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lizzieolseniskinda · 3 days

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TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 2

part one | two - x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

(requests open)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: 3745

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate & time travel au, english is not my first language

NOT PROOFREAD :D

the corridors of hogwarts were eerily quiet - almost too quiet in the early morning light. you wandered around hogwarts, taking in the atmosphere. it was just how you remembered how life was before the war. but you had to act as if you didn't know, act as if you didn't know your way around hogwarts. your heart was still racing from the overwhelming disorientation of time travel. the walls seemed taller, the stones beneath you felt somewhat smoother. it felt the same but yet so different at the same time.

you had no clue what to do next, the task laid plain ahead of you - find tom riddle and alter the course of his life by becoming his big love. you shook your head, you knew how time travel had a big effect in the timeline. you never took muggle studies - physics - but you knew what this could do. once he sees you, it's done. there's no going back, well it's not like you could turn back whenever you wanted.

but, it was like hermione said, 'no one is supposed to see you' but only this time it was different. if you didn't change tom riddle for the better - you could make him even worse then he was in your time.

"i believe you may be a bit out of place, my dear."

you stopped dead in your tracks, your heart almost leaped out of your chest. the voice was warm, kind, but still serious. you recognized the voice, you turned and saw dumbledore standing there. a somewhat younger version.

you knew he was still a professor in this year, his auburn hair was tinged with a lot of strands of silver, his robes a deep shade of purple. his piercing blue eyes gleamed with curiosity and suspicion as he looked at you. he raised an eyebrow and his lips curled into a gentle, knowing smile. you wanted to slap him, angry for making you do this, while telling you absolutely nothing.

"you look as though you've been wandering these halls for quite some time," he continued, stepping toward you. "and yet, i don't recall seeing you in any of my classes."

you swallowed hard, your mind scrambling for a good answer, but you came up empty handed. dumbledore's gaze was patient, waiting for you to speak.

"uhh... i-" you began, voice shaking softly, but you stopped. what could you say? what were you supposed to say? that you had just traveled back into the past to stop one of his students from becoming the biggest and darkest wizard of all time?

dumbledore's eyes softened, "why don't we take this conversation somewhere a bit more private?" he suggested, his tone gentle. "i have a feeling there's more to your story than a lost stroll through the castle."

without waiting for your response, dumbledore turned around, motioning for you to follow him. you hesitated for a second, but the calmness in his demeanor somehow reassured you. reluctantly, you followed him down the corridor, your footsteps echoing softly in the stillness of the morning.

after a while, you arrived at an empty classroom, the large wooden door creaking as dumbledore pushed it open. sunlight entered through the tall, narrow windows, casting long shadows across the rows of desks. the air was filled with a faint scent of parchment and chalk, just like his.

dumbledore gestured to a chair near the front. "please, sit down. make yourself comfortable."

you did ask he asked, feeling out of place in this familiar yet unfamiliar world. dumbledore remained standing in front of your desk for a moment. studying you with those sharp, calculating eyes. "there is something... remarkable about you," he said quietly, his voice kind. "you're not quite where you're supposed to be, are you?"

you looked at your shoes, you realised you also didn't really look the part to only be lost. "no," you admitted. you knew lying to a man like dumbledore would do you no good. "i'm.. not?" you said unsure.

dumbledore nodded, as if he expected that answer. "time," he mused, his eyes twinkling with understanding. "it has a peculiar way of bending when we least expect it."

your head snapped up, meeting his gaze. he knew. he definitely knew. "how?" you breathed, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself from talking. "how did you-"

dumbledore raised his hand to quiet you, "i have my ways," he smiled. "but more importantly, it seems you have a very important reason for being here."

you swallowed, feeling the enormity of your 'mission' pressed down on you, but in dumbledore's presence, it felt a little less overwhelming - though you were still angry he didn't tell you anything sooner. he waited, giving you space to explain.

after a pause, you spoke again. "i was sent.. to change something. something that will affect the future," you hesitated, unsure how much you were allowed to reveal. "it's about tom riddle."

at the mention of riddle's name, dumbledore's expression didn't change, but you saw the smallest change in his demeanor. his gaze become more focused, and he leaned forward slightly.

"tom", he repeated softly. "yes... i've always known there was something... special about that boy."

special? more like dangerous. you nodded, "if i don't change him, if i can't make him different... the world will fall into darkness. everyone i love, my friends..." you stopped. your parents. you hadn't even thought of them. your heart started banging in your chest, you wanted to go back. tell them that you were grateful for everything, and that you were sorry for leaving them behind out of nowhere.

dumbledore didn't react with surprise, he nodded. "do not worry about your friends or family." he sighed softly. "you have been given a great responsibility. but changing the course of someone's life is no simple task, especially when that person's soul is... so deeply marked."

you looked down at your hands, "i don't even know if it's possible."

for a moment, dumbledore was silent, his gaze fixed on you with empathy. "nothing is impossible, but you must remember, even the darkest of souls have their choices. tom riddle's path has always been his own. you may be able to guide him... but ultimately, it is up to him who or what he becomes."

his words hung in the air, a reminder of what you were facing. "know that, i will be watching, and if you ever need guidance, you know where to find me."

dumbledore had insisted on introducing you to the Headmaster as a transfer student, emphasizing that no one could know the truth. the fewer people involved in the truth, the better.

you made your way through the corridors of hogwarts with dumbledore. students were scattered around, laughing, talking in hushed voices, completely unaware of the darkness that would be coming.

dumbledore said the password to the headmasters office, it was the same as he had. so original. the spiral staircase came into view as the gargoyle's started moving. you followed your former headmaster up the stairs. the office was filled with old books, a large desk, and a few moving portraits on the walls. it was looked almost the same like dumbledore's office.

behind the desk sat headmaster armando dippet, a tall, thin man with kind eyes. "ah, albus," dippet said, rising from his seat to greet him. "what brings you here?"

dumbledore gestured to you. "headmaster, i would like to introduce you our newest transfer student." he gave you a small nod to encourage you to take a step forward. "she's come from beauxbatons and will be joining us for the rest of her schooling."

dippet's eyebrows rose in surprise. "a transfer from beauxbatons? how delightful! we don't often have students join us from abroad." he looked at you. "what is your name, my dear?"

you swallowed, your nerves tightening your throat, "y/n l/n." you smiled at the headmaster, "i'm honored to be here."

"it's always wonderful to have new students join us at hogwarts. the castle can seem quite large and scary at first, but i'm very sure you'll grow accustomed to it in no time," dippet smiled at you.

you forced back a smile. normally, you would love such pleasantries, but now? absolutely not, it felt as if you wanted to throw up.

dumbledore stepped forward, "headmaster, i've already informed y/n of the basic rules and traditions of the school, but i do believe the sorting hat will handle the rest?"

"indeed," dippet nodded, motioning to a nearby shelf where the sorting hat was in its usual place. "no time like the present."

your heart raced when the sorting hat was placed upon your head. you knew what house you had once belonged to, but would it be hte same here? in this time?

"hmm.." the hat murmured after whining about who dared to wake him up. "interesting... very interesting. you're not like the others i've sorted. ever."

you held your breath.

"i see loyalty.. with a lot of bravery." the had mused, "a fierce desire to do what's right, even when it's proven difficult. courage, and there's something more than that... something deeper.."

did it know? you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, huffing out a breath.

"ah," it whispered. "but that is not for me to uncover. your place, however, is clear."

another moment passed, and then the hat shouted, "gryffindor!"

the word rang in your ears, you weren't placed in the same house. your former house was hufflepuff, what changed? the house of loyalty, hard work, and kindness. maybe this could help ground you. most hufflepuffs you knew where, kind (mostly high as well) and helpful. there were always exceptions but, you were happy with that house.

dippet clapped his hands together, clearly pleased. "a gryffindor! a fine choice indeed. you'll find good company there."

dumbledore's expression remained calm. "it seems that your path is set," he said quietly, his eyes twinkling with that wisdom he always had.

as the hat was lifted from your head, you stood up from the stool you had taken a seat on. gryffindor. it was unexpected, but not wrong - or bad. in some way, it made sense for you. you needed to be brave to talk to tom riddle. so, what better house for that than gryffindor?

the headmaster waved his wand, and a piece of parchment floated over to you. "here's your timetable, y/n," he said, handing it over to you. "you'll begin classes immediately. i'm sure the others will help you find your way.

you took the parchment, scanning the schedule, you had loads of free periods, and as always an astronomy class at midnight on a friday night.

"thank you, headmaster," you said quietly, tucking the parchment under your arm.

dippet smiled. "welcome to hogwarts, y/n. i hope your time here will be both enlightening and rewarding."

"i sure hope so," you nodded. rewarding. you could use the reward of going home.

you and dumbledore left the office, going down the staircase the air felt cooler. dumbledore walked beside you, in silence.

"so, you've been placed in gryffindor," dumbledore broke the silence. "a good choice. you'll find community of loyalty and bravery there."

you nodded, "i didn't expect it."

"sometimes," dumbledore said with a smile," the unexpected paths are the ones that lead us exactly where we need to go. you have been given a second chance, in more ways than one."

"and remember," he said softly. "the fewer people who know your true purpose, the better. riddle must never know why you're really here."

you nodded.

when you stepped inside the gryffindor common room, you immediately felt the warmth. there was a soft red glow from the lanterns, walls were lined with rewards and books. the smell of fresh cookies hung in the air.

a group of students were clustered around a table and looked up as you entered. it was already early in the morning, you wondered why most students were up this time in the morning. the faces of the students were curious but friendly, a wave of relief washed over you. before you could take another step, a girl with curly dark hair and a wide smile broke away from the group.

"hi!" she greeted enthusiastically, her eyes open wide with interest. "you must be the new transfer student! i'm maeve, maeve miller."

you tried your best not to grimace, as you forced a smile. "i'm y/n l/n." the realisation of having to meet and make new friends downed on you even harder.

"professor dippet had owled us. we were all curious, y'know? transfer students aren't that common. you're lucky it's the start of the school year!"

you smiled at maeve's happiness, but you were still baffled at how fast news spreads in hogwarts. i mean you literally just left dippet's office.

"i'll make sure you fit right in, i'll show you to the dormitory," maeve smiled.

you followed her to a spiral staircase, as you walked with maeve, she chatted happily about the house traditions, the upcoming quidditch match, and the best way to sneak extra food from the kitchen.

once you reached the dormitory, you found yourself in a circular room with soft, warm lighting. you saw only one vacant bed - in the middle - with your belongings neatly placed beside it. a suitcase you had recognized, though it felt strange seeing it here. you basically came empty handed here, so how are all your belongings here then?

"how..?" you trailed off, confused.

maeve, caught your confusion. "professor dumbledore's pretty amazing, isn't he? he made sure your belongings were here from yesterday evening. must've used some magic to get your stuff here so quickly."

you nodded, even more confused. you didn't even know you had to time travel yesterday. you had no idea how, and you didn't want to think too much about it before it might drive you mad.

"so, obviously, that's your bed," maeve pointed towards the bed with your belongings on. "and this is mine," she added, pointing to the bed next to yours. "we'll be neighbors! oh, and these are your other roommates."

two other girls approached, one with long red hair and freckles, and the other with short brown curls. they introduced themselves as alicia and lilith, both offering you warm welcoming smiles.

"nice to meet you," alicia said, while lilith gave you a small, shy wave. "it's so exciting to have someone new join us, especially in our fifth year!"

"i'm glad to be here!" you lied right through your teeth. "well, we're heading to breakfast in a bit if you want to join us," alicia offered. "but i'm sure you'll want to settle in first."

"yeah, you guys go ahead, i'll catch up with you in a while," you replied with a nod and a smile.

as the girls made their way out, leaving you alone, you felt disoriented. this was all going too fast. you needed a moment to yourself, normally you would've already been in your last year. you made your way over to the small adjoining bathroom. the light was bright. you stepped in front of the large mirror, ready to see your face full of scars and dirt you got from the war.

but no, your fingers trembled slightly as you reached up to touch your face. staring back at you was a younger version of yourself - exactly as you had looked in your own fifth year at hogwarts. your features were softer, untouched by the weight of the war. your eyes looked brighter.. they hadn't seen the horrors that awaited. no pair of eyes should see a war go down.

it was all surreal, like looking at a stranger. it was clear the potion had not only sent you back in time, but also transformed you to match the age you needed to be.

for a moment, the reflection blurred as tears welled up in your eyes. you had been thrust back into your younger self, in a world you didn't belong in. you took a deep breath, swallowing the fears and tears away. you could do this. you had to do this. for your friends and family.

the first day at hogwarts felt surreal. the familiar sounds of students chatting in the great hall, the smell of fresh made foods and the sight of enchanted candles floating above made you feel like you had stepped back into a dream. you knew there was a big chance that tom riddle was here, in the same room as you.

but before you could worry about him, you had to get through your first day as just another transfer student.

you found yourself sitting at the gryffindor table with your roommates and their friends. "so, what was beauxbatons like? i've heard it's incredibly fancy, with all those grand fountains everywhere," maeve spoke - a good friend from lilith you noted. you could see how she was the one who made lilith blossom open as a shy person.

you hesitated for a second, remembering dumbledore's warning to keep it simple. you gave her a small smile, "it's different from hogwarts. especially since there are a lot more boys here then i'm used to."

lucas, a boy with a head full of black curls looked up, "hogwarts has it's charm, luckily you were sorted into gryffindor, you seem like a cool person and everyone knows it's the best house."

alicia was flipping to your timetables, trying to figure out if you had any classes with your gryffindor friends. "we've got defense against the dark arts first thing! i'm hoping for some practical lesson, today. spells maybe," alicia's eyes widened with excitement.

your stomach dropped slightly after lucas mentioned there was a big chance we'd have a class with the slytherins and a few ravenclaws. given riddle's obsessive interest in the subject, there was no doubt he wouldn't be in this class.

you offered a casual nod, "defence against the dark arts should be interesting..."

after the five of you finished breakfast and gathered your books and made your way to your first class of the day. the halls were busy with students, most of whom paid little attention to you, though a few curious glanced lingered.

once you reached DADA classroom, you found yourself standing at the doorway. you hoped for a normal teacher, when you were in hogwarts every year there was this teacher with the weirdest background ever. the classroom was large, with desks arranged i neat rows, the walls were lined with various defensive artifacts.

you let your eyes wander around the room. there, near the middle, sat tom riddle.

he was exactly as you had imagined - tall, dark-haired, and composed. his sharp features and cold eyes stood out even among your classmates. he exuded an air of authority and confidence. the other students around him seemed to ignore him, you wondered why. were they scared of him, or did they think he was a weirdo?

you quickly tore your gaze away from the back of his head, before he sensed you staring. "come on," maeve whispered, "we don't want you to be late on your first day."

you nodded, and walked towards a vacant seat next to lucas. the professor was a stern looking man, with a neatly trimmed beard. he immediately launched into a discussion of the most advanced spells, his tone brisk and matter-of-fact.

it was pretty hard to focus with the presence of tom riddle in the room. every now and then, you dared to glance at him, watching as he listened intently, his expression focused and serious. you had no idea how you were supposed to change him. he already seemed so… unreachable.

halfway through the class, the professor called for everyone to pair up for dueling practice. maeve grabbed your arm, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“partners?” she asked eagerly.

“of course,” you replied, grateful for the distraction.

you and maeve moved to an open space in the classroom, pulling out your wands as the professor demonstrated a series of defensive spells. you followed along, trying to keep your movements smooth and controlled. thankfully, the practice went well, and maeve seemed impressed.

“you’re really good!” she said after successfully blocking one of your spells. “you must have had excellent teachers at beauxbatons.”

you smiled and nodded at her praise. as you practiced with maeve, you couldn’t help but notice tom a few spaces away, dueling effortlessly with a slytherin boy. his movements were precise, fluid, as if he had been born with a wand in his hand. it was clear to anyone watching that he was far more advanced than most students his age.

finally, when the class came to an end, and you packed up your things, trying to avoid looking at him as you left the room with maeve, lilith, alicia and lucas.

“next up is transfiguration,” alicia said, checking her timetable as you all walked down the corridor. “i’m actually looking forward to that one.”

the rest of the day passed in a similar blur. transfiguration was more manageable — professor dumbledore, who taught the class, gave you a small, knowing smile when he saw you, though he treated you no differently than the other students. you worked on basic transformations alongside your friends, though your mind kept drifting back to defense against the dark arts and the presence of tom riddle.

potions came next, with professor slughorn as the teacher. he welcomed you to the class with open arms, making sure you had everything you needed. it was weird, since you already met him just when he was a bit older. lucas was quick to show you around the room, helping you find ingredients and sharing tips for the potion you were brewing.

“slughorn’s a bit of a collector,” alicia whispered as you carefully added a pinch of powdered unicorn horn to your cauldron. “he loves students with… potential. but he’s nice, at least.”

"he's even got a club," lilith quipped in quietly.

by the time you reached your last class of the day, charms, the exhaustion of trying to keep up appearances had settled deep in your bones. yet, your new friends kept the energy alive. alicia was quick with jokes, and lucas had a dry, witty humor that balanced maeve's enthusiasm. and lilith was just there, enjoying her friends' energy.

a/n: quick chapterrrr, part three will be coming out next week (probably or sooner)

my little taglist <3

@optimisticsandwichgladiator

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corroded-hellfire · 3 days

Note

I’m sorry for getting distracted like ten times before sending this but tbh it’s kinda your fault <3

Imagine you’re sitting in the backyard with Eddie while watching the kids run around and Eddie starts talking about how happy and thankful he is for the life he has now. He gets emotional with you and even starts to cry and I just wanna see him cry happy tears. LET MY BOY BE HAPPY.

Your wish is my and @munson-blurbs’s command our darling wife 💚

Words: 2.3k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Autumn in Hawkins is…well, like any other time in Hawkins, but with a crisp bite in the air. The leaves that budded in the spring and held a lively green in the summer are now beginning to turn brown, curling in on themselves as they fall off of the trees. The sun dips behind the clouds earlier and earlier, bringing many of the town’s residents inside their homes for the night.

But not your family.

You and Eddie sit side by side on the porch swing, watching your kids run around the backyard. All three of them—four, if you count Luke’s dog—are playing a rousing game of tag. Ryan and Luke have teamed up against Eliza and Patch. It isn’t much of a fair fight, considering your daughter is only three years old and the dog doesn’t have a clue about what’s happening, but no one is complaining.

Eddie’s hand finds your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “This is pure chaos,” he whispers in your ear.

“Insanity,” you agree. Eliza shrieks giddily as Ryan picks her up and slings her over his shoulder. There was a time where you could carry Ryan; now, he’s sixteen-years-old and turning into a young man. It was as though the years had slipped through your fingers without you realizing. “What were we thinking, adding another one into this mix?”

Instinctively, Eddie splays his palm over your stomach. You’re only a month along and aren’t close to showing yet, but he still feels that protectiveness over you.

“Four kids and a dog,” he muses, shaking his head. “This is your fault, y’know?”

“My fault?”

Eddie nods, a serious look on his face. “Oh, yes. It was two against two when we just had the boys. But then you had to be so damn perfect, and so I had to give you a baby.” He presses a kiss to your cheek.

“And what about this one?” You glance at where his hand rests. “Is that my fault, too?”

“Absolutely.” Eddie grins. “I mean, you looked so beautiful pregnant with Eliza. How could I possibly let that be a one-time thing?”

You’re about to protest that it was actually a nine-month thing, but you’re interrupted by Patch barking excitedly.

The brown and white puppy runs as fast as his little legs will take him, doing laps around the three kids. He seems content when Eliza is put back down on the ground, and he can go over and check on her.

“I’m okay!” Eliza comforts with a breathless laugh.

She pets Patch on the head as he sniffs all over her small legs and feet. Luke snatches his little sister, and though he doesn’t pick her up off the ground, he holds her prisoner against his chest.

“Whatcha gonna do now, Patch?” he teases. “Remember, I’m the one who feeds you!”

Eliza squeals and wriggles against the fourteen-year-old’s chest. Ryan decides to take the attention off both of his siblings and plop down on the grass right next to Patch.

The plan works perfectly as the Australian Shepherd and Labrador mix abandons both younger Munsons and climbs onto Ryan’s chest.

Eddie chuckles from next to you. When you turn to look at him, an infectious grin has you joining in his laughter.

“We’re raising some great kids, huh?” he muses, still watching them.

“Let’s hope this next one turns out just as amazing,” you say, squeezing your hand over Eddie’s where it’s perched on your stomach.

He turns his hand around to lace his fingers with yours before bringing your hand up to his mouth. His soft, yet slightly chapped lips press kisses from your knuckles all the way to the inside of your wrist. The two of you may have been together for over six years now, but the display of affection still makes you dizzy with giddiness.

“I keep wondering about how they’re going to react,” Eddie says, nodding towards your children out on the lawn. “I think I’ve imagined them responding in every possible way.”

“Can I be the one to say it to them?” you ask. It feels a little silly, but the idea of getting to say the words “you’re going to have a baby brother or sister” to them fills you with glee.

“Of course, princess.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes as the two of you watch Eliza demonstrate to Patch how to roll over. Luke pretends to give his little sister a treat from his pocket and the girl playfully growls at him.

“Do you think Luke will wanna name this new baby?” you ask Eddie as his thumb lazily strokes the back of your hand.

“God, I hope not,” he admits with a breathy chuckle. “He’s been obsessed with WWE lately. We’ll have to name it John Cena.”

You giggle and rest your head on your husband’s shoulder. Man, this pregnancy was already hitting you with the exhaustion.

“Well, Eliza would probably pick Hercules or Megara,” you point out. “Not much better.”

Eddie leans in and kisses your forehead. “Maybe we have to institute a ‘no wrestlers and no cartoon characters’ rule this time.”

“But then Eliza wouldn’t be Eliza,” you point out. It was Ryan who had chosen the name while watching The Wild Thornberries. “So, we might have to make an exception if needed.”

“Fair enough.”

Before you can set any more ground rules, Luke calls out from the grass:

“Attention, lady and gentledad! The Amazing Eliza and her fearless pup, Patch, would like to perform their death-defying spectacular!”

You sit up a bit, watching as Eliza crouches on her hands and knees. Luke fishes a slice of bologna out of his pants pocket—you’re not sure how long it’s been in there, and you’re not sure you want to—and stands on one side of his sister.

On her other side, Ryan holds Patch in his arms, the Aussiedor wriggling in anticipation of his snack.

“And now,” Luke bellows, “we will release the beast!”

With that, your oldest son places Patch on the grass. Before all paws even touch down, the dog bolts towards Luke, leaping over Eliza with surprising grace.

Eliza jumps up, excitement written all over her cherubic face. “Mommy! Daddy! Did you see that? Did you see me and Patch?”

“We sure did, sweet pea.” You look over at Eddie to gauge his reaction, only to see that his eyes are glassy. The kids are already plotting Patch’s next trick when you ask your husband what’s wrong.

Eddie shakes his head, swiping at a tear that managed to escape. “I was just thinking about how much they smile,” he says softly. “Especially the boys. It wasn’t always this way.”

You lace your fingers with his. “I know.” You remember the early days of babysitting Ryan and Luke. They walked on eggshells around Brittany, always prepared to be dismissed or outright rejected. Each “I’m too busy to play with you,” extinguished a little more light in their eyes.

“I love you,” Eddie murmurs. “I love you for so many reasons, but I love you most of all for bringing joy back into our lives again. For reminding us how a family should be.”

Another tear rolls down his cheek as he takes in the unconditional love that surrounds him. You reach over with your free hand and wipe the tear away with your thumb.

“Every smile and little giggle from those boys has brought me so much joy ever since I met them. Seeing their general happiness grow over these last ten years has been a highlight of my life.”

You bring Eddie’s hand up and press a few soft kisses against the back of it.

“And now there’s another infectious laughter added to the mix,” Eddie says with a teary chuckle as Eliza’s wild giggle floats over to you on a crisp breeze.

“And another one soon, I’m sure,” you say, placing a hand on your lower abdomen. “I can’t picture this kid having less than an enchanting laugh.”

Eddie sniffles and nods his head. “We’re all so lucky to have you here. The best mom and the best wife.”

“Not to mention that loving and attentive father our lucky babies have. You don’t give yourself enough credit for how happy you make all of us,” you tell him.

He tries to shrug it off, but you’re persistent.

“It’s true! Every laugh and smile I saw from the boys in the early days was because of you. You’re the reason they had light in their lives those grade school years. And you’re the reason Eliza is as stubborn as a mule, but still the greatest kid who is full of love and laughter. And then there’s me.” You rest your chin on his shoulder and look up at him through your lashes. “I’ve never felt so safe before. So safe and loved. And I get to goof off and laugh everyday with my best friend. Cause I’m lucky enough that I got to marry my best friend.”

Eddie’s tears are coming in harder now. It brings a smile to your face, though, to know he realizes just how loved every single person in this family is. That the love only grows stronger every day and soon there will be a new little person to give and receive even more love in the Munson house.

Your husband clears his throat and rubs over his eyes with the sleeve of his black zip-up hoodie.

“Dad?” you hear Luke say, approaching closer. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie assures him as he tries to make sure any trace of tears is gone. “I’m okay.”

“Then why were you crying?” Eliza gasps out as she runs over to the two of you.

“Just happy,” Eddie responds, picking the three-year-old up and setting her in his lap. “I’ve got the greatest wife and kids in the world.”

“And dog,” Luke adds as Patch trots his way over. “Patch is the best.”

“And Patch,” Eddie agrees with a chuckle.

The puppy puts his front two paws on the porch swing next to you and you take the hint. You bend over and pick up the precocious canine, who happily makes himself comfortable in your lap.

Ryan comes over and sprawls out on the grass at the edge of the stone patio. He stares up at the rest of you and lets out a content sigh.

“Dad’s a big old softy,” the sixteen-year-old quips.

Eliza climbs up on the porch swing and Eddie has to wrap an arm around her waist to keep her from falling as the seat bucks from her movements.

“Daddy is not soft,” Eliza states as she pokes her father’s bony shoulder. She then rubs her hand over his stubble as if to further prove her point. “Hard and scratchy.”

“What about big and old?” Luke asks, doing his best to keep a smile at bay.

“Everyone is big compared to Liza Bean!” you butt in, reaching over with one hand to poke her belly. “She’s so teeny tiny!”

Eliza nods once in agreement.

“Right, Mama! And, yeah, Daddy is old.”

You, Luke, and Ryan can’t help but laugh at her casual words. Eddie’s jaw drops open, and he looks at all of his family members with an affronted face.

“I am only 41!” Your husband defends.

“Old,” Eliza reiterates.

Eddie grabs Eliza and clutches him close to her chest.

“Listen here, little missy!” His fingers dig into Eliza’s sides, making her squeal out in laughter. “I’m young enough to beat you up!”

“I don’t know if anyone can win against Eliza…” Ryan mutters.

“No!” Eliza shouts through her laughter. “I younger! I stronger!”

Eddie ceases his tickling and holds the three-year-old tight against his chest.

“You can never escape.”

“Bite him!” Luke suggests.

“I’ll bite back,” Eddie says. “And my teeth are bigger.”

“Don’t want to damage your dentures,” Ryan says, a smirk dancing on his face.

You and Luke can’t help but laugh, but Eddie only narrows his eyes as his oldest son and leans into whisper something in Eliza’s ear. Your daughter’s face breaks out into a grin, and she nods her head enthusiastically.

Eddie lets her down and takes a wide berth walking around her brothers. Neither of them takes their eyes off her small figure as Patch jumps down from your lap and follows the girl. While Eliza distracts them with the direction she’s walking, Eddie silently slips off the swing and is able to pounce on Ryan.

“Hey!” Ryan calls through laughter.

Despite how hard your eldest son tries to get free, Eddie is able to hold Ryan’s arms behind his back. With him subdued, Eliza launches herself at him, quickly glomming onto her biggest brother’s torso.

“We got you!” Eliza calls.

Ryan manages to get all three of them laying down on the grass, all squirming around like exposed worms looking for shelter.

Luke simply shakes his head as he sits next to you on the porch swing.

“Such children,” Luke admonishes.

He uses his heels against the patio to gently push the swing back and forth as the two of you watch the other three squabble.

“Us mature ones would never act this way,” Luke says to you.

“Never,” you agree with a chuckle.

You have no doubt something diabolical is spurning in the fourteen-year-old’s head, but you know that nothing you do or say will be able to stop it. Instead, you just lay your head down on top of Luke’s as you watch Eddie and Eliza try to keep Ryan down on the grass.

“Mature,” you repeat to yourself. “That’s definitely us.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #older!eddie #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #dad!eddie #eddie munson imagine #AYW #AYWS #request

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accio-victuuri · 22 hours

Text

THE MOON REPRESENTS MY HEART 🌙 + Friday Madness

i just think that me freaking about gg singing this song and leaving after that is not right. this song deserves it’s own post and the importance of the Moon’s symbolism between them should be repeated. personally, i was surprised cause i cpn’d about a possible interpretation of showing off moon photos when they do it, then i thought of this song. now you have gege performing it. the universe has clowned me once again. and you have him as performer #8. Bo. are you kidding me? yes, this is a CCP signed-off event. the song must have been an approved piece to perform live but that doesn’t mean GG did not have a say in picking this track. as for him being the 8th one, a coincidence. destiny can’t help but relate them to each other. lol.

you can say that it’s perfect for the theme of mid-autumn festival and it’s a well loved song — yes, that’s right. but we’re all cpfs here who have a long history with 🌖 and GG finally singing it now seems like a “sign”.

this song’s relevance started with a fake rumor:

I would like to add that the moon should be the one that Wang laoshi watched a video of. After watching it, he said, "Do you believe me, I can also dance this for you?" The background music was "The Moon Represents My Heart" I think it should be posted by Xiao laoshi, but this happened a long time ago on the stage, but it should be related. I don’t know about choreography. I was busy with other things at that time. This is what I know.

THIS HITS DIFFERENT NOW. imagine yibo dancing to this. i will lose it. 🤯🤯🤯

and it doesn’t help that xz had a teaser video released by BRTV today:

send the moon to you // "I want to take a picture of the moon for you but it never comes out”

this is why we love fake rumors, one way or another, the similarities come up or parts of it come true.

then the matching photoshoot prop. also their studios posting 5 minutes apart. yes it makes sense for them to post in the same time span cause the content released around the same time too. but xzs is 20:40. 8:40. 8= Bo and 40 on the clock points to 8.

Seriously, XZ. come here. i just wanna talk. you are being so loud today sir. 🤡🤡🤡🤡

AS FOR THE PERFORMANCE ITSELF.

Outstanding. As expected of GG. 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

There is something so soft and shy in the way he performed it. As if he is confessing to the person he loves how much he feels. This person knows — but not this way. Not this deep. This is him finally saying what his love is like.

youtube

He is also happy. This love makes him whole. It’s so nice to see him this way!

@rainbowsky already mentioned the way we are excited and crying because of it’s connection to Leslie Cheung which is the main thing in conversations. is this xz’s way of dedicating the song to the love of his life in public?

and the lyrics need no further interpretation, it’s such a sweet and simple song about one’s devotion.

so it’s not just xz singing this love song and us clowning. it’s years of clues and references — which now feels like a lead up to this “confession”. 💕

P.S: my main boxiao and moon post is obviously not updated for some time. so just search for “moon” on this blog for other references but y’all know tumblr will still not show everything.

P.P.S: i wanna bring back the moon landing watch. one of the strongest moon cpn out there that honestly feels like an urban legend now the way we never saw it again. lol. it was too loud they probably decided that wyb shouldn’t wear it again in public 😅😅😅😅

END.

#yizhan #bjyx #Youtube #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do #I AM STRUGGLING THE CPN IS SO STRONG

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cheolaholic · 20 hours

Text

ring of love; csc (07)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

a/n;; im gonna be honest, i had no clue as to how im gonna write chapter 7 so i took a short break. that ended with me diving head first into love and deepspace which now has led me to a new obsession – Sylus. if you saw that post i made abt LNDS a few weeks ago, that has manifested into a side blog @chaeriescola where i’ll be posting my-non kpop related fics (read: Sylus & Zayne brainrot) also, i’m on Patreon now !! if you join my Patreon, you’ll get early access to the fics (a week early before they get posted on tumblr & ao3), exclusive bonus content, sneak peeks of other projects etc. if you’d like these special treats, feel free to join 👀 enough of me yapping, onto the fic~

Seungcheol wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting when he tasked Mingyu and Vernon to look after you – considering how they both absolutely suck at understanding the whole “look after ___ for me but, don’t let her catch you” concept. He’s seen them tail behind you, possibly raising concerns in some students and staff whether they were stalking you from the moment they spotted you.

coups: can’t you two be more discreet? coups: you both look like you’re the worst stalkers gameboi: ? tallgyu: I think we’re doing a good job alien-non: yea, she hasn’t noticed us gameboi: you really got Mingyu and Hansol to tail after ___? gameboi: no offense to all 3 of you gameboi: but Hansol’s logic is practically gone if Mingyu’s leading tallgyu: HEY alien-non: I suggested we wear disguises but Mingyu didn’t want to! tallgyu: those weirdly shaped sunglasses are way too obvious coups: what you’re doing now is way more obvious! tallgyu: she hasn’t noticed us tallgyu: it’s fine hyung coups: Vernon alien-non: yes coups: you know how aware ___ is of her surroundings coups: she’s probably already spotted you both gameboi: but chose not to say anything

As if on cue, when they both turned a corner, they were both startled to come face-to-face with you, arms crossed, staring right at them.

“You’ve both been following me for the past hours, can I help you?” you ask, eyes narrowing when they both exchange a look.

“Well…” Mingyu started, “We… We just wanted to make sure you didn’t get lost…?”

Vernon mentally facepalms at Mingyu’s response while you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, “To make sure I wouldn’t get lost…? On a campus I’ve been attending for at least 2 years…?”

“Seungcheol hyung wanted us to look after you,” Vernon confesses, “I don’t know why, but he just told us to keep an eye on you.”

“And, so, you’ve decided to follow me around?”

“Mingyu was the one who suggested it…”

“You both would make terrible secret agents…” Seungcheol mumbled as he came up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he sent glares to the two younger males. “Cheol, I’m a big girl now – I can handle myself!”

“I know, I know,” he admits, “And, I’m sorry, pup-”

“Pup? You call her ‘pup’?” Your ears burned red at Mingyu’s question, forgetting that not everyone grew up with you and Seungcheol or knowing the reason that he calls you that.

“It’s a nickname I gave her while we were growing up,” Seungcheol answers, “And, it stuck with her since.”

“She grew up with you? Oh, you poor thing,” Mingyu faked cries as he pulls you into an embrace, “He must’ve picked on you non-stop.”

“Actually, he didn’t pick on me.” The taller male pulls away, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at your answer. “He stood for me and may or may not have threatened the people that did pick on me.” He looks at Seungcheol with a look of betrayal, “That’s not fair! Why does she get special treatment while you keep picking on me!?”

Seungcheol pries Mingyu away from you, his arm returning to its position on your waist as he answers, “Because you’re Mingyu, and she’s… she’s ___.”

‘Well… this is… awkward…’ you thought to yourself as you sat in front of Wonwoo, one of the other boys you had briefly met that night. Seungcheol suggested you meet the three of them altogether, mainly Mingyu and Wonwoo since you were already best friends with Vernon, to somewhat break the ice.

‘Choi Seungcheol, you ass, this is anything but breaking the ice! If anything, this is increasing the freezing point of the ice!’

Unfortunately, Seungcheol’s plan of grabbing lunch together is now facing a setback. You had no classes that day, Wonwoo finished his, but Seungcheol, Mingyu and Vernon were being held back for their classes.

“Seungcheol, I’ve only met him once!” you whisper-shouted into your phone, “And, neither of us exchanged a single conversation since!”

“I know, I know,” Seungcheol answers, wracking his head to come up with solutions, “But, this lecturer is talking so slow that I have no choice!”

“What about Vernon and Mingyu?”

A sigh was heard, “Apparently, the model was being fussy about how she should be posing for their portrait. The lecturer needed her to be partially clothed, but since Mingyu was in the class… You can fill in the blanks…”

You let out a sigh, looking into the windows of the cafe as Wonwoo sits at a booth near the pick-up counter, “How much longer until you all are able to get here?”

“Probably an hour… And another 20 minutes to get there. Hey, you and Wonwoo both like drinking coffee and are introverts! Maybe you both can try talking to break the ice.”

Oh, boy, did Seungcheol underestimate the introversion you and Wonwoo possess. You had initially tried to have small talk with him, only to chicken out when he looked at you with that piercing gaze through his glasses. It’s been half an hour since you sat down at the booth with him, your strawberry milkshake sitting on a coaster as he goes to order possibly his third cup of cappuccino.

When he returns with his drink, you can’t help but ask, “Isn’t that… too much caffeine…?”

Wonwoo seemed a bit taken back when you finally opened your mouth to talk, but he recovers quickly and shrugs, “Honestly, after drinking caffeine for years, you kind of grow immune to it. You should’ve seen Mingyu’s reaction when he found me sleeping after downing 5 cans of Monster.”

“Five!?”

“Yes, five.”

“And, you were still able to sleep?”

“Like a baby.”

Wonwoo was surprisingly easy to talk to – you just needed to get over your social anxiety and the very intimidating resting bitch face he has. You’ve come to learn that the man in front of you was GAM3BO1WOO, a famous game streamer on SVTwitch. You’ve seen a few of his stream clips on your feed, but you weren’t exactly a fan of his since his taste in games and yours were vastly different.

“Do you play every new game release?” you asked, scrolling through his MAESTRO account and skimming through his posts.

“It depends, actually. If a new game really catches my eye, then I’ll download it. Other than that, either the companies sponsored me to stream their games, my followers keep requesting that I play the game they think would suit me or want to see me play. Sometimes, Mingyu and Cheol would gift me co-op games since a lot of them have the mechanic of if one player already owns the game, the second player plays for free.”

“Have you ever hopped on trends?”

“It drives traffic and increases my followers, can’t really complain.”

You’re not sure how long you’ve been conversing with Wonwoo. But, it was definitely long enough for neither of you to notice the three men standing right outside the window, watching you two fondly and surprised. “They’re… talking…” Mingyu says in awe, a chuckle from Seungcheol following afterwards, “Nice to know two of our introverts are getting along just fine.”

You noticed them from the corner of your eyes, turning to the window, Wonwoo following to look at them. You smiled, giving them a small wave which they returned while the latter gave a small nod of his head.

“Sorry for keeping the two of you waiting,” Seungcheol apologised the second he got to the booth, taking a seat next to you. Mingyu and Vernon took their seats next to Wonwoo after placing their orders at the counter. “Aren’t you going to get anything?” you asked the older male, looking up at him as you took a sip from your milkshake.

“I’m assuming you’re waiting for me so you can order some kind of snack which we either share or I finish the remaining you can’t.” When you don’t answer and avert his gaze, Seungcheol knows he caught you red-handed. He chuckles as he gets out of the booth and towards the counter, which unfortunately for you, leads to an interrogation by the other three boys – technically, it was mainly Mingyu with the occasional questioning from Vernon. Wonwoo just sits quietly, listening in as his eyes would dart between you, your two ‘interrogators’ and Seungcheol who was still lining up.

The two men asked you the questions you’d expect.

“How old were you when you met Seungcheol hyung?”

“I think… I think I was 5? He should be about 7 or 8?”

“What did he look like back then? Did he look like a nerd?”

“Well, he had the signature bowl kid every boy got when they were kids or teens.”

“Was he scary?”

“Kind of? Not a lot of people messed with me because of how protective he was over me.”

“Mess with little red riding hood, the big bad wolf will come and get you.”

All attention was on Seungcheol as he placed a plate of strawberry cake and a plate of a dozen brownies on the table, returning to his seat right next to you. Noticing the stunned expressions from his peers, he shrugs, “That was what they’d always say to anyone trying to approach her with ill intentions. It’s basically their way of saying ‘if you don’t want trouble, don’t go looking for trouble’.”

An easier way to put it was – if you don’t want to deal with an angry Seungcheol, don’t bother his girl. Your heart still flutters at how some people referred to you as ‘his girl’, but you knew that actually being his girl was nothing more than a dream to you. “By the way hyung, when’s your next fight? Maybe ___ could come and help out, y’know?” Vernon asks, reaching out to grab a brownie only for his hand to be lightly slapped by Seungcheol. “Ow! What was that for!?”

“If you want them, go get them yourselves,” the older male answers, pushing the plate of brownies towards you. “These are for ___. If you want one, go get one yourself.” Your face heats up at the gesture, and heats up further when the three males turn to you. “Why does she get special treatment?” Mingyu whines, “And how can she possibly finish that entire plate?”

Seungcheol pats your head as he answers, “Because she’s ___. And, yes, she can. If she can’t, I’ll finish it.”

“Can we have a piece if you’re the one finishing it up?”

“No, get your own.”

“Ah, hyung!”

You’ve managed to bond with Wonwoo and Mingyu, becoming close with them in a matter of days and now, you’ve got four ‘bodyguards’ walking around with you (Mingyu refers to them as that, the others and you just play along). The downside that comes with the friendship would be a flock of envious fangirls (and occasionally fanboys) who had begun to buzz around you like moths attracted to light.

“How did you become friends with Wonwoo? Could you ask him to shout me out on his streams or MAESTRO account?”

“Is Mingyu single? Could you introduce me to him?”

“Would you like to be friends? I’d love to be friends with the boys!”

Both boys could see you were tired of the clout chasers, especially Wonwoo since he knows you value your personal space. Both men had taken the issue to their social media, expressing how they’d appreciate it if their ‘fans’ stopped bugging their friends and loved ones in an attempt to get close with them. You remembered when both of them addressed the issue on Wonwoo’s stream, the sternness in both their voices still sent shivers down your spine.

“We understand that you may think you know us as we both are content creators and certain information has been released about us online. While we may not be able to put an end to the parasocial relationship that you have built with us, we do not know you and you do not know us. Do not harass our friends and loved ones, and if your unhealthy obsession of us persists, please seek help.”

That was enough for a majority of the fanboys/fangirls to back off. Some still linger, but they were no longer up close and in your face bombarding you with questions or requests.

Currently, Wonwoo, Mingyu and Vernon sat in a discussion room within the library as they waited for Seungcheol and you. It was a small meet-up, but it could also be treated as a short co-working/co-studying meet-up. Your class was ending later than usual and Seungcheol offered to wait for you so both of you could walk to the library.

Beauty and the Beasts

mingoo: @princess how much longer is the lecture gonna take?

princess: erm… another 15 mins?

princess: …

princess: who set my nickname as princess in the gc?

All four boys replied altogether and you playfully rolled your eyes.

mingoo: coups hyung

vernonnie: cheol hyung

nonu: seungcheol

cheol: i did

cheol: i got you your coffee order btw

mingoo: what about us?

cheol: you lot already got your orders before you headed to the library

mingoo: i’m assuming you got her snacks too

cheol: yes

cheol: and they’re only for ___

cheol: so don’t try to steal them

Mingyu lets out a groan as he lays his upper body on the table. “It’s not fair,” he whines, “Why does Seungcheol hyung give ___ special treatment? Is it because she’s a girl?” Vernon shrugs, “Maybe? But, he’s treated his exes the same way, too.”

“Yeah, I know that, Vernon. But, isn’t there something different?”

Mingyu sits up as he looks at Vernon, his words seeming to be hinting at something as the younger male sits in silence. “It’s like he’s more attentive, more caring. Like, he was caring before to the other girls, but there’s this extra layer to it, y’know?”

“He means there’s more than meets the eye,” Wonwoo says, “I think what Mingyu’s trying to say is that Seungcheol is whipped for ___.”

“Yes!” Mingyu exclaims, pointing at Wonwoo with a puppy-like grin on his face, “But, also no? I don’t know! They grew up together so maybe it’s like a habit he has or a sense of responsibility he feels?”

“But, who would want to call their childhood best friend who is now an adult ‘pup’?” Vernon questions, and Wonwoo tips his pencil in the younger male’s direction, “Precisely. Everyone would grow out of it, much less a nickname like that. Hell, would you call any of your friends that kind of name as an adult?”

Mingyu hums in understanding. All three of them knew just how shameless Seungcheol could be sometimes. Vernon bites back a gag when he recalls accidentally witnessing Seungcheol and his then girlfriend making out in his car, in the campus’ parking lot - in broad daylight. He pitied his therapist who had to listen to him ramble on and on about suspecting the older male having an exhibitionist kink.

“So, you really think he’s whipped for her?”

“Seungcheol barely remembers your favourite cake, but he remembers ___’s coffee order.”

“He probably has it written down somewhere?”

“I beg to differ,” Vernon speaks up.

He joined Seungcheol to get coffee a few weeks ago. While Seungcheol was ordering his, you had texted Vernon saying your Business Module class had completely drained you and you were in need of a quick pick me up. All he did was say, “___ wants us to help get her coffee,” and Seungcheol began reciting your order to the barista without a second thought.

“He knew it like the back of his hand! Not a single thing was missed out!”

As Mingyu and Vernon continue to discuss Seungcheol's love life, Wonwoo glances down at his phone as it vibrates, a notification from you. Opening up the text app on his laptop, he types out his reply.

___: hey woo?

___: is it ok if i call you that-

wonwoo: yes?

wonwoo: n yes, perfectly fine

___: ok

___: um, so the class im in rn, we’re almost done btw!

___: they need me to write some kind of paper abt how psychology n business work

___: n since you’re a psych major

wonwoo: you need my help, yes?

___: bingo

___: is it possible for you to help me?

wonwoo: sure thing

wonwoo: why don’t you go over the details with me once you’re out of class?

wonwoo: we’ve booked the discussion room for the entire day

___: don’t the others have class?

Wonwoo can feel Mingyu and Vernon standing behind him as they “observe” his conversation with you. “Oooh, you’re texting his girl~” Mingyu teases, earning a glare from the older male that shuts him up immediately. “She needs help with her coursework and I have relevant information that can help her,” he replies as he resumes to type out his reply.

wonwoo: seungcheol only has one class today iirc

wonwoo: gyu and vernon have some kind of workshop in an hour

___: oh, cool!

___: then i can also get cheollie’s opinion

“Do you think they have a thing for each other?” Vernon asks, seemingly picking up on certain signs just from the text Wonwoo had just exchanged with you.

“Who? Seungcheol hyung and ___?” Mingyu asks back and he nods. The taller male thinks for a while, recalling the times that he’s seen any form of interaction or exchanged conversation the pair have shared. “Maybe? But, there weren’t any obvious signs that explicitly showed that Seungcheol or ___ like the other.”

“Well, there is a saying that love is in plain sight. Or that whole “you were hiding in plain sight” trend that was going around CIRCLES a few months ago.”

“Should we play cupid?”

“I think it’d be best if we don’t interfere with their love life.”

Wonwoo had a point. While their curiosity was gnawing away, the last thing they’d wanna do is accidentally driving a wedge between you and Seungcheol. It would be worse if they were reading the room wrong and neither of you were harbouring any feelings for the other. “But, that doesn’t mean we can’t find some clues to answer our hypothesis.”

Mingyu and Vernon looked at the older male who was still typing on his laptop. “Are we conducting experiments on them now?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way. I’d say it’s more of observing their interactions with each other.”

“We’ll leave the psychology part to the psych major.”

“If this ends up being your thesis paper, Woo, we’d better be given credits.”

Later that night…

gyu created the group Operation Cupid 💘

taglist (unable to tag a few ㅠㅠ)

@yoonclip @1004luvangel @catjunhui @mystikha @spk93 @tinkerbell460 @yoozuku @dnylwooo @christinewithluv @limbomoon @plutoxxxworld @i-give-up-1234 @m1ngyuc0re @yunloyal @leclercloverbot @bettybeako @billboard-singer @ocyeanicc @krupyadoorrahe @seobinnieshi @xcynthiaaa @k411z @disneyprincesshuri @sunnyapp @khxsh @staygenezy @loufi8iepuff @ursweetner @noisypapergalaxy @wonwootakemyheart @sugainpinksweater @leah-rose03 @thisisnothelastofus @yearnoclock @kwonhoeshi @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @ru-lin @deobiforever @belladaises @cheoliekkuma @duskunt1ldawn @hyneyedfiz @marshmallowshouse @ak6ko @chwevernonlover @jejuboo-s @tsukinluv @atinytinaa @gyros-cum-sock @soupbinlily @jungwoos-luvr @ener-energy @watermelon-sugars-things @cyberpunkhwx @ddaengpotate @nightwingsrobbinhoods @chaerrylov3r @joshuaahong @wonussmile @uliceeeeeeee @wonwoo24 @shinetogether17 @simplejihoon @luvkpopp @shingbangyes @black-swan-blog27 @minhui896

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primeofprimes115 · 2 days

Text

A "Marvel"ous Discovery - Mary Marvel/Shazam x Male Reader

Contains: Fluff 🥰

A/N: Something different for a change, about time I did a different character other than my girl, Kara. Now shall we??

SHAZAM!!! ⚡

Attending Fawcett Community College in Fawcett City was something of an experience for Y/N, he himself obviously didn't attend this College on his own, he moved into a dorm who was someone he had met back years ago, reunited at last when he wasn't expecting it.

Her name was Mary Bromfield, who was adopted at a young age before the both met in school, starting a friendship that sparked for a while until he had to unfortunately move out of Fawcett City, due to his father's business trips, cutting off contact with Mary but she'd always remember him...

And so did he.

The reunion was... Emotional, almost nerve-wracking at first since Y/N had known he'd be Mary's roommate, she was informed of having a roommate but the details were scarce, she had no clue until he stepped through the door to meet her, there was a moment of shock, then questions, then tears falling down her eyes before she walked over and gave him the biggest hug she could give him, if she was showing her 'secret' to him, she'd be floating off the ground with him in her arms.

"Y-Y/N?" her heart dropped like a rock hitting the pavement upon him turning around. Her eyes struck wide, looking at the boy in shock as he dropped his bags and hanged up his coat on the coat rack on the door of their shared dorm. "Y-You're..."

The young man turned around to face the girl he grew to love, at least in secret, or he did have a thing for her or two back then, never even saying one word about it. He looked at her with an inviting look in his eyes, and with an all familiar smile, one that she missed seeing.

"Hey, Mary. Been a while?" he quipped, talking a little step forward as Mary stood still, unsure of what to even say or do next upon seeing her lost friend's presence, standing in front of the dorm she was to share with the unknown assailant.

She planned out ways to keep her secret away from whoever it was going to be sharing the dorm with her, figuring out different excuses to use if necessary. Her secret was that she was and is Mary Marvel, the renowned Superhero that worked alongside the main Shazam for a time along with other Shazams that this main Shazam shared his power with, before they disappeared one day. It was revealed they lost their powers and superhero form due to losing a connection to what was called 'The Rock of Eternity'.

However... Some time later... Mary as a new adult, gained her abilities back and became the New Champion of Shazam, though many call her "Shazam" now, she was and always has been Mary Marvel, eventually leading down to her reclaiming the title of Mary Marvel again later down the line.

Things did get complicated now that she was attending College now, she used to go to a College down in New York, away from her family, but recent issues surfaced that forced her to move back near her family's home, attending Fawcett Community College to continue her studies in Science, mostly Biology and Medical Science, she already knew most about it and vowed to get a job with it. A proper job without being Mary Marvel all the time.

And the last thing she didn't expect, was finding out her new roommate, is an old friend she hasn't seen in many years, even before getting her full powers of Shazam.

Mary began to walk forward, her vision got a little blurry due to the tears forming up in her eyes and wrapped her arms around Y/N, giving him a big, strong hug which made him chuckle. In response, Y/N wrapped his arms around her as Mary quietly sobbed in joy, overjoyed to see Y/N again. She didn't feel like letting go.

Y/N remembered the Mary he knew all those years ago, the innocent, sensible and cute brunette girl, and here she was... And still is the same girl he had to leave his friendship behind with all those years ago.

The two eventually would catch up with all things that has happened in their lives since they last seen each other, Mary had to keep most subtle details out of being Mary Marvel/Shazam mostly, wanting to keep him out of that business so he didn't get hurt by her family's enemies, or anyone bad for that matter.

Low and behold, the whole reason why Y/N had arrived to study at Fawcett Community College was to study under Science, Biology also which sounded like music to Mary's ears, bringing the both closer to each other again.

Mary recounted all the times she had spent with him when they were younger, how she viewed him as this sweet, out-going boy who wanted to be her friend one day, she had barely any from what she recounted, only her adopted siblings she had much communication with.

He was always by her side, even at lunch, most boys would poke fun at him for hanging out with a girl, until Mary had, in her way' heard enough of Y/N being picked on one day and decided to take matters into her own hands.

In a way, it was a cute gesture, a sweet one at best.

With more revealed coming from Mary, Y/N had told her he took self-defense classes, under his father's guidance, his father's "business trips" weren't exactly normal, he worked under the United States Government and at the time, his family was in danger, the only suitable option was to move his family to a safer location, which Y/N had no choice in.

All the time for catching up came to be and the pair became friends again... Or so they thought.

Y/N's feelings for Mary soon came back up after two weeks, from all the times they spent with each other at the end of studying together, going out for lunch and all the teasing he did on her, he couldn't help but begin to catch feelings for the brunette girl again.

Even though she sometimes and oddly disappeared whenever something she was informed about was happening, or when danger was being reported, she'd later come back, finding Y/N all safe and sound, though one time... He was caught in the midst of danger - searching for Mary before a red blur transported him to safety from a villain tearing through the city, who had a grudge to settle with Mary Marvel herself.

He had heard about the Heroine before plenty of times, but never got to see her up close much, the only time he did was at that moment of the blur saving him, which was Mary Marvel herself, telling him to get to safety quickly, though her voice did sound very and oddly familiar, he listened and did as told.

Of course that day, he was going to confess his feelings for her and ask her out, though they've been getting lunch together and are living in the same dorm together, he really liked her and wondered if she felt the same way...

"In truth... Yeah. I did like you for a time" Mary gave him a genuine smile, shifting her hand over to his and planted it in his palm, feeling his warm hand close up against hers. She looked away for a moment as Y/N's heart paced rapidly. "And... I still do, I still have... Butterflies in my stomach every time I think about you" she admitted with her cheeks flushing warmly, her gaze coming back to him.

She still likes him to this day, she often hanged around in space, out of Earth's orbit or on Earth's Moon, trying to configure a way to even tell how much she had feelings for him, it felt like a weight coming off from her as soon as Y/N told her how much she meant to him. However... The other weight on her shoulder was her secret of being Mary Marvel, which is an even more nerve-wracking explanation to tell him.

Y/N's heart swelled in that moment, a part of him wanted to jump up and celebrate but that would be a little too vague, he was shocked to say at least, he'd thought it wouldn't end well and she'd be mad at him, but Mary has never gotten mad at him once.

Sure, she did tell him off for running into danger to 'search for her', though she was lying to him at the time of being safe at that part then, being Mary Marvel and all, she never raised her voice or yelled at him angrily. She was a pure and innocent person at heart.

The same could be said for Y/N, who's just defensive over her, especially around guys his and her age looking her up, though she could defend herself quite fairly which was a surprise to him to say at least.

"That's... That's great!" Y/N said, overjoyed. The two sharing a big hug afterwards on the couch...

Days turned into weeks after the confession, the two currently were holding hands, walking down the street. The pair haven't kissed yet but there has been some pecks on the cheek and on the hands. The both agreed to take it slow first to see how it goes.

And it was going well, very well in their experience.

Mary always had bad luck when dating guys, as she was inexperienced much, so was Y/N but the pair were happy nonetheless. They had to keep their slowly building romantic relationship under the rug in College, in case anyone would find out, as it was Mary's obligation to suggesting that idea, and Y/N agreed.

However... Mary Marvel was needed mostly than rather not very much, now that she was apart of this 'New Justice League' that's been set up and put together by Supergirl, the Woman of Tomorrow, who was a mutual ally and friend towards Mary. Which meant she had to skip dates unfortunately.

It was only a matter of time until Y/N was going to eventually discover that Mary Bromfield is in-fact Mary Marvel/Lady Shazam, the Marvelous Innocent Superhero, and it worried Mary.

But fortunately, today was a day for Mary to relax and not go out as Mary Marvel as often as she had to be, as much as she finds it enjoyable to fly around and keep the world safe.

She had rather a goofy, innocent smile plastered on her as she walked hand in hand with her boyfriend, who in turn looked back at her while she thought back on what had been going on in her personal superhero and normal life, while in the midst of walking back to their shared dorm.

"What's got you giggling?" Y/N's voice brought her back to reality, she looked at him and softly laughed to herself for a moment.

"Oh, sorry! I was just thinking on some things" she brushed aside happily, sparking Y/N's curiosity.

"And what may they be, mi-lady?" he cocked his eyebrow up with curiosity, smirking in her direction as the brunette giggled with her cheeks slightly flushing.

"Oh... Just back when I defended you from those rude boys back in Elementary" she replied softly, clutching his hand tightly and warmly before colliding her shoulder into him gently.

"Oh yeah, I remember that" he thought back on it with her, softly laughing at himself about it next. "For an innocent girl, you sure know your way with words back then".

"And I still do" she sent a wink in his direction.

"And it's cute, honest" he smiled in her way. "Have I ever said it's adorable when you come up with words instead of swearing?" he brought to her attention.

"Well..." she shrugged innocently before giggling and pecking his cheek.

The pair continued walking down the streets of Fawcett City, eventually stopping near an alleyway which Y/N thought of taking the shortcut.

Much to Mary's suspicion of seeing it completely empty, as any other alleyway would be but she had a feeling it was reeking of suspicion.

"Here, we can take a shortcut through here" he suggested.

"Uh, Y/N, are you sure?" Mary asked with a worried tone, looking down the same alleyway.

"Yeah, it's a shortcut".

"I'm not really sure, it looks... Ominous" she showed her suspicions toward the idea but Y/N rolled his eyes nonetheless.

"I've been using this route all the time, it'll be fine! Trust" he replied softly, holding her hand still.

"Okay..." she sighed after a few seconds of careful thinking, knowing if things didn't go well through this... 'shortcut', she'd have to reveal her secret as Mary Marvel at least.

And so... The pair walked in through the alleyway... All was going well...

Until someone stepped out from the corner, as another followed behind the pair.

"Ah shit" Y/N mumbled to himself. "Maybe I should've listened to you" he said towards Mary.

"What we got here? Two stranglers walkin' in our turf, huh?" one thug talked with a New York accent.

"Mary... When I say run, you run" he whispered to her.

"What?!" she whispered back to him, completely took aback by his suggestion.

"Just do it, okay? I can take these guys on".

"When they have guns and shoot at you?" she pointed out with her observation, the two thugs had sidearms on them, one aiming toward them and the other, his hand reaching the inside of his jacket where his concealed firearm was.

"Shit" he whispered again.

"So, pretty girl. Give us the purse, see what ya got" the thug who originally spoke walked forward, closer to them while backing the young couple in the corner.

"If you want to get to her, you'll have to get through me!" Y/N bravely defended her, opting to shield her like a real gentleman, as the thugs laughed at his eagerness to defend his girl.

"We got guns, pointed at you, you ain't some superpowered being".

"Ha!" Mary scoffed loudly. "Ironic" she then said with a sarcastic tone, while the boys looked at her in confusion.

"Enough talk, lady! Now give us-"

"I am a superpowered being" Mary then said loudly to them and to her boyfriend.

The thugs laughed at her, thinking her delusional, an idiot even, much to Y/N's displeasure of hearing them insult her.

"No seriously, let me show you" she was dead serious, walking past her boyfriend and out in front of all of them.

"Mary, what are you...!" Y/N immediately stopped himself from talking, originally he was going to plead her to not do something stupid like he was about to do, which was getting herself killed.

But the moment he saw a glint in her eye, like an electric beam phasing across her beautiful chocolate brown eyes... He saw it.

He saw what she meant and his eyes widened...

"You're -".

"SHAZAM!!!" with a shout out to the sky, and the magic word, a bolt of yellow lightning came crashing down onto Mary's body, blinding the thugs and Y/N for a brief moment with smoke covering where she was...

And when the smoke cleared...

Mary was wearing something different, clad in a white and gold outlined cape, connected to a clasp that was just over her left corner of where the lightning bold was on her chest, dressed in a red long-sleeved top and skirt with a gold outline on the basis of her skirt and red shorts underneath. A gold belt over her skirt and gold braces over her arms. And to top it off... Gold boots.

She transformed into Mary Marvel!

"Alright boys, times up" Mary quipped while striking a superhero pose, before she zoomed her way up to the thug on Y/N's right and punched him once, sending him flying onto a dumpster down the alleyway as his friend watched in horror.

The thug couldn't even believe it... The boy he was about to rob was hanging out with Mary Marvel?! It seemed he didn't even know it was her.

"Oh, that's gonna hurt for an entire week" Y/N felt a little bad for the thug his now superhero girlfriend knocked across the alleyway, tumbling down from the closed dumpster and onto the concrete floor, groaning in pain.

Then, Mary zoomed near to the thug who was about to fire at her boyfriend, using herself to shield Y/N from getting shot with the bullets bouncing off her as she stood heroically.

"Did anyone tell you, no guns in my city?" she scolded the thug, zoomed up to him in a whoosh, her cape billowing behind her like her dashing hair, flicking away the last remaining thug into a nearby wall with her finger, knocking them out.

"That. Was... Amazing!" Y/N praised her girlfriend's efforts as she turned around with an all-around, guilty look on her face while she began walking up to him. "You look... Marvelous" he laughed at his own joke, making her smile and cringe a little.

"That was... Bad, but in a good way" she replied, before sweeping him off his feet and into her arms, before the wind began to get a little stronger.

It was then he noticed Mary was taking flight up into the air, while carrying him, her hair, skirt and cape billowing in the wind as she began to fly in the sky, above the city foremost with a look like she had been caught trying to open the cookie jar when she wasn't supposed to.

She failed to notice how optimistic her boyfriend looked currently, he had just witnessed his girlfriend turn into the superhero, Mary Marvel, confirming his little suspicion, and watched her embarrass the thugs that tried to rob the both of them on their weekend date.

"I... I know you probably have a lot of questions" she broke her oath of silence, Y/N seemed lost in thought of being carried by her, she noticed him blushing about it. "And... Whatever questions you have, I can explain... I'm so sorry-".

"Sorry for what? Being a superhero this WHOLE TIME?!!" he said with excitement in his voice, something Mary didn't think how he'd react. "This is mind-blowing! I never thought our relationship would be more magical, but this?" he chuckled very happily, gloating over the fact he was really close to a superhero this whole time. "It's... It's spectacular. I've never felt more safer until now".

Mary couldn't help but smile but a sense of dread came over her, she'd lied to him, when she promised she would never, NEVER EVER, lie to him, she was always genuine with him.

"The thing is Y/N - I lied to you" her smile faded, replaced with a saddened expression, much to Y/N's displeasure of seeing her unhappy. "I lied to protect you, when lying can put strain on relationships, I promised I wouldn't lie but... But this-".

"Mary" he placed a hand on her cheek, while his other arm was still wrapped around her neck, her wavy hair in the wind tickled his arm which he liked. "It's okay that you had to keep this from me" he eyed down the part of the lightning bolt on her outfit, which glowed in the shadow of him as she carried him and soared through the air. "I understand the rules of being a superhero, I mean... My mother was one back then".

"R-Really?" she asked with a surprised look.

"Yeah, she was a vigilante back in the 90s, but enough about that" he brushed it to the side for a moment. "I know you had to keep this away from me because you wanted to keep me safe, and that's okay" he rubbed his thumb on her cheek as the white caped brunette superhero with the full powers of Shazam began to smile. "And I gotta say... Dating a superhero is something I didn't expect until I began to suspect of you being a superhero, I know it was a wild thing to think, but when you kept disappearing, Mary Marvel - - you - - would show up to save the day, and I still remember you saving me a month and a half ago as well, I had a feeling that was your voice I heard, nice trying to cover it up by the way" he smirked near the end as Mary rolled her eyes with a groan.

"I thought it worked! Should've known you'd figure it out sooner than later" she grumbled before giggling away. "But of course, you know me very well".

"That I do" he smiled before looking out to the view as Mary Marvel soared through the air. "So this is what flying is like? The view is beautiful" his eyes lit up with pure joy, feeling the breeze hit his face as he was being flown by his girlfriend still.

"I know, I've always wanted to show you this" she exclaimed, Y/N looked back at her and smiled.

"I'm happy you are now" he said, the sky-blue sky around them as he smiled deeply at her with him closing his face in toward hers.

Mary's eyes saw what he was doing, she stopped herself from flying for just a moment to share the view with Y/N like she was originally going to do and met him halfway, closing the gap.

A spark of joy erupted between the two as their lips touched, strong senses of feeling sparking in them while it seemed the world around them just faded in the background, only the wind and the movements of Mary's skirt and cape being picked and blown around in the same wind could be heard.

Their eyes closed, lips softly pressing against each other's, it soon drowned out Mary's butterflies that were in her stomach while a loving sense of spark was sent through her body along with Y/N's as the two shared their first ever lip-to-lip kiss.

And it was at the perfect moment...

Soon the two pulled away, a smack of their lips prominent as all smiles were shared towards one another with their eyes slowly opening.

"I know we're in College still, but I can't imagine my life without you in it, and the fact I'm dating a superhero makes it so much better" Mary's smile turned bright and joyful upon hearing his words. "I really want to build a life with you after College, to one day have our own house, and everything we've ever wanted. The thing I've always wanted... Was to just be with the best and dare I say it, marvelous person I've ever met, who is in fact the most beautiful girl that's ever came into my life, who needed a friend in a time of need".

"Aww, Y/N" Mary puckered her lips. "You're gonna make me cry".

The young man softly laughed at her response, he couldn't help it.

"Mary... I love you" three magical words is all he needed, not the other magic word that could transform one person into a superhero form, or at least... Put a superhero suit on in Mary's case.

She choked up on hearing his three magical words, smiling ever so lovingly as she tried to hold back her tears from earlier. "I... I love you too!" she brought him into second kiss, her lips pressing against his firmly but gently, knowing she was in Shazam form, any wrong slip-up, she could break his nose accidentally... Though she had firmly crashed her lips with his without realizing.

"Ow" he muttered in her lips, prompting her to pull back quickly.

"Oh my heavens, I'm so sorry!" she panicked, her face scrunching up thinking she screwed up.

"Haha, it's okay" he gave her a smile. "I'm okay" his drew his face closer to her again and lightly kissed her back on the lips, continuing it for a brief moment before pulling back. "This is why I love you, you're so sweet".

"I thought I hurt you badly there, forgot we were in the air for a moment there that I thought I wasn't Mary Marvel there for a moment, which you probably know what my powers are" she expressed her worry.

"Lost in the moment type of thing, completely understandable" he reassuringly smiled at her. "Hey, are you gonna fly us back or... Continue flying me around..." he looked at her with a mischievous look. "Mary Marvel" he smirked the next, making her smirk back at him.

"Hmm, well... I've always wanted to take you on a flight, so..." she puckered her lips suggestively, before smiling right at him.

"Then, what are you waiting for? Let's go... My Hero"...

______________________________________________________________

Fin...

Word Count: 4145

#dc comics #male reader #female x male reader #mary marvel x male reader #shazam!#batson #mary bromfield #mary bromfield x male reader #shazam x male reader #dc heroines #dc #dc universe #fluff imagine #dc imagine #dc girls x male reader #mary marvel shazam #mary marvel x reader #mary marvel imagine #mary marvel x male!reader

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blossom-hwa · 3 days

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a very fine line, indeed [8] | c.bg

pairing: Beomgyu x fem!reader genre: fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, regency era!au, nobility!au warnings: mentions of assault, abuse, cursing, period typical misogyny word count: 11.2k notes: — updates every M/W/F at 8pm EST until the series finishes — assault/abuse scenes are not graphic, but please heed the warnings and let me know if any of it is romanticized or just written in poor taste--I assure you I did not mean it, and I will fix anything needed. — inspiration taken from an amalgamation of different bridgerton stories - let me know what easter eggs you find! — story takes place in the same universe as my duke!yeonjun and earl!taehyun fics - check out the link to the series below for some more easter eggs :) In a society where it only takes a year for a young woman in search of a husband to be considered out of season, it is no wonder that by your third year out, you are desperate to marry. Known as one of the beauties of the ton, such a task should not be difficult for you—but with an absent father, no dowry, and a reputation centered around your inability to keep your mouth shut around one certain Beomgyu Choi, your prospects are more limited than you’d like. While you cannot recover your family or your wealth, however, the one thing you can try to control is your reputation. So when the third season rolls around, you resolve to keep your distance from Beomgyu Choi, your childhood enemy, and the man you hate most in the world. Enter Beomgyu Choi, second son of the Kensington Viscountcy, one of the most eligible bachelors in the ton. His older brother, cousin, and good friend have all recently married, leaving the mamas to salivate at his doorstep for the chance of marrying one of their daughters to him. When Beomgyu walks in on a particularly traumatizing moment between you and one of the most unsavory men in the ton and learns of your desperation to marry, despite your history of enmity, he proposes you a devious deal—to pretend to court you. It seems like a winning situation for both of you—more gentlemen will take notice of you, enhancing your prospects, and he will have the ton’s mamas off his back—and so, despite your misgivings, you agree. With you hell bent on marriage and Beomgyu completely indifferent to the concept, even independent of your hatred for each other, it seems unlikely that any sort of true affection will bloom. But as you begrudgingly put aside your differences to spend more and more time in one another’s company, and as you grow to know each other beyond your ill-conceived preconceptions from childhood, you begin to realize that perhaps you two have more in common than you had once thought. And as your faked acquaintanceship becomes more truth than fiction, a friendship beginning to bloom most unexpectedly— Perhaps you no longer need to convince the ton of the veracity of your courtship, because anyone with eyes can see that it is true. Part 7 >> Part 8

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It’s been a week since you took unwilling part in the biggest scandal to overtake the ton this entire season, and you’re feeling more and more certain with each passing day that your reputation will never recover.

You thought the same thing at the beginning of the season, just a few months ago. At the time, you thought it couldn’t get any worse. Funny how time ends up proving you wrong.

Of course, you have no idea how the ton is receiving any of the gossip. You know the facts, as does everyone else who was in the room when it all happened, but that doesn’t matter. Someone will undoubtedly distort them for the sake of a good story. Your stepmother has been refusing all calls on your behalf, though, so you have no clue what the ton is saying. It’s not like she would tell you, anyway. The morning after the Jung ball she slapped you across the face so hard you saw stars, and you had to listen to her scream at you for an hour after that. When you tried to ask her what people were saying about you a few days ago, she gave you another mark to match the first one.

The bruises still hurt to the touch.

Maybe it’s just as well. You’re not sure you want to know what anyone is saying. The gossip about you and Beomgyu had hardly abated before the Jung ball, and with all the speculation then about you being sort of shameless whore able to seduce men into offering you marriage proposals, you can only imagine what they’re saying about you now. They probably think you seduced Lord Cho, too.

They probably think you deserved whatever he intended to do to you.

Which isn’t true. You never asked for any sort of physical relationship with him, never even considered it. You said no when he offered it—if the word offered could even describe the situation. Stupid as it is, you really did believe he wanted to marry you, and his words cut you deep when you learned of his true intentions. But the cynical part of you can’t help but feel like you got what was coming to you. You should have known better—known that no one would truly ever want to marry you, because you have nothing to offer. Maybe it’s true that you aren’t fit for anything more than a mistress.

If you didn’t have so much damn pride, maybe you’d have been able to accept that by now.

You can forget any delusions of being married, now. If you weren’t already ruined by Beomgyu leaving you after the waltz, surely this incident has marked you as a fallen woman—or at least as close to it as you can get without having actually been deflowered. Never mind that you never asked for it. Never mind that you had to beat him off with a damn candlestick. No one wants a woman who’s been sullied by another man’s touch, no matter how unwarranted.

Maybe it’s really time for you to start making plans to run away.

Even as the thought crosses your mind, though, you have to stifle a snort. Pausing in the middle of scrubbing out a large pot, you close your eyes for just a moment, hoping to clear out all of your remaining stupid thoughts. Run away, yes? With what money? You have nothing. This family has nothing. There’s nothing useful you can even steal from the house, and your father isn’t coming back with any money. This, you know now.

You can still hear the terrible silence that accompanied the opening of that letter. Your stepmother’s simmering rage as her eyes scanned every carefully penned line that told of the passing of your father, and the loss of any remnants of the family fortune at the hands of his gambling addiction. You had no idea he had such an addiction. The few times you saw him over the past decade, he always seemed so stoic, so upright. You never thought he could have been hiding something so terrible behind that façade.

But he was. And now he is dead, and he has passed nothing onto you except a mountain of terrible fortune.

There’s really no end to it. You sigh, returning to the pot still half covered in suds in the sink. Maybe this is for the better. You’ll grow into a spinster, hide yourself from society with your position as a servant in this household, and fade away from public attention. In a few years, people will forget about everything. Maybe. Hopefully. And then you’ll have some peace of mind.

…There’s no real hope of that, though. You’ll never have peace as long as you live with your stepmother. Maybe that’s your eternal punishment for all the stupid choices you made this season—having to live with her until she dies, or you do.

At least she’s gone now. She left a while ago to make some morning calls, you think. You tried to ask who she was going to meet and she just snapped that she was trying to clean up the mess you had made of yourself and your family this season.

Very useful information, that was. You didn’t press though. You didn’t want to add on to the collection of bruises already beginning to bloom across your cheek.

She’s gone now, though, and you haven’t heard her return, so you have some time to breathe without her sneering down her nose at you every minute of the day. The silence is nice even if you know it’ll be short lived.

Something sounds in the hall as you’re scrubbing the last pot clean. You stiffen, thinking it might be your stepmother, but it still feels like it hasn’t been long since she left—surely she wouldn’t be back so soon? You look over at Soyoung, who’s helping you scrub away. Her raised eyebrow indicates she’s as confused as you are.

Footsteps sound down the hallway, and then you hear Brighton speaking. Your confusion increases by the second—surely no one has any reason to call, not when your stepmother has been chasing away callers almost every day. You wonder if Brighton will have them leave too, whoever they are, but he likely won’t. Without your stepmother here, he would probably defer to you, unless she left him with explicit instructions not to. Though he might disobey them anyway. The staff here don’t take very kindly to your stepmother.

The thought makes you smile, but that smile quickly begins to drop as Brighton’s characteristic light footsteps sound closer and closer to the kitchen. You finish rinsing off the last pot just as he enters the kitchen, standing primly in the doorway.

“Miss L/N.”

You turn around, wiping your hands on your apron. “Yes, Brighton?”

A hint of distaste edges his words. “Mr. Choi has come to call.”

Despite the situation, you almost smile. You can’t say you don’t appreciate the staff’s quiet support at your situation. No doubt they’ve heard all manner of gossip from the other servants around town, but you told Soyoung what truly happened so your staff has been very kind to you since everything started going downhill. Brighton in particular has taken to speaking the Choi name with a subtle, almost undetectable annoyance that only butlers can emulate, and you won’t deny that it makes you feel a little better, sometimes. Not because you hate Beomgyu—you wish you could hate him, it would make everything so much easier—but because it’s nice to know that someone has your back.

The almost smile slips off your face almost as easily as it came, though. Because you really don’t know if you want to see him. He was right about Lord Cho, right from the start—and all you and everyone else did was just brush his concern off as jealousy. You don’t want to face him. You don’t want to know what he has to say. And truth be told, you’re still not entirely sure you forgive him for what he did at the Haynesworth ball. He tried to explain when he called the last time. You didn’t let him. You’re still not sure if you want to let him. Anger is the only shield you have now against your pain and you’re not ready to give up its embrace so soon, even if its warmth is more suffocating than nourishing.

There is another warmth that is nourishing, though. A warmth you’ve only ever felt with those you loved. Delia, Henry, Soyoung…

And Beomgyu, too.

All of the residual anger drains out of your body, leaving you cold and a little empty. You look down at yourself, at your dirty servant’s garb splashed with water and soap, at your tender hands still holding a sponge covered in suds. You should hear him out, let him speak, but you’re just…so tired. You want this all to be over. And anyway, even if you knew you wanted to speak with him, you don’t know when your stepmother will return from her own morning calls—calls meant to repair your reputation, whatever the hell that means. She might come back in the middle of a conversation and you really don’t want to know what would happen then.

That’s just an excuse, though. You know that just the thought of your stepmother wouldn’t be able to stop you from doing anything you really wanted to. The question is, then, do you really want to see Beomgyu? Do you really?

“For what it is worth,” Brighton says, interrupting your thoughts, “he has tried to call every morning since the Jung ball, Miss L/N.” He twists his hands together in an uncharacteristic show of uncertainty. “Your stepmother turned him away each time, but…perhaps he truly does have something to say.”

Every morning since the Jung ball. You blink. That’s…dedication. It reminds you an awful lot of how he tried to see you almost every day for a week after the Haynesworth ball, which in turn reminds you of that terrible last conversation you shared with him. He had wanted to explain himself. You hadn’t let him. Instead, you’d told him never to come back and he had heeded your words then, but now he’s returned.

Part of you still hurts at what he did to you—or rather, what he didn’t do. Even now you can still call up some of that anger and you try to wrap it around you like a cloak, but it isn’t doesn’t work anymore. There isn’t enough anger left to shield you, which just leaves you open. Raw. Vulnerable to your emotions.

The emotions telling you to listen to him this time, instead of just sending him away.

You stare at your hands. You know that Beomgyu wouldn’t hold it against you if you told him to leave. He wouldn’t argue. He would give you space. And you really, really hate that. If he wasn’t so honorable, it would be so much easier to hate him. You would never have fallen in love with him in the first place.

Life would be so much easier, then.

But he is honorable. You may still be angry at what he did at the Haynesworth ball, but you also have the grudging grace (or maybe the idiocy) to understand that one mistake does not dictate a person’s entire character. You remember Beomgyu holding you as you shook so badly in his arms just moments after Lord Cho had tried to lay his hands on you, and you can’t help but recall how safe you felt in his hold. Not completely so—Lord Cho was right there, obviously you wouldn’t feel completely fine—but Beomgyu lent a steadiness to the moment that you needed, desperately. You trusted him without thinking. Without even feeling.

Maybe that says something. Maybe that says a lot of things.

You swallow hard. He’s already in your house. He’s come by every day, even though he’s been turned away each time—not by your choice, but by your stepmother’s. This might be the only chance you get to hear him out.

You’d be a fool not to take it.

“Do you know when my stepmother will be back?” you ask quietly.

“She left not long ago,” Brighton replies. “I do not know for certain, but I would estimate you have at least two hours before she returns.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. Two hours is likely enough time to talk. Sabine is taking care of the children in the nursery, which leaves Soyoung or Brighton to chaperone. You don’t have time to change or to cover up the marks on your cheek, but you don’t really want to. Part of you wants to approach Beomgyu with this part of yourself on display. To let him see you as you are.

You stand up and take a deep breath. “Then bring him in.”

. . . . .

When your butler bids him to come inside, Beomgyu has to bite his tongue to stifle his shock. It’s been a week since the Jung ball and though he’s called every morning since then, the response has always been the same—that you aren’t taking visitors, and won’t be for the near future. The setup feels eerily familiar to when he tried to see you after the Haynesworth ball, though he supposes that is just what comes with scandal. The ton’s memory is like that of a goldfish. Once something else happens, they move on quickly.

In theory, at least. In practice, the memories stick around for a bit longer than gossip suggests.

Today, though, the butler—Brighton, he thinks—allows him inside. Before shutting the door, Beomgyu sees him cast a furtive glance towards the street, which leads Beomgyu to believe he might not actually be allowed to be here. Still, he appreciates being let in so he doesn’t comment as the butler leads him through the short hallway and into the drawing room. He then disappears to find you.

It seems to take forever for the butler to return, or at least for Beomgyu to hear any sounds indicating you might actually see him. He half expects to be told to leave and honestly, he wouldn’t blame you for it. He can’t really think of a reason why you would want to see him in the first place, but he just wants to make sure you are all right. Or as all right you can be after what happened.

God, he really wishes he had done Lord Cho’s face in. The man would have deserved it—just one quick punch to break his nose. But then Beomgyu wouldn’t have been there to catch you when the shock set in and you nearly fell, your entire body trembling as you sank into his arms. Anyway, you already hit Lord Cho over the head with that silver candlestick, and that gave Beomgyu more than enough satisfaction to witness.

Footsteps sound down the hall—more than one pair, it seems. Beomgyu straightens where he stands and his heart begins to race as you step into the room.

He almost gasps but bites his tongue just in time. In all the times he’s seen you, you’ve never not been dressed for society—fine gowns, light jewelry, pretty smiles. Now, though, Beomgyu almost doesn’t recognize you.

Dressed in a plain servant’s garb, apron still damp and slightly stained, you stare back at him, expressionless. Your hands are bare, cracked and raw, and a bruise swells dark on your cheek. Anger twists in Beomgyu’s stomach when he realizes it looks very much like the mark left if someone had hit you. There’s no doubt it was your stepmother.

You seem to track his gaze, unsurprised at whatever you find in his expression. Something hard glints in your eyes and Beomgyu recognizes it as a test. You could have made him wait for you to change, to get ready for a typical call, but you didn’t. You chose to show yourself like this, rags and calluses and all, for a reason.

Well, if this is a test, then he will do all he can to pass it. Beomgyu holds himself tall and bows just as he always has even though the bruise on your cheek makes him want to throttle something. “Miss L/N,” he says in greeting.

You look back at him steadily for a moment. Then suddenly your shoulders slump, as though you can’t hold yourself up anymore. “Mr. Choi,” you say wearily. “Why are you here?”

Your refusal to call him by his given name hurts more than it should, but Beomgyu forces the pain to pass. It’s no less than he deserves. “I wanted to see if you were all right,” he replies quietly.

As the words come out of his mouth, he realizes how stupid they are. Obviously you aren’t fine. After what happened, no one in your situation would have been fine. The evidence is staring him right in the face—even if it weren’t for the bruise, the weariness on your face speaks volumes.

“Well, you have seen me.” The corners of your lips lift slightly, though there is no mirth in the movement. “If that is all, I will be going now.” You turn around as though to leave.

Beomgyu moves before he even realizes it. You flinch when he catches your wrist, but to his surprise, you don’t pull away. Not immediately. “Y/N,” he says, and you seem to shudder in his hold like when he held you that night. “Please.”

You remain silent for a moment. “Please, what, Mr. Choi?” you ask harshly. “You got what you wanted. You saw me. What else could you need?” You laugh. The sound scratches at Beomgyu’s ears. “Do you want to gloat? Over the fact that you were right about Lord Cho, and I wasn’t? Because that’s low, low even for you—”

Beomgyu takes a small step forward and you cut yourself off. He lets your words pass over him—you’re angry. Maybe even frightened. You’ve spat insults at him before that you actually meant, so Beomgyu knows the difference between that and you simply lashing out from your pain. “I didn’t come to gloat,” he says quietly.

Your expression crumples. “Then why are you here?”

“I wanted to apologize.” His next words come unbidden. “And I wanted to ask if you would marry me.”

A long pause follows his unplanned declaration. Beomgyu doesn’t panic, though. Because even though he hadn’t intended to give his proposal right then and there, he still meant the words. They just came out a little early.

“Why?” you finally ask.

Beomgyu’s heart nearly breaks at your shattered expression, the obvious exhaustion written all over your face. You didn’t deserve this—none of it. If only he hadn’t been such an idiot, if only he hadn’t run away instead of facing his feelings earlier… “Because I love you,” he says, voice trembling. “And if you will allow me, I should like to explain.”

He watches you swallow, throat bobbing as you look down at where his hand still clasps your wrist. You keep looking there for a very long time. “Then explain,” you finally allow, but you don’t look back up at him.

Beomgyu tries to hide how much that hurts him. It isn’t as though he has a right to feel hurt, anyway. “I am…incredibly sorry for what I did. Or what I didn’t do, I suppose.” He swallows. “I am well aware that no verbal apology of mine could ever make up for leaving you at the Haynesworth ball and I do not intend to make excuses.”

Your eyes finally shift up to his. There’s nothing in your gaze, nothing to give any indication that what he’s saying is right, but Beomgyu has been a coward long enough and he won’t continue that streak now. “I should not have asked you to waltz.”

Your gaze shutters immediately and you go to pull away. Beomgyu almost panics and tugs your wrist back. “I did not mean it that way,” he says quickly. “I only meant…I was not proper. I should have asked if you had permission first. I should have asked if you were fine with it. I should have remembered the social repercussions of asking you to share such a dance.”

You jerk your wrist out of his hand, but you don’t leave. “Then why didn’t you?” you ask sharply.

Beomgyu winces. There’s really no way to make “Lord Cho smirked at me which made me extremely upset” sound any better than that, but he has to try. “I was already upset that Lord Cho had been keeping your attentions the entire evening,” he says. Embarrassment creeps its way up his neck. “I was jealous. And at some point, when I was about to just leave the whole affair all together, he…gave me a look, that made me believe he was doing this on purpose. That he had been keeping you engaged the entire evening to avoid me.” The words, once they leave his lips, sound entirely self-serving and rather egotistic. But he swore to himself he would honest and, well, this is what he felt. “I probably sound rather self-centered,” he admits. “But it seemed that way to me.”

You don’t say anything. You hardly react, even. Beomgyu supposes this is at least better than if you were to scoff at him immediately. “I wanted to dance with you,” he says quietly. “I had waited several hours that night just for the hope of speaking to you. I did not realize it was a waltz before we took to the ballroom floor, but even then, at first, I truly did not care. In fact, I was enjoying it. You…you were so beautiful. You always have been.” He swallows. “But there was a moment where we met eyes and I…it hit me then. That I was in love with you.”

You’ve gone as still as a statue. Only your eyes move, warily tracking his every movement.

“I was scared. Terrified.” Beomgyu clenches his hands at his sides and feels his nails biting sharply into his palms. “I suppose I had some inkling of it before, but I refused to think of it. I was too scared to—I had hated you for so long and we’d only been civil for a few months. I thought, surely, it could not be so. I could not love you in such a short time. But as we were dancing, and as I held you so…” Against his will, his eyes drift to your lips. “I remembered our kiss,” he says quietly. “And I knew, then, that I loved you.”

This time, you do scoff. “You have a funny way of showing it,” you say, bitterness coating every word.

Beomgyu flinches, but it isn’t as if your words aren’t deserved. “I was a coward,” he admits. “An incredible coward. I realized it then and I couldn’t face it. I couldn’t think with everyone around us and I was so confused and terrified by the prospect of loving you that I just…ran.” He drops his head, finally.

“You were so scared of loving me.” You snort. “Me. Yes. Because I’m just another one of the dowry-less crowd, full of scandal and Lady Whistledown mentions. Who in their right mind would ever fall in love with me?”

“It wasn’t because of that!” Beomgyu looks up at you, stricken. “Y/N—Miss L/N—do you have any idea how impressive you are?”

For the first time today, you look shocked into speechlessness. Beomgyu’s own face is starting to redden but he forges on. “You—I was terrified of how quickly I had fallen in love with you,” he gets out. “For weeks after we kissed, I couldn’t stop dreaming of it. I wanted to kiss you again. So badly. And it was—terrible. I wanted to be around you and only you. I was jealous of Lord Cho and anyone who seemed to be interested in asking for your hand. But I just could not believe I was in love with you, because you are…well, you.” He gestures vaguely. “Sweet, kind, intelligent, witty…”

God, the more he talks, the stupider he feels for not having realized his feelings sooner.

“You are you, Miss L/N,” Beomgyu says. “Incredibly lovely and impressive, extraordinarily strong and brave.” A wave of shame washes over him at the truth of his words. You apologized first. You asked to be friends first. Every step of your relationship beyond the first fake deal was initiated by you, and the moment he realized his feelings, all he did was run. “I was terrified of how deeply I had fallen for you,” he says quietly. “Terrified of how much I felt for you in such a short time. It was cowardly of me to run. I should have stayed with you, and I will forever regret that. In the moment, though…it was too much for me to process all at once” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t expect you to forgive me for it. But that is my explanation, in the end. As idiotic as it sounds.”

You look away for a moment. Your cheek turns to him, and again Beomgyu sees the bruise your stepmother left on your skin. The momentary anger bolsters him enough to meet your gaze when you turn back to him. “I trusted you, you know.” More than your words, the exhaustion in your voice strikes Beomgyu to the core. “I trusted you to know the dance, and what it would mean to the ton. What it would mean to me.” You laugh slightly, but there is no humor in the sound. “I thought you might propose to me then.”

Beomgyu bows his head. “I am incredibly sorry,” he says quietly. “Nothing can excuse what I did.”

“It can’t,” you agree. “But it doesn’t matter anymore. It has already happened, and anyway, it’s not the worst thing a man has done to me this season.”

He stares at you. Did you just joke about Lord Cho’s assault?

“Don’t look at me like that,” you snap, hunching into yourself. “It’s true.”

Beomgyu swallows. “I…suppose it is,” he mumbles.

For a long moment, you two remain silent. “Nothing may excuse what you did,” you finally say, “but at least I can understand it.” And as Beomgyu is reeling from your response, trying to make sense of it, you step back. “I accept your apology,” you say. “And I appreciate it. But I think it is best that you go now, Mr. Choi.” You start to walk away. “Brighton will see you out.”

Beomgyu gapes, even as the butler comes back into the room. You said you understood. Understood feeling so strongly that it terrified you, understood the urge to run away that he gave in to—

Brighton steps toward him but Beomgyu ignores him, catching your wrist again. “Y/N!”

You stop, but you don’t look back. “What?”

Beomgyu senses that he only has one chance for this. Just one chance to say the right thing, or you’ll walk away and leave him forever. “What did you mean,” he asks, voice ragged, “when you said you understood?”

You turn to him, derision scrawled across your face. “You are a true idiot,” you snap, “if you believe you were the only one who dreamed of the kiss for days afterward.” Then you turn again and try to walk away, but Beomgyu keeps his grip on your wrist. “What is it now?” you snarl, whirling back around.

Everything is hitting him too hard, too fast, but this time, instead of running, Beomgyu stays put. You dreamed of the kiss. You thought of it for days on end just as he did, your eyes drifting to his lips the way his drifted to yours. Suddenly Beomgyu remembers moments when he saw your gaze fixated on his mouth for mere fractions of a second before you returned to the conversation, moments when you smiled at him and there was a shyness in your expression that he had never seen before…

He remembers the waltz and how you settled so comfortably into his hold, eyes sparkling, lips parted as he lowered you into the crook of his arm. You were so warm. So trusting. So full of a joy and hope that made his heart race.

“I trusted you to know the dance, and what it would mean to the ton. What it would mean to me.”

What it would mean to me.

Beomgyu is an idiot. An absolute idiot. “Miss L/N,” he says slowly, “do you love me?”

Your eyes shutter. “It doesn’t matter.”

He holds your gaze. “Yes, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you grit out. You try to tug yourself away but he won’t let go. “Let go of me!”

He releases you immediately, memories of your cries a week ago forcing his hand open as soon as the words leave your mouth. But he doesn’t let you run away. “Answer my question,” he says.

“It doesn’t matter,” you hiss. Beomgyu hears panic rising in your voice, some sort of fear pushing anger into your tone that he knows isn’t real. “What about that doesn’t make sense to you?”

“It does matter,” he says, cutting through your panic. “Because I asked you a question before that you still haven’t answered.”

You fall silent.

“I asked you to marry me,” he says quietly, each word like a gunshot in the silence. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Brighton slip out of the room again.

You say nothing. You don’t even look at him. It should discourage Beomgyu, but strangely, in the face of your silence, he feels more hopeful. “So I ask you again, Miss L/N,” he murmurs, stepping closer, “do you love me?”

“Why do you need to know?” you ask, voice less sharp, more pleading. “It doesn’t matter, Beomgyu!”

“If you can say no, then I’ll leave.” He puts his hands up in surrender, but privately he feels even more hope with the sound of his name from your lips. “I swear it. But you must answer me.” His voice lowers, almost to a whisper. “Do you love me?”

Your silence is more telling than anything you said before.

Beomgyu takes a leap of faith. “If you do…” He swallows. “Then marry me, Y/N.”

You stay quiet for a long time. A clock ticks nearby, slowly marking every second that passes. Beomgyu feels as wound up as a spring, his muscles so tense it almost hurts, but he doesn’t move. He won’t move. Not until you speak.

And eventually, you do.

“My father is dead.”

Beomgyu’s eyes widen. Your lips curve a little, but the movement holds no humor. “We received the letter a few days ago.”

“…I am incredibly sorry.”

“I’m not.” Your words are callous but you shrug like they mean nothing—and perhaps, after all these years, they don’t. “I hardly knew him and he hardly knew any of us. All these years, we thought he was trying to make money overseas, but he had actually gambled it all away.” You shrug again. “He died over a year ago. It took that long for anyone to try and track us down. The country home will need to be sold to pay off his debts. This house is all we really have left and we might be on the verge of losing that too, so I don’t care for him at all.”

Beomgyu stays silent against the rolling tide of your fury. He has no right to judge the situation, and nothing he could say would soothe your anger anyway. He had two loving parents, a rarity in this ton—he can hardly imagine how you feel now, both biological parents dead, one having betrayed you without your knowing for years on end.

“I didn’t tell you this for pity.” You take a deep breath, and some of the anger dissipates, replaced by your previous weariness. “But, Beomgyu…you won’t gain anything from marrying me. Nothing at all. I’m just another girl with nothing to my name except a heap of scandal. I don’t have a title. I don’t have money. I do chores in the household where I am supposed to be a lady and while I don’t care, if this were to spread to the rest of the ton, you would be ruined, too.” Beomgyu follows your gaze down to your bare hands, your palms rough and weathered, your fingertips raw and pricked. “There’s nothing for you to gain from this,” you say quietly. “Nothing at all.”

Beomgyu reaches out. When you don’t flinch away, he takes your hand. He rubs his thumb over the skin of your palm, skimming over the lines, the cracks, the scars. “I notice,” he says slowly, “that you have still not said no.”

You scoff. “Retract your proposal, and I won’t have to.”

“What if I don’t retract it?” he challenges. “Will you say no, then?”

“You’re an idiot not to!” you snap. You try to pull your hand away but this time Beomgyu doesn’t let go. You glare at him. “Did you not hear a single thing I just said? I can’t bring you anything but burden!”

“I love you.”

With those three words, the fight drains out of you almost immediately. Your head slumps over your joined hands and when you finally look back at him, tears sparkle, unshed, in your eyes. “I love you,” Beomgyu says again and even though it feels like his heart is about to leap out of his chest, the words still feel so right, leaving his lips. “I love you, and I want to be with you. To be with you could never be a burden to me because I love you and everything that comes with you.” You open your mouth to say something but he barrels on. “I don’t care if you have no dowry. I’ve already told you it’s an outdated notion and I care nothing for it, and besides, my family has more than enough money. I don’t need more.” He takes a breath. “I don’t care that your hands will never be smooth. Your scars carry the weight of the care you have for those you love, and they have no bearing on the goodness of your heart. And as for your scandals…” Beomgyu smiles a little, surprised to find some genuine humor in what he is about to say. “I will not have you bear all the burden when the fault is also mine. I am at least half as responsible for all of those scandals as you are.”

You stay quiet. Beomgyu gives up tracing your palm, instead clasping both of his hands over yours. “I love you, Y/N,” he says softly. “None of these things change that, and they never will.”

“You’re an idiot,” you say. Your voice is surprisingly steady, but the last syllable trembles just as the first tear slips out of your eye. “You’re an incredible idiot, Beomgyu. You know all of this—you know what sort of new scandal it would create if we married—”

“What does it say about you, then, that you have still not given me a reply?”

“I’m also an idiot!” you yell. “A bloody fucking stupid idiot who loves you against all of her better judgement. I loved you when you waltzed with me, I loved you when you left me, I loved you when you gave me those gloves—even though I didn’t even it know it then. I thought about you kissing me for days on end and I asked you to be my friend just so you wouldn’t stop speaking to me, looking at me, because I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing you everywhere and not being able to talk to you. I loved you and I still love you because I’m an idiot. A bloody, stupid idiot—” You cut yourself off as tears begin to spill down your face. You harshly wipe them off. “I don’t want to say no because I love you, you stupid fool. Despite everything I still love you and I always will, and I need you to realize that this is a terrible idea because—because this will be a mistake, it will be a huge mistake for you if you marry me, but I—I don’t know if I can say no.”

Beomgyu lets go of your hand. You flinch, no doubt expecting him to step away, but he instead comes closer. This is hugely improper but Beomgyu doesn’t care as he lifts his hand to your cheek to brush away the tears as they come. “Then say yes,” he whispers.

You shake your head wildly. “This is a mistake, Beomgyu. You’re making a huge mistake.”

“You have never been a mistake,” he says quietly. “Not once. Not ever. It was only my mistakes that got us to this point. If I hadn’t been so terrified and unable to cope with my own feelings…” He swallows around the shame that rises bitterly on his tongue. “I am the one who left you at the ball. That was my mistake. But if you can still trust me, Y/N, trust me when I say that loving you was never a mistake for me.”

“I can’t do anything good for you,” you say miserably. “Society will talk about this forever.”

“They’ll talk about it forever anyway,” Beomgyu points out. “And I don’t know about you, but I’m somewhat past caring about what they think of you and me. They’ll never get the facts right, and I can’t control that, but…I know that I love you.” His thumb sweeps another tear from your cheek. “And if you love me too…”

“I do.” Your voice is hardly a whisper but the two words embed themselves in Beomgyu’s heart, warmth slowly filling his blood. “I do love you.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” Beomgyu gently presses his forehead to yours. “I don’t care what the ton will say. I want you to be with me, forever. You say you can do no good for me but just having you near me…Y/N, I have never felt this way for another in my life.” He slides an arm around your waist, pulling you closer gently, gently. “You are the best thing that has happened to me. I should be honored to have you with me wherever I go. I don’t care what you can and can’t do for me. Being around you, being with you…that is all I want. All I need.”

You take a shuddering breath. “Beomgyu…”

“I’ll take you everywhere, Y/N. We’ll travel far away, go wherever and see whatever you want. We don’t need to stay here. We can deal with the ton as much or as little as you want to.” You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. “Don’t worry about your servants or your family. I will provide a dowry for Delia. I will buy the house for your brother. Your servants can travel with us or stay in the home, and I will double their wages.” He takes a deep breath. “So say yes, Y/N.”

You swallow hard.

“Say yes,” he whispers again. “Please.”

You close your eyes. Tears wet your eyelashes, and Beomgyu fights the urge to brush them away, for that would break the two of you apart. You open your eyes and they’re red from crying but in this moment, Beomgyu knows he could never tire of this. Of having you close, of seeing you close, of being able to love you like this—freely, without regrets.

“Yes.” The word ghosts over his lips, your breath soft like the wind against his skin. “Yes, Beomgyu.” You swallow hard, and though another tear rolls down your face, Beomgyu dares to believe it isn’t from sadness—that there could be some happiness joining the myriad of emotions on your face. “I will marry you.”

. . . . .

The next morning dawns uneventfully, which almost tricks you into thinking the previous day was just a dream. There’s no proof that anything happened beyond your memories, and even then, the idea that Beomgyu proposed to you seems almost too fantastical to be true.

But it did happen. You can still feel Beomgyu’s hands encasing yours, his thumb smoothing over the cracks and lines on your palm like his touch could take away the pain. You can feel his forehead pressed to yours, his arm around your waist, pulling you to him. You can feel him, his presence—feel the memories of him wrapped around you like a shield against the world.

You have him, and you have his promise—the promise that he would return the next day, today, with a betrothal ring. The promise that he would marry you and take you far from this place. The promise that he would love you forever.

“I will leave now, before your stepmother returns,” he had said, holding your hand. “But tomorrow I will come. I don’t care if your stepmother refuses callers—I will come. And I will have a betrothal ring, and we will be married as soon as we can.” And you had agreed, and he had kissed your hand like you were dressed in the finest silks and jewels rather than your dirty servant’s apron, and he left, and you believed him.

Maybe you are a fool for trusting him so after he left you once. But even knowing that…you still believe him. You still believe in the man who held Delia like a little princess. You still believe in the man who defended you from Lady Trombley. You still believe in the man who gave you the gloves. And when you hear people talking in the hallway just after the clock strikes ten, your heart lifts, setting several butterflies alight in your stomach.

You were right to trust him.

Unfortunately, as the minutes tick on, you start to suspect there might be some trouble. While you can’t quite hear what your stepmother is saying, the sound of her cold voice permeates through the walls enough that you can tell she doesn’t plan on letting Beomgyu in. You abandon your chores in the kitchen and follow the sound of her voice towards the hall.

You run into Brighton first, thankfully. “What’s happening?” you ask, even though you’re almost certain you know what is going on.

“You have a caller, Miss L/N,” he says. It’s all he gets out before your stepmother rounds the corner and interrupts.

“We are not taking callers,” she snaps, face even more pinched than usual. “Get back into the house.”

You ignore her. “Who is the caller?”

“Mr. Choi.”

Nervous warmth begins to tingle in your fingertips, which almost makes you groan—this is not the time to be feeling any sort of fluttery butterfly-ness, not when your stepmother is right there. “Let him in.”

Your stepmother snarls. “You are taking no callers—”

“He wasn’t asking for you, Stepmother,” you retort coldly. “Brighton, please bring him in.”

Brighton, smart man that he is, immediately departs. You brace yourself for your stepmother’s inevitable incoming tirade. There isn’t much in this hallway to put between you and her, so you can only hope Brighton comes back quickly.

“You are not the head of this household.”

You glance at the end of the hallway. You really hope Brighton comes back soon.

“You technically aren’t, either.” You take a step back but your stepmother advances faster, her eyes narrowed and sharp. “Henry is. But I don’t suppose you want to take orders from a four year old.”

There’s a flash of skin, a loud cracking sound, and then pain blooms across your left cheek. You cradle it instinctively, biting your lip against the pain. Well, at least the left side of your face will now be matching the right.

Your sharp tongue never fails to get you into trouble these days.

“Go back to the kitchen,” your stepmother snarls, her hands folded deceptively calmly at her waist. What a witch. “I will deal with you after I deal with Mr. Choi.”

“What, are you going to slap him too?” you snap. “He is my caller. I will receive him. You have no right—”

She laughs, high and sharp. “You wish for him to call on you now, when you look like this? Even if you weren’t buried in scandal, I would never let another see you in this dirty garb.”

“And whose fault is that?” You snort. “I wouldn’t be in this dirty garb if it weren’t for you. And for the record, Stepmother…” A smirk creeps across your lips. “He has already seen me like this.”

Horror flashes across her expression. “You—”

“I did.” You let your smirk widen. “He knows.”

You hear the slap before you feel it. The force of her hand against your cheek nearly knocks you against the wall and you don’t manage to stifle your cry, pressing your palm to your cheek in a futile effort to relieve some of the pain. A sharp sting rushes up your face, though, and when you pull your palm away, there’s a thin streak of blood. Her ring must have cut you again.

“You’re an idiot,” you say as calmly as you can. “Mr. Choi is here. In this house. Brighton will be back with him in moments. Do you think it will benefit you at all for him to see me like this? To see you like this?”

She blanches. You keep talking, years of rage boiling over. “What, lost your tongue?” You laugh humorlessly. “All these years you’ve kept me pent up like this, one of your worst secrets—cleaning for you, washing for you, sewing your clothes and mine—you’re lucky I cared enough about Delia and Henry not to say anything.” A sneer curls your lips. “You hit me and you slap me and you know it’s wrong, you know it’s bloody wrong because you never do it in front of the children! Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to deserve—”

You see it coming—the hand rising, the palm flashing. Instinctively you flinch. Your eyes slam shut and you cringe away from the hand, covering your cheek as some small protection against the impact.

But it never comes.

You open your eyes. Beomgyu stands beside your stepmother, fingers wrapped tightly around her still-raised wrist. If you weren’t almost hyperventilating, you might laugh at how comically wide her eyes are, but only a slight wheeze manages to press past your lips.

“Miss L/N.” Brighton’s voice sounds next to your ear. You hadn’t registered his presence, but it calms you. “Are you all right?”

“Not—not really.” You look at Brighton, whose usually calm expression has twisted with anger, then at Beomgyu, whose face can only be described as the pure embodiment of cold rage. “But I’m fine.” You don’t take your hand away from your bleeding cheek as you meet Beomgyu’s eyes. “Beomgyu, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Beomgyu drops your stepmother’s wrist and shoves past her, coming to a stop right in front of you. For all the anger in his movements, his hand is surprisingly gentle as he pries your fingers away from your face, revealing whatever marks she left moments ago. You hiss as open air hits the cut, but Beomgyu’s thumb soothes it slightly. “Is there anything we can use to clean this?” he asks Brighton with deceptive calm.

“I will bring something shortly.” The butler bows, then quickly leaves.

Silence falls in the hallway, though Beomgyu’s anger clearly sizzles in the air. His dark eyes search yours for something, and only when his gaze falls to your cheek do you understand what he’s asking.

“I’m fine,” you say quietly. “Or, I will be.”

It’s clear Beomgyu isn’t happy with your response, but he does seem to realize you don’t want to speak about this—at least not now. He nods almost imperceptibly, then turns to your stepmother. “Leave,” he snaps. He barely gives her a glance.

She gapes, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. If the situation weren’t so charged, you might laugh. “I will not be ordered about in my own home!” she finally manages, her cheeks turning blotchy with embarrassment.

“Good God.” You sigh. “With all due respect, Stepmother, isn’t this exactly what you wanted? For me to be married to a wealthy husband and out of your hair?” You sneer. “If you don’t leave, that fantasy will never come true.”

Her eyes widen more, if that was possible. “You—” She glances between you and Beomgyu wildly. “You want to marry her?”

“I don’t answer to abusers,” Beomgyu says coldly.

“But—”

God, she is the absolute worst. “I don’t suggest you make Mr. Choi any angrier than he already is,” you snap.

With a last incredulous glance, your stepmother hurries out of the hallway. You breathe a sigh of relief. Finally.

Beomgyu’s gaze immediately softens, though concern still burns in his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” he says quietly.

“You didn’t know.” You shrug. “It’s fine, Beomgyu. I’ll heal.”

“It’s not that,” he says, eyebrows furrowing. “It’s the fact that this has clearly been going on for a very long time—”

“That is true,” you interrupt. “But I couldn’t say anything then. And anyone who knew didn’t have the power to do anything about it. I am only glad now that I have someone who knows, and who might help protect me.” You take the hand still pressed to your cheek and squeeze it. “I will be fine.”

Beomgyu searches your expression for a long moment. Whatever he is looking for, he seems to find it, because he seems to relax slightly. “If you say so.”

“I do.” You smile, wincing when the movement hurts your cheek. Beomgyu clearly notices but he also clearly sees that you don’t want him to remark on it, so you’re very grateful when he says nothing. You let your voice take on a more playful tone. “Now, what are you here for?”

“Well, I came as I promised yesterday.” His voice takes on somewhat of an edge and you realize he seems almost nervous. It’s very endearing, and your smile widens. “I brought you a ring,” he continues, producing a small box from his pocket. “If you will still accept my suit.” He opens the box.

You gasp. A bright emerald decorates the simple gold band, flanked on each side by small diamonds. There isn’t much light in the hallway but the gems catch what light there is, sparkling cheerfully in the box. “It’s beautiful,” you whisper.

Beomgyu lifts the ring from the box and takes your hand. “It is yours,” he says, voice clearly shaking a little, “if you should like to have it.”

“Of course I would.” To your surprise, you can feel tears coming to your eyes that aren’t just from pain. “My answer hasn’t changed, Beomgyu.”

Relief floods across his expression, a tension disappearing from his shoulders that you hadn’t noticed before. “Oh. That’s good,” he says, smiling slightly. “Good for me, I mean. I just…I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.”

You keep quiet for a moment, choosing your next words carefully. “I can’t say I wasn’t hurt by what you did, Beomgyu,” you finally say. “I was.”

He nods, looking terribly guilty.

“But I also know that you are not characterized only by your mistakes then.” You smile softly, folding your hands over his. “You are still the man who defended me from Lady Trombley. The man who helped me after Lord Cho. The man who gave me gloves.”

Beomgyu peers at you with his dark eyes, so soft, so kind.

“Maybe it will take us time to work past this.” You shrug. “That’s fine. Everything takes time. But…I know, at least, that I want to work past this with you. I want to be with you.” Your smile grows, trembling on your lips. “We were idiots for so long. I’m just…I’m just glad we were able to get to this point, at least, without it being too late.”

“Well, we only have you to thank for that.” Beomgyu smiles softly, most of the awful guilt slipping off his face. “You were the one who apologized first.”

You make a face. “Desperation can do strange things to a person.”

“Desperation?”

Your cheeks feel warm. “After you kissed me, I couldn’t stop thinking of it.” You turn away, embarrassed. “I couldn’t stand the idea of not seeing you again either. I was desperate. So I apologized, because I at least wanted to be friends.”

Beomgyu’s fingers light on your chin, turning you back to him. “Well, you are far braver than I,” he says sheepishly. “I was too scared to say anything, for fear that you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

You smile teasingly. “That just means you have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

“Trust me, I will be.” And with that, he slides the ring onto your finger, the gold band comfortingly cool against your skin.

You hold up the hand, admiring the sparkle of the gems even in the dim light of the hall. “It really is lovely,” you murmur.

“It’s one of the betrothal rings that has been in the family for a long time,” Beomgyu says. “Soobin had our mother’s, of course, because he is the first born, but I think this one suits you better anyway.”

The emerald glints against your finger, cheerful and bright. You haven’t seen the other rings in Beomgyu’s family collection, but you’re inclined to agree with him. The longer you look at it, the giddier you feel, even remembering everything that happened just minutes ago. It’s almost unbelievable. You’re going to be married. Married. And to someone you love, even. Your smile widens.

“I can’t really believe this is happening,” you admit, almost in a whisper. It’s more to yourself than to Beomgyu, but he hears you anyway.

“Me neither.” The society version of him is gone now, replaced by a shyer, almost boyish version of him that endears you far more than is good for the butterflies in your chest. “I mean, less than a few months ago we were still at each other’s throats.”

“I suppose you can claim all the credit for this, then.” You laugh. “You’re the one who suggested that ridiculous deal in the first place.”

“I may have suggested it, but you’re the one who took it to the next step.” Beomgyu grins. “Out of desperation.”

You hit him lightly as heat floods your cheeks. “Hey, you felt the same way!”

“I did, and I was an idiot for not acting on it sooner.” Beomgyu steps forward, taking your hands, and suddenly you’re so close you swear he could hear your heart beating right now. “I’m sorry for that.”

“Stop apologizing. I have already forgiven you.” A rush of boldness course through you and you lean your head against Beomgyu’s shoulder. He stiffens for a moment but relaxes so suddenly you almost flinch, and then his arms come to wrap around your waist. It reminds you of how he held you when you kissed and with that memory, you only sink deeper into his hold. “Anyway, what is that thing they say?” you mumble. “Something about there being a line in between love and hate?”

Beomgyu smiles and pushes you away, but just so he can look into your eyes. “There is a fine line,” he murmurs against your ear, his gaze drifting down to your lips, “between hatred and love.”

You laugh as he kisses you, his mouth soft and sweet against yours. “Yes,” you whisper when you pull away. “A very fine line, indeed.”

. . . . .

epilogue.

“Beomgyu!” You run down the stairs, nearly tripping over your skirts in the process. “Where are you? We’re going to be late—”

A hand catches your wrist as you fly down the last few steps. Beomgyu’s laugh rings out when you screech, his arm pulling you flush against him. “I’m right here,” he says into your ear. You hear the smile in his voice even though you can’t see it, pressed to his chest as you are.

“I couldn’t find you!” You pull away, hoping your makeup hasn’t rubbed off onto his outfit. “Where were you hiding?”

“Nowhere.” He sneaks a kiss in between your flailing and you yelp again. “You just weren’t looking hard enough.”

You scowl, but both of you know there’s no real annoyance behind it. “You are incredibly annoying,” you inform him, only to be met with another chuckle.

It’s been a year since the last season, and six months since you married. If you had had it your way, you would have married as soon as he proposed—called the banns in a week, married in a matter of days after that. With your father dead, however, your entire family was sent into mourning. Never mind that you had never cared for the man.

You hated those six months. It wasn’t the seclusion from society, which you honestly didn’t mind—but just…mourning your father. A man who was barely present in your life. A man whose face you wouldn’t have remembered if not for the portrait still stuck up in the drawing room, a man who lied to you for years until he died so far away from home. You almost considered eloping to Gretna Green to escape the months of forced darkness—you’re fairly certain Beomgyu would have agreed—but ultimately decided against it. You had participated in enough scandal during the season to last you a lifetime. You didn’t need any more of it.

It helped when the three month mark came around and you could change out of the void black gowns and into the lighter colors of half-mourning. Not so much because of the clothes, but because you could slowly begin to accept social engagements again. It isn’t that you particularly wanted to see anyone—the season was over by then and you were incredibly glad for that—but Beomgyu could visit, then. It wasn’t as often as you or he would have liked since his family had moved to the country while you stayed in town, but it helped the time pass more quickly, especially when your little half-siblings freed themselves from the clutches of the staff and managed to tumble into the drawing room to join you two. You’re almost certain Delia has a little child-crush on Beomgyu, and Henry looks at him like a role model.

It's adorable.

Still, sometimes those three months seemed interminable. You barely spoke to your stepmother but after so many years of living under her iron fist, you could never feel at ease in the same house as her. When the wedding came around, you didn’t invite her and she didn’t ask to come. It was a lovely day to celebrate your escape from a life you never wished to live.

And here you are, now. Bickering with your husband whom you love in a home you can call your own, free from the back-breaking secret of your previous life and able to live, really live, in a way you haven’t been able to in years. You can even go about in society with your head held high, just like you will tonight.

That is, if Beomgyu decides to stop stalling anytime soon.

He leans in for another kiss but you jerk away before his lips can land on yours. “We’re going to be late, Beomgyu,” you repeat, forcibly pushing his face away.

He looks at you, face mushed still mushed against your hand. You fight the urge to laugh but a smile makes its way onto your lips anyway. “Be honest with me, Y/N,” he says, pulling away with that little twinkle in his eye. “Do you really want to go tonight?”

You open your mouth, ready to respond affirmatively. But then Beomgyu catches you with those very sweet, very alluring eyes, and you pinch your lips together. He’s already won, you both know, but you have to fight him a little bit. Just a little bit.

“You’re telling me we should skip our first public event since coming back from our very extended honeymoon?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Why not?” he asks, sneaking a quick kiss onto your neck. You yelp, squirming away, but he maintains his hold on your waist all the while. “We’d have more fun at home anyway.”

You do your very best to ignore the way he’s smiling against your skin. “We already said that we would go.”

“Something came up. A terrible emergency that required us to return to the country for another month.” Beomgyu decides that whatever he’s doing right now is no longer enough and begins to lay kisses down your neck, trailing them towards your shoulder even though he knows you are incredibly ticklish over there. “You can’t tell me you’re so eager to return to society.”

You sigh. Beomgyu made good on all of his promises—he bought the house for your brother, he set aside money for your sister’s dowry, and he doubled the wages of all your staff in service. Several of them have followed you to your new home, too. And after your wedding, he whisked you away from London and the upcoming season to show you everything he knew in the continent. It was wonderful to leave England and even more wonderful to see the world, but by the end, you had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t just leaving London that gave you this joy. It was the fact that you had someone you loved by your side.

It was the fact that you had Beomgyu.

It sounds terribly cliché, and you had said about as much to Beomgyu when you admitted it the night you returned to London, confessions whispered under the starlit sky. He had asked you if you really felt all right returning to society after the scandals and gossip of the last season and after a moment, you nodded. It would be difficult, but you didn’t want to hide forever. And with someone really and truly on your side, you could believe things would turn out fine.

You thought he’d laugh at you, and he did—a little bit. But that laugh was accompanied by a surprising shyness and warmth in his touch as he pulled you closer under the bedsheets, your head coming to rest against his chest, just under his chin. “That is somewhat cliché,” he had said, words ghosting softly past your skin. “But I am very glad you feel that way.”

Now here you are, ready to attend your first public event of the season, and he’s trying to convince you to stay home.

“I’m not not eager,” you protest.

“But you aren’t exactly saying you’re eager either,” he retorts easily.

You sigh. “We promised we would go,” you say emphatically, but even you can tell that you’re losing ground for your argument here.

Beomgyu hums into your shoulder, his arms sliding down to wrap around your waist from behind. “I’m sure Lady Park will understand,” he murmurs.

That draws you up short. You’d nearly forgotten who was hosting tonight. “We are not skipping out on Lady Park’s ball,” you say, twisting around to look at him fully. “She is probably one of my only supporters in society right now!”

He makes an affronted noise. “What, is my family just chopped liver?”

“They are family,” you retort. “It isn’t the same. If they didn’t support me, we would be in far greater trouble by now.”

Beomgyu falls silent, which means he’s conceding defeat—at least on this front. “Fine, we’ll go,” he eventually groans. “But no one said we have to stay the entire night.” He whirls you around so that you’re facing him directly, and his grin becomes something distinctly inviting. Sensual. Your heart begins to beat uncomfortably quickly. “In fact, no one said we had to arrive on time, either.”

Your mouth suddenly feels very dry. You fight hard to keep your eyes meeting his, and not floating downwards to fixate on his lips. “Beomgyu…”

He grins. He knows he’s winning. “Twenty minutes,” he proposes.

“…Five minutes.”

“Fifteen.”

“Ten.”

“Twelve and a half.” You laugh, and Beomgyu takes your distraction as an opportunity to press his lips to yours again. “Twelve and a half,” he repeats when he pulls away, eyes sparkling. “And by the way, did I tell you how beautiful you look this evening?”

You laugh again, despite yourself. “You are absolutely incorrigible,” you inform him.

“And yet you still love me,” he points out, infuriatingly correct as usual. “Twelve and a half minutes.”

“…Fine.”

He has his lips against yours in less than a second, an arm around your waist pulling you protectively close as your own hands wrap instinctively around his neck. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers against your lips. “I promise, every minute will be worth it.”

Sometimes it just suddenly hits you how lucky you are—how less than two years ago, you believed you would never find a husband, that you would never find love, that you would be forced to run away to avoid a life slated for a miserable end in your old household. Just a year past you believed this man to be your mortal enemy. When you think about it too much, you start to panic. Now that you have everything, a life that months ago you could only have dreamed of, it all feels like it could be taken away so easily.

So as Beomgyu’s lips capture yours again, pressing you against the staircase as his hand rises to caress your cheek, you decide not to think about it. You push your doubt and panic away and focus on here, on now—on the warmth of his hands and his lips, on the love he manages to convey with every miniscule touch. This life is yours, this life filled with so much devotion and warmth, yours to build, yours to love. And if you know yourself, you will never willingly let it go.

When you break away for air, you don’t let Beomgyu pull away too far. You tangle your fingers through his dark hair, grinning all the while. If he notices a few tears of joy threatening to spill down your cheek, he says nothing, just looks at you with his doting smile.

“That was never in doubt,” you reply, staring into loving eyes. “Because every moment with you has always been worth it.”

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :)

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recoord · 16 hours

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Why Good Omens season 1 has already fulfilled Sir Terry Pratchett's wish

Neil Gaiman said he wouldn't make a sequel to Good Omens

Neil Gaiman at SXSW in Austin, Texas in 2019:

[Gaiman also confirmed the series will only be six episodes, with no intention of trying to go for another season if successful. "The lovely thing about Good Omens is it has a beginning, it has a middle, and it has an end," he said to appreciative applause. "Season 1 of Good Omens is Good Omens. It's brilliant. It finishes. You have six episodes and we're done. We won't try to build in all these things to try to let it continue indefinitely."]

Source: Entertainment Weekly (2019)

2018 - Neil Gaiman on X- Twitter

Tweet link here

Also Neil Gaiman in 2023:

["It won't be confirmed unless enough people watch Season 2 to make Amazon happy...

...But obviously Season 3 is all planned and plotted and, if I get to make it, will take the story and the people in it we care about to a satisfying end."]

What happened?

Were the profits and ratings high enough to create two more seasons out of thin air? At this point, seasons 2 and 3 seem more like a greedy stretching of a beloved story already told in its entirety in the first season.

Has the first season already fulfilled Sir Terry Pratchett's wish?

As read above, Neil Gaiman himself said: "Season 1 of Good Omens is Good Omens."

Gaiman was very opened about how pleased he was with Season 1 and how he made it having Sir Terry Pratchett's wish in mind.

Interview for The Verge (May 30, 2019)

Link : Neil Gaiman had one rule for the Good Omens adaptation: making Terry Pratchett happy

Interviewer: Do you feel pressure from knowing this has to be the definitive best adaptation it could be?

Gaiman: No. All I wanted to do was to make something Terry would have liked. It wasn’t like, “Make the best thing.”...

...Gaiman: The lovely thing about Good Omens [the miniseries] is that it’s still Good Omens. If you loved the book, this is that thing that you loved. And I will make you fall in love even more with Sergeant Shadwell. I will make you fall even more in love with Newt than you thought you could, I hope. It does demonstrate that I do kind of know what I’m talking about, which is a nice thing to know.

...Gaiman: So with Good Omens, I feel like what I got to do was put the thing I made with Terry on the screen and then buttress it. What I added isn’t completely different from the original. It’s not out of left field.

Neil Gaiman on an interview for The Guardian in 2019.

Link: Neil Gaiman: ‘Good Omens feels more apt now than it did 30 years ago’

There are times, he insists, when “you make something you like so much that you don’t really care what anyone else thinks of it.” There’s a clue to this, perhaps, in the show’s final frame, which reads “For Terry”. “He didn’t believe in heaven or hell or anything like that,” Gaiman says, “so there wasn’t even a hope that there was a ghostly Terry around to watch it. He would have been grumpy if there was. But I made it for him.”

Why was Good Omens season 1 so good and you could really feel Sir Terry Pratchett's contributions?

Gaiman himself has already told us the answer:

Neil Gaiman for The Verge (2019).

There was original material to work with (Good Omens, published in 1990), on which we certainly know that Sir Terry Pratchett himself actively worked from start to finish.

Is there a proper sequel to Good Omens the book on which to base 2 more seasons of the series?

Neil Gaiman says the following on an interview for GQ in 2019.

Link: Neil Gaiman Says No to Adapting His Own Books—Except This Time

...But with this, it was like: Okay. Terry is gone. He wanted me to do this. He wanted me to do it for him. And that gave me a kind of weird impetus. And it meant that I felt very much at liberty to take every conversation that Terry and I had ever had about Good Omens. Not just the book, as written, but everything beyond it. We planned a sequel, never written, so I got to steal the angels from the sequel. I got to steal from every conversation Terry and I had about how we would do this. It felt very personal, and I guess kind of… holy. If that doesn’t sound too ridiculous. But it was a mission.

Two conclusions can be drawn:

1) Informal conversations about the plot of a sequel do not equate to an officially written sequel.

2) Neil Gaiman has already used many of the ideas he and Terry Pratchett had planned for a never-written sequel to Good Omens and those ideas were largely added to and executed in the TV adaptation of Good Omens (2019).

Why keep stretching those ideas if the co-writer is no longer able to actively contribute and help to create a proper sequel?

If Gaiman were the sole creator of Good Omens we'd have a different conversation, but that's not the case. The first season of Good Omens was already a beautiful homage to Good Omens and Sir Terry Pratchett's work on the book.

Did Terry Pratchett write around 75% of Good Omens?

Link for the post here.

Link for the post talking about the video and sharing the video here.

Edit: I wanted to bring this point up to point out Terry Pratchett's important contribution to the making of the book, not to highlight it as an excuse to distance Gaiman from the novel. We will have to accept that he also contributed to the creation of the book.

Sir Terry Pratchett's last wish

2017 - Rob Wilkins on Twitter (X)

Terry Pratchett’s Unpublished Work Crushed by Steamroller

By Sophie Haigney - The New York Times

Terry Pratchett, the well-known British fantasy author, had a wish fulfilled two years after his death: A hard drive containing his unpublished work was destroyed by steamroller.

Mr. Pratchett, a wildly popular fantasy novelist who wrote more than 70 books, including the “Discworld” series, died at 66 in 2015. That year his friend, the writer Neil Gaiman, told The Times of London that Mr. Pratchett had wanted “whatever he was working on at the time of his death to be taken out along with his computers, to be put in the middle of a road and for a steamroller to steamroll over them all.” Mr. Gaiman added at the time that he was glad this hadn’t happened.

Now, though, it has. Mr. Pratchett’s estate manager and close friend, Rob Wilkins, posted a picture of a hard drive and a steamroller on Aug. 25 on an official Twitter account they shared.

Shortly thereafter, Mr. Wilkins wrote that the deed was done.

I have not been able to find the exact reasons why Sir Terry Pratchet wanted his unfinished and unpublished works destroyed, but we can respect his last wish as a way for him to have control over what he felt he was ready to share with the world and what he was not.

Is Good Omens the exception?

With all that has been presented so far, I can only conjecture, but not be sure. I can believe that there was Terry Pratchett's permission and desire to make an adaptation of Good Omens, the original book published in 1990, but to my mind, creating two more seasons of a never-written sequel doesn't fit as part of Terry Pratchett's desire.

He is not among us to actively participate in a sequel and if his last wish was to destroy his unfinished works, I can believe that he would have wanted to give his approval to something new before it was published under his name.

Sir Terry Pratchett talking about a never-written sequel to Good Omens

“Neil and I thought about a sequel an awful lot initially. We talked about it on tour. And I think it was a big relief to both of us, when one day we looked one another in the eye and said, 'I thought you wanted to do a sequel.'..

Interview for the Magazine Locus. Locusmag archive page

This is me speculating, but I don't think there was real enthusiasm for creating a sequel until Gaiman alone saw profitable potential in the TV adaptation....

Good Omens also belongs to the those who love the story

I think it's okay to still love the story of Good Omens. Personally, I will always be grateful with the story and the characters for giving me confort in troubling times, but I find seasons 2 and 3 as some kind of excuse from Gaiman to keep profiting and benefiting from the story (more now than ever due to the SA allegations*).

Aziraphale and Crowley will always live happily in a lovely cottage as long as we want to. Even before season 2 was announced, many of us had already accepted that. Many artists have imagined lovely endings for our innefable husbands and in my eyes their works won't be any less valuable than whatever Gaiman had planned.

Note:

I don't like talking about Season 3 of GO without mentioning the current 5 SA allegations against Neil Gaiman (Main writer of seasons 2 and 3 and showrunner), so in case you want to know more about the allegations against Neil Gaiman. Here there's a great Round Up link (Podcasts links, transcripts, etc.)

Credits for the Round Up link to Muccamukk. Thanks a lot!

*more thoughts on supporting season 3

#good omens #there's not a formal written sequel #seasons 2 and 3 shouldn't exist #good omens season 3 #good omens season 2 #good omens book #book omens #innefable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #neil gaiman is not a good person #good omens fandom #good omens prime #terry pratchett

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supercalime · 5 months

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I’ve been lurking in the 911 tags for only a week and I’m already exhausted of most b*ddie shippers holy shit

#the annoying ones know who they are #this isn’t a personal attack #I truly don’t want them to become canon out of spite #why even tag your hate in the goddam tag dedicated to another ship #Tommy’s tag has a lot of hate and people talking about eddie how there’s clues etc etc #I haven’t been deeply involved in fandoms in the last few years for this exact reason #when it becomes too meta it kinda ruins it for me #people digging through interviews and trying to find evidence in situations that weren’t intended that way in the writing drains you #sorry to break it to you #but Bucky is into tommy and was since the beginning of meeting him #yall going #well actually #he’s in love with eddie but doesn’t know and misplaces it with Tommy #is tiring #I don’t know if b*ddie will be canon but not everything has to be about romance with them #they seem to have a connection that goes even deeper than romance #having them be a couple just kinda irks me #they don’t need to be two bros sitting in a bathtub five feet apart but they seem like soulmates in a way that I don’t see as romantic #I say as an aromantic person too #deep connections can be just as intense and interesting if even more than coupling up #obviously not tagging the ship name cause I’d be lynched if I do #and again this isn’t about the actual ship it’s more about the fandom and how they feel entitled to claim theories as facts #lety rambles #tommy kinard #tevan #tuck #911 #911 abc #911 show #bucktommy

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upsidedog · 11 months

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a little over a month after max ended things with lucas a girl in her spanish class aproched her and asked if “lucas sinclar” is single. apparently she thinks he’s cute and has seen them hanging out. “no, he isn’t single” is what max wants to say because if she sticks to her plan of mourning their relationship for the rest of high school so should he, even if max was the one who broke it off. but max is a good person so she says “yeah he’s single.” but not that good so she adds “he just got out of a relationship though, and he’s not over her” and since she’s already crossed that first line “i actually wouldn’t even try.”

max only lasts an hour or two before she feels so guilty she tells lucas there’s a girl in her spanish class that he should ask out cause she thinks he’s cute. lucas is a little offended that his ex is trying to play matchmaker on principle but also because he was sort of planning on mourning his and max’s relationship for the rest of high school

#stranger things #max mayfield #lumax #i honestly could’ve gotten a whole season of max and lucas on unstable kinda ‘bad’ terms i live for the drama #like i mean i could go into character analysis mode but it’s a holiday #i know in lucas on the line there was a girl at the party after the basketball game lucas thought was cute and i think if he had the time #it would’ve been healthy and normal to move on but also max would be eating drywall out of jealously #like obvi lucas would be doing nothing wrong they’ve been broken up but max deserves a little toxicicity she deserves to passive #aggressively ask what his new girlfriend’s high score in dig dug is then celebrate to herself when she says she doesn’t play video games bc #max is an awkward dork 15 y/o who thought a core reason why lucas liked her was because she would beat the hard arcade levels for him #max wants to be with him so bad but feels like a monster and she’s so in her grief she doesn’t even know how to ask for help so their #relationship is over even as max is still hanging on. conversely lucas has no clue what’s going on over than a vague idea - he wants to be #with max he wants to support max but he doesn’t know how and he also wants to feel normal and be cool and forget the past few years and max #is by far the most resentful of his attempts to leave the past behind because THATS WHERE SHES STUCK #i said i wouldn’t do analysis then i did. middle ground is i won’t rewrite it 2 not be a scrambled train of thought because it is a holiday

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the-acid-pear · 5 months

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I never tried the option myself bc it'd probably mean skipping the Reason You Suck speech at the end (fire for speedrunners though) but I Love that you can frame your Phoneys in 3, especially so if you've already killed the previous two. Like yeah couldn't send you off to die so i'll let the goverment do it for me 🧸 like its just Peak evil imo.

#luly talks #i do relinquish in the pain and the agony but dont get me wrong the thought of any of them 3 getting jailed makes me SO sad #rog esp since he's the one im writing about and the biggest nerve wreck #gingi voice they'll be the last one to pick the board game for prison-game-night..........#actually yknow i wonder if rog would end up almost believing it after all when you try to gaslight him for the shits and giggles #(as in: telling HE was victim of the bite of 87 and the like) he tells you to not do that bc his brain is already scrambled or something #so there's a chance perhaps he'd believe it if he had everyone constantly accussing him of it?#not like it'd matter much i have no hopes for the dsaf justice system i know its been 35 years since jack got framed but still #i just remembered when the option popped up i said ''god im really becoming steven 😭''#first time i made the joke too was when i said ''imagine your boss sucks so bad you turn suicidal'' no clue what the context was #OH YEAH JAKE SAYING HE'D RATHER FUCKING DIE THAN KEEP WORKING HERE yeah. poor guy.#anyway im derailing my own post again uhhh. yeah. yeah i dont trust any phoney is avoiding the death sentence #dsaf #roger jones #dsaf roger #btw just for the sake of yapping longer i truly cant decide whether harry or jake would survive better in the enviroment #probably jake to be honest. I mean Harry has a lot of experience inside freddy's but he didnt really live outside it muhc #jake is so confrontational though #hey did you guys watch the hit movie felon? sure that guy wasn't framed but. i feel like jake would end up w that attitude #except for. you know. everything else that happens in the hit movie felon.#hey actually forget about this game go watch the 10/10 movie Felon from 2008 starring Val Kilmer and Stephen Dorff #because its one of my all time fave movies and probably the saddest i've seen #not bc there arent movies that are more tragic but bc no movie was able to break thru my walls of idgaf and make me cry anyway #yeah you thought i couldnt bring up my movie fixations on my different fandom posts well you were WRONG in fact #im gonna go tag my other post i left untagged yesterday bc my ass was Cooking

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rosicheeks · 6 months

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Unfortunately relatable. I grew up in the church and have a lot of Christian trauma from that. I show up for special occasions for my parents… sometimes. But it’s uncomfortable from the moment I step through the door. Bigoted pastor, the self-righteousness disguising the prejudice, the political comments from the altar. Shots at young people left right and center as if the hell on earth wasn’t caused by the same older generation 90% of the congregation belongs to..

I miss being young in the choir and the youth groups and not struggling with it. It’s wild to look back at the younger version of me who was unshakeable in his faith and honestly just saddening.

I was texting my sister today about it and she said

“I 100% think ALL of us have a ton of religious trauma and everyone else in the family just doesn’t realize it cause they’re still drinking the kool-aid.”

I ran out of tag room and didn’t want to delete any 😭 seriously not lying I could write a book about all my thoughts and experiences

#I relate to all of this so much #and it’s so sad how many people truly have religious trauma #I still find myself lucky and privileged cause I know there are stories MUCH worse than mine #it’s really hard cause my parents still think I’m a Christian #honestly at this point I have no clue what i am #even if I end up still being a Christian that doesn’t help or heal all of the years of church trauma #but the hard part is still acting the part for my parents #growing up I always tried to fit into the good Christian girl mold #cause I know that’s what my parents wanted and I didn’t want to disappoint them #but once I started smoking weed and they found out? it went all downhill from there #their perfect angel fell from heaven #and I feel like ever since I haven’t been really their daughter…. I’ve just been living on the outside looking in to everything #it hurts looking back at all the years I spent brainwashed into believing that was the ONLY faith #it genuinely makes me sick to my stomach thinking about the fact that I went to a pro life rally #the thing I was talking to my sister about was how mental health was never talked about in the church #when I started dealing with it and went to my parents or the pastors or any adult really and told them what I was dealing with #wanna know what the first thing they would ALWAYS say? well have you prayed about it? the way they treated mental illness was that it was #YOUR fault cause God is punishing you for something…. that you need to pray or go to church so then God will eventually take it away #and the thing is I don’t necessarily blame my parents (which kinda sucks cause I want to blame someone)#but honestly it’s just the environment they grew up in too… like I’m 99% sure my dad has dealt with depression his entire life #but won’t get diagnosed or anything cause they always believe faith has something to do with it #which makes me incredibly sad cause I just think about how much my dad has suffered and how he didn’t need to #^^ I was typing this out when I was late to my family gathering hahaha but then I think my sister called or something so I had to stop #sorry this post is all over the place - I swear I could write a book about religious trauma #yesterday went ok surprisingly but today? TODAY is going to be so much worse #sure I’ll make a post about it later but I guessssss I should go to bed now? it’s 2am and I have to get up at 5:45 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃#and I have a fuuuuull day of fun Christian festivities while I’m dealing with all of this bottled up and unresolved crap from my past #please don’t get me wrong I love my parents and like I said I don’t blame them - they did their best #it just really sucks wondering what my life would have been like if I didn’t grow up in the church or in a super religious family #I wonder if when I told my parents I was depressed if they would have instantly brought me in to get help

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alexiroflife · 3 months

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"tears"

fluff for the sukuna fans bc i've been in a soft sukuna mood

ryomen sukuna x reader

Synopsis: sukuna isn't a stranger to arguments with you, but when he catches you crying after a particularly harsh one, he finds himself scrambling to fix it... in his own way

to sum it up: sukuna is an asshole but he loves you, so he tries his best

WC: 3,296

Warning(s): a lil angst

You knew exactly what you were getting into when you first started a relationship with the infamous king of curses, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less when his tendency to be an asshole hurt your feelings.

You know Sukuna isn’t a sentimental person who cares much for things like verbal reassurance, or consideration for the way the things he says can impact you, or anyone for that matter, but damn! Sometimes, he’s just too much of a jerk for you to handle, and Sukuna himself has no idea why your fragile human emotions sway you to be so affected by him. He doesn’t even think he’s said anything wrong the times in which you grow angry with him.

Now, Sukuna can handle your anger. Anger is good. Anger means that there is something he can react to, something he can tame or involve into your intimacies when he takes your mind off of silly arguments or subdues your attitude over what he deems to be small inconveniences. Anger is the only human emotion that he has felt himself in his many years of existence, so he knows what to expect. He understands it. He’s not, in the slightest, intimidated by it.

But what Sukuna finds he can not handle is the sound of your sniffles that resound from behind your door after you’ve just slammed it into his face. Sukuna angles his brows, pressing his ear to the door in confusion. Are you… cold? Coming down with a fever? What the hell are you sniffing your nose so much for?

Then he hears the meek gasps that intercept, the vocalization of pain that creeps into your weakened inhalations that accompany your damned sniffling. That’s when he realizes that you’re crying, and his pupils shrink slightly knowing that he has gone a little too far this time.

Hell, how is he supposed to handle you crying? He can’t fuck your sadness away like he can with your irritation. He can’t mirror your sadness, since he has no clue what the hell it’s supposed to feel like. He can’t empathize with it either, for he has no idea what he could have done to bring tears to your eyes and empathy, well, it’s not in his vocabulary to begin with. It’s pathetic, he thinks, the way you have allowed him to bother you this much…

Yet it kills him to know that he’s the reason behind your tears.

He stands there for some time, unsure of what to do. Should he get Uraume to handle this? No, that may make things worse. You may want to be alone.

He turns to leave, but something stops him. He feels an ache in his chest, pressing his hand to his bicep. What the hell? What is this feeling?

He can still hear you crying, and somehow, it sounds like it’s getting worse, louder, or perhaps that is all in his head. He can no longer tell, but that sound you’re making is the only thing occupying his mind, and it’s ruining him. It’s making his chest tighten, his brow furrow, his lips press together tightly. He should leave, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to abandon you like this.

Never once in his life has Sukuna felt remorse. Not even for all the times he has made you angry in the past when you two have had arguments. He is so quick to blame your reactions to things on your feeble human emotions. He is so quick to evade responsibility, or more so, refrain from guilting himself over the things he is responsible for. He is so quick to dismiss you, but it’s always fine because he has never witnessed you grow sad over his behavior, not until now.

Sukuna turns back to your door slowly. His hand flies to grab the handle to throw the door open, but he hesitates. He’s unsure of what’s happening to him, for he’s never hesitated before in his life. This, you crying, him second guessing himself, it’s all so new and he hates it. He needs to fix this immediately.

What do you humans like when you are upset? There’s a word that’s slipping his mind, one he always hears you pester him for but turns down repeatedly. He had found the concept so irrelevant that he hadn’t even bothered to recall what it’s called.

He crosses his arms and stares ahead harshly in thought, then it comes to him. An apology! Yes, that’s what it is. But of course, you can’t expect him to verbalize such a thing. You must want something as a gift. A physical representation of his desire not to see you cry. He rushes off to locate Uraume for preparations.

About an hour later, you’re curled up on your bed and facing the wall with a blank stare. Your tears stopped a while ago, and since you hadn’t heard from Sukuna, you assumed he just didn’t care about your feelings. Like always.

“Oi,” a gruff voice through the door startles you. You jump and turn over, curling your brows in confusion at the sound of Sukuna’s voice. For a moment, you don’t believe he is speaking to you, so you wait some time to see if he will speak again. “I know you can hear me in there,” his voice sounds again, and you groan.

“Go away,” you tell him, flipping back over.

Sukuna, on the other side of the wall, clicks his tongue in agitation. “Quit your pouting and come open this door.”

“No. Until you learn how to treat me better, I don’t want to see you.”

Treat you better? Sukuna doesn’t understand this nonsense. You live in his large estate, you’re pampered by servants, showered with gifts and homemade meals, you sleep by his side every night, and he allows you to disrespect him far more often than he should. Not to mention, he has his arms full of presents at this very moment that are preventing him from opening the door himself. How can he possibly treat you any better than he’s already treating you?

He growls lowly and closes his eyes in irritation. “If you open the door, your mood will improve.”

“I don’t want anything other than what I just said.”

Sukuna’s eye twitches. Why are you so damn difficult? “What is your-”

“Go. Away.”

Oh. Alright, then.

You sit up abruptly when Sukuna’s foot breaks in the door with a loud crash. You stare with wide eyes, the door, now off its hinge, creaking open weakly to reveal the king of curses with his arms full of several bouquets of flowers.

“What the fuck, Sukuna?!” you cry. He only stares frustratedly as he walks into the space univinted.

“This was going to go on for too long if I hadn’t done something,” he says, approaching the side of your bed.

“You can’t just- fuck! What is wrong with you?”

Okay… this is already going poorly.

This is not the reaction he had desired from you, and perhaps he should have revisited the idea of kicking in the door, but he had been growing impatient. Despite his big talk, he doesn’t like when you speak to him in such a cold way. He doesn’t like being separated from you. He doesn’t like not being able to see your face, and after all the work he has just done to collect these plants for you, he can not tolerate being turned away.

“Must you be so dramatic?” he tsks. “Do you not see what I have brought to you? Don’t you humans like these things?”

You stare at him incredulously, mouth agape. Sukuna can see the tear stains clear on your face, and his heart clenches again. God, why is that sight so abominable?

He holds his arms out, presenting the flowers to you as if you could have possibly missed them. “They are yours. Take them and be done with this.”

“Be done with what, Sukuna?” you shake your head, face scrunched.

“With your tantrum- your tears, and the sniffles. Be done with them now. Here.”

You scoff. “Do you even know why you're giving these to me?”

Sukuna raises a brow. “To cease your tantrum. As I just said.”

“I can’t with you sometimes, Sukuna. Honestly.”

“This is really the thanks that I get for bringing you these damn flowers? I thought you were supposed to like things like this. Why would you make me waste my time?”

“If you think it’s a fucking waste of time to bring me flowers, then there’s your problem right there,” you raise your voice, pointing at him accusingly. Sukuna’s face hardens. He thinks you’re getting angry again, but he can still see the sadness behind your eyes. You look almost… defeated. “And if you knew me at all, you’d know that I never cared about any of that stuff. I never cared about the flashiness or the gifts or whatever the fuck.”

Sukuna lowers his hands, letting the bouquets drop carelessly to the floor. “Now you are accusing me of not knowing you?” he seethes. “I’m not sure when you decided that it was acceptable for you to speak to me this way, but I will not tolerate it. I do nothing but dote on you, you ungrateful brat.”

“Yeah, sure, you dote on me, and then you turn around and berate me and call everything I feel stupid because you don’t care to even try to understand why some of the things you say are not okay!”

Sukuna walks closer to invade your personal space, leaning in to glare angrily at you as you do the same. This is what he knows. This is what he chooses to respond to. Not the curl in your brow, not the tremble of your lips, not the unsteadiness of your voice, but your anger. “Why should I care if all you do is whine,” he grumbles.

You clamp your mouth shut as a lump forms in your throat. Sukuna watches you unravel before him, and while he tries to keep an unmoved expression, he is internally panicking when he sees your eyes gloss over again and your nose flare.

Shit. He’s supposed to be making you feel better. How has he gone and made things worse again? Why is he incapable of understanding how to be what you want him to be?

You take in a trembling inhale as your hands clench and unclench at your sides. You don’t want him to see you cry. You don’t want him to call you weak, but you can’t help the tear that breaks past your lashes and dashes down your cheek, a physical display of your heartache.

Sukuna’s crimson eyes fly to the tear, and his brows smooth out against his intent.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You’re crying again, and it’s his fault. It’s always been his fault. What is this now that he’s feeling? Regret? Shame? Is that what is clawing at his chest and stripping him of his resolve? Making him wish to replay this entire interaction so that you do not appear before him with tears in your eyes once more? Is this what it is to fall?

You rub angrily at your eyes and huff, turning away from him and plopping back down on your bed, back facing him. You shut yourself away, close yourself off, and deprive Sukuna of your pretty face for the second time today. “Just leave me alone. You’ve made it perfectly clear that you don’t give a fuck about me or anything, for that matter.”

Sukuna’s eyes widen slightly with the deepening of his frown. That ache he has felt in his chest spreads throughout his body, serving as tension in his back, head, and shoulders. You think he doesn’t care for you? What nonsense. You’re the only being on this planet who has made a millennia of existence worth living, and you think he doesn’t care?

Sukuna can not even pin the blame onto you this time around. He can not accuse you of overreacting, nor can he evade such a thing that is so clearly his doing. He has made you feel uncared for, and while his temper may get out of hand, and his inability to fully comprehend the plagues of the human mind gets in the way, and he never tells you that he loves you, making you feel unloved is the last thing he ever meant to do.

“Hey,” he mumbles, but you do not move. You cling to yourself for comfort because you do not believe he can provide any for you. “Brat-” he starts, but rethinks. He reaches his hand out to you. “(Y/n). Enough of this.”

“I don’t want to see you right now, Sukuna. Can’t you respect at least that for once?” you croak.

His hand freezes and he lets it fall. Respect. Understanding. That is what you want from him, and he has not been giving it to you. He has not been giving you anything that you request of him emotionally, for that matter. He has been neglecting your mental needs whilst overpowering you with the physical, and it’s drawn you away from him.

He could force you to get up. He could drag you by your hair to his bedroom. He could make you look him in the eye, make you stay with him, make you stay silent about this from this point on and forever more. Sukuna has the power and the authority to do so…

But the idea is not appealing. Not in the slightest.

Sukuna wants you happy. He wants you to want to be with him willingly, and if he ignores your consent now of all times, it would be like throwing away the life he has built with you. Throwing away your desires, and Sukuna does not long for a world in which you are any more uncomfortable than you already are.

He takes a step back, looking over the flowers that he has dropped, and accepts the will of the mortal he fell in love with.

“I will be in my chambers if or whenever you wish to see me,” he says lowly, giving in. He moves to leave but stops himself once more. He never had stopped himself this much before. “...I apologize for making you cry. I will send someone to fix your door immediately.”

Sukuna is well on his way when he hears you shuffling behind him. He turns, admittedly hopeful for your reaction, and finds you peeking in confusion over your shoulder. “...What did you just say?” you whisper.

The king of curses stalls, looking directly into your eyes from across the room. He feels suddenly… weak. Vulnerable. For the first time, he has relented his power for you to take hold of, and it feels strange to say the very least. “Do you wish for me to repeat myself?”

You sit up slowly, turning around. You knuckle at your red nose, watching him suspiciously. “I do. I may have misheard you.”

He studies you for a moment until he realizes that you are being facetious. “You heard me the first time.”

“Maybe I just want you to say it again.”

Sukuna sighs heavily. “I did not intend to make you cry, nor did I intend to make you feel as though I do not care for you. That is a foolish thought, but I understand I do not convey the depth of my feelings for you the way you wish me to convey it.”

You look dumbfounded as you stare at him in silence. Sukuna clicks his tongue, unsure of how you are going to respond.

“Quit staring at me and say something, woman.”

“I just… never thought…” you trail off, swallowing harshly. “I never thought you would ever say something like that to me.”

“You will only hear me say such things when you are- when I’ve made you unhappy,” he clarifies firmly. Your nose twitches, an involuntary movement that Sukuna catches and finds entirely too adorable. Your eyes are still damp, but your breathing has evened out.

“That’s the first,” you quip.

“Enough.”

You press your lips together, glancing at the flowers Sukuna brought you. Just then, you notice that they are your favorite.

You tell yourself you knew what you were getting into when you first started dating the king of curses, but at times you forget that Sukuna is in fact a demon, and a king at that. He does not believe in any better than what he is.

“You hurt my feelings, Sukuna,” you say softly. “Don’t you get what that means? At least for me?”

“No,” he responds honestly. “But I do see now that you have different needs. And I understand that I refuse to watch you cry if there is something I can do about it.”

You try to remain angry with him. You try to keep yourself distanced, but you can not help the way that you are softening, and Sukuna notices. A hint of a smirk curves at the corner of his lips.

“Is that all I had to say to make this better?”

“Shut the hell up,” you hiss. “It wouldn’t have killed you to apologize for the hundreds of other times we’ve fought, you know.”

“You weren’t crying the other times, woman.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you roll your eyes.

Sukuna tilts his head, placing a hand on his hip. “You’re not still upset, are you?”

“Yes,” you pout, and he catches on.

“What is it you want now, to be pampered like a spoiled brat?”

He makes the suggestion as if to offend you, but the two of you both know that he is hardly making a joke. “What I want is for you to fuck off.”

A chuckle rumbles in Sukuna’s throat as he makes his way over to you. You immediately break and screech when he yanks you forward by your ankle and loops you up into his arms before sitting down on your bed and setting you in his lap.

He looks you dead in the eye and lifts a rough thumb, swiping stubbornly at your tear stains and your damp lashes. “Crybaby,” he mutters, and you swat his hand away.

“Whatever, asshole.” You push at his chest with weak contempt and he looks at you boredly.

“You’re pitiful,” he grumbles, gripping your chin securely and guiding it to him. His blood red eyes seep into yours, gazing intently. “No more tears, do you understand?”

“Then don’t make me sad.”

“I won’t,” he tells you confidently.

A smile twitches on your lips as you look over him, completely unfamiliar with this side of the king of curses. “Can you do one more thing for me, and then I’ll maybe think about forgiving you?” you bite your lip, pressing your finger to his broad shoulder.

Sukuna grunts. “More demands, huh? I suppose you know how to take advantage of a situation. What more do you want?”

You wrap your arms over his neck. “Tell me how much you care about me,” you sing.

“Did I not just do so?”

“No, I want you to spell it out. Tell me you love me.”

“I highly tolerate you.”

“Tell me you loveeee me.”

“You are the only human being I do not frown upon.”

“Sukuna.”

“Christ, woman, you’re mine. Isn’t that enough?” he grits his teeth and you snort, patting his cheek gently.

“For now.”

“Such a pest, you know that?” he mumbles, pushing in swiftly to press his lips firmly to yours in a swift peck. “Don’t ever say I don’t care for you again. It is the most false and offensive thing I have ever heard."

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