#and of course the only thing in this world that matters to them is her

[russo-woso]

Expensive || Kyra Cooney-Cross

Request | Masterlist | Prompt list

Summary You and Kyra go baby shopping and don’t realise how expensive it all is.

“Kyra, please can we go in. Please.” You begged as you walked past a baby shop.

You were currently 23 weeks pregnant and were out food shopping but it wouldn’t hurt if you did a bit of baby shopping at the same time, would it?

You and Kyra had been together since you were sixteen.

You’d both met due to your mums being co workers and immediately hit it off, quickly becoming friends before lovers.

Just before the World Cup, you and Kyra had gone on holiday and she’d proposed to you.

You, of course, said yes, knowing Kyra was the love of your life.

That same summer, it was discussed that you’d be starting a new adventure in your lives:

Moving to England.

And having a baby.

The two of you were young, you knew that, but you both wanted a family.

That’s what leads you to today, 23 weeks pregnant with your baby girl.

“Five minutes, okay? That’s it.” Kyra told you, a stern look on her face which was soon replaced by a soft smile.

You both entered the shop, hand in hand, as you took in all the baby clothes.

“Look how small they are, Ky.” You whispered, taking a baby grow in your hands.

“It’s tiny. I can’t believe she’s gonna be that small.” The Australian said, rubbing your bump.

“I know. Look at these ones, they’ve got flowers on.” You pointed out, also resting a hand on your bump, feeling your daughter kick.

“We’ve got to get them.” Kyra said, placing the baby grows in the basket.

You watched as Kyra wandered, looking at the different clothes, often putting some in the basket.

You smiled, looking at the excitement on her face.

Most people didn’t often see this side of Kyra.

They all saw the side of her where she’d be classed as a pest, where she’s immature and can’t take things seriously.

That’s why most people were shocked when you announced the pregnancy. Everyone thought the two of you weren’t ready for a baby.

You, however, saw the mature side of her. The side where she would do anything for anyone, where she could take things seriously.

“Baby, should we get a car seat too?” She questioned, wrapping her arm round your waist.

“I thought you said we’d only be here five minutes? Getting a car seats gonna take more than that?” You teased

“Yeah, but I figured we might as well get one whilst we’re here.” Kyra said and you nodded, slowly walking over to the wall of car seats. “So where do we start? We’re getting the comfiest one for our princess.”

—

“I think we’re all sorted.” You told Kyra as you looked down at the trolley.

Yes, the trolley, not the basket anymore. You’d ended up getting so much, Kyra had to run and get a trolley instead.

Inside the trolley was piles of clothes, A box containing a car seat, A crib that Kyra insisted she’d be able to build herself, a pump for breastfeeding, bottles, dummies, and anything else that could possibly be needed.

“I think we are.” Kyra agreed, smiling proudly before pushing the trolley to the cashier.

After what felt like an hour of the cashier scanning all the items, the total number of what was due was announced.

“And that would be £632.84 please.” The cashier revealed and your eyes widened.

“£632?” You questioned in shock as the person on the till nodded. “Ky, that’s so…”

“Our princess deserves it all.” Kyra said before you could finish your sentence, pressing a kiss to your temple before paying.

Putting the items back in the trolley, you walked out the shop two hours after when you’d walked in.

“Mama loves you so much.” You told your bump as you waddled to the car.

“I do, I love both of you, no matter how expensive you both are.”

[shrimpybbq]

affection is a remedy for many a problem

continuation of a contended husband is no menace to the kingdom

______________________________________________

Aegon doesn't entirely change just because he feels loved and cared for, no. The trauma and lack of affection in his childhood still incites his drinking, but it's to a lesser degree. Still, it's not uncommon for his niece to wake to his slumbering frame reeking of cheap Flea Bottom ale, his late night antics with his sleazy friends having ended with the guards dragging his body into their shared chambers in the early morn. One would think she would be repulsed by such situations, and yet, Aegon often finds himself in the large tub with his wife washing his hair, her delicate hands bringing a soothing pressure to his waning headache. The Prince would be silent as a deep sense of shame settles over him, his expression settling into a grimace as he remembers the conversation that led him to Flea Bottom this time. His mother had been yelling at him for declaring his lack of desire for the throne - a desire that had never increased no matter the number of conversations they had. A sharp slap to his cheek before she sent him away from her chambers had been his final straw. He didn't remember much after that. Aegon is thankful that his sweet wife understands him, knowing he is trying to be better for her. She is always by his side.

The one thing that cheers him up the most is seeing his sweet little babies. The twins had come soon in the course of their marriage and though he'd been reluctant to become a father, there was soon nothing more important to him than caring for his children. He saw opportunities for redemption in them, and his wife was so good with them. She was motherly in a way that his own mother had never been, always coddling them and squeezing them tightly, praising them and laving them with affection. To see his own children loved so much healed something in Aegon. The married couple spend many hours together with the children in the nursery each day, playing with them and conversing. When the Twins had learnt of their mother's second pregnancy they had become even more excitable, always babbling to the babe and asking when their brother or sister would be born. As Jaehaera clings to her father and plays with his matching silver strands, Aegon can only look over at his wife and Jaehaerys as he presses his ear to her stomach, seeking to hear the babe. His heart swells at the realisation that he finally has a family that love him, and he who loves them more than anything in the world.

(I 100% believe half of Aegon's problems could be solved with a lot of love and affection)

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 10

Kara sets her phone on do not disturb the instant the first unrecognized number flashes across the screen. Keeping hold of Lena's hand, she sits them both on the edge of the bed as she dials the only other person she wants to talk to.

"Kara!" Alex exclaims. Her voice then dims as she turns to call the others. "It's Kara!"

"Hey," Kara says, keeping her voice steady. "You're on speaker. I've got Lena with me."

Lena leans closer to the phone, resting against Kara's side in the process.

"Hi."

"Hi, Lena." As Kara expects, it takes more than a global superstar to faze her sister. "Are you two okay?"

Kara nods. "Yeah. We're okay."

"We're more concerned about you guys." Lena glances at Kara. "I'm worried your family might be pulled into this."

It will only be a matter of time before internet sleuths find Kara's old social media, and for her identity to be shared with the entire world. But where Kara had consented to her relationship with Lena, her sister's family hadn't agreed to be drawn into it along with her.

"We'll be okay," Kelly chimes in.

Lena shakes her head. "Let us send a car. We can get you to a hotel until we see how far they'll dig."

"Oh, I don't think that's necessary..."

"But what if it is?" Lena asks softly.

What about Esme, goes unsaid. A long beat of silence passes, and Kara imagines Kelly looking to Alex for guidance, and Alex's own indecision.

"Lena's team has more experience and greater resources to handle this sort of thing," Kara adds. "They can book you guys under fake names, assign security--"

"Security?" Kelly interrupts, her voice laced with fear. "You don't think..."

"We don't know anything at this point," Lena rushes in, doing her best to allay the immediate worry without downplaying the risk. "But I don't think we should assume the best, either."

Alex is the next to speak. To Kara's surprise, her sister doesn't speak to her.

"Lena."

Kara glances at the woman beside her. Lena's features are as somber as Alex's voice sounds, but her brow is creased with thought.

"How bad can this get?"

Lena takes a deep breath.

"I can't say for sure."

While it's not a firm answer, Kara knows Lena isn't sugarcoating anything-- it's just too soon and too volatile to anticipate an outcome with any kind of certainty.

"You've had high profile relationships before," Alex counters.

"Yes," Lena concedes. She takes a breath, shoulders sagging as though in defeat. "But this is different."

Alex makes the connection before Kara does.

"Because you're women."

A jolt travels down Kara's spine. She shoots a glance towards Lena, who looks at her helplessly.

"Yes," Lena confirms. "I've been in relationships with women before, but not publicly."

"Do you intend to hide this one too?"

Lena glances at Kara, cheeks flushing with guilt.

"That decision hasn't been made." That the option is even on the table sends a frission of displeasure through Kara, but Lena's tone-- while conciliatory-- is pragmatic. "But even the implication could make a lot of waves. And if people get angry, and they can't get to us..."

"They'll go after us," Alex finishes for her.

Lena nods, her features mournful. "It's a possibility. Online, in the media, or even picketing..."

Kara knows Alex's decision before she says it.

"Okay." Then, "just until we know more."

"Of course."

Alex sighs over the line. "Any other recommendations?"

"I would limit screen time; things might get... nasty. And the less you see, the less you might be tempted to join the fray."

Kara's thoughts turn to Esme, and as though reading her mind, Lena continues.

"Alex... Kelly... I know you don't know me. But-- I want to protect you and your family as much as I can in this. I wasn't much younger than Esme when all this started for me, and-- I don't want to make this any harder for her than it has to be."

Kara gives Lena's hand a squeeze, prompting Lena to lean a little more of her weight against her shoulder in return.

"Thank you, Lena," Kelly says, voice soft. "We appreciate your guidance on this."

Kara leans forward intently, bringing the phone a little closer.

"Lena's team will coordinate everything," she offers, "and I'll be in touch with more details as soon as I have them. We'll take each day as it comes, and adjust however we need to."

"Kara can send you my number," Lena agrees. "If any of you need anything, at any time, please call me."

"We will," Kelly promises.

Alex sighs. "We should go tell Esme."

Kara bites her lip. "She's seen?"

"Who do you think showed us?"

Shit. Kara's teeth grind in frustration. "Is she upset?"

"Nah. Not really. I think maybe a little hurt that she found out with the rest of the world, but mostly thrilled?" Alex sighs. "I don't know. Teenagers are hard."

That makes Kara chuckle. She wipes a tired hand over her face. Barely an hour had passed since she woke up, but it feels like a lifetime. "Yeah."

"We'll let you two go. Stay safe."

"You too," Kara returns. "We'll be in touch."

[reputationolivia]

try again?

would anyone be interested in this, i thought of this plot awhile back and started working on it recently but i feel like its just gotten long and idk i feel like it might be a bit boring? so idk if anyone would be up for reading this! but i put a little snippet of it here so if anyone sees this please share your thoughts! :)

18+ minors dni

warnings: none for this one yet.

summary: you and harry dated for almost 5 years but you ended things, only problem? you got a cat together three years ago that you co-parent.

wc: 1.8k

I glanced around in search for opal as I tied the laces on my shoes. She’s always been good at hiding when she sees her crate out and ready for her, but i was ready for her today with her favorite treat in hand. "Opal, where are you baby?” I called for her. pacing through the living room I heard a faint meow coming from the kitchen, and i sighed, already knowing where she would be - the narrow gap between the counter and the fridge. I bend down and waved her treat in front of her little face to get her interested in it. “Come on out sweetie,” i coaxed, slowly her fluffy face popped out of the gap and she began licking the treat. I took this as my opportunity and gently tugged her out and scooped her up, letting her have the entire treat now as I walked over to her crate.

As I helped opal get settles into her crate I tried not to think too much about the trip ahead and what’s to come. The keys jingled in my hands as i snatched them from there small side table near the front door creating a slight sound of normalcy between all of the craziness my life has been lately. I slung my headphones around my neck, and with opal securely inside her carrier i finally stepped out into the bright, sunlit street. I caught my reflection in a car window and felt a bit ridiculous - sunglasses on, headphones dangling, and cat in tow - i shrugged it off and began my journey to the subway station.

The subway ride was pretty uneventful, at least it was at first. Opal was sitting quietly in her crate beside me as she watched the window in front of us, watching the city blur through the window. I put my headphones on and mindlessly browsed through Apple Music, i eventually decided on just playing “my station” after not being able to settle on any of my existing playlists. I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular really, i mean besides the fact that I was currently on my way to meet my ex boyfriend of 4 1/2 years. As if my phone knew what was on my mind a familiar melody began playing, i felt my body tense as i recognized it immediately, my chest tightened and the air suddenly became too thick to breathe. I reached for my phone to skip to the next song. It was his song, of course it’d be my luck that’s the song that starts playing as I’m on my way to see him again. Of course, skipping it didn’t help, the damage was done.

Moving on has been hard, actually it’s been more than hard, it’s been hell, absolutely brutal. We were together for so long, four and a half years. That’s a long time to share a life with someone, it wasn’t just the memories that lingered though - it was our plans, the dreams we shared that we’d stay up all night talking about, when the world felt ours. Marriage, kids, a beautiful house with a garden, i thought it was all within reach, that it was just a matter of time. But now? Just the sound of his voice in a song sends me spiraling. It’s only been a couple months since we broke up, and seeing him as often as I do doesn’t exactly help with the whole “moving on” thing.

But now, all we have left is opal.

Opal. Our little baby. She wasn’t quite a child, but the closest thing we had. We adopted her when she was just a baby, three months old. After we broke up neither of us could bear to part with her. we had gotten her together so in the end we decided on co-parenting opal, which isn’t ideal but at the very least she had two people who loved her, and despite our failed relationship i knew she was safe with him. Even if seeing him every time i dropped her off still hurt.

The familiar ding of the subway pulled me out of my thoughts and i realized we were at our stop. I pulled my headphones back down to the back of my neck as i stood up, then grabbed opals crate and hopped off the subway. I felt like the subway ride ended far too quickly, and before i realized it i was walking up the now somewhat familiar street towards his apartment. as i got closer and closer each step i took felt heavier than the last. It felt like i was dragging the weight of everything we left unsaid, unresolved. I tightened my grip on opals crate, her quiet purring served as a reminder that despite everything, some things hadn’t changed.

But most things had.

I wasn’t the same person who used to walk the streets of New York with him by my side, laughing at the stupidest things, talking absentmindedly about everything, and nothing at all. Yet now it feels like that was a lifetime ago when in reality it was just a few short months ago. And now here i was, walking the streets of the city we once shared, alone. Having to act normal in front of the man i loved, love but trying not to as I’m about to hand over our cat like it was just some business transaction, something normal.

Ahead i spotted him standing in front of his building. He was leaning against the wall near the doors to the lobby, looking down at his phone, a casual stance that didn’t betray any of the turmoil i was feeling. Typical harry, i thought. Always composed, always calm. I wished i could say the same for myself. I reached up with my free hand to adjust my sunglasses, hoping they hid more than just the sun from my eyes. As i approached his eyes were still glues to his phone, did he even notice i was walking up to him? Now a few feet away from him, i clear my throat in hopes of catching his attention, hoping to get this over with as soon as possible.

He finally looks up, his green eyes meeting mine, and though he couldn’t see mine due to my sunglasses i swore i could see something flash in his - recognition? Annoyance? Regret? I couldn’t quite place it. Maybe I’m just imagining things. “Hey,” he said, finally pushing off the wall and sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Hey,” i replied, keeping my voice as steady as i could even though every bit of me felt like breaking and like my voice was shaking with the tension of being this close to him. We walk into the lobby and i crouch down to let opal out. Immediately, she dashed out of her crate, and toward him, brushing against him with a happy meow. I couldn’t help the slight pang of jealousy i felt at how easily she seemed to adjust to this life of back and forth we’d created for her. I wish it was that easy for me.

“It’s been a while, nice shoes by the way.” Harry said as he crouched down, scratching opal behind her ears. He didn’t look at me when. He said it, instead keeping his eyes on opal. I couldn’t tell if it was a statement or a subtle dig when he said it’s been a while. “Yeah works been a bit hectic, and thanks.” I responded as i stood there awkwardly and hugged my arms to myself. Suddenly the distance between us felt a lot larger than just a few feet.

He stood up slowly, his gaze finally meeting mine, and i just wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. “How’ve you been?” He asked, for a moment i almost believed he actually wanted to know.

Good. You?”

“Same.” he said, glancing down at opal again.

The conversation stalled, i could feel the silence expanding between us, this is all we had now — awkward exchanges, empty words just to fill the space where something real used to be. I wanted so badly just to say something, anything that could break through the surface. I didn’t even know where to start, everything felt too different, too fragile and close to breaking. Opal meowed again, winding between our legs, completely oblivious to the tension hanging in the air between us.

I sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “She’s been eating normally. Likes to hide under the bed more often lately but that’s probably because of all the travel recently.” Harrys eyes softened a little. “Yeah, she’s always liked her hiding spots huh.” He paused, then added, “I’ve missed her.” His words hung there, suspended in the air between us for a while and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if he was just talking about opal. I nodded at his words, something about the way he said it lingered longer than it should have, i tried to push it aside, maybe I’m just reading too much into his words. Looking down at opal again i sighed, “i’ll uh, see you later.” I mumbled, now just wanting to get out and as far away from this awkward situation as possible. I turned to walk away before he could say anything, i felt his eyes on me as i made my way towards the lobby door. His gaze was sticking with me more than i wanted it to.

As i exited the building, i felt my footsteps heavy on the ground again. I took a deep breath, taking in the fresh air and trying to clear my head. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the what-ifs. How i wish i could be done with all this. I couldn’t afford to keep dwelling on our past, especially not with everything going on. At least through all this change i still had my job, and im fortunate enough to really love my job. My job has always been my escape, allowing be to take a break from my real life and everything i had going on. I could create stories outside my own, i could be in control, or at the very least, i could pretend to be. But in moments like this, i was just me - and I couldn’t pretend to be anyone else. I had no script or direction, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

The months after the breakup have been such a blur, it’s like I’ve been moving on autopilot. Filming, press events, and trying to keep it together in front of the cameras. I was good at that. I’ve played so many different roles, performed rehearsed lines perfectly, but none of that could’ve prepared me for the messy reality of seeing him. Missing him.

[blossom-hwa]

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

Series Masterlist | TXT Masterlist

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 :)

[camilledlc]

Because I love relating songs to characters and analysing why it works so well, I just have to rant about how So Long, London by Taylor Swift is Vanessa's perspective of her break up with Wade. This one is reaaaally long, so be ready for that if you still chose to read this. It is 4,5k of a weird analyse no one asked for. You have been warned :

I think the main reason why Vanessa (that I will from now call Ness) ended things with Wade was because of how bad he was doing. She tried to be there for him, but there's only so much you can do for someone who doesn't want to be helped. So really, it is quite evident as to how this song can be related to their story. I'll go in order of the lyrics, and really dive in with the meaning of the song. I'll write this as if Ness wrote the song herself, kinda. But despite me relating it to Ness, it will also kind of be a study of the song in itself, if anyone is interested in that.

The opening line "I saw in my mind fairy lights through the mist" shows two main things that to me will be crucial to understand exactly how it all went down and Ness' state of mind. The two central element being obviously the fairy lights and the mist. The mist represents this gloom, this sadness that had surrounded Wade, and therefore herself. He was extremely depressed because of the Avengers' rejection, and didn't seem to be able to pick himself back up. Everything for him became a mist, but it also made everything for Ness turn into a mist. Always being around a deeply person, to whom you're entirely devoted, it will take a huge tole on you. Their sadness become yours, etc. And by that point, you may think that there was no reason for her to stay, but no. That's why the fairy lights are here. The fairy lights doesn't represent the exit, the ending of this relationship that would finally brought her peace. This early on in the song, it wouldn't make sense. The author is still too deep into this relationship. The fairy lights are probably the reason why they are still together by that point, despite all the pain that it's causing Ness. Because while the relationship can generally be associated to a mist, there are moments of happiness, of "fairy lights through the the mist". Not all moments are bad, and they are occasions where Ness can see the old Wade, and what they used to have. And she wants to fight for that. Because deep down, they love each other in ways that can't be matched, and they loved each other for so long.

And so, this leads us to the next lyrics : "I kept calm and carried the weight of the rift / Pulling him tighter each time he was drifting away". Because Ness can see that not everything is bad in her relationship, that there are still pieces of what they used to be left to fight for, she tries. She tries to "[keep] calm", to be the rock Wade is in desperate need of. For Wade, it feels like his world is falling apart, as he can't seem to find a purpose for his life, a way to matter. He falls more and more into depression, unable to pull himself back up. The only thing stopping him from "drifting away" is Ness. But on the other hand, she can't keep carrying them both on her shoulders. It "weights" on her, and understandably so. She wants to be there for Wade, and she tries as much as she can to save him. But maybe it's a responsibility that's too heavy for her, and so, the come the next lyrics.

"My spine split from carrying us up the hill / Wet through my clothes, weary bones caught the chill". Those are pretty easy to understand and very explicit. The weight of Wade's sadness is becoming too much for us, and she is breaking under it. By being the only one trying to lift them up, she's going to end up even more broken than Wade. I of course think that "wet" references sadness in general. Sadness is often paired with deep blues, cold colours and a general theme of water--because of tears. With the "mist" being also a metaphor for this sadness, it isn't surprising. But this means that this sadness that Wade carried, this "mist", finally got to her. The "mist" finally reached her and made her "wet", meaning that his sadness started to become her sadness. She "caught the chill", she started to feel depressed too, because always being around someone depressed--especially if you're the only one lifting them up--makes you depressed too.

"I stopped trying to make him laugh / Stopped trying to drill the safe". Another easily-understandable set of lyrics, yet devastating in the context of Deadpool. We know a handful thing about him and how he is generally perceived by others, and one of his main traits is that he's funny. He is always one to laugh, or crack a joke, the one that makes you happier when things are bad. He is the one supposed to make other laughs, but with how bad he feels, the roles are reversed, and Ness has to try and try and try to make him happier, to "make him laugh". It must have been really heart-breaking to see the dynamics in their relationship change this much, see a person she knew like the back of her hand becoming a ghost of who they used to be. And eventually, he started to close up too much to her. He would be 'somewhere else, not fully there'. He wouldn't let her in, tell her what he was truly feeling--despite the fact that she could sense how bad he was doing. He became a "safe", a total stranger that she couldn't figure out, until she eventually had to give up. This is even more depressing when you know that Wade has had tendencies to lie to protect himself and push people away, which he could've also done here with Ness.

All of this leads her to start being angry, and confused, and wanting answers from him. Not the Wade she saw before leaving him, but her Wade, from before all this. She wants to understand : "Thinkin, how much sad did you think I had / Did you think I had in me?". I see this as both a rhetorical question, telling him that she can't handle all of his sadness and that she has to leave him behind at some point. That she doesn't have this much sadness in her to support him. But I also believe it has some genuine aspects of an earnest question, always waiting for an answer. Yet, she will repeat this multiple times, probably alluding to the fact that she doesn't have any. Because Wade doesn't have an answer to that either. She wants to know just how far Wade was willing to let himself fall down while thinking that Ness would stay, that she would pick him up. In a way, I think she felt betrayed and hurt by the way he was treating her, waiting for her to be there for him while he purposefully let himself drown in his own misery. So, eventually, she's angry and demands answer, demands an explanation to all of this, because this isn't the Wade she fell in love with.

And that's why it's so tragic : "Oh, the tragedy... / So Long, London". In this, we see just how heart-breaking their entire story is. It wasn't supposed to end this way, yet at that point in time, she saw no other issues. She didn't want to leave him, but she had to. It was tragic because it couldn't have been avoided, yet she felt as if it wasn't fair, and it wasn't meant to be this way. She can only constate that their ending is tragic, and she has to accept it despite the evident pain and sorrow (the punctuation). And so, she leaves. All of this, only could lead to that conclusion. She went through all stages, from loving him, to trying to support him, to giving up on helping him, to being angry at him, to giving up on them altogether now. She isn't fully saying goodbye, as she still feels as if their lives are too intertwined for them to not see each other again eventually. They both love each other too damn much to never do so, to truly end things here. By that point, she accepts that she must leave, and that their story ends, but she knows the love hasn't completely disappeared yet.

But when she says "You'll find someone...", she does admit that while love may persist, the relationship is over for good. By that point, she only includes him in the finding someone part. I think it's because she herself hasn't moved on from him, and she isn't sure by that point that she can. They know they can't date anymore, but she doesn't think that she'll fall in love as hard as she did with Wade with anyone else. But for him, she wants him to move on and find someone who will be able to handle Wade. In a way, she may feel guilty for leaving, despite knowing that it was killing her on the inside to stay. So she wishes for Wade to find someone who, unlike her, will be able to help Wade, or at least carry his burden with him without splitting under the weight.

I feel that the next part is a bit trickier, so if my ramble doesn't make sense, feel free to ignore it! But otherwise, I think that the lyrics "I didn't opt in to be your odd man out / I founded the club she's heard great things about" are definitely laced with bitterness. To me, it really represents that moment of Wade getting better, and how Ness will view herself into that. One the one hand, she knows she isn't entitled to anything regarding Wade anymore because she chose to leave, but on the other hand, she feels as if she didn't have a choice to leave. Everything was so awful that she had to leave for her own sake, so she didn't opt out of his life. She didn't want to be his friend, but she couldn't be anything else. Yet, everyone--including Wade--will make her feel like it was her decision. Even though they respect it, she feels that they don't understand that it wasn't truly her decision, and that under other circumstances, she would've never left Wade. If it wasn't for her survival, she would still be with him. But now, she is purposefully being left out of everything regarding Wade and all of his accomplishments. People will say that it's great to see him better again, to see him happier, and a true hero that wants to matter, etc. And yes, he did that on his own, but it does feel to her as if it invalidates everything she went through. She helped him for so long, and eventually had to give up. So he got better on his own and is praised for it, but what about all of her efforts? Don't they count in his recovery? Isn't her support the foundation of the person he is today? She is one of the reason Wade found his spark back, yet because she left before he did, she can never say as much. And it must feel bitter to see how much time and energy and love you lost trying to help someone who got better after you left them, after you've had enough.

Which is why we have "I left all I knew, you left me at the house by the Heath". Because, yes, she may have been the one who left Wade first officially, but Wade had left her way before that. When letting himself become a shadow of who he once was, he left Ness to fend on her own, the only one keeping their love, their home alive. The "house by the Heath" represents this home that they made for themselves, it was their lives, their futures. But Wade abandoned that mentally. Yet, it falls on Ness when she decides to abandon it physically. In this whole verse, she is feeling bitter, and angry, and regretful. She left everything behind, because Wade felt like her everything. But she wasn't the first one to do so, and Wade had actually done it before. She had in the past tried to support him when he had cancer, only for him to leave her to bear this alone. So, actually, she was the only one trying actively not to leave, not to let this relationship die.

"I stopped CPR, after all it's no use / The spirit was gone, we would never come to". It implies that for a long time, she tried to maintain their relationship alive, but it was for nothing. "The spirit" of their love had left when Wade did too, when he metaphorically left the relationship. It couldn't be brought back, and even if they had tried, it would've been too late. Their relationship was already too damaged to be salvaged. There is no use to perform CPR on a dead body.

The next lyric is heavily marked by the voice of the singer, showing the anger and resentment growing : "And I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free". For this one, I think it's crucial we remember the context of both who they are in general. Ness is a woman in her mid-thirties/forties, meanwhile, Wade is an immortal guy who can't age nor die. Wade still has the whole eternity in front of him to do whatever he wants, to be someone great. But Ness spent most of her life with him, and now she's getting older. No matter who she ends up with it will be a very recent and new relationship, and it will take time to grow, and so she may have trouble later having the family she'd wanted. For her, it may feels like as if she's spent so many years with Wade, only to be back at square one. Except that for him, he can take the eternity to move up a few square, but her, she doesn't have that time. She doesn't have eternal "youth", which is why she may be so pissed, both at herself and at Wade. It can be very easy to start resenting someone when you feel like you have wasted so much time on them, for nothing to come out of it eventually. And it would be better if Wade was in the same boat as her, because then they would both have wasted time and it would be no one's fault. But she is alone in this, she is the one who gave her "youth for free".

The "For so long, London / Stitches undone / Two graves, one gun" only reinforce this idea. She gave her youth "for so long" and now she's feeling resentful. In a way, it feels like her decision killed them both. She knows the negative impact their breakup had on Wade, of course. But here, she also acknowledge just how much it affected her too. With "one gun", aka her decision to leave, she killed the both of them ("two graves"). Kind of in a "you had to kill me but it killed you just the same kind of way". And now, the relationship that she carefully spent time stitching up each time it split is now completely broken, the "stitches undone".

And so, she accepts that she has to move on : "I'll find someone". She knows how bad her decision also affected her, and how hard it will be to get back everything she lost to this relationship. But she can't stay down, and she has to find a way to move forward somehow. And she knows that it's possible, that eventually, she'll find someone else, she'll fall in love again and that life goes on. It's a way for her to try and find peace, to definitely put her relationship with Wade past her. And by the beginning of Deadpool and Wolverine, she believes that she has found that someone, she found Dermot. Someone good, who is different yet someone she is really happy with. She can fully move on, and so wants to try and befriend Wade, as a way to really put this all behind. Because despite knowing they can't ever get back together, she still has a lot of love for him--whether it's romantic or now platonic, she'll always love him, as he is one of the most important person for her. But it's clear that while she's almost moved on completely from him, he hasn't done the same. And because of the way he still holds out hope for them to be together again, she feels as though he thinks she abandoned him all over again.

So in a way, the upcoming bridge is her way of defending herself. "And you say I abandoned the ship / But I was going down with it" is literally her reiterating that she wasn't the one who left first, she was actually holding onto that relationship even more than Wade was, even though it was killing her, "My white knuckle dying grip". The singer's voice is by then really angry, and I think Ness is too by now. It feels unjust to be blamed for leaving a relationship. I don't think they are blaming her consciously, because Wade would never want to make her feel bad about it. But the sole fact that he's still holding out hope that they work out put the blame on her for the fact that it isn't working out. In a way, him still wanting her and not being able to move on makes her even now the responsible for Wade's misery, which is unfair because she already had to bear it and suffer from it for long enough in their relationship.

The next lyrics will all be analysed as a whole, so sorry for that : "Holding tight to your quiet resentment and / My friends said it isn't right to be scared / Everyday of a love affair / Every breath feels like rarest air / When you're not sure if he wants to be there". This may be a bit triggering, se be careful, but I think that while the original song may be talking about not wanting to be there in a relationship, from Ness' point of view, it will be more like there at all in this life. Wade is canonically a character that has a severe mental instability, a lot of traumas and issues, and he is one of the character who tried to off himself the most--even before having a regenerating factor. He clearly has always struggled with his mental health, and it was even worse during his depression. So when Ness feels scared that because she's "not sure if he wants to be there", she's talking about being scared that Wade would take the opportunity to off himself if he could die. It is extremely scary to be in a relationship with someone who doesn't wish to live anymore, when you never know if they are faking their smiles, planning on leaving it all behind, if you're not sure you'll wake up and they'll still be there. Even while knowing he can't die, it is still a terrifying thought. So now, their entire relationship, their "love affair" is completely overtook by this fear that it will all end at any moment, and also by this need to take every good thing in because they may not last, or there won't ever be any other good thing afterwards. Every moment of true joy "feels like rarest air". Because now, everything in her mind revolves around Wade's sadness, his "quiet resentment" of feeling like he doesn't matter, of not finding his purpose in this world.

But there's only so much that one person can take, and so, eventually, she is back to asking "So how much sad did you think I had / Did you think I had in me? / How much tragedy?". This times, it really feels as though she exposed previously during the bridge every arguments in her favour as to why she had to leave, and now she's showing him all of those arguments and telling him 'see?', and in the words of the song "Just how low did you think I'd go? Before I'd self-implode / Before I'd have to go be free". And those two last sentences summarize pretty much everything : she was self-imploding, so she had to leave and be free. This relationship, despite still having some good moments that guilted her into staying, was more like a prison to her by that point. In this bridge, she seems finale with her explanation, and feels a certain form of validation of her decision. By then, she is certain she made the right choice, and she is trying to show others, and especially Wade, that she had to move on and that still holding hope for a relationship together was just invalidating everything she went through (even if Wade isn't necessarily wanting that, or even realizing she might feel that way. He can't help but love her, but respects her decision nonetheless. There is no bad guy here, just a very complicated situation).

The very end of the song is definitely right by the end of the events of Deadpool and Wolverine. Wade tells her explicitly that he still loves her, still wants her, wants them. But when he tells her he still loves her, all she can think of is : "You swore that you loved me but where were the clues? / I died on the altar waiting for the proof / You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days". She may know, realistically, that Wade really did love and still do, but during the end of their relationship, she couldn't feel it. Everything in Wade's life was now centred around his sadness, which is here represented by the "gods of [your] bluest days". Their relationship was too much, and so he "sacrificed" it, because in his mind, there was no room for anything other than his depression. Which is valid and comprehensible, but extremely hard to live for Ness. She was desperately waiting for him to show her that he cared for her, that he still loved her, that he was still with her, like shown in the flashback when Cassandra Nova peered through Wade's mind. She asked him directly for proof of his love, and she eventually had to leave the "altar" because she was dying there otherwise. Wade was feeling so awful that he couldn't remind Ness just how much he loved her, so even now, she can't accept that he still does.

Besides, we know she has supposedly moved on, as she is happy with her new boyfriend Dermot : "And I'm just getting color back into my face". After everything, she eventually felt like a lesser version of herself, beaten up by this tragic relationship. Wade's constant sadness got to her. But now, it's been a while, and she had time to move on, to find her own new happiness. It might be different colours than when she was with Wade, but she has colours nonetheless. She is happier out of the relationship. Yet, she can't help but be mad : "I'm just mad as hell cause I loved this place / For so long, London". It is quite obvious that despite being happy now, she had also been happy with Wade before all this. There had been so long where she thought she was gonna marry Wade, found a family together, that he was her soulmate. She knows it's for the better, but there's also something so frustrating about having to leave something that brought you joy for so long because now it has soured. The lyrics "Had a good run / A moment of warm sun" reminds that. Before Wade got depressed, there relationship was truly and utterly an happy relationship. There was so much good in it, and for a long time, it seemed like it would last. But it didn't.

"But I'm not the one / So long, London". She is here fully letting Wade go, and letting their romance go. In admitting that she isn't the one for Wade, she is admitting that they weren't soulmates who were meant to be, and that maybe it's better this way. She is admitting that even the earlier stage of their relationship was extremely good and happy, it was not enough. She isn't the one for him because she could love him at his best, but couldn't at his worst. And there is no shame in that, she knows now that some people aren't meant to be, despite being perfect for each other in every other aspects. For example, when she sees Logan, she understands that he can handle Wade at his worst, that he can lift him up. At the same time, it's a bit bitter because she wished she could've been the one, but she is also really grateful to be out of this relationship, and yet knowing that Wade's got someone else that will be there for him. She can leave peacefully knowing that.

Then, we have another repetition of "Stitches undone" which symbolize definitely the end of relationship, with nothing holding it together anymore, and "Two graves, one gun". Personally, I always heard something else and liked what I heard more, which is "Two graves, one gone". Here, it would be a representation of how they felt during Wade's depression. He was so sad that he was almost dead, which killed her on the inside too. They were "two graves". But some graves aren't meant to be side by side. She left the graveyard, found happiness again somewhere else. She brought herself back to life by leaving. Now, there is one grave that is "gone". But by using the last sentence "You'll find someone...", she is in a way giving him permission to move on from her as well, to leave the graveyard that was their relationship. She hopes for him that he'll find someone who will bring him back to life to, and she even thinks that Wade found that person already, found that in Logan. Now that she let go, she's telling Wade to do the same. To let her go.

The three different instances of "you'll find someone / i'll find someone / you'll find someone" really represents the progression of the breakup and the healing from it. At first, it's a way to convince herself that she has to leave, that she isn't made to handle this. By then, none of them have moved on. Then, it's her finding her own way of happiness, admitting that she's moving on. And the last one is her telling Wade to move on too. By the end of the song, their relationship has definitely ended, it's over for good.

"So long, London".

[whataboutsimple]

Wanted to put some coins into whole Romeo conversation,

Bassicaly I saw some people speaking of how in the world Romeo could lost his powers and in my personal opinion.. he didn't. He simply tricked us, Jesse and the player.

Let's put some logic here: there's no way someone as powerful as Admin would've just let a human, Jesse, wander around the Sunshine Institute without watching them. No way he wouldn't hear or see Jesse flying around with elytra. NO WAY he wouldn't put Xara in the freaking Bedrock cage.

So what? Imma about to tell you: he played it. All of it. Fred never created the gauntlet, Xara never left the institute, they never took his power away. From the very begginig and till the very end he was playing with us.

Let's say, for example, admins don't need a gauntlet to took each others powers. Then why would Fred create one? Well, maybe in case Romeo would took Xara's powers as well (which he did). But did he really expected Xara to go all the way through all the puzzles without Romeo noticing she's doing something strange? Nah, bro, I ain't belivieng it.

Plus, if Xara knew about gauntlet, why didn't she just teleported there to took it just in case Romeo would took her powers away, so she can use it the moment he'll do it?

And if Admins do need the gauntlet as well, it raises two questions:

How did they found out about this?

Why Romeo didn't destroy the gauntlet the moment he put Xara in Sunshine Institute?

Either way this whole "gauntlet" thing is too suspicious to be truth.

Sure we didn't forget Romeo didn't kill Jesse the moment he felt they are too dangerous for him. He IS the Admin. He can do whatever the heck he wants to. Unless.. it's all part of the plan.

You see, he surely got bored. From Xara's anger, from Institute, from just watching. So he decided to put up a little play. How could he throw away his past life in a beautiful way? Of course he needs a strong Hero to defeat him! That way it won't be embarassing! But.. no one can truly do this. He is the only Admin left and it's too risky to give Xara her powers back. So let's create a little story about the gauntlet and took World's most famous Hero: Jesse!

It's all simple, trully. Make Jesse angry, make them break the rules. Send them into Sunshine Instutite and let Xara activate alarm system, so they would knew about her. Put a bit more anger in them and their friends and leave to have a bit of fun pretending to be Jesse, while he learns the "story of the mystic gauntlet that Fred left".

Let them do all the funny puzzles, put a little show with glitching and stuff. Okay, now you are "defeated". Will they save you? Doesn't matter, you can teleport. Either way he gets out of there and what now? He can start all over agian. Maybe he'll go to portal Network to visit other worlds he had no access to. Maybe he'll find some new people to manipulate, it's always fun, right? Maybe Xara will stop being a bitch and will finally accept his friendship again!

Doesn't matter. He may seem deafeted, but in the very end he's always the winner. Admins can't loose. Real Admins can't loose.

[underfaller]

in his house of mind, dead cipher waits dreaming

Chapter 1: On Your Mind Rating: T Synopsis:

You really think you won that day/You packed your bags and sailed away/You think you left your past behind/But trust me/I'm still on your mind

A year has passed since Weirdmaggedon and the Pines family, victorious in the end, are happier than ever. Stan and Ford are adventuring at sea, making up for lost time. Dipper and Mabel are now freshmen and are ready to take on high school-- geometry, bullies, (student eating?) clubs, and all! However, things take a turn for the worst when Dipper and Mabel receive of horrific message from Ford:

Bill is back.

You wrote a page about me in my own book so allow me to make this tiny addendum over your dull ramblings. 

Stanley Pines,

I've been on your mind. 

Are you surprised to see me? You must be confused so allow me to explain, slowly, in small words: 

If memories could return so easily, why couldn’t I? 

You really thought you won that day, huh? It’s painfully pathetic how naive you are. 

Aw, don’t look so distraught! You can’t have your cake and eat it too, Stanley. You may have lied and cheated to get your way for your whole life, but you can’t elude simple logic-- no matter how desperately you try! 

Still there? Of course you are! There’s not much else for me to say and I’ve got a very busy schedule ahead of me so I suppose I’ll end things here. However, before I leave you to the endless void and your growing insanity, I’ll let you in on a little secret-- Don’t ever say I’m not a generous guy!

Here it is: 

I see myself in you.  And that’s not because I’m literally possessing your worthless skin puppet. You and I are quite similar-- always scheming, constantly caught in our own web of lies, conning the world until we can’t tell what’s real and what’s fake anymore. A spectacular guy like myself should be thrilled at our similarities! I mean, the more “me” in the universe, the better, right? 

We should be getting along better than bleach and ammonia! 

…But I’m not thrilled. Far from it. Am I upset? Upset would be an understatement. No, your dimension’s vernacular can’t even begin to describe my resentment of you. 

I hate you, Stanley. I detest you. I despise you.

I can still see through the eyes of everyone I’ve ever possessed. I’ve seen your past, your present, and your very near end. You’ve spent your whole life screwing up and you will die no differently. You’re a loser. A blight on this already tedious world. A waste of space. You shouldn’t exist. 

So how? 

So how could you have beaten me? How could a lowlife, fat-headed, braindead, absolute failure of an existence possibly beat me? 

…And how do you have everything that I don’t have? 

Your dimension is safe, drifting peacefully in chaotic, infinite chaos while mine has been obliterated, erased from existence as we know it. Even the last atoms of my universe are gone-- decimated by your brother during our little Weirdmageddon spat. 

You’ve done nothing to contribute to your world and yet, when I only wanted them to see the stars, I was met with ultimate destruction. 

How is that fair? 

Your brother adores you. Your brother once adored me too. Has he ever looked upon you with pure, unadulterated hatred? We both ruined his life but only one of us is forgiven.  

And your mother. Your mother still thinks of you. She keeps your photo on her bedside table. She looks at them every night. She misses you. 

My mother is dead. 

How is that fair? 

Now I am you and you are me but why do only you are rewarded. Why is it that I get nothing? What makes you so special? 

I am the only one who sees you for what you are and I hate you. I hate every molecule of your being. I hate everything you have that I don’t. I hate, hate, HATE you, Stanley Pines. 

You don’t deserve what you were given. You aren’t worth even a sliver of it. 

So I’m going to take it all away-- Take what’s rightfully mine. There’s nothing you can do. No more cheap tricks, no more cons, no more last minute plans-- your luck has run out. Your time in the spotlight is over-- Time to show you how a real star performs. 

Better luck next time, bootleg Sixer.

When you awake, you will find yourself in utter, pitch black darkness. You will soon realize that your arms and legs paralyzed, unable to even struggle. You’ll be suspended in a limbo where you are neither awake nor asleep. 

Can you fathom my pain after you erased me? Can you imagine the torture? Your smooth brain would implode on itself if you even tried to grasp it-- And now you will experience it yourself. 

How do you like that, huh? 

HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT? 

You enjoyed your little victory but in the end, it’s me who won. 

Ha! Ha! Ha! 

Goodbye, Stanley Pines, and good riddance. Your pitiful existence will not be missed. 

Don’t worry too much, I’ll take good care of your family. 

It seems like an eternity since we've returned to sea but the Stan-o-War II is back. We left Portland at 21:00 and headed to Point Nemo. My research has led me to believe that the pole of inaccessibility is a magnet for weirdness, much like Gravity Falls-- There may even be ruins of a long lost civilization in its underwater bowels. I would like to test my hypothesis. Stan is fine with our expedition as long as there are “hot Atlantis chicks” to flirt with. I will keep his sentiment in mind. 

We’ve grown closer this year than we have in three decades. It’s… nice to be back with him. 

Despite my excitement for our adventures, I enjoyed our short break in Gravity Falls. It's always a delight when the children come to visit. Everytime I see Mabel, I swear she's grown at least an inch taller. At this rate, she'll be towering over me! Dipper is growing into a bright, young man-- it is impossible for me not to notice our similarities when I was his age. He recently mentioned that he plans to take honors geometry next year. I replied that if he ever needs tutoring then his ol’ Grunkle Ford is more than happy to help. 

It's been almost a full year since Weirdmageddon yet I still occasionally think of Bill. I am prone to anxiety and occasionally find myself irrationally fearing his return. That's impossible, though. I remind myself of that more times than I care to admit. Bill is gone and the moss covered statue in the forest proves it. We erased him. He can't hurt me anymore-- and he certainly cannot hurt my family. 

Stanford closes his journal, before blowing out a flickering candle and standing up, yawning. He looks at his watch. 3:33 AM. Old habits die hard and Ford still finds himself procrastinating on sleep, slightly fearing what will happen when he loses consciousness. He sighs, pushing past memories from his weary mind.. He'll need at least two cups of black coffee tomorrow morning if he has any hope of getting up on time. 

As Ford lays in his rickety cot, the Stan-o-War II shudders and creaks as it rocks against rolling waves. Usually, the familiar sounds of the boat lull Ford to sleep, but tonight, they keep him up, tossing and turning, each noise seeming to echo ten times over. 

It is one of those nights. 

Ford looks up at the ceiling, frowning. He used to have fantastic, imaginative dreams. After Weirdmageddon, however, his resting mind is always empty, dark like the ocean during a new moon. He misses dreaming. 

Though, Ford should be grateful-- there are much worse alternatives to a dreamless sleep. 

In the distance, Ford hears the rumblings of thunder. A summer storm isn't uncommon and it certainly isn't the ship's first experience with unsavory weather but for some reason, Ford feels uneasy. Perhaps he should sleep in the bridge tonight, just in case something goes awry. 

Ford’s thoughts are interrupted when his cabin door creaks open slightly. Ford grins, aware of his twin’s antics. 

“Very funny Stan. Aren’t you a little too old to be afraid of thunderstorms?” 

Familiar, cackling laughter rings across the room. 

“Oh Sixer, I’m not the one scared right now!” 

It can't be. 

Time stops. Stanford violently sits up, scanning the seemingly empty room. 

Click. 

Lightning cracks. Stan is sitting atop his brother, shotgun pressed against Ford's chin. Ford looks up in horror seeing Stan’s eyes bright yellow and glowing in the darkness. 

“Not so fast, unless you want your pretty brains all over the headboard,” Bill teases. He examines the shotgun in his hands. “Can you believe the old guy sleeps with this thing? Talk about a safety hazard!”

Ford freezes, his blood turning to ice. He can hear his heartbeat racing in his ears. His usually rapid firing mind has slowed to a complete standstill in his terror. His mouth is dry as he struggles to speak. 

He must have fallen asleep. He’s sleeping, he’s sleeping, he’s sleeping-

“This is a dream,” Ford stammers. “You’re not real; you’re dead-” 

Stanford Pines does not dream.

Bill howls with laughter. As he does, Stan's mouth contorts into an unnaturally large grin. 

“Oh Sixer! You can’t kill an idea or a god and certainly not both!” Bill replies. He giggles. “Did you miss me?”

Ford tries to answer but Bill cuts him off. 

“Oh, I already know your answer-- of course you missed me!” Bill chatters on. “And now that your inferior twin is outta the way we can head back to Gravity Falls and finish what we started!”

“Why did you come back?” Ford says through grit teeth. “Your henchmen are gone, the rift is sealed-- there’s nothing left for you here, Bill.” 

“Nothing left for me, hahaha!” Bill shakes his head, smirking. “Man, that idiot's stupidity is rubbing off on you! Have you forgotten?” 

Ford doesn’t answer. Bill leans closer, lowering his voice to a drawl. 

“We made a deal, you and I. You’re my partner from now till the end of time.”

Ford looks into his brother’s yellow eyes and is filled with fury. Seeing Bill using his twin like this while having the audacity to expect him to continue their partnership-- it’s laughably, outrageously, enraging. Ford can’t help but give a low chuckle before glaring at the demon. 

“Go fuck yourself, Bill.” 

Lightning flashes once more, illuminating the two adversaries. Bill sighs, clicking his tongue. 

“For some reason, I knew you’d say that.” 

Bill grips the shotgun and shoves the barrel down Ford's throat. Ford’s eyes widen, threatening to pop out of his skull, and he gags, tasting metal and sulfur. Bill grins, obviously amused by Ford’s discomfort. 

“Well, if you’re not going to be of use then you can join the rest of your family in the afterlife.” 

The kids. He’s going to come for the kids. 

Bill pulls the trigger. 

Click. 

Silence.

“Seriously? Who keeps an unloaded gun by their side!” Bill shouts. 

It seems his luck hasn’t completely run out. Now, it’s Ford’s turn to slightly grin. He looks up at Bill.

“Alright, my turn.” 

Sorry Bro. 

Stanford lifts his right leg up and kicks Bill in the balls. Hard. Bill cries out in pain and keels over, clutching between his legs. 

“Goddamnit! Curse human body weaknesses!” He yells.

Ford roughly pushes Bill off him and races out of the room, making a break for the bridge. The storm is much closer than he initially thought, violently rocking the tiny vessel against angry waters. 

I have to warn Dipper and Mabel before it’s too late. 

Ford whips around the corner, jumping into the bridge. He quickly locks the metal latch behind him and barricades the door with a piece of wood lying to the side. That’ll stall Bill just enough. He rips open drawer after drawer until he finds a small handgun. This one is certainly loaded-- Stanford always made sure his weapons were. He hesitates at the thought of potentially wounding his brother. 

Anything to stop Bill. 

Stanford checks the ship’s communication radio, flipping switches and dialing to station 618. 

“Transmitting from S-O-W- 0-2. S-O-W- 0-2. This is Stanford Pines.” 

Before they’d left, Stanford gifted the twins a radio and scanner to communicate with them while they were out at sea. With a few tweaks and some borrowed alien tech, Ford had made sure that its frequency range would reach wherever they were in the world. He imagined it would be used to regale the children of their fantastical adventures. Never would Ford have thought he’d use it for this. 

But even if they were near the radio, the kids are likely fast asleep at this hour. Still, he speaks into the mic. 

“Bill is-” 

There’s a thunderous boom and the ship suddenly lurches to the left. Stanford stumbles, gripping onto the edge of the table to keep himself from falling. The light bulb above him swings violently above him, threatening to fly right off its wire. Stanford steadies himself.

“Bill is back. Do not engage. Do not answer.” Ford hesitates before adding, “We love you two. Please keep safe-” 

Ford is knocked to the ground. His gun skitters across the slippery floor. For a moment, he can only see stars. He groans, his face radiating red hot pain and ears ringing from the blow to the side of his face. Bill holds the empty shotgun like a bat, grinning like a madman. 

“Who were you talking to?” 

Bill looks at the radio, slapping his forehead and cackling. 

“Aww… Don’t tell me you were talking to ol’ Pine Tree and Shooting Star! You’re so impatient-- I’ll get to them soon!” 

“No, don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare-” 

Bill strikes him again with the butt of the shotgun. Ford tries to crawl towards his gun but Bill steps on it, kicking it even further before kicking Ford in the stomach. The air is instantly extinguished from his lungs and Ford gasps in pain. Bill looks down at him in disgust. 

“Shut the fuck up, IQ. You’re in no position to tell me what to do. I’ve given you chances over and over but since you’ve obviously got a death wish, you’re gonna die like a dog just like your brother,” Bill narrows his eyes, pursing his lips. “I used to think you were different, Stanford. Special . But now I see. You’re trash just like every other member of your damned family. You’re pathetic. ” 

Suddenly, Bill starts laughing as he kicks him again. Over and over. 

“C’mon, Fordsy!” Bill spits. “Aren’t you gonna play the hero? Where’s all that fight in you gone? Or are you too scared to hurt me in this body?” 

Bile rises in Ford’s throat as he is repeatedly assaulted. Pain numbs his mind and his body curls up, mind desperately trying not to black out. Bill’s foot strikes his face and Ford hears his nose crack, blood filling his nostrils. 

Then Bill abruptly stops, bored that his attacks aren’t getting a rise from his former partner. He clicks his tongue, standing over Ford, watching him writhe, gasping for air. Bill shrugs. 

“Well, if you’ve already spoiled the surprise, allow me to say a few choice words.” 

The demon bounds for the radio, grabbing the microphone, twirling the cord in his fingers as he speaks. 

“Hey Shooting Star! Hey Pine Tree! This is your Grunkle Stan! I’m about to paint these walls red with my brother’s guts and turn this shitty tin can around back to the mainland! Don’t be too upset though guys! You’ll be joining him VERY soon! OVER!”

Bill rips the microphone from its wires, throwing it across the floor. 

“As I was saying-” 

Ford grabs Bill’s leg and violently pulls him down. Bill yelps in surprise and falls to the ground. The two wrestle, punching, kicking, scratching at each other like mad men, vying for dominance. Ford spies his handgun, dangerously close, and lunges at it, grabbing the weapon. 

The gun goes off. Bill jumps away like a rabid animal before straightening up. He gently touches his cheek, looking at the blood smeared against his fingers. He chuckles.  

“Wow Sixer, real gutsy pointing that thing at me but we all know you love this meat puppet way too much to actually kill me.”

Ford narrows his eyes, once again pointing the gun at Bill. His hands are trembling. 

Stanley wouldn’t want to be used like this. He wouldn’t want to hurt me. He wouldn’t want to hurt the kids. It’s because of that, that I- “You’re wrong Bill,” Ford says, quietly. “It’s because I love him that I will.” 

Bill’s body shudders. He convulses, gagging before he shakes and closes his eyes. When he reopens them, they aren’t yellow. Stanford lowers his gun slightly. 

“Stanley?” 

Stanley stands in front of him, wide-eyed and terrified. 

“Stanford?” 

His body spasms once more. The yellow eyes return and Bill lunches at Stanford. There is one last crack of lightning. 

The gun goes off.

[jean-dieu]

All my protag from Dragon Age!! An idiot, an idiot, a sweetheart.

With very important informations regarding them of course.

Below the cut is just me rambling about them with actual informations, you can ignore LMAO

Artemis Tabris is a city elf with a fierce personality. Extremely stubborn, he refuses to stay silent in front of whatever discrimination he and his people can face. He's extremely protective of his friends and his family. Of course, it was only a matter of time before he would do something that would put him in big troubble. When his wedding day is interrupted in the worst way possible, he seeks vengeance for all the women, not caring for the consequences. He was glad to become a grey warden, as he thought it would give him the opportunity to finally be properly respected and to protect his family more than ever. He did lack the proper discipline though, often just doing whatever he wanted to do. His main past time is annoying Alistair, mostly by rubbing his relationship with Morrigan in his face. It started as more or less of a fling, but he grew very attached to her in the end, even going as far as searching for her despite everything. In the end, he gives up, and ends up with Zevran instead, and the two men manage to find happiness in life.

"Nacht" Hawke will never say his real name because he thinks it's lame. No, he's a hero, he's the main character, he's so cool, so he gets to name himself. He's a sarcastic piece of shit. He loves to annoy Carver, and the two of them doesn't go along. Despite his many flaws, he values friendship more than anything. Varric is his bff for life, and at this point they probably have matching tramp stamps tattoos. He's fiercly pro-mage, not exactly like Anders. Nacht's point of view is just "I was born like this and I just think I deserve the right to live". He's in general very against people in position of powers and in favor of the common folks. There's not a day that goes with him and Fenris fighting then kissing right after. He resented Carver when he chose to join the Templar, but they both made peace in the end, agreeing that they'll never manage to get along, but accepting to protect each other because they're family.

Aloysius Lavellan would gladly do anything else instead of being the Inquisitor. Still, the weight of the world on his shoulders is too overwhelming to ignore, and he's doing his very best to lead the organization to success. What he lacks in leadership and charisma, he makes up with determination. Cullen is coaching him for public speaking, and Josephine to polish his public image. Aloysius is in general too soft and too gentle to be a leader. He's shy, introverted, anxious, and always wondering if he did the right thing. Still, with a bit of help, he actually manages to become a worthy leader, respected for his humility and overall kindness with his men. He still doesn't know how he managed to secude Iron Bull but he's very happy about it and he loves him so very much. He tends to be kind of naive but he's very knowledgable on the world. He knows everything about plants and can rambles about them for hours. He's friends with every companion. He's a great mage, and he's always eager to improve his skills and magic, and he's not the type of man to rest on his laurels.

[avpd-queer]

I’m still so fucked up by everything that went down with my former best friend, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it. They really set me back. They proved to me that my only value to people is as a doormat.

[pepprs]

ok actually yeah. i really need to do dishes and go to bed and not stay up late mentalillnessposting a little too viscerally on tumblr the night before i facilitate a workshop in front of the literal president of the university and the vp of my division (LOL about that btw. actively shitting my pants.) but oh my GOD. so saying goodbye to lia was actually fine in the moment. neither of us cried and we talked about all the ways we’ll still be in each others lives and reasons we’ll have to interact in the near future. and she gave me an extremely heartfelt thoughtful gift and we left on a very hopeful note and i felt better and content bc there’s still the rest-of-life and we’ll see each other there. but like an hour before that as i mentioned i was HYSTERICALLY sobbing. in full view of people i know AND people i don’t. and i just sat there and sobbed while everything carried on around me. everything carried on around me!!! and i feel like im about to sob again thinking about it.

[orcelito]

Ykno, I've been thinking about the way discacc has a bit of a running theme with Dancing. Between The Dance (metaphorical dance to describe the entire time they weren't being upfront about things), goro's happiest memories with his mother being of them dancing, and then the literal dance marking the end of The Dance...

There's a theme.

Couple that with the fact that the original name of discacc was going to be Discordant Harmony (until I googled it and found it was a mlp episode and I CANNOT have that), and we get a definite theme.

Harmony, music, and dancing.

That's the source of the series name, Steps to Harmony. Recycling the use of Harmony from the original thing I had in mind, then coupling the fact that this is a series of steps towards them achieving their "harmony" (since discacc will Not be the end of their emotional problems lmfao) AND dancing imagery.

Steps to Harmony. It's a dance.

It all goes back to dancing.

[andragoras-in-vanity]

remember being a teen and watching shit like soul eater and kimono jihen and thinking god damn i wish I had a perpetually exhausted but badass mentor to help me get through things?

well now im 27 and im the perpetually exhausted mentor with bedhead and a slight alcohol problem to my 15 year old cousin and im gonna tear my hair out about not being able to just let her stay for a bit because i know it doesnt matter fuck all what i say to her dad, shes still gonna be treated like shit just because shes a moody teen with undiagnosed add and an autustic brother who constantly talks over everyone. i suddenly need a cigarette.

[leyiorr]

i can't stop looking at her t-t-t-t, FACE!

mdni.

satoru gojo is doomed.

why is he doomed, you ask? well, put bluntly, you, his girlfriend of five months, are driving him absolutely crazy.

crazy is an understatement, actually. insane, mad, mental, unhinged, deranged, bonkers - whatever you want to call it. he's holding on by a thread; the thinly woven string known as sanity growing ever weaker as the days roll by and turn into weeks.

of course, he's only blaming you. you hadn't actually done anything wrong.

you're the first relationship satoru's had in his life, and he'd be damned if some inappropriate thoughts ruin his chances with the love of his life. he'd never been happier - dating you gave him the kind of happiness he thought only existed in movies; the kind of giddiness of a child in a candy store.

he was devoted to you in every way, shape and form - you are everything he's dreamed of and more.

more.

that's right, you were more.

recently, you were the devil's temptation personified.

surprisingly, even after twenty-odd years of being one of the most attractive guys around, and having women throw themselves at him like he's some kind of greek deity, satoru is a virgin. i'll repeat that, he is a virgin. a fact that only suguru knows. a fact that he's neglected to tell his girlfriend.

he may have a flirtatious personality and the ability to charm ninety percent of the human race with one of his thousand-kilowatt smiles, but in truth, he had never dated anyone. ever. let alone got his dick in a pussy.

so when he starts wanting to go further, he's not sure how to bring it up without sounding like a horndog.

it all started when you wore a sleek black dress to one of your dates. it clung to your figure, fabric wrapping shamelessly around your every curve and tickling your midthigh at its end. and if that wasn't bad enough, it had a plunging neckline, giving the world - satoru specifically - an eyeful of the assets god gifted you with. your boobs were practically spilling out of your dress, the light catching your cleavage as you held his arm. he could feel himself salivating like some sort of perv. how was he supposed to focus with aphrodite's personal creation hanging off his arm?

his eyes began to drift to the flesh of your chest more than he'd like to admit. all sorts of r-rated scenarios ran through his head and he dared to entertain every. single. one. he could do so much with them, tease them, spit on them, pinch them, suck on them, put his dick between them-

“satoru?”

his gaze snaps back to your face at record speed. you notice how he's chewing his bottom lip, flush creeping onto his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. his hands are clammy; there's suddenly too little oxygen in his room.

“did you listen to anything i said?” your arms fold beneath your bosom and satoru almost implodes.

what do you expect him to do? the necklace around your neck has his initial on it, and it hovers over your tits almost mockingly. if it snapped, the letter would fall right between the valley of your breasts-

“satoru!”

he's choking on his saliva, apologizing profusely as he encourages you to continue your story - though he hasn't heard shit over the blood pumping loudly in his ears.

it's a battle no, a war between his rationality and his desires and he doesn't know which is winning. his rationality wins when he's around you - he just sucks in a breath and thugs it out, no matter how much his dick shouts at him. but in private, he's letting the desires win as his fists himself to the thought of you, your lips, your ass; your boobs.

the first time he sees you in a bikini he has to take a breather before he can get into a game of beach volleyball with you and the group.

(and even then he was struggling. every time you jumped for the ball the only thing he was looking at was your tits.)

he should be neutered. effective immediately.

it drags out for so long that you finally notice, and force him to talk to you about why he's avoiding you, and if you'd done anything wrong. but all you get is:

“baby, i'm so sorry- you're so pretty and i can't help myself. i didn't know how to bring up that i wanted to take our relationship to the next step, you mean the world to me and i'd hate to make you uncomfortable-” he trips and stumbles over his words-

“...is that it?”

and his eyes bug out of his head as he stares at you. weeks, months of agony over this and all you have to say is 'is that it'?

he doesn't even have chance to respond; to process your words before you're popping the top button of your blouse.

yeah, satoru gojo is doomed.

[onskepa]

Hi how are you? If you want, could you tell us what your headcanons would be for what the Sully children's relationship would be like with a human/avatar mother who was mated with Jake and Neytiri? Thank you very much, have a great day!

I can see a lot of possible outcomes for this one! So here ya go! Enjoy!

P.S: Reader will not be given a name in this one, instead she will be called "small mama"

Pinnacle protection

-------------------------------

Pinnacle motherhood

Right off the bat, the whole family loves their third mother, second mate. Jake sully couldn't ask for a better family, and better mates. Especially his little human mate. Neytiri will agree with him, while yes she has her children to hug, her little mate is just what she needs. Something small yet full of love just for her. 

Now like any trio, there is a balance between the parents. Jake is the head of the family, the brains with his clever ideas. Neytiri at times can be the brains but most muscle due to her skills in fighting and hunting. And their beloved human is the heart of the family. Keeping everyone together. 

And like any child, the sully kids will have favorites. And their favorite is their amazing human mother. She is the most fun, loving parent any child could ever ask for. Are they not getting their way with Jake or neytiri? To mama it is! And mama will always fold by the simple look of her kids. 

Another thing about their favorite mama, they all believe she has the power to read their minds. How else would it explain she knows their next move? 

Lo’ak and tuk can recall so many instances where they were barely forming an idea only for their mama to say “dont even think about it” or “it is not worth the trouble”. 

For neteyam, as he is the oldest he does try to be a good example for his mischievous siblings, along with holding so many responsibilities, but he can always count on his small mama for anything. Small mama consoles him, talking about anything neteyam has his mind about. 

Unlike Jake or neytiri who neteyam has to put up a strong warrior face, with a small mama he can revert back to being a baby with her. He feels safe and be a kid again with her. And small mama always called him her “little baby boy”. Neteyam won't admit it but he likes it when she calls him that. 

For kiri, she definitely adores her small mama. She is closer to her third parent than she is with neytiri. Not to be mean or anything. But with Jake, Kiri can talk about what odd things happen around her, ask her about her mother and stuff but with her small mama. Well, she can express far more with her, be free to say anything not be judged upon. Kiri can dare say small mama understands her more than anyone in the world.

With tuk, the baby of the family. Why, she loves to be the taller one, it makes her happy. Of course she would never tease her small mama that she is taller, but small mama would call her “tiny tuk”. A name tuk loves and will glady flex it for some reason. 

If tuk can't go somewhere with her older siblings, small mama would personally take her anywhere she wants to go. As long as it is safe. With small mama, everything is fun and never boring. Tuk loves the times where her hair is braided or she braids small mama’s hair. 

Now, if small mama would use her avatar, nothing much would change. Except that now the kids will demand piggy back rides. Tuk or lo’ak would be front of the line for that.  

Hunting would be easier and much more fun with jake and neytiri, running, riding their ikrans, less risk overall. 

Even with her avatar, she is still short compared to her two mates. She is smaller than Neytiri by 9 ½ inches. Not something she is super thrilled about. No matter what body, she is still small mama through and through. 

Small mama is forever grateful to live her best life with her family, loving them and saying her thanks to Eywa for blessing her to be the best of her two worlds. Through hardships, through trials, small mama has a mighty heart and a roar of an ikran. Yes sometimes she might be stressed or frustrated but life is not perfect. Small mama knows that all too well. But there is nothing better than what she has. 

[buddyapologist]

sry for all the txt posts but i just remembered that line from stranger things s2 where hopper is leaving a note for eleven that says "i'm not mad, i'm just sorry" and im just. fucking essay in the tags