.

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share? I hand-wrote the story first, and it filled two notebooks:

Here are some research shots on the land and the equipment:

I took this photo while I was working. Welcome to the inside of my brain:

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add? I was itching to dramatize more of Ian and Mickey's lives while they were apart. It would have been fun to have 5-6 chapters of them learning to be whole humans again. But ultimately, that wouldn't serve the story. I did a time jump instead.

Are there any ‘easter eggs’ in your story - e.g. references to other stories you’ve written, a trope you often use etc? The story is set in Fox River Grove. This entirely happened because @lalazeewrites introduced me to the town in their comments on Estate of Blood and Trust. So the events of EOBAT and OON are taking place in neighboring towns!

Did you have a beta or a friend who helped you as you wrote? @mzshko helped me figure out the best way to structure chapters 2 & 3. She was patient enough to read an alternate fully-written version of both chapters and tell me which option worked best.

Anything else you’d like the readers to know about the story? Three months into writing this story, I stopped and did a self-analysis because it wasn't igniting. I wrote, "Could it be that I haven't put enough of myself into it?" So I re-evaluated and dug deeper and made it as personal as I could.

I can't emphasize enough how interwoven details of my own life were in this story. I helped my dad install that big aluminum gate in the woods. I used 5-gallon jugs of water to brush my teeth and sponges to bathe. I washed clothes by hand and cooked on a propane stove. I hauled and stacked logs from fallen trees. I had a love/hate relationship with my family's land and ached to be back in civilization, like Ian. My dad used to tell me bedtime stories about escaped prisoners (Mickey?!) roaming the woods and killing small children.

This story is a love letter to my dad, who was dying the entire time I was writing. He passed away in May of 2024.

This is open to all writers! Pick your favorite story you’ve written or your most popular or the one you think deserves some more love! Or ask your followers to suggest their favorite fic of yours!

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Pray For Us, Icarus (series)

For three centuries, Crowley has been reincarnated over and over as a human with no memory of his past. Aziraphale has tried to find a way to restore him to his true self, but all he seems to do is hurt them both. This time, he only means to steal a brief moment when he walks into Crowley's flower shop. But Crowley can't let it go...

Length: 65,836 words

AO3 Rating: Teen and Up

Best for: Safe in Public, At Home, Human AU, Canon AU, Angst, Romance, One Sitting

Triggers: Temporary Character Death

Read it here, fic by Atalan

*Minor Spoilers* There's nothing I can say about this story that probably hasn't already been said. It is one of the most popular and well-known Good Omens fanfics, and for excellent reason. I know for certain that I'm not the only one who has wept while reading it. Today was my third time with this story, and, whoops, I cried again.

I've tried to express my thoughts in this post in a few different ways. I can't wax poetic about how much I love this story—my writing skills just aren't there. And much of what I've tried to say feels redundant. I even had a whole paragraph comparing it to the themes in this art by chernozemm which is how this story feels to me.

What I've settled on is that you should read this story because it is intrinsically Good Omens Fanfiction. This series only works as Aziraphale and Crowley, and you could not repackage or retell this story for any other fandom, or, God forbid, traditional fiction. All the emotions we feel reading this come from the intimacy we already have with this world and these characters. The story, and the author, know we can read between the lines. Thus, it can drop a simple line and have us crumple because we already know the subtext behind it. That's why I am so addicted to fanfiction! I'm not saying this is the only story that has accomplished this. But I do think it's one of the most successful.

This series, in my opinion, must be read all the way through. In my eyes, this is a singular work and no one should be skipping any part of this saga. It bothers me that the hit counts between the parts is not equal. The first part has 99k hits and the final 47k. The drop off is criminal! Every section of this story is important and critical to the full picture. So if you read the first part, Flowers for Anthony, and did not proceed to the rest of the story, please get on this!

Completely safe in public, but if you can, I really suggest you read this one at home in one sitting. You'll want to devote all your attention to this story. If, for some reason, you haven't read this one yet, please make it a priority! This is one of the most heart-wrenching and romantic stories I've ever read, and it deserves its spot as a fandom classic.

Read it here, fic by Atalan

[swanhild]

WiP Snippet

Thank you @polutrope and @sallysavestheday for tagging me to share something I'm working on! So here's Maedhros and Fingon being overly competitive shit-talking their family dancing at their wedding in that post-canon fix-it fic that feels like it will never be finished (with bonus appearances by the parents and some siblings and other relatives):

While Turgon possessed many talents that he excelled in, dancing wasn't one his strong suits. It was a fact that Fingon sometimes couldn't resist teasing him about if an occasion presented itself, but right now he simply chuckled softly and said, "I can't decide who's more awkward- your brother or mine." Glancing away from Caranthir and following Fingon's line of sight, Maedhros, too, was amused by the somewhat stiff way Turgon led Elenwë around the dance floor. "Let's not be too harsh on them. They're trying their best," he nevertheless defended their younger siblings, smiling and feeling rather fond of every single member of their family who had come to celebrate with them today. Turgon noticed them watching and nodded at Maedhros and Fingon with an unnecessarily grave expression on his face as he and Elenwë twirled past them. Maedhros had to hide his face in Fingon’s hair so Turgon wouldn’t see him laugh, though Fingon had no such qualms. “I’m certainly grateful we have Turno and Moryo here now to make us look better. I was starting to think we'd be the worst dancers at our own wedding." “What? You’re a good dancer. And so am I,” Maedhros protested. “Yes, but we’re surrounded by show-offs. Just look at them!” Maedhros turned his head in the direction Fingon had indicated and took in the sight of Celegorm effortlessly lifting Aredhel into the air as he spun her around. For two people who spent significant amounts of time crawling through forests, covered in mud and blood, they did admittedly look stunningly elegant and in tune with each other tonight. Next to them, Elrond and Celebrían made an undeniably graceful picture as well, and so did Galadriel and Celeborn, though Maedhros was mostly struck by the unusually soft and adoring expression on Galadriel’s face as she stared into her husband’s eyes. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen his feisty little cousin look like that. “Not to mention uncle Arvo and aunt Eärwen over there! We just can’t compete with that!” Fingon continued, with feigned despair. Arafinwë and Eärwen practically floated around the dance floor, looking very much as if they had spent their whole lives doing nothing else. But then Maedhros’ attention was drawn to his other uncle and aunt — now officially his parents-in-law — and grinned. “I think we can compete with your parents at least. They're not as bad as our brothers, but they won't be winning any awards for their dancing either." “The only reason they're better is because they've been practicing for weeks. Ammë’s not very enthusiastic about dancing, but Atar secretly loves it, so he's been taking full advantage of the opportunity. They are rather unevenly matched in terms of skill and passion though,” Fingon said, before suddenly stopping. “Speaking of parents, Russo, look!” Whipping his head around, Maedhros followed Fingon’s gaze towards the edge of the dance floor where his own mother sat at one of the tables, looking strangely flustered and conflicted. His father was kneeling in front of her, extending his hand and asking her for a dance. With his breath caugth in this throat, Maedhros watched as his mother hesitated, a myriad of emotions flickering across her face in rapid succession. For a few tense moments, Maedhros was sure she would refuse. But then she rose from her chair in one fluid motion and accepted his father’s outstrechted hand. Together, they made their way towards the twirling and swaying crowd. Maedhros quickly buried his face in Fingon’s hair again, but this time it was to hide the tears that had suddenly sprung in his eyes.

(and yes, Fëanor and Nerdanel eventually get back together in this, because I want them to)

Zero pressure-tagging @queerofthedagger @melestasflight @gardensofthemoon @elevenelvenswords @chrissystriped @thecoolblackwaves and anyone else who sees this and would like to share something!

[miumura]

BITE ME — SUNGHOON ONESHOT TEASER.

SYNOPSIS : Throughout history, it has been a common practice for vampires to select unsuspecting individuals from the streets as a source of food, feasting not only on their blood but also on their fear. Sunghoon, accustomed to encountering terrified individuals, found it unusual to come across someone devoid of terror in their eyes—until he met you. Not being in the right state of mind, you had requested him to bite you instead. This unexpected request stirred a peculiar warmth in Sunghoon's pale cheeks, deviating from his usual routine of draining all of one's blood.

— when a supposed feast turns into an surprising attraction.

PAIRING : vampire!sunghoon x fem!reader

GENRE : fantasy, vampire au, strangers to lovers

WARNINGS : mentions of blood, biting, kidnapping, cursing, more to be added!

TEASER WORD COUNT — 460 words.

SOPH — hi guys im pretty excited for this fic 😊 idk how long this will be sooo !! the release date is still unknown but i love spoiling works so here u guys go 😘 just saying bite me caused this .

click here for the full fic !

“You know, I’m not very patient,” he hissed softly, displeased with the lingering quiet that filled his large room. “Don’t think you have any chance of making it out here alive. Just spit it out already.” Crossing his legs, he reached for the golden wine glass, tapping his sharp nails against the delicate surface, his gaze never leaving yours.

Caught off guard by the pressure, panic slipped past your lips, the words tumbling out before you could fully comprehend their weight. “Just….bite me.” The room fell into an eerie silence, granting you a moment to process what you had just said. Regret mingled as you realized the significance of what you had uttered.

“Well, that’s certainly unexpected,” Sunghoon responded, a mixture of bewilderment and intrigue flashing across his eyes. He sets the golden cup down, unable to form words himself. The request to be bitten, especially after learning his true nature as a vampire, was entirely new to him. It sparked a strange sensation within his being, a feeling he couldn’t quite decipher. Do humans also feel these kinds of emotions?

“You’re definitely a weird one,” Sunghoon remarked, still feeling flustered from your unconventional response.

“What do you mean?” you questioned, pretty oblivious to the whole situation.

“Most people wouldn’t dare to ask a vampire to bite them, especially after their life is on the line. It takes away the thrill of the feast,” he explained, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Wait, so you vampires feed off fear too?” you inquired, attempting to make sense of the earlier statement.

“That’s a bit rude for you to address us that way,” a small frown forms onto his face. “But, Of course,” he replied, amusement evident in his tone, “That’s why I told you to calm your racing heart. Fear tends to make it beat even faster.”

“Well, guess what? I am scared right now,” you retorted, defiance lacing your words. “But you can just take a small amount of blood–definitely not all of it, I swear. And don’t forget, I’ll fight back if you push too far.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, his amusement turning into a more serious demeanor. “Bold words from a mere weakling. Don’t forget who holds the power of a vampire here.”

“Don’t forget you’re basically glued to that seat.” He taps onto the arm rests of his chair, signaling the leather straps that restrained your hands from moving anywhere.

“Whatever,” you dismissed, frustration tainting your voice. “Are you going to bite me or not? I just want to get out of here, even though I have nowhere to go.”

A flicker of warning passed through Sunghoon's eyes as he leaned in closer. "Don't test my patience. You have no idea what I'm capable of."

ENHA PERM TAGLIST — @flwoie @ixomiyu @yenavrse @shinsou-rii @luveuly @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @starcubes @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @zuyairus @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie

ASK, COMMENT, OR DM TO BE TAGGED FOR BITE ME .

TAGLIST FOR BITE ME — @soov @lunacrtk @differentchildwombat @amortenha @kyungssem @skinnyzlegendz

[littlemisspascal]

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.”