#Easter egg panic card

[taelme]

enchanted

genre: regency!au (with some tweaks ofc), (not so)enemies-to-lovers!au, viscount!Jaehyun (kind of slowburn, hurt/comfort elements?, angst? mutual pining, reader is an oldest daughter guys)  pairing/s: Jaehyun / Reader (ft Yuta, Johnny & other ocs) 

word count: 23k+ (guys. be fr its me we’re talking abt here)  tw: reader and jh both have a tense rs w their parents? brief mentions of a parent’s death (not reader/jh’s), reader doesn’t exactly look after herself very well, lmk if I missed out on anything! summary: in a world where marriage is nothing more than an economic proposition, and where a person is no more than what they can offer, you and Jaehyun rediscover what it means to be with each other, in the very essence of the word

a/n: this is really funny cause... so far the fics i have for my ‘tswift for the neos’ discourse are all johnjae.... life is like that, i guess. anyway. 3rd installment! this was a LONG time coming and i rly hope u guys enjoy it! took me a while to get back into the rhythm of writing so thank u all for bearing w my radio silence HAHHA this is based off of enchanted and gold rush (and any other easter eggs you find hehe- i’d love to hear if it reminds u of other tswift songs), reblogs are VERY appreciated!! happy reading loveys~  read this on ao3

You ached for rest. Not the kind that sleep guaranteed, no. This rest you ached for felt much deeper, much further from reach. Much like a stranger you wished to know. 

“Do you remember what we discussed?” 

Each inhale of yours didn’t seem to satisfy the ache in your chest, feeling as though your ribs were caving in, unsure if it was anxiety or the carriage or your clothing that was making you taste your last meal, and even that seemed like it was ages ago. 

“Your posture,” the whisper of your mother brought some of your awareness back to the question she’d asked.

What did you discuss? 

You tried to dismiss the impending feeling of doom that grew stronger as you noticed your surroundings, the carriage all of a sudden seeming to be moving too quickly, your grip on your gloves tightening as you tried to recall what your mother was trying to remind you of. 

Right.

Be obedient. The carriage rounded the corner, jolting you from the familiar bump in the road. Don’t immediately launch into literary discourses out of panic. Your mother took your gloves out of your weak grip, slipping them onto your hands with an assertiveness that shoved you further into your seat, resisting the urge to shiver at the feeling of her cold hands on your skin. Have good manners. You could now recognise the music echoing from the building, a piece you were sure you’d heard your sister play before. Mind your facial expression. Along with the sound of music, the chatter and giggles intensified. Don’t scribble funny names onto your dance card. You thought about your little sister at home, probably sitting by the window reading a book from your father’s library as she waited for you to return home. You thought about your father who was in his study doing God knows what. As if like a trigger, a wave of clarity washed over you; you’d suddenly felt unfortunately sober. 

Find a marriage partner. 

“There will be many eligible suitors present. After all, it’s the first ball of the season,” she spoke, more for herself than for you. 

You were treating this like a game of sorts, anything to make the process feel more distant from you. You needed to go in, find someone who had status, money and could offer protection to your family, and play your part to see it through for the rest of your life. Sure, it could be seen as a game. A very long, tedious game.  

“Right,” you swallowed, still feeling as though you could hurl at any given moment, though your mother would’ve never sensed your inner turmoil. You’d become somewhat of an expert at masking it. Perhaps it was all the times you heard your parents telling you to ‘use your words’; you’d become all-too-familiar with manipulating them as you pleased. 

The carriage came to an abrupt halt, your mother already preparing to alight as you followed behind her. Taking in a deep breath of (rather fresh smelling) air, you wondered momentarily if that was all you needed, feeling much better than you did in the carriage as you followed your mother up to the entrance of the ball. 

You’d barely paid attention to your name and your mother’s being announced to the room upon your entrance, hyper aware of the attendees and trying your best to suppress your discomfort, hoping you could somehow mentally dissuade them from approaching you for a dance, though you knew you would never let yourself allow that. You had more pressing issues at hand. 

Your relief from the fresh air was short lived. A stocky middle aged man who, according to your mother, owned an extravagant amount of land and had just gotten out of his second marriage, actively looking for a third. 

Masking your discomfort, once again, you’d complied when the man had asked for a dance (though it wasn’t like you had a choice, your dance card bare as ever). Though you didn’t remember what you talked about as you danced, you were too focused on counting your steps to distract from his lack of teeth and the damp warmth that sank into your clothes where his hand was placed. 

“Do you do much sewing?”

“A fair amount,” you grunted, feeling out of breath from supporting his weight with how much he was leaning into you while dancing. Sewing surely didn’t give you enough strength for this. 

“That is good. It would help to dedicate yourself to such productive activities. You could contribute much more to the household with that, compared to all the folly of reading or academic learning. Unnecessary, in my opinion, when I am more than sufficiently equipped in that area.”

You couldn’t help your blank stare, hoping your tired sigh wasn’t obvious as you nodded with a hum. 

“Is that so?” 

The man let out a grunt, seeming to think you were speaking sarcastically, “A woman like you should use your beauty to your advantage. It is your crowning glory.” 

You forced out a smile, telling yourself to take his words as flattery even though you were desperate for this dance to end. 

The truth of the matter was this: you were made to do all sorts of things at the start of your day, things that were considered ‘productive’ and would aid in attracting a husband. Needlework, dancing, singing, drawing… but when the afternoon came around you were free to do your other ‘less productive’ activities. 

You chose reading, naps and the occasional letter writing. These pastimes were the only form of rest you were accustomed to, though you would always end up somewhat unsatisfied, feeling as though these forms of resting didn’t satisfy the desire for rest. Perhaps it was like a writer trying to find the right word for a situation and ending up settling for one with the most similarity—it still wasn’t the right word, but there was always a thought that perhaps you were looking for one with an entirely different meaning. 

Sewing? You found it all too troublesome and required all the patience that you didn’t have, leaving it for those few hours in the morning that were dedicated to building up your ‘accomplishments’. But were you proficient at it? To answer simply, you were proficient to the extent that you felt it was necessary to attract a marriage partner. 

Your promise to your mother not to write random names on your dance card was growing less and less serious with each forced smile you let out to acknowledge the man’s strong beliefs. 

It was by your (you weren’t sure, actually, it seemed as though you’d danced more this night than in your entire lifetime) dance that you were starting to feel lightheaded, stepping aside to find your mother for a drink. It was as your dance partner led you back to your mother that your eyes couldn’t seem to help themselves, constantly glancing at the dance card hanging from your wrist, the empty spaces and the little pencil dangling from it simply calling out to you to put them to good use. 

You only had about four spaces left on your card— thank goodness for that, you didn’t think you’d be able to last any longer. Your fingers fiddled with the little pencil as you walked, careful to keep your fidgeting out of sight, overhearing giggles and murmurs about a certain viscount that was rumoured to be attending tonight’s ball. 

Viscount Jung? You almost scoffed at the way they seemed as if they were talking about the Queen. Whoever he was, it was absolutely tempting you, the offer of his name that was as easily tossed around as it could be written down on your silly card. 

“He’s gorgeous , you’ll have to take my word for it. Beautiful features and physique. I saw him once when he came to my estate for a meeting with my husband. He’s an architect, and a very skilled one at that.” 

You purse your lips, already concocting various images in your head of what he looked like. Tall? Amicable? Perhaps he had a nice smile, you always found that to be rather charming. Perhaps his movements were slow yet precise, his moves carrying the same kind of regal elegance of the buildings he designed.  

“Well, I would think he has potential marriage partners lining up for him if that’s the case, hmm?” you heard, almost nodding in agreement. 

As you scanned the room, you pursed your lips at the mental image you got of how any of these girls would behave if the tall, handsome architect you pictured in your brain were to show any attempt of courting them. Maybe not even to the extent of courting… perhaps just a passing glance, a brush of his hand against yours, to feel his imposing presence just like a Midas touch as he walked past. 

You let yourself wonder, just for a moment, if he would ask to be introduced to you, if you would find his personality charming while you danced, if he would take a liking to you and engage in more than just superficial conversation on your accomplishments, how you would feel to be at the receiving end of attention that was not unwanted for once. 

Though it was short lived, your mind had taken the liberty of playing the rest of the sequence of events—your mother’s meddling, heightened tension between you and her because of said meddling—you cut the daydream-turned-nightmare off before you made yourself bitter for no good reason. 

You were already getting too invested in this conversation, the image and elaborate backstory you’d created for him in your head. But it wasn’t exactly your fault, there was hardly any real entertainment to be found here. You held your dance card open as much as you could without going noticed, beginning to write the usual names you fell-back on when you grew tired of dancing.   

“It’s near impossible to catch his attention, though,” you tuned-in to the conversation between the two mothers from before, “he wouldn’t even spare a glance at anything other than his sketches when he was visiting my home. I’d assume one would have to be nothing short of perfect to even get noticed by someone of his calibre. I can’t imagine he would settle for anything less.” 

“Do you think he's coming tonight?”

“I heard he responded with his attendance, but Lord, have mercy on our daughters… I doubt he’d even cast a passing sigh their way,” you heard one of the chaperones sigh, shaking her head. 

“What’s his name again?” 

You tapped your pencil against the inside of your fingers absently, frustrated at the way your mind was blanking as you tried to recall another name you could use to fill the last empty space in your dance card. 

“Viscount Jung Jaehyun.” 

You hummed. Jung Jaehyun . You figured it was a safe bet, it wasn’t as if he’d actually ask you to dance. 

You worked quickly in scribbling his name, along with many others you usually fell back on, onto the paper. The feeling of pencil against paper had never been as satisfying as it did now as your feet ached, clothes felt uncomfortable against your skin and throat feeling dry as sand. 

Unfortunately for you, that victory didn’t seem to last very long. 

“My dear, where have you been? I’ve been looking for you,” your mother cooed once you’d reached her, her tone making you feel as though you’d just been cued to say your next line. 

You shot her a look, putting on a friendly smile as you greeted the people she was with, a few women you definitely did not recognise and a man with a very charming smile, clothes and jewellery that looked like he definitely lived… comfortably . 

You were introduced to this man, addressed as Mr Nakamoto, a young-looking man who was supposedly from a reputable family from overseas, back from his travels around Europe. All of which was unimportant to your mother, of course, who simply hinted that he had money and was looking for a wife, the only things she claimed you should be caring about. 

Perhaps that was true. Contrary to how it seemed, you were a lot more targeted in your search for a marriage partner. If you sifted through your mental list of men you’d danced with thus far into the night, your best potential marriage partner was either Mr Nakamoto (from what you were hearing), or the widower Baron who told you your silence was pleasing to him. 

“Would you do me the honour of a dance?” He smiled, already extending a hand to reach for your dance card. In your panic, you withdrew your hand just slightly, only having it snatched away again by your mother, whose eyes zeroed in on the newly-added names. 

You didn’t have time to react before the woman standing next to her had peered over as well, practically exclaiming with delight, “Oh! The viscount has asked you to dance? How fortunate! You must not dawdle, then.” 

Your eyes widened, about to protest with some reason you hadn’t quite thought up yet, using that split second to contemplate the repercussions and how willing you were to deal with them if you were to confess that it was a fake name. That is, until your gaze landed on the man currently being led (or pushed) towards you. 

Barely being able to protest before the both of you had been abandoned on the dance floor, the man looking nothing but irritable as he glared at you. You were assuming this was the man who was the centre of all the hushed giggles and gossip of tonight. 

The image you had in your head of the mysterious Viscount Jung was almost instantly shattered and made new again, as if the previous image had never existed and this was the only one that could ever exist. How, for some reason, it made sense . 

“This would all make sense if you let me explain,” you blurted out, seeing him quirk an eyebrow at you. Even his eyebrows were pretty. 

He let out a huff at your expression, wondering how you could still seem so unremorseful after causing him such inconvenience . The last thing Jaehyun wanted here was for people to assume he was actually interested in somebody. 

“You owe me an explanation, regardless,” the man’s voice had shocked you. 

Deep and smooth, capable of lulling you into a trance if you weren’t already so on edge, even if his tone was curt and dripping with annoyance, “You’ve somehow managed to get the whole room staring at us.” 

He let his gaze flicker briefly over the necklace you were wearing, back to your mother who was standing at the side looking on with evident disdain. Delicate looking Amethysts decorating your neck made Jaehyun wonder where you’d gotten them from. He only recalled Rubies to be quite popular among the girls in the other towns, according to his closest friend Johnny. 

As if reminded of where you were, you tried to ignore the stares as you reached a hand up to his shoulder, swallowing the gasp that almost escaped at the feeling of his hand going to your back, tensing up visibly as your brain processed the music playing. 

He let out a sigh as the both of you began to dance. It would’ve been an amusing sight if you were someone else looking on, both of you clearly not wishing to dance yet being whisked along to the upbeat tempo of the music, executing the dizzying choreography with what could only be described as trained movements. 

A hint of a smile graced his features, though it definitely wasn’t directed at you. 

“Anytime before my death, please,” he spoke, seeming to find his little joke amusing from the little huff of laughter he struggled to contain. 

You scoffed, for some reason not feeling as inclined to offer him the same grace you would your other dance partners. Rolling your shoulders back, you kept your stare steady and refused to look down, lest he think he succeeded in making you feel small. 

“That’s not a lot of time,” you quipped back, “Besides, your sour attitude is what will earn you an early death, if anything,” you muttered, audible enough for him to hear. 

“Yours isn’t any better, in case you haven’t realised,” he huffed, eyebrows furrowing slightly in disdain. 

“You don’t know me,” you huffed. 

“And neither do you,” he was quick to reply, earning a sigh from you. 

“Look, I wouldn’t be dancing with you if I had a choice,” you scoffed, figuring he was at least mildly offended from the way his eyes seemed to widen just momentarily. 

“Oh, but you had a choice in writing my name on your dance card, didn’t you?” He bit back with a sarcastic smile, making you suck in a breath. That was definitely caused by your annoyance, not the dimples on his cheeks that you noticed with his smile.  

“Just so we’re clear, I wouldn’t be dancing with someone as ill-mannered and arrogant as you either. Or dancing at all, for that matter. You’ve somehow seemed to spoil both of those outcomes,” he drawled, a wistful sigh that he masked with a soft smile. 

Almost like a child, you’d wanted to mutter something about how you weren’t ill-mannered, but you figured what you’d shown him thus far wouldn’t exactly help your case in proving that. 

You could hear girls swooning as you passed them. 

“And you had the choice to show up to the ball, did you not? What did you think was going to happen here if not dancing? Did you think we’d have a canvas laid out for you to do some drawing?” 

You struggled to maintain your gently pleased expression, finding your words to be quite amusing. Judging from the genuine huff of laughter you’d let out, to anyone else you two would’ve seemed to be really hitting it off. 

“We could spend the entire night airing out our… grievances ,” he sighed, “but you still haven’t explained how we have ended up like this.” 

You closed your eyes just briefly enough to roll them, opening them to see his jaw clenched as he glared at you. 

The sigh he breathed out in annoyance succeeded in drawing your attention to your proximity. Only then noticing how differently you felt dancing with him than you did with your previous dance partners who felt as though they would collapse on you at any given moment. Somehow, the viscount felt steadier, making you unconsciously lean into him as you danced. Almost like your body recognised its ability to be dependent in this moment, no matter how minuscule the moment was. Like muscle memory. 

Lifting your gaze up to his face, you tried not to let it linger for too long on his lips, their colour reminding you of a rose and hinted at the softness of a rose petal. Feeling the tap of his fingers against your back was what nudged your gaze to his eyes, understanding a little better why the gossip about him usually involved the word ‘beautiful’. 

“I might be able to die and resurrect before you start explaining—” 

“If I must explain,” you cut him off, earning a huff from him, “I usually write fake names on my dance card because eighteen dances are simply eighteen-too-many bouts of dancing with strange old men. Your name just happened to grace my ears when I was doing so.” 

Jaehyun huffed, “And what did you think was going to happen here if not dancing?” He repeated your words back to you with an all-too-smug tone. 

You let out a deep sigh, funnily enough, almost stumbling but feeling his hand on your back keep you standing upright. 

He did have a point (as annoying as his execution was) but you weren’t going to admit it, of course. It was much more than just ‘dancing’. What happened in these balls could very well determine the future of yourself, your family and your unborn children, as you’ve been so generously reminded time and time again. 

It was as if your mother was in your head, telepathically communicating these reminders to you whenever you were on the brink of letting yourself enjoy what you were doing. You had a responsibility to fulfil as the oldest daughter of your family. Him, however? To be able to waltz in here and expect to leave without dancing and know no one would bat an eye? 

You huffed, fixing your gaze on the space between his eyebrows just so you could look as though you were deeply attentive. 

“Must be nice not having to worry about your future,” you rolled your eyes. 

That seemed to have struck a nerve with the Viscount, who frowned slightly at your words, an uncomfortable silence falling between the both of you. 

“Was that the real reason you wrote my name down?” he finally spoke. His gaze seemed to truly hold offence now, feeling even more distant from him even though you were standing so close to him. The realisation that he truly was a stranger sinking in deeply, filling you with discomfort. 

You didn’t seem to catch on to his implication at first, only realising after you’d recalled what you said to warrant such a reaction from him.  

“I’m not after your money,” you told him plainly, seeing his frown grow deeper. 

“You expect me to believe you?” 

You glared at him, frowning slightly, his expression only mirroring yours. 

“It seems I would be better off not expecting anything from you,” you huffed, “but you cannot expect anyone in this room not to be after you for your money. You’re surely smart enough to know that when you step into this room...” 

You shook your head, each word seeming more for yourself than for the Viscount, a reminder that even now you were still meant to be playing your long, tedious game. 

“...  you are no longer viewed as yourself, only your eligibility, how well you’re able to act out your role. And if we were to go by that, I would be dancing with Mr Nakamoto there instead.” 

The viscount followed the direction you had gestured in with your head, spotting the man standing next to your mother and chaperone. 

“That’s Mr Nakamoto?” The viscount murmured, something almost akin to recognition in the man’s eyes as they met his own. The name seemed to ring a bell with him, though there was still a sense of unfamiliarity in his thoughtful expression. He didn’t think it was the kind of familiarity he would feel from a recent memory. Perhaps he would ask Johnny. 

“Yes. Do you know him?” 

There was no reply. A part of you was curious, wondering why his silence irked you so much. 

At the viscount’s silence, you had only then realised the song was coming to an end. He let go of you as quickly as the song allowed, bowing out of courtesy and leading you to where your mother and Mr Nakamoto were, a certain discomfort in his expression that you could not seem to place, “By all means.” 

And just as you said, he’d left the ball right after, no one batting an eye (but almost everyone running their mouths). 

Still recovering from your exchange, you fixed your gloves, huffing at no one in particular, seeing Mr Nakamoto direct a rather amused smile towards you. 

“Are you feeling alright? I hope dancing with the viscount wasn’t as dizzying as it looked.” 

Your eyebrows raised, mustering a polite smile as you shook your head, determined to leave thoughts of the Viscount behind. 

“Oh, no. Not at all. Yes, I’m perfectly fine.” Or you hoped to be in a while, at least.  

Mr Nakamoto, you discovered over the rest of the evening, was nothing short of a perfect gentleman (going by your sister’s manuals). You struggled to find a flaw (and trust me, you were searching hard for it). 

Beneath his extravagant clothes, confident demeanour, good dancing and how well-read he was about topics you could definitely see your father being eager to discuss over meals, you found that he was everything your mother was looking for. But other than the boxes he ticked off of her ‘Ideal son-in-law checklist’, there was nothing that compelled you to grow more acquainted with him. There wasn’t that… spark of attraction you would imagine was a non-negotiable aspect of the romance novels you read and plays you watched. The closest you’d gotten to feeling that tonight was in your sheer annoyance towards the viscount. 

Unfortunately for you, there was much longer left for you to endure before you would be able to return home, but Mr Nakamoto’s company proved to be… sufficient. 

Mr Nakamoto (whose first name you later heard from your mother was Yuta), kept you busy for the rest of the ball, occupied and mildly entertained with many stories about his travels (most of which you couldn’t differentiate between truth or lie). You would’ve even considered it a plus with how much he was talking, you were free to eat your supper in peace, undisturbed by other men due to Yuta’s riveting tales. 

“I haven’t travelled much myself, but whatever you described does sound very lovely,” you would comment once in a while, feeling as though you were talking to the little children you would see at the market. You would smile, nod and coo at their stories without much care if they were reality or fiction. It was almost like an escape from reality, one you welcomed with open arms tonight. 

“Do you have any siblings?” he asked suddenly, making you straighten up after a while of quietly enjoying your supper. 

“Yes, a younger sister,” you murmured, “she’s not out yet, though.” 

Yuta hummed over a mouthful of food, swallowing it with a wince before continuing, “Are you two close?” 

You smiled, a small huff leaving you as you shrugged, “Well, yes, I suppose that is one way you could describe it.” 

Yuta huffed, smiling as if recalling something (a story you assumed). 

“Did I say something amusing?” 

Yuta smiled, shaking his head, “No, it just reminded me of these siblings I met while I was in America…” setting off into yet another story about his travels. 

Though you really didn’t mind, he was just giving you more stories to tell your sister once you got home. 

You were at your wits end when it was time for the ball to be over, feeling as though you’d used up all your energy for the season from just dancing and listening to Yuta’s stories. You’d wanted nothing more than to simply curl into bed and sleep the rest of the week away. 

Exchanging greetings as you parted ways, you tried hard to ignore the way your mother was looking at you as you returned to your carriage, head feeling heavy yet still feeling tension in your limbs, unable to fully relax with your mother in the carriage with you. 

“He’s a very pleasant man,” she murmured, gaze trained outside the window as if she could see anything other than trees and empty road. 

“Who?” you frowned. 

“Who else? Mr Nakamoto.” 

You let out a deep sigh, the breath you took in not satisfying the breathlessness you felt, nodding. 

“He is,” your reply was curt, leaving no room for elaboration, though that didn’t seem to stop your mother. 

“I heard from one of the ladies that he’s planning on staying here for a while. Planning to buy the estate near the park. You know, the one with the balcony that overlooks the lake. It’s an expensive property.” 

You hummed. 

You wanted to be interested, you really did. But the movement of the carriage was starting to make your head pound and you didn’t think you had any energy left in you to pretend to be bothered about whether Yuta’s potential estate overlooked anything . 

Deeming your fatigue as a sort of defiance, your mother’s tongue clicked sharply as she shook her head at you.

“How can you be so… “ she scoffed, shaking her head, “need I remind you that you are doing this for the family? You need to start taking ownership of your responsibility in this whole affair.” 

You sighed, shifting in your seat and directing your gaze towards her, “I know.” 

Though you tried your best to remain respectful with your tone, your irritation got the better of you, “I am taking ownership. Am I not allowed to be tired after a whole night of dancing and socialising?” 

“This is not just ‘ dancing and socialising ’. You need to realise the gravity of what just one dance could affect, for your family’s sake.” 

Of course you knew that, but it wasn’t as if you could get her to see things from your perspective. She was your mother, and the last time she’d seen from any perspective other than that was before you were born. 

You huffed, suppressing the many words you’d wished to have her hear, trying to remind yourself that words were unlikely to get you anywhere near an understanding with her. That would suffice for the night until you slept off your anger.

Nodding in hopes that it would appease her, you focused on your breathing, hoping it would somehow ease your headache that was coming on stronger than you’d wished. Unfortunately for you, you’ve come to learn that your mothers worries were only ever vented through such exchanges with you, though they weren't much of an exchange to begin with.  

“Think of your father,” you couldn’t help the wave of discomfort that washed over you at the mention of him, as if you could feel his presence in the carriage at the mere mention of him, domineering and tense. 

“He slaved away for his whole life to ensure his daughters could be viewed as respectable ladies in society. It is a privilege to even attend a ball like you just did. And yet you act as if we’re putting you through torture!” 

Torture was one label for it; your long, tedious game. 

“You are the oldest, you are to set an example for your sister. I do not wish for you to taint her innocence with your… your insolence .” 

You nodded, almost wanting to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. With how much they fed her those manuals on what a respectable man and woman should be, how they kept her in the house as much as possible, allowed not even for her to paint because of how it would dirty her clothing, it was a wonder how they thought anything could possibly ‘ taint’ her at all. 

Though at the same time, you would be lying if you said you didn’t wish to live as quiet and simple a life as she did, out of the loop of all the burdens and worries that seemed to follow your family for generations, growing more complex with each cycle it made. 

“I know,” you stifled your sigh lest she use that as another example of your ‘insolence’, “I’m sorry,” you murmured, a foolproof way of appeasing her you’d come to learn after a lifetime of experience. Whether you meant it was an entirely separate matter.  

Your words seemed to have their intended effect, allowing you to sit in the quiet tension of the carriage ride until you felt it come to a stop, hearing the rustling of the footman moving to open the carriage door, exiting with haste that only came with the feeling of a successful escape. 

Your sister was quick to meet you in your bedroom as you reached your bedroom, timed with a precision you both knew came with too much time spent at home. 

“I didn’t expect you to be awake,” you huffed, earning a shrug from her, a book you recognised to be from your father’s library in her hands, her finger tucked between the pages she stopped at. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” she sighed, a dreamy look in her eyes that you supposed held all sorts of hope to hear stories of love and romance, “I suppose I was too excited for you.” 

You sighed. 

“I hope that was a good sigh,” she inched closer, dog-earing the page she was on and tossing it aside, the book thumping softly on your stool. 

She shifted on your bed, making herself comfortable as you changed out of your clothes leaving just your nightgown, glancing at her through her reflection in your standing mirror. 

“I hope it was too,” you huffed, allowing yourself to be amused at your own joke, even though you didn’t very well feel like making light of your horrible night.

“How was it? Did anybody catch your eye?” 

Your thoughts ran first to the Viscount (and his rosy lips—this wasn’t your fault, really.) It upset you, how he of all people had left a lasting impression on you even though you’d spent hours and hours talking to Mr Nakamoto. It upset you how you just knew that even if you did tell others about his lousy manners or his condescending demeanour, no one would have wanted to believe you, everyone already believed he was what they wanted him to be; a gentleman straight out of one of your sister’s manuals. 

“There were… some , I suppose,” you spoke as vaguely as you could, hoping that would be enough to satisfy her (even though you knew it wouldn’t).

“Handsome?” The lilt in her tone was awfully hopeful.

You sighed, turning to her with a knowing look, “Handsomely rich .” 

Her mouth fell open, features pulling into a frown, “You know for a fact I didn’t mean money. Were they charming? Attractive?” 

“I suppose one of them was… not ugly,” you felt embarrassed saying it, for some reason, as if you could anticipate the viscount’s reaction if he’d heard your words. The way the corner of his lips would curl up in a smirk, tilting his chin up at you with all the arrogance and cockiness in his being. 

For some reason, you were afraid to voice out your thoughts on him. Perhaps it was the fault of the little nagging voice that persisted in your head, telling you that it truly didn’t matter if you thought he was physically attractive, because you didn’t stand a chance to begin with. Voicing it out almost seemed like a jinx, a nail in the coffin that forced you to face this reality instead of living in the hope that he could have harboured good feelings towards you too; simply for the pleasure that came with being perceived by someone like him. 

You figured now wasn’t the time for you to start getting comfortable with hoping. 

Turning to your sister with a shrug, you spoke, “But he had the worst demeanour.” 

“I heard a Viscount asked you to dance. It couldn’t have been him, could it?” 

Perhaps it was those very manuals that led her to this assumption. 

Though it was for her own good, you found yourself not wanting to burst her bubble. She needed to know that it wasn’t about whether they were a Viscount or not, but that the men she would encounter in the marriage market in general weren’t as fairytale-like as they were written out to be. The likelihood of marrying someone you found even mildly attractive was rare. Yet the hope she held was important, precious almost. 

Although the growing desire to find a love match was gaining popularity these days, you didn’t consider yourself to have that luxury. It seemed all too indulgent, saved for people who could afford to worry about things like love. Not a lady like you, the eldest daughter of her family carrying her parents’ burden on her weary shoulders. 

“Do you think all viscounts are handsome and kind?” you laughed, beginning to undo your hair. 

“Don’t know. Never met one before,” she sighed, “which is precisely why I’m asking you. ” 

You hummed, “Well, the other man I spent most of the night with wasn’t exactly better. He spent most of the time talking about himself, but I suppose it was good entertainment.” 

“So he wasn’t the handsome one?” 

“The viscount?” you frowned. 

Your sister’s eyes lit up, her smile growing, “So, you think the viscount’s handsome?” 

Realising your mistake, you narrowed your eyes at her, “I think it’s best you forget about him.” 

Somehow, the words left a bitter taste on your tongue, your sister’s expression of confusion making you feel almost frustrated, “I’m only saying this because I don’t think we’ll be seeing much of him after tonight.” 

You made your way over to your bed, getting into bed and shifting to find a comfortable position, your sister still sitting next to you and looking at you with that same thoughtful expression. 

“Are you that upset about it?” you huffed, trying to read into her emotions, “It’s nothing to worry about, really. Mother seems to have found a man that’s to her liking, you know, finances, property, intelligence and manners all included.” 

She shook her head, mustering a small smile, “No, It’s not that. I was just wondering… how difficult it’s probably going to be for me to find a husband.” 

You frowned. 

“You have loads of accomplishments. You’re going to be fine,” you assured her, choosing gentle words that paved a way for a peaceful conclusion as always, though your words seemed to have weighed heavier on her, a small sigh leaving her as she toyed with your bedsheet under her hand. You would be lying if you said it didn’t spark some sort of competitive urge to prove that you could find better words to dissipate her worry. 

She sighed, briefly glancing at you before looking away, mumbling in a way that was almost reluctant to be heard, “Love is important too, you know.” 

You fell silent at her words, the ache in you growing obvious again. That ache for the kind of rest that went beyond physical things. One that seemed natural for you to forego, for everyone’s sake but yours. 

You nodded, swallowing the dryness in your throat. You sifted through your archive of neutral, concluding words, words that you didn’t necessarily believe for yourself, but words that would suffice for now. 

“I’m sure it will find you,” you murmured. 

There was nothing but silence in the room afterwards. feeling yourself starting to get drowsy as your sister got up, walking over to your bedside stool to retrieve her book. 

“What’s his name?” she murmured. 

At your silence, she continued, “you know, maybe I can keep my ears open for any gossip when I go to the flower market,” she insisted, eager to have a little bit of adventure in her otherwise mundane days, clearly. 

You thought about it just for a moment, wondering if your pride overpowered your curiosity on what kind of gossip she would hear. You figured that in this moment, you couldn’t deny your curiosity. 

“Jung Jaehyun.” 

Only after she left, you realised she hadn’t specified who she was referring to. 

===

The ache did not disappear when you woke up near the afternoon, as much as you wished it did. Frankly, you didn’t manage to get much sleep at all, the sound of your door bursting open being what jolted you awake. 

No words were exchanged, simply your mother rummaging through your drawers she used for storage for something she couldn’t seem to find, returning empty-handed to wherever she came from. 

Figuring you could have something to eat before returning to bed, you got dressed, heading to the dining room. You saw your sister and your mother there eating breakfast, the staff clearing what you assumed to be your father’s used plates and utensils. It was almost strange how you felt yourself relax at the knowledge of not having to sit through a meal with him. 

“Good morning,” your sister’s grin was on full display as you sat next to her, “there’s a surprise for you in the drawing room.” 

“Surprise?” you frowned, taking a bite of your food even though you weren’t all that hungry, knowing it would set your mother off if you weren’t eating. 

As if it were orchestrated by some divine power, you heard the low vibrations of what could only be a man’s voice in your otherwise female-occupied household. 

Men, as in, plural? 

You stared at the doorway of the dining room, a strange feeling in your gut as you heard the voices grow louder, your sister seeming to catch on as she grabbed your hand, forcing you to abandon your breakfast as she led you to the drawing room. 

“A fresh one,” she smiled, her clues not giving you any idea of what awaited you in the drawing room. 

“Living and breathing?” You weren’t sure why you were breathless, but you became sure when you saw the man standing next to your father, whose gaze had met yours with a certain finality and hadn’t bothered tearing itself away. 

Living and breathing, right in front of your eyes. 

“Roses!” your sister chipped in, “pink ones. And white clovers too.”  

Viscount Jung Jaehyun, standing just a few paces away from you and your sister in your drawing room as your father talked his ear off about the renovations he wanted to make to the estate. 

It irked you how your thoughts had almost instantly shifted to the rosy lips of the viscount, allowing yourself to wonder just for a moment if the flowers were from him. It gave you whiplash to think of him gifting you such romantic flowers after the exchange you both shared just hours before. 

Perhaps they were meant as some sort of an apology? Perhaps the viscount had dug deep within himself to find that his behaviour was far from pleasant. Yes , if that was the case, maybe you were right to think he wasn’t as horrible as he seemed, maybe the viscount had some decency in him after all. 

“The name on the card didn’t sound familiar, but I figured you would know once you see it!” 

That seemed to have caught Jaehyun’s attention (as much as he tried to hide it), though he masked his curiosity well as he pretended to be fascinated with the interior of your drawing room. 

Rolling your shoulders back, you fixed your posture, reaching a hand out to the little card that was perched delicately in the midst of the flowers, a simple handwritten card that read: 

- To thank you for the pleasure of your company -  Nakamoto Yuta 

“Are they from the viscount?” your sister asked loudly, earning a sharp nudge from you that sent her stumbling, your gaze darting to the viscount and missing the smirk that had graced his lips. 

You shook your head, murmuring, “The other man.” 

Your sister wasn’t doing a very good job in saving your face in front of the viscount, making no move to hide her dismay as her lips parted with a sigh of disappointment, “The boring one?” 

Grabbing her hand quickly, you led her back to the dining room, making sure your voice was more than audible as you walked past the viscount. 

“The only man from the evening who was worth remembering,” you commented, suppressing your satisfaction when you heard the viscount clear his throat, suggesting to move to your father’s office for a more conducive discussion. 

Just as you’d settled back into your seat at the dining table, feeling more of an appetite to eat now after your little success in irking the viscount, your mother spoke from where she stood by the doorway, glancing out of the window briefly as she fixed her gloves. 

“Get dressed, we should be ready to entertain callers soon.” 

“Callers?” you couldn’t help but frown, hearing your sister grunt from where she was beside you. 

“I’ve invited Mr Nakamoto for some tea, perhaps the two of you could go for a stroll in the late afternoon.”  You inhaled deeply, something about the proposal not seeming to entice you as much as your curiosity as to what was going on in your father’s office with the viscount. It was a shame even boring estate talk could seem more appealing to you than conversation and a stroll with an attractive, eligible suitor. 

“Well that’s my cue to leave, then. Wouldn’t want to be caught in the crossfire of mindless talk,” amusement left your sister in hushed giggles, her chair screeching against the wooden floor loudly as she got up, making you cringe at the sound she was otherwise unaffected by. 

Your mother hadn’t bothered acknowledging her departure, though you heard your sister’s footsteps bounding up the stairs, the sound of her bidding your father goodbye before the same thumping down the stairs echoed till the front door was shut. 

You sighed, looking out of the window at the cloud cover that kept the sun from gracing anything beneath it, choosing once again to push your feelings behind you for the sake of your mother who wanted to ensure security for your future. For the sake of your father who longed to retire. For the sake of your sister who was still trusting that there was love and hope in her world. 

You would receive Mr Nakamoto and you would do so gracefully. Another step towards the end goal in your long, tedious game. 

=== 

The afternoon went perfectly. A little too perfectly, if you were being honest. 

It was almost frustrating, how there was barely anything to complain about when it came to Yuta. He was on his best behaviour today, even managing to start and sustain a very well-developed conversation with your father when he had come down with the viscount briefly while they made their way to the other part of your estate. 

And there you sat, like a jilted lover during the whole exchange, frustrated at the fact that Yuta had somehow managed to have everybody smitten for him, except yourself. A little nagging in your gut had tried to convince you that perhaps that was how Yuta wanted to go about this; winning over your family so he wouldn’t have to try so hard to win you over, as if this was his strategy in his own long, tedious game. 

Even as you went out to promenade by the lake, you struggled to be present to the man next to you. 

“Did you like the flowers?” he asked, earning a blank stare from you till you managed to register his question. 

“Oh, yes I did. They’re lovely flowers.” 

“Do you happen to have a liking for them? I saw many arrangements in your house when your mother was showing me around.” 

You shook your head, the sudden recollection of your sister’s words about mindless small talk coming to mind as you dismissed them with a huff, “Not particularly. I mean, I do like them, but I wouldn’t go as far as making arrangements and whatnot. That is more of my sister’s hobby.” 

Yuta hummed, “Do you have a favourite?” 

Glancing up at Yuta, the way his smile was relaxed, his attention seemed to be solely focused on you. Something about it threw you off guard, wondering why he’d taken a liking to you when you were sure his smile and his charm would have any girl in your neighbourhood begging for his attention (perhaps just not yourself included).

“Lilacs.” 

Yuta’s smile grew, looking somewhat pleased with your answer.

“Is first love something you hold dear to yourself?” 

You let out a huff at that, impressed that he was familiar with the language of flowers, the thought of his pink roses from the morning making you feel somewhat uncomfortable at his pursuit. 

You shook your head, “I’ve never actually… experienced it before.” 

Yuta’s next words had stilled your fingers over your umbrella, wondering if he’d taken the words straight out of one of the romance novels in your bookshelf. 

“I’d like to think it feels like this,” he sighed, a serene expression on his face as you walked together, “being able to share this with you.” 

You were holding your breath, you were sure of it. But why wasn’t this feeling as heart-fluttering as you were expecting? Sure, his words were nice to hear, but was it because you were too distracted at the moment? 

Now, you were frustrated. It wasn’t as if you could go back in time to ask him to repeat himself in the hope that you would feel something. Perhaps you were just tired, you told yourself (even if you knew that really wasn’t the reason behind your apathy). 

“Shall we head back?” 

Even as you were walking back, Yuta didn’t seem to let up as easily. His demeanour was vastly different from how it was at the ball. This time, he was asking you more questions about yourself, as if he were specifically orchestrating dialogue sequences that would allow him to insert romantic one-liners like the one before. Though they were flowery, and by the nature of the word you figured flowery would mean they were pleasant, but you were at a loss with the way they left you feeling well… not exactly pleased . You were hearing him, definitely, but you were stuck feeling like he wasn’t really hearing you. 

As you were walking back, you reached your house just as the viscount’s carriage was leaving, tensing up as you saw your father standing next to the little flower garden behind the gates of your house as he saw the viscount off. 

You avoided his gaze, hoping you would be able to walk past him without being stopped, but it seemed that wasn’t the case with how Yuta greeted your father with much more enthusiasm than you’d seen him bear all day. 

You’d taken that as your queue to enter the house first, the sound of the piano echoing from the walls indicating your sister was home and that made you all the more eager to be in the company of someone you actually wanted to see today. Your father and Yuta followed behind you, not seeming to be affected by your absence as you drew closer to your sister, finally feeling as though you could relax slightly more in her presence. 

“How was it?” she whispered, glancing not-so-subtly at Yuta, earning a small mustered smile from yourself. 

“He was lovely,” you told her, (which in fact, wasn’t a lie). 

She grinned. 

“He’s handsome too, I must say. But even so, he can’t be compared to the man father was talking to this morning. They each have a different… air,” her shoulders lifted as she spoke, arms moving in the way your old piano tutor called ‘with emotion’ as she played, “you know, in the way they carry themselves.” 

You let out a deep sigh, nodding slowly, “You do know that man is the viscount I mentioned the night before, don’t you?” 

Her playing faltered abruptly (though your father and Yuta were too distracted to notice), slowly picking up where she’d left off, “ The viscount? The one named Jung Jaehyun? He was the man father was talking to?” 

Her amazement was obvious, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t understand why she was so shocked. 

You nodded, “The ill-mannered one.” 

She frowned, “That’s unfortunate, then. He really did live up to what the townspeople were saying about him. Beauty and grace and elegance… a man that looks like everything he touches turns to gold.” 

You rolled your eyes, amusement hinted in your smile, “Not everything gold is worth wanting.” 

“Would you say Mr Nakamoto is the exception, then? More worth wanting than the Midas-touch-viscount himself?” She scoffed.

You didn’t have an answer for that, maybe because you weren’t convinced of the one you were going to offer her.  

“We’ll see. He just might have to be.” 

She giggled, seemingly satisfied with your answer as she resumed playing the piano, the lilting melody carrying you elsewhere for the moment until Yuta was done with the conversation he was having with your father, bidding you goodbye as he left. 

As your father made his way over to you, you forced yourself to meet his gaze, resisting the urge to look away and fidget in your discomfort. “I’m going to be away in the afternoons for business over the next few days, so you’ll be handling the meetings with the viscount on the estate. I trust that you’re already well versed on what needs to be taken care of.” 

“Will mother be joining—” 

“What good will that do?” he huffed, “Do not waste your time with these silly questions. There is no need to get her or your sister involved and cause them unnecessary stress. You are capable enough of handling it on your own.” 

You sighed, watching him leave in the direction of his office, leaving you to slump onto the sofa next to where your sister was, curling into a comfortable position for a nap as the gentle melody worked on lulling you to a place where your worries were far away and rest seemed within reach. 

=== 

If Jaehyun was surprised to see you the next day, he didn’t show it, simply glancing at you as he entered the house, nodding his head as if he’d expected you to be there (even if he really didn’t). 

“I trust my father has briefed you that I'll be handling the estate matters while he’s away?” you were first to break the silence, watching as one of his hands moved to touch the pads of his fingertips, looking somewhat preoccupied. Or perhaps, he was recalling his exchange with your father, looking at you curiously. Though that curiosity had left as soon as it came, replaced with a playful glint in his eyes. 

“My apologies,” his tone was anything but remorseful, punctuated by the little smirk that was playing at his lips, “I figure you’d much rather be… well, handling Mr Nakamoto.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, “D’you fancy yourself a comedian, my lord?” 

Jaehyun had simply shrugged, showing some modesty in the small shake of his head. 

“Good. Because you’d be a very poor one.” 

You began to lead him to your father’s office, Jaehyun noticing the way your steps had slowed as you grew nearer to the door, the deep breath you’d taken in before your hands had met the doorknob, turning it and pushing only to be met with a smell that was unmistakably like your father. 

Hints of a pipe smoked hours ago, the smell of his library books, ink on his desk, the musk and citrus and alcohol that blended together to form the imposing presence of your father even when he wasn’t here. Your posture had straightened and your steps became quiet and wary almost instinctively. 

You stayed far from his desk, as you had always done, surprising Jaehyun with the way you’d simply taken the documents you needed and sat yourself on one of the chairs in the office, legs crossing uncomfortably as you gripped the papers in your hands.

Eyeing you carefully, Jaehyun made his way to the chair nearest to you, pulling out his own blueprints that he and your father had discussed the day before. 

“Did my…” you began, throat feeling dry all of a sudden at the sight of the documents before you, “did my father tell you what I had to go over on his behalf?” 

Jaehyun simply tilted his head at you. 

“We’ve gone over it actually, he… just told me to ask you for the stamp and to clear the financial documents. He mentioned that you took care of the family’s accounts.” 

You figured you shouldn’t have been surprised that your father didn’t actually want your opinion on his decisions. You’d just let yourself get carried away thinking he wanted to know what you thought about the things he made you responsible for. 

“Oh, so my business here is simply for the seal, am I correct to say that—?”

“No, actually, I would appreciate it if I could go over these plans with you once before you approve them. It’s only sensible if—” 

You shook your head firmly, Jaehyun stopping himself at your gesture, eyebrows furrowing as if the situation was upsetting to him. 

“That won’t be necessary. I would rather not impose on his… plans,” you sighed, averting your gaze from his as you stood up, making your way over to your father’s desk for his seal. 

“Impose?” he quirked an eyebrow, wondering why it was that you seemed to withdraw so easily when it came to your father, “You had no problem imposing on my plans at the ball.” 

Rolling your eyes, you struggled to keep your hands steady as they sifted past the papers on your father’s desk. 

“I would be sorry if your initial plans were any good to begin with,” you murmured distractedly.

It was strange, how you felt as if you were doing something you weren’t supposed to. As if you were secretly rummaging around in his desk while your heart was thrumming wildly at the thought of him walking in and catching you red-handed, feeling the disappointment that would meet you in his gaze, rendering you a little child again who had more familiarity with these belongings than she did her father. 

“If you’re not sorry about that, you could be sorry about the fact that people seem to think I’m courting you now.” 

You debated ignoring his statement, glancing at him only briefly as you arranged the papers in your hand. 

Humming, it seemed your urge to cover up your nerves had shown up in snappy retorts aimed towards Jaehyun, strangely unfiltered with him even though you figured you should’ve been. 

“Of course, because a man like you should be able to show up to a ball simply for the music and drink.” 

Clenching and unclenching your fists, you went about the process as calmly as you could, Jaehyun’s watchful, curious eyes unnerving you even as you made the seal. 

“Are you alright?” he spoke suddenly, earning a sharp inhale and a glare from you in return, your grip tightening around the seal. Whether it was because the question felt out of place, or whether it was the fact that he had caught on to your discomfort, you would rather not admit. 

You shut your father’s desk drawer with a quiet click, habitual movements from many instances of sneaking in here as a child for writing materials. 

“What does it matter to you?” 

“No, just… does my presence here make you uncomfortable?” his eyebrows furrowed, what seemed like genuine curiosity taking over his features once again. 

Trust you to be defensive, though. 

A scoff left you, the thud of the beaten book that you used to keep track of your family’s accounts dropping against your father’s desk echoing through the room as if that were your form of exerting your dominance over the room and everything it represented. 

“Has the thought only crossed your mind now? Besides, don’t flatter yourself,” you scoffed, “your presence doesn't have that much of an effect on me.” 

That would’ve done it , you figured. You could imagine the way his lips would curl into a sarcastic smile, or how he would simply scoff and announce that it was about time for him to leave. Anything but what followed next. 

“Maybe not mine, but your father’s seems to.” 

Somehow, you almost wished your sister was here to defuse the tension in the room, or to crack a joke to save you from having to face such an observation. But she wasn’t, and the truth of the matter was that you were sitting here facing a stranger who seemed confident that they could read you like an open book.

And maybe, his confidence wasn’t completely unfounded. 

A silence fell between the both of you, tense and ridden with an understanding both of you were aware of but neither were willing to put down their pride first to admit. 

You scoffed, waving him off in dismissal as naturally as you could, “You’ve never seen us interact.” 

“I don’t have to,” he huffed, speaking matter-of-factly, “you’ve been… tense ever since I suggested having our meeting in his office.” 

“I just don’t like being in stuffy offices,” you shrugged again, pretending to be busy with your notebook. 

Jaehyun rolled his eyes, confidence in his stare as he leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs, “ Or the person the stuffy office belongs to.” 

Your sharp gaze met his almost instantly, letting out a small huff of air through your nose. You were at a loss of a witty retort, though somehow that didn’t feel as damning as you thought it would; the viscount didn’t seem to be attacking today in the same way he was before at the ball. 

“It’s not a crime, you know,” he murmured, cutting you some slack from the way he averted his gaze to fiddle with his sleeve, “you’re not expected to be amiable with him all the time. At least not in my book.” 

You attempted to swallow in the hopes that it would make the lump in your throat feel less suffocating, to no avail. 

“Amiable,” you echoed, huffing at his choice of words. Even on good days, you don’t think you could use a word like that to describe your interactions with your father. 

Jaehyun searched your expression, reading into your silence, shaking his head dismissively, “Sorry if I overstepped, I don’t usually have the habit of voicing out my observations so… carelessly.” 

You didn’t believe him, strangely. Everything about what had just transpired between the both of you seemed anything but careless. Instead, it came with all the intentionality of trying to understand someone. Somehow, that knowledge made you less inclined to hold back in front of him. 

When you finally felt like your voice wouldn’t give, you spoke, “Are you speaking from experience?” 

His eyebrows raised in question, “My father?” 

You nodded, earning a huff from him. Now it was your turn to watch him shift in his discomfort, averting his gaze and swallowing thickly.  “Never really had much of a relationship with him or my mother… I uh… I lived with my aunt and uncle since I was a child.” 

“Did you have much of a relationship with them, then?” 

Jaehyun shrugged. 

“Not as much as I did with my tutors,” he huffed, perhaps in some attempt to lighten the mood, “they were the ones I spent most of my time with.” 

You hummed, hands stilling around the papers you had yet to hand over to him. 

At your lack of an immediate response, he looked up, continuing, “It’s nothing to pity me for. They raised me as best as they could.” 

“I don’t pity you,” you spoke. 

Sure, it wasn’t exactly pity that you felt, but you weren’t sure what exactly the feeling that stirred in your chest even was. Perhaps it was a desire to be as grateful for your parents as he was? Perhaps it was an understanding of the little insistence that he didn’t want to be pitied. Perhaps it was the breathlessness that came with the way he was looking at you now, expectant for your reply. 

Whatever it was, you found yourself recalling your conversation with your sister, feeling almost embarrassed at how even now, you still thought he was capable of turning things to gold. 

“You don’t?” he questioned, his tone uncharacteristically gentle, unlike anything you’ve heard before. 

“Do you want me to?” you weren’t sure why you were asking, simply curious how he would reply. 

Jaehyun let out a huff through his nose, shaking his head. He wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to elicit from you. Although it was definitely something , he could say certainly that pity definitely wasn’t what it was. 

“No, I don’t.” 

You held his gaze, nodding. “Good, I don’t want you to pity me either.” 

Before he could reply, you straightened up, handing the documents back to him with your father’s seal already in its rightful place. Taking in a deep breath, he stood up, taking you back almost immediately to what it felt like to dance with him at the ball, your proximity to him now allowing you to feel him towering over you, though strangely without the condescension that was present before. 

“A lady like you shouldn’t care for my pity,” he murmured, the faintest of smiles playing at his lips. 

And just like that, it was as if the exchange never happened, as if you both didn’t just bare a part of your souls to each other. Jaehyun straightened out his clothes, averting his gaze to the floor as you both allowed the façade of banter to mask the windedness that came from suddenly feeling all-too exposed. 

“You won’t need to tell me twice.” 

===

“You wouldn’t believe what I heard at the flower market,” your sister barged into your room as you were getting ready to attend a soiree that evening.

Your eyebrows raised, smoothing down your dress before sitting on your bed, giving her an expectant look. 

“It appears Lord Jung is an anti-social man,” she began, “a few of the ladies at the flower market were talking about him, they said he’s rarely seen with people other than those he does business with. I interpreted that as the man having no friends, but that’s quite sad, isn’t it?” 

You shrugged, “I figure something like that is subjective.” 

Your sister didn’t seem convinced, “I think it’s lonely. Not having anyone to talk to about your life, about your struggles, about your joys… only being able to talk about your business wherever you go. I find that an awfully lonely way to live.” 

Huffing, you got up from your bed, “He doesn’t seem keen on finding a marriage partner either so perhaps he’s more comfortable in this loneliness than you think.” 

“I don’t believe it,” she grunted, “but it does make some sense. Maybe that’s why his manners aren’t the best, because he’s used to talking to cunning old businessmen.” 

You let out a huff of laughter, “You sound like you’re defending him.” 

Giving you a shrug, she hummed, “Maybe if you see him at the soirée later you can find out for yourself if he’s worth defending,” she smiled. 

You could only sigh at that, glancing out the door when you heard your mother calling for you. 

“That is, if Mr Nakamoto doesn’t talk my ears off before that.” 

One thing about soirées, or these public events during the season in general, was that they didn’t allow for much privacy at all. It wasn’t like you were in the confines of your father’s study with the viscount’s full attention on you, no. You were in someone else’s house, with many many different eyes on you, at the receiving end of everybody’s attention except the very person who wouldn’t seem to leave your mind. 

It was as if you were being shadowed by Yuta, your mother looking on with delight as your chaperone while the both of you conversed and you nursed your glass of whatever drink he’d handed to you. In such a setting, you couldn’t help but be hyper-aware of your posture, your manners, your tone of voice, the way you held your fan, even the way you would time your glances towards Yuta. All part of your tedious game, you supposed— to win the affections of a man you felt no real desire towards. 

What did you desire, then? You wondered. His attention? His approval? You continued with the knowledge that even if you didn’t desire him, you wanted to feel worthy of his desire. It was messy, and it felt manipulative. But you figured those were things you’d signed up for the moment you started playing this game (however unwillingly). 

You could see Jaehyun standing at the corner of the room next to the grand piano, looking intently at the multitude of sheet music next to the piano. The sight was almost amusing when you recalled your sister’s words, because indeed as you looked at him now, the sheer intent of his glare on the sheet music would be enough to intimidate anyone from initiating a conversation with him. 

“Do you know how to play?” Yuta’s words had caught your attention, and you’d almost grimaced at the realisation that you’d been walking towards the piano. Stopping just a few paces away from the piano, you cast a brief glance at Jaehyun who was still glaring at the sheet music in his hands. 

“No, no. I don’t, actually.” 

Yuta smiled, “I would offer to play something for you, but it seems viscount Jung has beat me to it,” he murmured as you heard the melody start to sound from the piano. You knew this piece, it was the one your sister was playing when Jaehyun had visited your house the other day. 

For some reason, the piece held much more melancholy than you realised, or maybe it was the way he was playing it, holding you (and all the other women in the room, you guessed) captive, unable to look elsewhere. 

You weren’t even paying attention to what you were talking to Yuta about, feeling the words come out of your mouth but paying no attention to what you were actually saying. Little did you know that as focused as Jaehyun seemed on his playing, every word of yours was flitting into his mind and refusing to leave. 

“I was always envious of people who could play the piano,” you sighed almost wistfully, earning a hum from Yuta. 

“Were you not tutored for it?” 

You shook your head, “It wasn’t something I was interested in when I was younger, but I suppose as I grew older, the music started to feel comforting to an extent. Only I was simply a listener, not the one who conveyed such comfort,” you huffed, attempting to make light of your feelings. 

Yuta, as always, replied with his flowery lines, not being able to pick up on how you were really feeling and taking your words at surface level with a smile.

“Well, you certainly are an excellent conversationalist, so I would still consider myself accomplished if I were you.” 

You hummed, brushing off your discomfort and mustering a smile, “Thank you.” 

Jaehyun had to withhold his amusement, wondering again why it was that you were so willing to withdraw to men like Yuta, men who were all-too-familiar with manipulating their words to their advantage. If you’d simply bit back with half the amount of snark that you generously gave him, he was sure Yuta would be at a loss for words. 

How frustrating. Surely, you could tell that Yuta was not a good match for you, couldn’t you? 

Coming to the end of his piano piece, Jaehyun stood up, simply picking up his glass of wine that he had set on top of the piano, acting as if he wasn’t the one at the receiving end of the room’s applause. 

Perhaps it was a stroke of divine timing, but one of the servants had approached Yuta, murmuring into his ear something you couldn’t quite catch. Yuta straightened up in response, casting an apologetic glance your way. 

“Forgive me, I need to excuse myself for a moment,” he muttered, rushing off to somewhere you couldn’t truly be bothered to wonder about. 

Jaehyun did not waste the opportunity presented to him, taking just the tiniest of steps closer to you and murmuring behind his glass, “Evening… are you alright?” 

He noticed the way your shoulders were tense, your fidgety gaze around the room, the way you’d kept bringing your glass to your lips but the level of liquid in your glass was barely going down. 

“Please, spare me. I am in no mood for needless bickering tonight,” you huffed, bringing your glass to your lips again to take a small sip. 

Truthfully enough, the ache was back again as you stood in the room filled with chatter and music. The ache of longing for the ability to rid yourself of the façade of the perfect marriage partner that was growing more tiring to uphold. The ache that grew stronger when you conversed with Yuta, feeling as though if you were to enter a marriage with this man, the ache would only intensify. It was dangerous to entertain him in a place like this, because Jaehyun’s presence always seemed to draw you out of this façade. 

“Bickering?” he scoffed, a faint smirk appearing on his lips. 

“Was that not what you approached me for?” you turned to him with a frown, “I suppose the soirée was getting boring for you if you felt the need to take such a drastic measure as to approach me of all people.” 

There you were , he mused. 

Jaehyun shifted another step closer to you, something about his proximity making the conversation between the both of you more obvious, and you could tell from the way your mother was looking at you that it was indeed obvious that you had his attention.

“Oh, not at all. I was hoping I could be reminded what an excellent conversationalist you were,” he drawled, clearly proud of himself judging from the smile playing on his lips. 

You rolled your eyes. “And you suppose you’re any better?” 

“Of course, I am. Anyway, you didn’t answer my question.” 

“You asked me a question? Must not have been worth remembering,” you sighed. 

As much as you felt he annoyed you, you had to admit that it was somewhat relieving not having to be on your ‘best behaviour’ around him. You were sure any chance of marriage would be tossed out of the window if you were to speak in such a manner to Yuta (or any other suitor). 

Jaehyun’s expression grew more serious, eyebrows lifting slightly in concern, “I asked if you were alright.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, suddenly feeling as exposed as you did that day in the study. It was strange how easily he managed to read into your feelings. You figured you’d been doing a good job at masking it. 

“What does it matter? It’s not like you to be so concerned,” you huffed. 

“So, you’re not alright?” he prompted, earning a shrug from you, looking into your glass as though it held the answer you were both looking for. 

“It doesn’t matter if I’m feeling alright or not, the soirée is not going to end anytime soon,” you danced around his question, hoping the mention of the soirée would redirect his line of questioning. 

He noticed the Rubies that were draped around your neck, something about it feeling off. He much preferred the look of the Amethysts you were wearing before, the first time he’d met you. 

“New necklace?” he quirked an eyebrow at you, earning a grunt in response. 

“A gift,” you muttered, “from Mr Nakamoto.” 

“I see. You still haven’t answered my question,” his tone remained firm, eyebrows furrowed and gaze intent on you. 

You clenched and unclenched your fist, turning to him with your eyebrows furrowed, throat feeling dry as you tried to wrangle your voice awake when you met his gaze, uncomfortable at the way his attentiveness tempted you to pour out your feelings to him. 

“Is this really the reason you approached me? Look, I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. What does it matter? ” 

Jaehyun was undeterred, meeting you with the same amount of stubbornness and challenge, “It matters because you’re… different. You behaved… differently when you were talking to Mr Nakamoto.” 

“Compared to what? When I’m talking to you?” the words left you quicker than you could process them. 

“Do you not think so?” he retorted just as quickly, tilting his head at you with the confidence that came from knowing the answer without you having to verbalise it. 

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. 

“Well… there’s no reason for me to act as though I’m trying to impress you.” 

Jaehyun simply huffed in amusement, tilting his glass slightly as he contemplated uttering the thought that came to mind, going for it anyway. 

“Somehow, that impresses me enough.” 

Unsure what to make of his words, you shifted your gaze elsewhere, adjusting your grip on your glass because your palms had started to feel clammy. You remembered wondering what it would’ve been like at the receiving end of his attention, and now that you had it you were finding that even his words seemed capable of sprinkling gold dust on your heart. 

“I didn’t know you could play the piano,” you changed the subject, your body starting to feel warm under your clothes, burning under the intensity of his gaze, wondering if this was how the sheet music must have felt under his gaze. 

“I picked it up when I was younger. Out of all the instruments I've touched, I would say the piano is the one I tend to return to more.” 

“It’s your favourite?” 

He shook his head. 

“What is your favourite, then?” You found yourself asking, genuinely curious this time instead of just a small-talk formality that you usually followed at such events. 

You wouldn’t have known it, but Jaehyun was feeling the same unfamiliarity as you, feeling as though his body was moving before he could process it. He wasn’t used to holding a conversation like this with someone he barely knew, especially when it wasn’t about business or architecture. And for some reason, he couldn’t find it in himself to care about the stares he was receiving as a result of such conversation. 

“The violin,” he admitted almost sheepishly, as if he was embarrassed that he could play an instrument you could only dream of playing. 

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise, gaze wandering to the violin that was perched nearby the piano, after being played by one of the guests when you’d first arrived.

“Why is it your favourite?” 

He hummed, and by now you’d forgotten that Yuta had even promised to return, something in you not being able to find it in yourself to pretend that you were annoyed at Jaehyun’s attention, you truthfully weren’t. For someone as ‘antisocial’ as he was deemed, you found it was comfortable feeling like you didn’t have to present ‘textbook perfect wife’ answers for him. If only your sister could see you now.  

“It was the first instrument I learned as a child… but I moved on to different instruments when I was older because my aunt insisted on me learning other instruments. You know, the more skills, the better. Somehow it’s…” he huffed, amused at his own willingness to share with you, the only person aside from his best friend Johnny that wasn’t keeling over begging to polish the ground he walks on.

It was refreshing, he was realising, to not be treated like he was perfect. 

“It makes me very nostalgic. For that time in my life when there were no worries, you know? When all I had on my mind was the next piece I was eager to ask my tutor to teach me, waiting each day for her to retrieve the sheet music so I could play it until I knew it by heart.” 

Jaehyun continued, “It’s strange, sometimes when I find myself picking up the violin again, it’s like the music just flows out naturally… and I realise I really did know it by heart.” 

You hummed, nodding. 

“Like muscle memory,” you offered, earning a soft smile from him unlike anything you’ve seen before. This one made you feel as though you were catching glimpses of Jaehyun as a child, the little boy whose only worry was for the day the calluses on his fingers would start to disappear.

“Can you play something now?” you weren’t sure what compelled you to ask, but the answer you were met with had surprised you even more. 

“Oh, no no. It’s not… like that,” he huffed, still a hint of sheepishness in the smile that lingered on his features, “I don’t play it that often… rarely. Only when I'm really stressed, if there's too much on my mind.” 

Nodding, you took a fuller sip of your drink, slightly more liberated now that your stomach wasn’t churning like how it was before. 

“Your aunt must’ve really invested a lot of her fortune in your tuition, considering you were tutored for multiple instruments,” you hummed, earning a grunt from him. 

“I suppose she had to, they received too much from my parents each month to not do anything with it,” he sighed, leaning against the bookshelf behind him, turning his head to look at you with tired eyes, “I still remember the way I would look forward to the letters they would send every now and then just to praise me for whatever competition I had won, or whatever certificate I'd achieved.” 

“Do you think it was worth it? All the effort you put in?” you murmured, curious to how he would answer even though you knew you’d be at a loss if the same question was asked to you. Somehow, you felt like his answer would tell you more about him than small talk at balls or promenades would. 

Jaehyun hummed thoughtfully, lips pursing slightly, “That was what love felt like to me back then, the love I felt for music and… their letters, so… do I think it was worth it?” he shrugged, a smile that bordered on bitterness had graced his features, “Do you?” 

Perhaps it was the way you felt like you couldn’t hide under his gaze, or maybe it was the way you felt like he wouldn’t hold your grievances against you. Whatever it was, you found yourself wanting to share with him. And strangely enough, the idea of it had started to scare you less as time went by. 

“My parents were like that too. You know, as the oldest daughter… no news was good news. My duty was to… to not cause worry, to be strong for the family, to take care of my sister, to perform well in all that I did for the family’s sake. For me, it was… like an instruction manual,” you huffed, finding yourself looking to him for affirmation that he understood what you meant, and the knowing smile and nod you received in return made your heart jump in your chest. 

“Do all of this well and you’ll receive your parents’ love. Don’t do it and…” you trailed off, earning a hum from him. 

“Tire yourself out trying and trying again,” he murmured, earning a deep sigh from you. 

Did you think it was worth it? You weren’t sure, but you still found yourself trying nonetheless. 

Jaehyun had succeeded in unlocking a part of you you’d never spoken to anyone about before, and like you said, something about it felt liberating, the solution to your ache starting to feel a little more within reach even if you still weren’t sure what it was. 

“One of my friends, Johnny, has a pretty strong view about this… he says that people are fickle… that we can change based on the slightest of factors…” 

“Your friend sounds a little bitter.” 

The viscount laughed, “Quite the contrary, actually, I think he’s quite the romantic… just overly managing his expectations.” 

“Is that so? What made him have such views, then?” 

The viscount hummed, pressing his lips in a firm line before parting them to speak, “Money, I suppose. How people react to money, how he’s seen it change the way people treat a person. Sometimes, it’s difficult to tell whether a person is enamoured with you or the security your wealth provides. Though, with the way things are, it leaves a woman with no choice but to seek out security first, love being secondary to everything else.” 

You hummed, nodding slowly as you processed his words. 

“Sorry, I interrupted. You were saying?” 

Jaehyun wasn’t sure why that made him smile, choosing to dismiss it and continue anyway, “anyway, his view is that when we’re constantly trying and trying to follow these instruction manuals on ‘How to earn love’... at the end of the day they can hold it over our heads and decide that there are more instructions, more requirements we haven’t met yet… he thinks it isn’t possible.” 

You frowned, “What? To find love?” 

Jaehyun nodded, “Genuine love, I suppose. I guess I understand what he means. Even though more people have been talking about a love match these days, it feels out of reach somehow. People still end up looking at you like a list of instructions, a list of qualifications, weighing who has a list that is easier to meet and going with that.” 

“Do you think yours is difficult to meet?” you found yourself asking, earning a blank look from the viscount. 

“That’s the thing,” he huffed, “People like us… who try and try and are tired of trying… we wish we didn’t have one.” 

Somehow, you felt a certain conviction in your heart, shaking your head at him. 

“Maybe we don’t, and we just haven’t realised that yet.” 

=== 

You hadn’t seen Jaehyun at the next ball, or the next, and he didn’t return to your house for meetings with your father. You figured he was busy, so you tried not to wait. Though the ache persisted, coming and going like waves. With how often you felt it, you assumed you would have grown familiar with it. But in cases like these, the familiarity was unsettling, as if your body was crying out for help that you weren’t able to provide.  

Yuta kept you relatively occupied, sending you flowers regularly, light and bright coloured blooms attached to meanings of affection and purity and fondness, accompanied with letters containing equally flowery words. Though it didn’t keep you occupied enough. 

Time seemed to pass without much of your awareness, the only thing you were aware of being the way the flowers Yuta sent would slowly wither and your sister would replace them with the new bouquets he sent over. You were growing frustrated at Yuta’s perfection, because that demanded perfection from you as well. You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss the liberation that came with your conversations with the viscount. Those were different, demanding honesty instead of perfection, and perhaps, perfection was found in that honesty.  

“I think we can start thinking about discussing marriage with Mr Nakamoto,” your mother turned to murmur as you were having tea with Yuta in the drawing room, the man busy talking to your father about whatever literary piece they found they both enjoyed. 

“Marriage?” you weren’t sure why the prospect seemed so daunting now that your mother had mentioned it, something about her words making you realise that her plans were solidifying and you couldn’t simply continue to play ‘tea party’ with Yuta much longer. 

Your attention was diverted when your sister had entered with a stack of letters in her hand (presumably taken from the staff), her excited gaze meeting yours as she waved a single letter in your direction. 

“Are those my letters?” your mother asked, earning a grunt from your sister. 

“They’re father’s letters,” she informed tersely, making her way over to you and dropping a single letter into your lap, shoving the rest towards your mother in an attempt to distract her. 

The dismayed expression on your mother showed it was somewhat successful, “You know, you really have to fix your manners when it’s your turn to debut,” she began, seeming ready to launch into a tirade of nit-picking towards your sister but you knew nothing could very well escape her watchful eyes when it came to you, eyeing the letter in your hands curiously. 

“What’s that?” 

“Sister’s letter.” 

Your mother’s hand reached out quickly, grasping the letter in your hand and peering over your shoulder to look at it, seeing no indication of a sender other than an elaborate letter ‘J’ imprinted on the seal. 

“J? Do we know anyone with that initial?” 

Your thoughts ran first to Jaehyun, and the look you exchanged with your sister only proved your suspicions correct, though she was quick to cover for you. 

“Johnson, remember? Betty Johnson? Sister’s old friend that moved overseas,” it almost surprised you how smoothly she lied through her teeth when she was never a good liar. You never had a friend with the surname Johnson. 

“Yeah, you wouldn’t have remembered her. I used to play with her and sister outside the church grounds when we were younger,” you added, pleased with how your mother had bought your lie, shrugging as she turned her attention back to her cup of tea. 

“If you’re going to start exchanging letters, don’t expect the money to come from your father and I. We’re already putting more than we can into your dowry,” she muttered, earning a sigh from you as Yuta and your father returned from his study. 

“Shall we promenade?” he offered, and you glanced at your sister before looking back at him, rolled your shoulders back and gave him your sweetest smile. 

Your sister leaned over, pretending to fix your hair so she could lean in to murmur softly, “I’ll put the letter in your notebook.” 

And so you left to promenade with Yuta. 

“Lovely weather, isn’t it?” he smiled, squinting his eyes as he looked up at the sky, with you holding your parasol above your head, simply giving him a small hum. 

“Have any other suitors declared their pursuit of you?” Yuta spoke abruptly, earning a frown from you. 

Shaking your head, you couldn’t find it in yourself to speak, something about your anxiousness swallowing your words. You could almost hear your mother’s voice in your head now, telling you once again to ‘ use your words ’. 

“No, they haven’t,” you managed to force out, earning a solemn nod from Yuta. 

“Really? Not even viscount Jung?” 

Your frown deepened, “What makes you say that?” 

“Nothing in particular… just figured he was the only other person that could have caught your attention this season.” 

You huffed, even Yuta thought of Jaehyun highly. You, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to get the image of the little boy playing the violin out of your mind when you thought of him, something about it was endearing. 

“I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but… do you know the viscount personally by any chance?” 

Somehow your words seemed to have struck a chord with Yuta, his expression turning stoic and his gaze shifting elsewhere. He shook his head, “No, I don’t.” 

“Are you sure? He seemed to find you familiar at the ball—” 

“He must be mistaking me for someone else,” Yuta turned to you with a smile, though the firmness of his tone contrasted the gentleness of his smile. It was enough to deter you from asking any further. With Yuta, you needed to be careful, knowing something as simple as behaving in an ill-mannered way would be enough to make your family’s plans for security and stability fall through. It wasn’t as simple as it seemed with Jaehyun, who was always game for whatever you threw his way.

The mood had turned sour afterwards, the both of you remaining in relative silence (well, other than Yuta’s occasional utterances of praise for your parents) until you were both back at your house, the servant who chaperoned behind the both of you helping to take the parasol from your hands as Yuta got ready to bid you goodbye. 

After he left, it was like your body moved faster than you could process. It was embarrassing , the way you felt like an excited child running up to your room and grabbing the book sitting on your desk, flipping it open and letting Jaehyun’s letter drop out onto your bed. 

Tearing the little envelope open with your finger, you unfolded the letter, catching a whiff of something so unmistakably like Jaehyun that it almost felt like he was in the same room. 

‘Ms Y/N Y/L/N, 

My apologies for disappearing without a word. I needed to leave urgently because of my friend, the one we talked about the other day. His father passed and I’m aiding him with the handover of his father’s business and some of the family property to him, since I was previously closely working with his father for their family’s winery. Perhaps I should be more apologetic for the fact that now social events are sure to be dreadful for you without my presence.’ 

You scoffed, you could almost picture the smirk on his face as he wrote that. 

‘I am unsure when I am to return, but I am sure it will be before the season ends. I suppose now that my friend’s father has passed, he is to be looking for a wife as well, though I doubt it would be easy to convince him to come back with me. With his status now as a Marquess, I suppose many would be eager to coerce him into marrying their daughters if he were to arrive in town. Something he seems very opposed to. 

Again, I hope I have not needlessly worried you with my sudden absence. Though, I suppose my absence would be something that gains rejoicing from you rather than disappointment. Nonetheless, things are rather hectic here. I hoped that in writing to you I could gain some form of entertainment hearing about the progress in the marriage mart that I am unfortunately missing out on. You can write to me, but it will be addressed to my friend’s estate as I am staying here until I leave. I look forward to hearing from you. Do keep safe and in good health. 

-J’ 

“I’d keep that locked up, if I were you,” you jumped at the sound of your sister’s voice behind you, a mischievous smile on her face as she shut the door behind her, crawling onto your bed and making herself comfortable there. 

“So is it official? That he’s courting you seriously?” she asked, and you could see the way her smile fell as you pursed your lips, shaking your head at her. 

Now that you heard her words for yourself, it made you wonder. You expected Jaehyun to be someone meticulous, someone careful, someone who knew exactly what the implications of sending a lady a letter was in this day and age. It made you wonder about the intimacy hidden behind his otherwise mundane updates, and for some reason, it made you long for more. 

“I’m going to write back,” you spoke, more for yourself than for her. 

Her smile grew, “This is a dangerous game you’re playing, sister. I suppose you found he’s worth defending after all?” 

You hummed absently, already pulling out your writing materials to begin writing your response to him. 

“Not quite yet, but something tells me this will be worth it.” 

‘Dear J, 

My condolences for your friend’s father, I can only imagine how overwhelming it is to have all sorts of responsibility thrown at you before you can even process your own grief. Truthfully, I hadn’t noticed your absence’ (you were lying, obviously)

‘Perhaps because things have been hectic here as well. Each day seems to be filled with entertaining Mr Nakamoto and going for promenades. I’m quite tired of all the walking, to be very honest. 

The mention of your friend made me think of what you said that day at the soirée, about finding genuine love in a world where marriage is an economic proposition. I find myself searching sometimes, even though I know my efforts are probably in vain. I know the reason I have been entertaining Mr Nakamoto is not because I’m attracted to him. It is like what you said, I find myself seeing him more as his list of instructions, and what that demands of mine. Then, I find myself drawn back to my duty as the first daughter of my family, drawn back to the need to secure some sort of relief or security for my family. By then, there is no thought of finding love in a marriage partner, only the transaction of it all. Still, there is a part of me that wonders how different the whole process would be if I truly loved my partner, how much less it would feel like a game and more like life. 

I am only asking because I have not seen you dance with anyone at the events so far. I suppose you are either picky or disinterested. But just out of curiosity, do you think it’s possible? For you, I mean, to find genuine love this season? 

I hope this proves as entertaining as you wished for it to be, I won’t apologise even if it ends up disappointing you. 

From, me’ 

=== 

‘Ms Y/N Y/L/N,

Thank you for your concern. My friend is doing much better now, and I hope this means the chances of him returning with me have increased. I would like for you to meet him, something tells me he would get along well with your sister, they both seem to have a penchant for the arts. 

To answer your question, I believe it is possible. Whether it is wise of me to think so, or whether it is wishful thinking… that remains undecided. But I cannot be sure. Personally, I have not come across such love where you are seen for all that you are and still loved, but I would like to believe it exists. Whether I am able to find it this season or not, believing it exists makes it feel more like life, like you said. 

With that being said, I do wish the same for you, as much as you may not believe me. More than just promenades, answers from manuals, accomplishments and duties, but life. Sure, duties are important, family is important. But in my honest opinion, I don’t think fulfilling your duties should mean sacrificing your happiness, especially when it isn’t very well your duty at all, but that of others projected onto you. Perhaps I would get stoned by your mother if I said so, but I mean it.

I have to be going now, but I can guarantee that I will be back soon. Perhaps in less than a month’s time you will find yourself bickering with me at the corner of a rich woman’s house again. Do keep safe and in good health. 

-J’ 

You should’ve trusted the nauseous feeling in your gut when you saw Yuta arrive at your house that morning, having arranged a private meeting with your parents and leaving promptly after. There could have only been one reason behind it, and it worried you. Again, the ache intensified, feeling as though it would only solidify if your suspicions were proved correct. 

It was during teatime when your mother finally addressed the elephant in the room. 

“Your father and I are keen on you proceeding with Mr Nakamoto,” she spoke plainly, your hand halting around the handle of your teacup.

“Huh?” as pathetic as it was, was all you could muster. 

“Weighing your potential suitors, Mr Nakamoto brings the most stability. He has property, he is of a suitable age, he has wealth, he is personable. He seems prudent,” she lifted her gaze from her teacup to glance at you, just the slightest of frowns as she met your wide-eyed expression. 

You knew this, yet you weren’t sure why it shocked you to hear it verbalised so forwardly. 

“I’m sure you have no complaints,” it came more as a warning instead of an assumption, enough to make your throat feel dry and your voice start to retreat, “you can expect him to propose soon, so I expect you to be on your best behaviour. The family’s reputation depends on your response.” 

You thought back to Jaehyun’s words. If you were to reject Yuta’s proposal, would that make you wise or foolish? You knew what was riding on this decision. If you were to reject him, you would retain a little bit of your freedom, but you would damage your reputation. It wasn’t exactly ideal to be regarded as a jilt, much less to a man like Mr Nakamoto, who had many women in your town lining up for him. Weighing your other potential suitors, you weren’t sure if being married to a man older than your father was a better option. 

Almost unconsciously, your thoughts wandered to Jaehyun, the feelings you associated with him— or more accurately, how different these feelings were from the ones you associated with Yuta. 

It was starting to make you anxious, you realised that as you exchanged letters with him for a while now, he had grown on you more than you realised. The way you felt at the receiving end of his attentiveness. The way he seemed to read into your signals and cues and meet you where you were without expecting you to be perfect. The way he made you hopeful that you could find love… and perhaps wishful that you could find it in him. 

You were anxious, because when you thought of Jaehyun, what was coming to mind wasn’t his credentials, his wealth, his family, or his status. But rather, it was him , the blunt yet gentle, aloof yet attentive, hardened yet tender-hearted person that he was. 

You were anxious, because even as you were being told about your perfect prospect of marriage, you found that you only ached for him ; the man who was maybe a stranger to your textbook gentleman, but not a stranger to you. 

You took in a deep breath, setting your teacup down with shaky hands, standing up and letting out the breath you were holding. 

Use your words.

“I’m not feeling too well,” you murmured softly enough that you knew your voice wouldn’t give way, “please, excuse me.” 

You struggled up the stairs, finding it difficult to focus on anything other than the way your heart was pounding and your head was starting to spin. Eventually, you found yourself at your desk, writing materials ready and already finding yourself addressing the only person you could think of at this moment. 

‘Dear J, 

My parents have been talking to me about pursuing a marriage with Mr Nakamoto, and in the position that I am, I am inclined to accept.’ 

=== 

This time, you didn’t receive a reply from Jaehyun. Previous times, you could always be sure that his reply would not take longer than a week. But this time was different, as the flowers Yuta continued to send withered and were replaced, there was no news of any mail for you. Even your sister was starting to grow concerned at the way things were going, starting to display Yuta’s flowers in places you wouldn’t pass as often when you were going about your daily routine. But you noticed, the flowers Yuta gave you were always light, bright colours in delicate blooms; nothing like the bigger blooms your sister tended to get. 

The waiting was the worst this time, and you knew why. It was different this time, knowing you were anticipating his reply for different reasons. You couldn’t hide behind boredom, or curiosity as to how he would respond to your questions and words. This time your anticipation lay in hope, in your ache, and that was the worst kind of anticipation for you. Girls like you couldn’t hope, you had far too many responsibilities. You needed to be pragmatic, realistic, practical. There was no room for hope in your heart, yet you found that it was all you were doing these days. 

Hoping that wherever he was, he was safe. Hoping that wherever he was, there wasn’t a perfect girl who was discovering if his touch could turn her worries into gold. Hoping that wherever he was, he was thinking of you. 

You hoped it wasn’t too late. 

The longer you waited, the more foolish you felt. Pouring your heart out to him in your letters like that when there was no real guarantee that he would feel the same way, when there was no real guarantee that he would take Yuta’s place. 

As conversations about responsibilities, about being a good wife to Yuta had started to intensify, you gave yourself no choice but to bottle up the anxiety you felt, directing it inwards till you felt it start to take a toll on your mind.

There was a knock at your door before the door opened with a soft click, seeing your sister walk in carrying a vase containing new flowers, white lilies that filled your room with a scent that comforted you just slightly in your fatigue.

Setting the vase down carefully, your sister turned, stopping in her tracks when she realised you were awake, the slightest of frowns on her features, “Sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you.” 

You shook your head, a sigh leaving you as you stretched your arms over your head, “I was already awake a long time ago, don’t worry.”  

Padding over to your bed to take a seat next to your legs, her body angled towards you and her hand smoothing over the blanket that covered you, her gaze scanned your appearance. 

“Still nothing?” You asked, earning a small sigh from her. 

“Nothing,” she shook her head. Pausing, she shook her head, “maybe the letters just got lost in the mail?” 

You let out a sigh through your nose, shifting your gaze to the Lilies perched next to your window, the light seeping through the glass making you almost dread the day that was to come. Another day spent waiting. 

“I would like to believe that, but I've sent far too many letters to him to believe that,” you murmured, “perhaps it was foolish of me, you know?” 

Her frown deepened, “What was?” 

“Thinking that I could actually find a love match. Thinking that I could develop an affection for the viscount and remain unscathed,” you huffed, bitterness laced in your words that left an unpleasant aftertaste in your mouth.   

Your sister hummed, “Do you think it is the affection you feel for him that is what is hurting you? Or the absence of this affection for Mr Nakamoto?” 

There it was again, the wave that washed over you and forced you into sobriety, the ache for the rest that went beyond physical things that you were starting to give up trying to satisfy. You supposed when push comes to shove, you would find something to love in Yuta, you would simply have to. 

“It’s been more than a month, sister. I cannot… I cannot afford to wait for him much longer. I cannot afford to keep avoiding Mr Nakamoto.” 

She sighed, “I know. Father has been meeting him to discuss your marriage arrangement for a while now.” 

Somehow, that was enough to solidify your decision for you, as reluctant as you were. Saying yes to Yuta’s proposal… perhaps it would be a wise decision in your trying and trying to earn the affections of your father. It would be wise for you to do what is pleasing to your family. It would be wise for you to be obedient, to continue to be dependable for them. 

You heard the click of the lock, the door opening to reveal your mother, “Mr Nakamoto is here, dear. He has requested a private audience with you.” 

Exchanging a knowing look with your sister, you nodded. 

“Give me a moment to make myself presentable. I shall be down shortly,” you murmured, seeing your sister still wearing that same look of concern as you got out of bed, your mother leaving and shutting the door. 

Getting ready, you stared yourself down in the mirror, glancing between yourself and the sight of your sister behind you on your bed, a now unreadable expression on her face. 

“I’m not going to refuse when he asks,” you murmured, more for yourself than for her. 

Perhaps she knew this, because the nod she gave you was all you needed to give you the little bit of conviction that you would go through with this, for your family’s sake. 

=== 

Perfection was subjective, you knew this now. You knew it for a fact as you lay in bed, your head spinning and your heart feeling heavy, a week since Yuta had left town for business after your engagement. 

The stress of it all was getting to you, the ache in your heart for rest, the ache to not have to be ‘on’ and be present to all the people and things that demanded your attention, the pressure you were putting on yourself to be the person your parents expected you to be, or maybe who you expected yourself to be, the ache to be able to depend on someone other than yourself. 

You couldn’t even shake the fact that you were still wondering about Jaehyun, the last bit of desperation in you used to hope that he would return soon. It was amusing, considering that his return would probably be worse because you were already betrothed to another man. Somehow, you were still eager to write to him, asking your sister to help to pen down your messages because you were too weak to get out of bed. At least when you did this, you could say you still tried at the end of the day, because trying was what you were familiar with. 

You could barely get yourself out of bed, wanting nothing more than to sleep away your days as you waited for Yuta to return, for him to seal your fate with your marriage. Each day, your sister would come in and attempt to get you to eat, but you couldn’t find it in you to have an appetite, simply eating a few bites to appease her before you were allowed to sleep the time away before your next meal. 

Little did you know that your waiting for Yuta was in vain. 

Jaehyun almost thought he was hallucinating when he heard the sound of a familiar laughter echoing a few tables away from him at the bar he was at with Johnny.  “Do you recognise him?” Johnny asked, evident disdain in his tone and the pointedness of his glare, earning a confused look from Jaehyun. 

“Who?” 

“That man over there, the conman, Nakamoto Yuta? was his name if i recall correctly,” Johnny gestured with his head to the source of the laughter, Jaehyun’s eyes narrowing when he realised that the man sitting at that table was very much familiar, and very much Yuta. 

“Conman?” Jaehyun murmured, a sinking feeling in his stomach as he observed the woman next to him, the Rubies she adorned on her neck identical to the ones he saw you wearing at the soirée. 

Johnny nodded, using his finger to trace the mouth of his glass, “I recognise him from my time in Paris. You see the woman next to him? Remember how I told you Rubies were popular among the women there?” Johnny gestured to his neck, “It took me a while, but I realised it was only because that was his trademark. Like a branding for the women he was set on cheating for their money in exchange for his affection.” 

Jaehyun frowned. Did that make you one of Yuta’s targets, then?

“Are you familiar with his methods?” 

“Too familiar, I wish I wasn’t,” Johnny sighed, “He tried the same thing on my cousin. You know, all these young girls looking for the perfect husband. He paints himself out to be little less than a saint, and they eat it up. The prince charming that came to sweep them off their feet when in actual fact his occupation is never revealed, his life is a series of carefully constructed lies that differ depending on who he’s talking to… he strung my cousin along for ages, doing ‘business dealings’ with my uncle that landed him in debt that my father had to pay off.” 

“And your cousin?” 

Johnny knocked back the rest of the alcohol in his glass, “Heartbroken, obviously. Once he had his fill of her and her family’s money he left without a single warning.” 

“Couldn’t you file a suit against him for that?” Jaehyun’s mind was racing with questions, with a growing worry for you, especially since the last letter he’d received from you was talking about your likely marriage to Yuta.

“And what about the women? Wouldn’t they have warned each other by now? Isn’t it obvious when everyone’s receiving the same thing—the Rubies and flowers and all—from him?” Jaehyun continued, earning a deep sigh from Johnny. 

“That’s the thing. She was too in love with him by then, she insisted that we couldn’t go after him. Plus, by the time he was done with them, they didn’t have enough money to file a suit even if they wanted to.”

“I mean, who wouldn’t want to be the centre of attention of a doting, romantic, young , attractive young man?” Johnny let out a bitter laugh, “You of all people should know it’s all business. When someone like Yuta comes along, he brings the fantasy of a desirable love match with him. It was never about what they were receiving, but who they were receiving it from. The perfect prince charming he made himself out to be.” 

Johnny glanced over at Yuta with a sigh before raising his hand to catch the server’s attention to order another drink. 

At Jaehyun’s lack of a response, Johnny noticed his friend’s face paling, his gaze fixed on the table looking deep in thought, “What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?” 

“The girl,” Jaehyun rasped, clearing his throat and blinking his eyes harshly, “the one I sent the letter to…” 

“Yeah? Didn’t you say she was getting engaged?” Johnny hummed, earning a grim nod from Jaehyun. 

“It was supposed to be to him .” 

Johnny’s lips parted, exchanging a knowing look with Jaehyun. He wasn’t daft, he knew Jaehyun’s affections for this girl ran deep, deeper than he let on. 

“I… I need to go back,” he said finally, “I hope you can understand.” 

At this, Johnny let out a laugh, an incredulous look on his face. 

“Finally! I was wondering when you’d come to your senses.”

“Huh?” Jaehyun’s stare was blank, confusion written all over his face. 

“ I’m not the one keeping you here… I think we both know that,” Johnny spoke slowly, nodding at Jaehyun, the latter who was already trying to form a mental estimate of how long it would take him to get to you. 

“God, I feel so…”

“Foolish?” Johnny offered with a smile, earning a glare from Jaehyun. 

“I can’t believe I was going to sit here and do nothing while she gets cheated by that man,” Jaehyun brought a hand up to wipe his face harshly. 

Taking a sip of his drink, Johnny huffed, “Want me to hit him for you?” 

Jaehyun scoffed, “Not if I get to him first.”

“I’ll tell them to prepare your carriage for tomorrow morning, you’ll be back in three days at most,” Johnny spoke calmly, amusement still lingering in his smile as he observed Jaehyun’s lost expression, the viscount seeming too blinded by the rage he felt towards Yuta to think clearly. 

Johnny grunted, waving his hands in dismissal, “Don’t waste your time with him, go to your girl first.”  

Jaehyun wasn’t sure what he was picturing when he imagined returning to you. He got your letters, every single one of them. He read every word to the point where he was sure he knew them by heart. Your letters told him about the town, about who had gotten engaged, gossip from the flower market, about the weather, the balls you attended. From the letters alone, he would have figured you were doing perfectly fine. 

What he hadn’t expected was to have your sister answer the door and look at him as though he’d grown a second head. 

“My parents aren’t here,” you informed before he could greet you, earning a huff from him. 

“Sorry for uh… for paying such an unexpected visit, but… I was wondering if I could see your sister?” 

Your sister thought to you, lying in bed grieving the loss of a future she dreamed of, wondering if the viscount’s presence here would put an end to that grief. 

“She’s… sick.” 

Jaehyun’s eyebrows furrowed, “Sick? With what?” 

“Heartbreak, I suppose,” your sister replied tersely, giving him a pointed stare, unsure what to make of Jaehyun’s intentions. 

Jaehyun’s eyebrows lifted, his thoughts immediately going to Yuta and feeling himself start to bubble with the same rage and concern that brought him here. Most of all, love. 

“You can stay here, I’ll check if she’s willing to see you,” she spoke, still eyeing him cautiously as she led Jaehyun into the house, stopping him at the stairwell as she made her way to your room. 

“Sister,” she knocked on the door, opening it and peeping her head in, whispering harshly with wild eyes, “The viscount is here!” 

Your head snapped up from your pillow abruptly, only to fall back onto your pillow in immediate regret as it throbbed and pounded. Your headache was torturing you, but for Jaehyun, you supposed you were willing to brave through it. 

“Okay. He can come up, but you have to stay in the room with us,” you said as firmly as you could. 

Your sister hummed, turning to leave the room. 

“Not unless he requests a private audience…” she murmured lowly, earning a glare from you (futile as it was, since she’d already left the room). 

Jaehyun was more than impatient to see you, but the sight of you tucked under the covers of your bed, a cloth and small basin next to your bedside and the cold sweat on your face made his heart ache. 

He wasn’t sure how to place himself as he entered the room, choosing to stand in front of the side of your bed you were facing, his lips curling ever so slightly in amusement when you had turned your body to face away from him. 

“What happened to you?” his voice came out almost breathless, with traces of exasperation. 

You didn’t want to open your eyes and look at him, you didn’t think your resolve would last if you could see the look of concern and frustration on his face he held now. 

“Nothing,” you murmured. So much for ‘using your words’. 

“Stress,” your sister cut in, earning a sigh from Jaehyun. 

“I came because… I wanted to warn you,” Jaehyun almost winced, his words not coming out how he’d planned. 

“ To warn me? ” your tone was strong even in your weakness, “not because you promised you would come back?” 

Jaehyun shook his head, “I… look, you can’t go ahead with the engagement with Mr Nakamoto.” 

You frowned. 

“And what makes you think you can tell me what to do about my future?” 

Jaehyun was growing frustrated now, “I’m not, but even if I was, I wouldn’t be the first one telling you what to do with your future,” he said pointedly. 

“Why are you meddling? I never asked you to get involved,” you felt like a stubborn child, but you were more upset at the fact that it was him of all people, advising you not to marry Yuta. 

You supposed that was what you wanted when you’d sent him that letter, but a very belated form of it, showing up in front of you now. 

“My apologies, I did not ask for your permission,” he scoffed, “that isn’t the issue here, Ms Y/L/N, you cannot proceed with this engagement.” 

“Perhaps your warning would be of more use if you’d sent it sooner in a letter,” you huffed. 

You knew this was the sulky side of you speaking now, but it was the truth. Did he think he could simply waltz into your bedroom after months of silence, tell you not to marry the man you were engaged to and expect you to comply graciously? 

“I don’t need your help with my marriage.” 

“Marriage?” 

Your sister wanted to avert her gaze, the tension in the room growing thicker by the minute, but it was impossible to look away, with the viscount looking unlike she could ever imagine seeing him. Desperate, frustrated, emotional . Nothing like anyone knew him to be. 

“We’re already engaged,” you murmured, as if reluctant to solidify the truth by speaking it into existence. 

“Besides, like I said. If I needed your… interference—”

“Help,” he corrected, earning an eye roll from you (not that he could see it, your eyes still being closed). 

“Fine, help. If I needed it, I would have asked.” 

“Is help only given when it is needed?” 

You huffed, the bubbling of frustration within your chest growing stronger as you called to mind your emotions for the past few months. 

“It definitely seems to be otherwise when it’s coming from you. Needed or not, I’d rather not have your help at all,” you forced your eyes open, immediately regretting it when you turned your head to meet his gaze. 

Desperate, frustrated, emotional. 

“You don’t mean that, I’m trying to warn you. You don’t know what kind of man he truly is.” 

"Consider me warned,” your gaze was as firm as you could muster, not finding any reason to withdraw when it came to Jaehyun. This was yourself, in all that you were feeling. 

“Don't patronise me. You don’t know what he’s capable of.” You almost faltered, almost . A small nagging fear started to creep up on you, telling you that you’ve made a grave mistake with Yuta. 

“And you do?” you asked, slowly shifting yourself so you could see him better, unsure if you were being spiteful or curious now, maybe both. 

“Better than you, it seems,” he huffed, taking a step closer to your bed, your sister pressing herself against the wall as if that would help the tension in the room, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she watched the dynamic between you and Jaehyun unfold. 

It was nothing compared to how she saw you and Yuta interact, but something about this was interesting. It was like the both of you were simply hiding behind your true feelings, masking it with frustration and beating around the bush, focusing on unimportant details because you were both too afraid to be the first one to reveal your heart. 

“And where is this understanding coming from?"

Jaehyun visibly hesitated, sighing before he told you the truth, "Johnny and I saw him when we were travelling." 

“Johnny?” you frowned, “Oh, you mean the marquess that dares not show his face in this town?” 

Again, the focus on unnecessary details to prolong the time before you had to finally face up to what you really wanted to hear and say. 

“His title is not who he is,” was all Jaehyun could muster, feeling the tension in the room as he continued to hold your gaze. 

“And by that same logic, I can say you don’t know my partner any better than I do,” you shrugged, the words sounding unfamiliar even as you said it. 

That seemed to strike a nerve with Jaehyun, his tone rising slightly in his urgency and frustration. 

“Would you stop calling him that? He’s not going to come back! You know why—?” 

“What would you rather me call him then? My husband-to-be ?” 

“—he’s too busy conning and cheating people like your parents in other towns for money now. Your family is going to be left in debt because of that man.” Though Jaehyun wasn’t shouting, his tone was filled with such urgency, such firmness, that he might as well have been. The implication of his words echoed louder than anything, louder than the sound of your heart picking up speed. 

Your silence spoke for you, feeling as though a large wave had just washed over you and pulled you under. Your heart continued to thump quickly as you struggled to regain your bearings, as you struggled to gain control over yourself. Only one thought rang in your head, your mother had already given Yuta your dowry before he disappeared. 

You glanced at your sister, her debut would need to be delayed now. Your family couldn’t afford to muster up another dowry so soon, not when you hadn’t gotten married yet. 

“Now do you understand why I needed to come and warn you?” his tone softened, and without realising he began to make his way closer to you, daring himself to look closely at you in your shock, processing what he was feeling at the sight of it. Which, at the moment, could only be described as wanting to pull you out from under the waves, to dive in and look for you so he could bring you to the surface. 

“I cannot—” he stopped himself, shaking his head, “I will not watch you let yourself be humiliated, waiting for that… that liar ." 

Something in your gaze was hurt, vulnerable as you looked at him, wondering how he could say such words with such confidence when he was the one you were waiting for this whole time. 

“I am not a stranger to waiting, you of all people should know that very well,” you said. 

Jaehyun’s expression softened, still brushing aside what he wanted to say to you, his thoughts focused on how you must be feeling to find out you’ve just been conned by your fiancé. 

“Why do you think I came here?” he asked, and the reminder that his purpose here was to warn you and not for other reasons was a bitter pill to swallow, so this bitterness showed in your response. 

“In hopes to annoy me to death, perhaps.” 

At his lack of a response, you frowned, “…. Why aren’t you saying anything? I expected a witty remark by now.”

What you didn’t expect was for Jaehyun to sigh, something in his expression akin to tenderness, which didn’t make sense to you at the moment. But it was a very tenderness that you always wondered about, what he reserved it for, how it would show, how it would feel. It seems all of those questions were answered now as you looked at him. 

“Where do you think that man is? Right now, while you’re in this condition. Where do you think this man that you’re set on marrying will be after hearing of your sickness?” His tongue peeked out to wet his lips, though even if your attention was momentarily diverted, nothing could tear it away from his gaze. As though he had a million things to say to you, hidden inside of him, and you were only catching glimpses of it through his eyes. Yet they still managed to be gleaming, twinkling, pulling you out from under the waves. 

“Yet here you are… destroying yourself for somebody who is incapable of loving you in the way you deserve,” he spoke almost bitterly, and the (not so) little hope within you had begun to surface again. Courage to make your feelings known, and hope that they would be received. 

Jaehyun let his gaze shift to the way your hand lay on top of your covers, holding the fabric close to yourself for some sense of comfort. It surprised him, the way he wished he could hold you, to embrace you in his own comfort. The thought came naturally to him, as if that was his body’s natural response, to want you to be able to receive that from him and for him to give his love and affection freely to you. 

“I’m sorry, I know it must be a lot to process. He had me believing his act too, I… should’ve asked Johnny sooner, if I did then you would not have to face such grief now—” 

“It’s not about him,” you spoke, hoping your voice wasn’t quivering with how you were on the brink of tears, frustrated that you couldn’t tell what he felt for you even now, but filled with hope that you were sure you couldn’t hold your feelings within you much longer, “it was never about waiting for him, or… grieving for the loss of him .” 

Jaehyun fell silent, lips parted slightly in shock as he held your gaze, your pleading eyes meeting his. 

“Do you really think all these months have been for that man?” 

“I wrote to you endlessly ,” your frown deepened, the ache in your heart worsening when you saw the way Jaehyun’s gaze softened, moving closer to you but stopping himself with evident restraint before he could get too close, “even when I could barely move myself out of my room the only thought on my mind was that I needed my words to reach you somehow, I needed some part of me to reach you… somehow.” 

Your vision blurred, making you blink harshly. The fact that you couldn’t see him clearly behind your tears disconcerted you, “What else was I supposed to think when I didn’t hear back? What other choice did I have?”

Jaehyun paused, remembering your sister’s presence in the room, deciding that now would be the time where he stops dancing around the reason why he truly came back to see you. 

“May I…” he turned to face your sister, “have the honour of a private audience with your sister?” 

Her eyes widened, fighting the smile that threatened to show on her face as she gave you a knowing look, averting her gaze as her hand came up to cover her mouth, nodding. Gesturing a hand to you, she already began leaving the room, “Of course, of course. By all means.” 

“As much as you may think I hate you, or…  am here to meddle in your life or annoy you… I don’t like seeing you like this. I do not wish to see you in pain,” he let out a sigh through his nose, taking another step closer to your bed, daring himself to take a seat next to your legs, his body moving naturally as though this was what it meant to simply allow himself to be. Like muscle memory. 

You huffed, “I’ve always been good at masking it, I suppose.” 

He shook his head, displeased, “Or nobody has bothered asking if you needed to be relieved.” 

“I’m sorry I did not write back to you. I just… in retrospect now I realise it was foolish of me but…  from all your letters I just assumed,” he brought a hand up to run through his hair in frustration, “I assumed you were perfectly fine with Yuta. I had no right coming back and disrupting that, as much as I wanted to.” 

“Believe me, I wanted to,” he huffed, “and it surprised me because, well, it was strange. It felt like you were seeing me for who I was… as if I was known for more than my wealth, my appearance, for everything in myself that was not perfect. But with you, it wasn't a matter of having to try to earn love, but to re-learn what love is, what it feels like.” 

Your throat felt dry, something about his honesty making the ache in your heart grow, feeling as though what you sought to satisfy this ache was within reach, yet still at a loss for what it was that you desired.

"I did not know how to convey that in my letters. No words were enough, nothing... nothing was quite satisfying enough in expressing what I wanted to say to you. The thought of hiding what I felt beneath enquiries about the weather or about Mr Nakamoto made me sick to my stomach. That kind of intimacy that I felt when I was with you... It scared me because it only made me wish for more. I didn't think it was what you wanted."

“I thought that I could just separate myself from the situation, to resolve it that way before it could hurt me, but it was only when I saw that man when I was with Johnny that I realised,” his gaze flickered between your eyes and his hands, returning to your eyes and meeting you with that same hope. 

Hope that gleamed, twinkled, that was not rooted in fear but in love. 

“You deserved more than him, the love that you allowed me to discover was very much possible… the love you deserve. It would hurt me more if I had to watch you forgo that for the sake of others.” 

Use your words. 

“What do you suppose is this love that I deserve?” you dared to ask, somehow the use of your words did not feel as manipulative as it always did, it did not feel like you were trying to hide behind them this time, but to let your heart be known through them. 

Jaehyun remained firm, and this conviction was enough to make you feel like you were slowly being lifted up to the surface of the water, the light seeping through the water making your surroundings feel brighter. 

“... a love that remains forever.” 

You weren’t sure if you were breathing, feeling the water get lighter as you followed the light from his eyes. 

“And you suppose that is within reach for me?” your voice was barely above a murmur. 

Jaehyun nodded, the hint of desperation lingering in his tone, “I promise you, it is within reach.” 

“You cannot promise me a forever and not give it to me.” 

There was a hint of amusement in Jaehyun’s gaze, the slightest of smiles on his face at your response. He wished you would remain this way, unafraid to use your voice with him, unafraid to assert yourself, to allow him to see, know and love you for who you are. 

“I would not have mentioned it if I were not ready to give it to you at this very moment.” 

Your lips parted slightly, “How do you suppose you will do that?” 

Jaehyun wore the tell-tale expression that let you know he thought of something that either pleased or amused him, as if waiting for the right timing to say his smart line with a smug tone. 

“By… asking you to marry me.” 

If you thought his eyes gleamed and twinkled before, the smile that he wore when he saw the sheer relief grace your features. The feeling of being pulled above the surface of the water. 

“It’s not too much to ask, just… be with me. Depend on someone other than yourself for a change.” 

“My Lord, you know—” you began, turning your head abruptly and immediately regretting your sudden movements, your head beginning to throb even more. Jaehyun shocked you with the way he adjusted your pillow, helping you to lower your head back down onto the pillow carefully, smoothing your hair away from where it stuck to your face from your cold sweat. 

“I want you to,” he nodded. 

It was strange, being told that someone wanted you to depend on them when you were always used to being the one who was depended on. Instead of promising you gold, he was promising you the warmth of it, the value of it. Not the ‘Midas touch’ that took life away from things, but one that brought light and hope. 

You wanted this . Not your long, tedious game, but the life he was offering you, a life of love, love even in imperfection, love that brought with it rest, love that was a state and not something to earn. 

You nodded, “I want to…” your body felt warm under his touch, your gaze following his movements as he picked up the cloth draped over the small basin next to your bedside, wringing the cloth after wetting it and using it to dab the sweat from your face and neck. 

You felt as though you weren’t breathing, a wave of emotion rushing through you at the feeling of being under his care. It was as though he was removing the little bandage you used to cover the ache that you felt, replacing it with a bandage that fit, one that wrapped around the ache instead of just trying to suppress it. 

“I want to marry you,” was all you could muster, Jaehyun letting out a huff of amusement as he set the cloth aside, his left hand moving to your face, letting the pads of his fingertips trace the side of your face before letting his thumb smooth over your cheek gently. It was unmistakable, the feel of the calluses on his fingertips from what you assumed was his recent playing of the violin. 

“Does my presence have that much of an effect on you?” he drawled, smugness laced in his tone as he brought you back to your exchange in your father’s study. His gaze flickering to your lips just briefly, making your heart skip in a way you’d never experienced before.  

You rolled your eyes with affection, this time not feeling the need to ‘use your words’ to hide once again. 

“Perhaps it does.” 

=== 

‘My forever only, Time and time again, I am reminded that I was foolish to think I could live the rest of my life without you when a day that passes by when I am not with you is filled with a longing I cannot imagine I could ever grow comfortable with, much less befriend. 

Back then, I was used to being all alone. I found this solitude to be a companion, though loneliness is never a good lover. The sky gets ethereal for the things no longer living in chains. You allowed me to come to know what that truly meant, what it truly felt like. Love given freely is all I have to offer you, so I hope you’ll have me. 

My love, I have not stopped thinking of the way you look at me, and each time I awake I find myself waiting for when I may be under your gaze again. The thought lingers before I am with you, filling me with an inexplicable feeling of love that refuses to leave even when we part. Forever sounds daunting but when I envision a forever of this love that you meet me with in your eyes, your smile, your presence, it becomes a boundless sea I wish to swim in for as long as my spirit exists. 

All I ask of you, all I want is having you in my day. To keep you in safety, health, and love.

- J, your forever only.’ 

“Do you remember what was discussed?” 

You were drawn from your thoughts, your sister handing you the bouquet of dark red roses as you started walking. 

What did you discuss? 

Right. 

Be yourself. You felt the crunch of cobblestone beneath your feet as you made your way with your sister to the church. You are allowed to launch into unrelated discourses out of panic. You fixed your gloves so they fit comfortably around your hands and arms. Have good manners, unless provoked. You could hear your sister humming to the piano piece she’d been practising that morning. You are safe to express yourself. With the sound of her humming, the rustling of the big trees overhead and the wind caressing your face gently comforted you. 

Reaching the doors of the chapel, you spotted your father who awaited you, though you couldn’t focus on anything else once the doors opened, your gaze immediately finding the man who stood at the altar, a smile adorning his face once he met your gaze. A wave of clarity washed over you; you felt peaceful. 

There he was, not a marriage partner, not an economic proposer . 

Jaehyun, your love match. 

#jung jaehyun #jaehyun #nct jaehyun #nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct aus #nct au #nct scenarios #jaehyun au #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun x reader #enemies-to-lovers au #regency au #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun x you #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x y/n #jung yoonoh #nct fluff #nct angst #tswift songs for the neos

[euphraisette]

random hc dump

-combeferre is really really good at doing hair

-joly losed the tv show unsolved mysteries and forces bossuet to watch it with him

-bossuet's favourite holiday is easter because he's actually really good at easter egg hunts and there's relatively few things for him to knock over or accidentally set on fire

-one time grantaire fell asleep on a fire escape that was attached to a building the none of the amis lived in. nobody knows how he got there

-bahorel owns a massive fishtank and he loves his many many fish more than anything, they are literally his babies

-musichetta has two (2) criminal charges against her. one is from hitting a man who tried to touch her at a bar once. nobody knows what the other one is from

-eponine and courfeyrac sometimes make out

-cosette has a few tattoos and she feels very badass for having them, but they're very innocent innocuous things that mean a lot to her. like she has a little cartoon spider on her finger and a quote from matilda on her back and her dad's handwriting on her leg

-marius is EXTREMELY claustrophobic. one time he and courfeyrac were hanging out in one of those children's play tubes and suddenly marius couldn't get out and started having a panic attack and courfeyrac had to get some scissors and literally cut it open

-feuilly makes homemade cards with puns on them for everyone's birthdays and holidays

-feuilly also has the craziest blue eyes anyones ever seen. like he gets stopped on the street by strangers wanting to compliment his eyes

-jehan occasionally wears tap shoes. just out and about. they dont tap dance, they just like the noise

-enjolras actually cries a lot. mostly because he gets really passionate about things but he's also just very prone to crying

-marius suffers from seasonal allergies

-marius and bahorel are both celiac

-eponine hates chocolate. like HATES it. (she doesn't really, just any time she gets any she wants to give it to gavroche without him catching on that she's giving things up for him)

#les mis #les miserables #les amis #hcs #les miserables headcanon #les mis headcanons

[lackablazeical]

how do they celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays? -querida mia anon

Leo: all day is ENTIRELY centered on that holiday, anniversary, etc. Midnight to midnight, you can expect that to be all he's focused on. If it's a day focused on a person, he's treating them to just about everything under the sun. He loves buying gifts, treating them to going out to like. Movies or food, etc etc. His own birthday isn't a huge deal to him, he just wants to spend all day with the people he loves (but you can bet he uses the 'I'm the birthday boy so we do what I want' excuse all damn DAY) loves loves LOVES valentines day, Christmas, and his brothers birthdays.

Mikey: most of the time he's partying. He's not good with dates, so he's probably forgetting most birthdays and anniversaries. When he does remember, he's probably giving 1 or 2 nice, sentimental gifts. He also is often the one cooking a lot of the big meals for like, Christmas too, and he enjoys it! His fave is Halloween and new years.

Donnie: he doesn't care about holidays and is a bad gift giver, so typically he's just the one being like 'btw, dad, ur and moms anniversary is tomorrow' and watching Splints panic LOL. He mostly just let's his brothers get him stuff and he'll blast Christmas music in October to drive Mikey INSANEEEEEE (Mike is a Halloween truther). Only really enjoys new years, he thinks the fireworks are super cool. Donnie will either be the best or worst gift giver. And he'll get his brothers the same thing they don't want every time lols

Raph: he really likes decorating for holidays, so every single one you can bet he's like. Hiding eggs for Easter or putting up Christmas lights, he goes HARD. Gets very mad if anything is even slightly out of place. He's the only one that'll make cards or gifts by hand, and they are always pretty intricate and fancy. He also really likes getting stuff too <3 loves loves LOVES Easter and Christmas.

April: she's not one for holidays, she likes the food and stuff tho. Loves Halloween and such, she enjoys scaring the children. She also loves shitty horror or hallmark movies, so she binges those. She buys gifts in June and laughs as everyone scrambles for Christmas n stuff

Usagi: he isn't one for holidays either, he doesn't really enjoy decorating or movies. Tho his fave is probably either of the equinoxes!

#addams! tmnt au #addams! usagi #addams! mikey #addams! leo #addams! donnie #addams! april #addams! raph

[welovetotry]

If Mike isn’t queer, then why is he pretty explicitly queer coded? Why include all these details (keep in mind the Duffers don’t just include random things, every Easter egg is intentional) like a one-way sign to the closet, regularly staring at his best friend’s lips, being ridiculously confused after El kissed him in season 3, and so much more (enough to fill a power point hundreds of pages long)? Why the tender and emotional music? Did the Duffers just accidentally include the same music as Lumax and Jopper, two canon ships?Why does the cast ship Byler? Why make him have a full on gay panic around Will (his best friend since Kindergarten) that cannot be properly explained by just them “growing apart?”It’s one thing to be “nervous and awkward around feelings,” but why does he go out of his way to find the one Valentine’s Day card in all of Hawkins that says “I like you, happy valentines”? Why are most intense, romantically coded moments between Mike and Will initiated by Mike throughout the show? Why have the Duffers intentionally mirrored El and Will in such an extreme way down to blocking, music choices, specific lines? Why turn off your comments if you’re so confident in your position? Mike being at least bi isn’t a “stretch” or over-analysis; you don’t need to spend time in the trenches on Byler tumblr to go, “huh, maybe we’re meant to read this as a love triangle.” The theories are great, but the best form of evidence is the show itself. Even before I got into the theories, I’ve always said, “This is one of the most transparently bisexual characters I’ve ever seen” (now I think he’s likely gay with comphet, but that’s beside the point). You say he’s always pined for El for four seasons, but he’s also pined for Will for four seasons so…

Ahh, sorry about the comments being turned off, I didn't realise they were, I'm pretty sure the last time I posted on here was before that was even a feature. As for everything else, that's the exact sort of thing I mean when I say reading too much into things. I don't really think that Mike has been queer coded, at least not compared to Will's queer coding. Will being queer was always alluded to from day one, from Lonnie's and the bullies’ comments about him, to his lack of attention towards girls in general. But Mike's crush on Eleven was obvious from season one simultaneously, from Lucas and Nancy teasing him about liking El, to him kissing her and asking her out. I think Mike’s facial expression when Eleven tells him she loves him is more based on him not quite knowing what to say, as he has difficulty expressing his feelings. He always has, even back when he asked Eleven to the Snowball. He stumbled all over his words then too, his awkwardness is just a part of his personality. The tender emotional music does relate to the romantic subtext of the scene, but doesn't necessarily reflect Mike having feelings as well. It's representative of Will's feelings though, definitely. I'm also honestly not sure what moment you mean when you say Mike had gay panic around Will. As for Mike pining for Will for four seasons, I don't really see any evidence of that. Season 1 he wanted to find him, season 2 he wanted to help him, as they both felt alone at the time for different reasons. I would agree that season 2, the two of them had some very meaningful emotional moments, but in season 3, Mike is paying zero attention to Will. That's what their fight was about and that's also what they fought about this season, so no pining there on Mike's part. Listen, I love the Byler ship, I just think it's unrealistic to argue that Mike also reciprocates Will's feelings.

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #will byers #mike wheeler #mike x will #byler

[amageish]

With 2022 drawing to an end, I’m going to talk a bit about my top five favourite games of the year...

Is that a thing people do on Tumblr? Well, it’s a thing I’m going to do because I need to ramble about my fixations somewhere!

5) Kirby and the Forgotten Land

I feel like I was too hard on Kirby and the Forgotten Land when it came out. When it first released, I was surprisingly indifferent to it? I enjoyed it overall, sure, but found it to be a surprisingly “safe” game for Kirby’s first* 3D outing... but as the year has gone on I have grown to appreciate it more.

In the game, you play as Kirby (or, if you’re the second player, Bandana Dee) and explore an Earth-like planet, trying to rescue Waddle Dees and solve the mystery of what is happening... Like most Kirby games, it takes a hard turn into cosmic horror in the last 30 minutes, but the game is still a very cute, relaxing, and cozy experience overall...

*Yes, yes, I have played Kirby’s Blowout Blast. I meant, like, traditional 3D Kirby.

4) Horizon Forbidden West

I’m not convinced I actually... like open world games, to be honest? Like, there’s so much discourse about map markers and progression and the best ways of guiding someone across a world, but my general experience of open world games is getting bored very quickly, regardless of the approach the progression takes...

I do really like Horizon though and I think that’s primarily because of the strength of its worldbuilding. I played the original game on a whim, but I was surprised by how much I enjoyed the world, the mysteries, and the characters... and Horizon Forbidden West really just improved on all of those! The parts of the world explored in the Forbidden West feels a lot more unique then other pieces of media, in both design and lore, and due to it being a sequel it is able to lean into worldbuilding around things that were plot twists in the original game.

Also this is one of the only non-indie games where there were enough queer characters that, at a certain point, I lost track of how many there were. So that’s neat too.

3) Potionomics

I think Potionomics is the defining 2022 game for me. It just embodies a lot of what I played overall this year, as a game including life simulation, deckbuilding, and romance elements...

In Potionomics, you play as Sylvia, who has just inherited her uncle’s potion shop. With the help of a talking owl that just so happens to be living in the store, you have to brew potions and ascend to greatness, while navigating such #relatable challenges as “debt” and “anxiety.”

I think I’m always going to love games that gamify ordinary experiences. There’s just something inherently entertaining to me of the absurdity of having a deck-building system full of normal experiences and where the main goal of “combat” is to sell people a potion without accidentally getting too stressed and having a panic attack...

2) Marvel’s Midnight Suns

I think Midnight Suns could have been marketed a little bit better. I’m not an advertising expert, of course, but my impulse is that if you have a game that is half Fire-Emblem-style socialization and slice-of-life antics, then maybe you should... advertise that half of the game and not just show off the combat? As, yeah, this is a tactical card-based Marvel superhero game, but it is also a game where you can run around the Abbey trying to find the cat of your adopted Sapphic ghost mom Agatha Harkness.

I’m really enjoying both sides of the game. The combat is sleek and fun, the social aspects are really entertaining, and they have made the loop between them very fulfilling. Plus the Hero Ops provide so many easter eggs and cameos that this is easily the most fleshed-out a superhero game’s world has felt, at least to me.

1) Monster Roadtrip

Breaking News: Amageish likes Monster Prom.

In Monster Roadtrip, you join your friends Polly Giest (a party-loving ghost) and Scott Howl (a very caring and very stupid werewolf) on a roadtrip. With up to four players, you take turns choosing where to go and trying to avoid any of your stats reaching 0, which would leave you stranded on the side of the road...

I think this is the best-balanced Monster Prom series game thus far by a country mile. In this game, every choice you make will modify your stats in both positive and negative ways, allowing for a lot more adaptability then previous entries. It’s also a much more refined multiplayer experience as all players sharing resources means you’re constantly engaged in what as happening, as opposed to previous titles where, if your friends weren’t actively trying to romance the same people as each other, your experiences were largely unconnected from each other. This game also doesn’t require or expect you to be interested in sex and romance, which is very nice...

Beyond that, this game is just very funny. I think they nail down their tone more and more every time. It has a lot of unique art and sprites used for one-two scenes, which are just a delight to see.

And that’s my thoughts! It’s been a solid year for games, at least from what I’ve played, and I enjoyed what I played!!!

#ama's thoughts

[grizzlyofthesea]

Trust and Loyalty

The wheel said it's Leo's turn, but I wanted to give the story a bit more of an opening than "cut to game night in the lair with April," so I naturally wrote an entire interlude featuring Splinter. I even drew a whole new tarot card from my deck for this, just for consistency (it was the King of Pentacles).

Why can't I be this productive with my homework?

~

In the shadows of a New York alleyway, a human-sized turtle monster creeps toward the corner of East Lairdman Street and Easter Egg Lane. It wanders slowly, taking ample time to balance and readjust the tall stack of boxes in its hands. It cranes its head to the left, then to the right before kicking open a manhole at its feet. Then, it sinks below the surface.

Suddenly, though, it freezes in place. With a ladder rung in one hand and the boxes in the other, it cannot easily descend to the sewers below. It raises its body once more and attempts to place the boxes on the ground by the entrance. However, it loses its footing. Both the creature and the boxes begin tumbling toward the pipes, sewage, and concrete below.

This graceful creature is named Regiomontanus.

They stifle a scream as they grasp a nearby ladder rung. Trembling, they marvel at the fact that they are still alive, as well as the fact that they have reclaimed two of their boxes. Their awe quickly turns to panic and disappointment, however, as they realize the fate of the other five boxes in the stack. They return the manhole cover to its rightful location, then hurry down the ladder to assess the situation. Amazingly, though each of the boxes has sustained varying volumes of scratching and tearing, none of them are completely destroyed. Just as they can process the damage to their precious boxes, a sharp voice from around the corner ignites another surge of adrenaline.

"Blue? Is that you? What's with all the racket?"

Gio snaps their head in the direction of the voice, only to see a short, stout rat mutant approaching. Stumbling over their words, they somehow manage to squeak out a "Who are you?"

The rat stares at them in silence for a couple seconds, then straightens his posture a bit. "I think that's what I should be asking you," he replies. "You look quite a bit like my boys, yet with anything more than a passing glance, I can easily tell that you are not one of them."

"...Your boys?"

"Yes. I have four sons. They're all turtles like you."

"...You don't mean..."

"...You don't happen to already know them, do you?"

"I...um...yeah. I met them a couple weeks ago. I came over to play some board games with them today...but then I dropped most of my stuff on the way down..."

"...Hmm. Why don't I walk you in, and you tell me how you met them?"

Gio nods silently, then reorganizes their boxes and follows the rat man down the spacious sewers. They share the story of their first meeting with the turtle brothers, taking a bit of additional time to detail on their future interactions with Michelangelo and Donatello.

"Well, I'm glad that they've found another friend...and that Purple has something new to keep him busy. He always gets so restless when he doesn't have any experiments or projects to do," the rat remarks with a chuckle. "I can't help but wonder, though... What on Earth were you doing out in public looking like...that whole situation? You know how risky it is, don't you?"

"Yeah, but at the time, I thought I just had a weird skin condition! ...I didn't always look like this. I was a normal person up until about a month ago. Then I felt this awful pain in my neck--like, the worst pain in my life--and then I was...this."

The rat's gaze softens a bit, looking somewhat forlorn. "...I'm sure that was difficult."

"Y-yeah, no kidding... But the others are helping me deal with it a lot. Mikey even...he even said that he and the others could 'adopt' me as a sibling so I wouldn't feel alone. I know I'll never quite be on the same level as a 'real' sibling. I mean, I just showed up a month ago. They've been together for...however many years. But it really meant a lot to me..."

He stops briefly, prompting Gio to stop behind him. "It sounds like you've touched their hearts in some way. Orange is the sensitive type anyway, but for Purple to warm up to you so easily... I think that means there's something special about you, beyond being a turtle."

"You think so...?"

"Of course! ...I wish they'd told me about the whole 'adoption' idea earlier, though. You'd think they'd want to get, oh, I don't know, their own father on board with a big decision like that?"

Before Gio can respond, an orange blur on wheels descends from the ceiling. Michelangelo lands between his father and his new companion, then picks up his skateboard and corrects his stance. "Sorry, Dad! I've been meaning to tell you about it, but then I just kept forgetting. And when I did remember, I was kinda worried that you'd say no... Oh, and, uh, sorry for just kind of barging in on your talk. I wanted to get some skating practice in before game night, but then I heard you guys."

The rat sighs, then pats his youngest son on the head. "I would have liked to know about your idea beforehand, but I don't think I would have said 'no.' Especially if this friend of yours really means that much to you." He smiles warmly, then turns back to Gio. "What is your name, anyway? I don't think I ever asked."

"I settled on Regiomontanus; I wanted to match the others with their whole Renaissance theme. But they usually shorten it to Gio. And, uh... What should I call you? I know you're their dad, but I also have my birth dad, and I think calling both of you 'Dad' would be confusing..."

"Splinter is fine--Master Splinter if you want to show a bit of extra respect. But if you ever warm up to the idea of calling me a second father, well... I won't be opposed to that."

Gio pauses in surprise, then smiles softly. "Thank you...Master Splinter."

Mikey grins, then gently tugs the sea turtle's arm. "Come on, Gio! Let's go set up. April and the others are waiting for you!"

"Okay, okay!" The duo sprints off into the deep recesses of the lair, eager to begin their night of games and amusement.

#rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt oc #rise splinter #regiomontanus #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #save rise of the tmnt #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rottmnt #unpause rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #unpause rise of the tmnt #unpause rottmnt

[isabella-111]

Heyyy I've never done an ask thing on here before and I'm kinda scared so please don't bully me. And I saw you were shipping people together and I'm really bored so I thought I would submit something

I'm around 5'3, I'm on the skinnier side, AFAB, I use He/him pronouns. My sexuality's isn't really labeled but I would date any gender. My hair is shoulder length and its kinda curly, more like really lose curls that aren't really defined and its a light brown. I have mild heterochromia. One of my eyes is green grayish and the other is more brown. I'm an Aquarius too! I save everything. I'm a vegetarian too. I love ghost even though I have an extreme fear of them, I use an Ouija bored as décor. I love old things weird things that I get from Goodwill. My favorite Movie is Napoleon Dynamite I love the lack of a predicable plot. I'm also on the spectrum. I'm learning French. Also I love school very much its my definition of fun. I listen to really any kind of music I don't care (never modern country) I really love Christmas music though!! I'm a Hufflepuff too. I don't like being mean to people but when I get overwhelmed I can be very mean. I'm also quick to respond with something snarky but feel very guilty after. I really enjoy reading anything. I get hurt often, I chipped my tooth tripping on a computer cord last month and half my front tooth was gone. (Got it fixed tho) And my favorite hobby is just fallowing my friends around, I don't like to go places alone so I'm almost always fallowing someone. I also love people who are opposites of me, like loud and outgoing people that are 100% my type.

My favorite Fandom is really only Criminal Minds tbh

A/n : this is a safe space no need to apologize also omg stop i love your entire vibe also my grandma used to have a Ouija board that she used as decoration and like a tray which scared the shit out if me when i was little ( now i have have crystalsand tarot cards all over my room) anyways that just reminded me of that. Also I’m so so sorry that this took so long I had a rough 2 months but I’m feeling a lot better and got my motivation back sooo IM BACK hope you like it ;)

I ship you with Spencer reid

- Halloween is you and Spencer’s Holiday like no joke you guys go all out . Decorations EVERYWHERE. Couple costumes are a must im thinking Jorge and Napoleon one year and then zoo lander and Hansel the next.....has he seen those movies no but you’ll just have to put him on

- movie nights with Spencer are definitely funny especially when it’s a comedy

“But like why does his school ID Say 2004 - 2005 if it’s supposed to be In the 80’s” Spencer’s says as he paused the movie for the 20th time

“Spence maybe it’s like a Easter egg”

“It throws off the entire plot and time why would the director do that if it makes the entire film theoretically and periodically uncannon y/n it just makes no sense ”

“Just push play he’s about to dance “

“But the ID and- ”

“I Love you but please stop with the ID”

*5 minutes later *

“ kips a sadist” Spencer’s says super nonchalantly as he grabs a bit of popcorn

“ yah probably “

*movie ends *

so how’d you like movie”

“Solid 8/10 “

“ yay cause we’re gonna watch it at least once a week “ you say with a smile on your face that almost says I’m joking but not really

“ spencer please do the dance..... ik you remember it pleaseeee”

- 1000% bugged spencer to do the napoleon dance for like 2 weeks until he agreed

(When he did it was the best thing ever definitely a record moment )

- you probably met spencer through Penelope she Immediately saw the similarities and decided to work her Cupid skills and brought you to together

- you being clumsy and Spencer using his knowledge on medical stuff to help you out ( ice packs , stitched , home remedies whatever it is he knows what to do ) but he absolutely internally and not so internally panics when you get hurt

 -putting on Christmas music the day after Halloween and Spencer being like “ IT NOT EVEN DECEMBER YET”

- spencer being absolutely enamored with your eyes he can and will stare at them for hours . “ never seen such pretty eyes ya know like on such a handsome face”

Awkward flirtying >>>>>

#spencer x reader #remus lupin x reader #mauraders #harry potter #eddie munson #send requests #james & peter & remus & sirius #seriously send a request

[saeyoungchoismaid]

Bruh you’re telling me I got three Diavolo’s in a row but couldn’t get the Easter Mammon card???😩 on the bright side though this is my first (and second) Diavolo card!!🥰

#obey me #obey me lord Diavolo #obey me Diavolo #Diavolo #lord diavolo #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #swd Diavolo #swd lord Diavolo #SSR cards #obey me cards #diavolo cards #lord diavolo cards #obey me SSR cards #diavolo SSR cards #lord diavolo SSR cards #Easter egg panic card #his highness unwinds card

[jazzfrub]

When I was like 6 years old I would log onto animal crossing every single day to feed my character an apple because I was convinced and TERRIFIED I’d neglect her for a couple days and then log on and she’d be dead on the floor in the fetal position because she starved to death

#what all those easter eggs that scare the bejeezus out of you and limited access to the internet does #you have no clue whats comin for you in the video game #anyway animal crossing has evolved exactly how it should im sure but i dont think any game will beat the crusty mystique of the early 2000s #there were just so many questions that you never knew what was coming for you #gamecube animal crossing could have tagged itself psychological horror on steam and would have gotten away with it #it was incredible #people will always go aaa animal crossing isnt spooky everyone just says it is because of aika no. No #Go be 6 years old in 2005 and play Animal Crossing for the nintendo gamecube and tell me its not at least a little unnerving #when your old man villagers scream at you out of nowhere #or resetti comes to yell at you #youre not the best at writing yet so you send a lot of animal faces and gaston chews your head off for just drawing pictures #or you go visit your other memory card but forget to save after coming back and one of the villagers yells at you like you wronged everyone #and they turn your face into a gyroid's #or when you didnt have candy for them so they cursed you (and in gamecube animal crossing iirc they ran faster than you) #OH and in the original when they invited franklin for thanksgiving so they could eat him and when he didnt show up they were pissed #and you found him hiding in the town and he was just havin a panic attack and he gave you instructions to go steal the knife and fork #from the table and bring it to him so the villagers couldnt cut him to shreds #i loved it SO MUCH #and the fact that the gyroids were so ragged and SCREAMING was PERFECTO #i didnt know at the time that they were inspired by japanese burial statues but that and the fact you dig them out of the ground? #incredible #i really need to stop going on AC tangents when I have a paper to write #ill call this warmup so i dont feel so bad #animal crossing #animal crossing gamecube

[bowandcurtsey]

Aine’s little Black Clover map! ☘

NSFW are all under the cut with warnings before them! Minors please dni. 

Please do not repost my works / ideas without permission and credits!

Treat Aine to a Kofi (*ฅ́˘ฅ̀*) ♥

✴ Updated:  20 MAY 2023 ✴

Main Map

500 Event!

The Captains & King

Yami Sukehiro

Nozel Silva 

Fuegoleon Vermillion 

William Vangeance

Julius Novachrono

Jack The Ripper

Rill Boismortier

 Dorothy Unsworth 

Child with late s/o's magic

Moment with s/o before they head on stage

Her past and the captain’s reaction

Charlotte Roselei

Moaning in their ears and walking away

The Bulls

The bulls when they found out Asta loves sister lily

Bulls turn into kids   Pt 2   Pt 3

Zora Ideale

Asta 

Liebe

Celebrating mother’s day with Richita

s/o asks if they can hug him

Jealous hcs

Multi Universe: Asta x reader x liebe Part 2

Liebe comes to the real world

crush falling asleep on him

s/o kissing them on the cheeks after a mission

Cuddling HCs

Fluffy one shot with s/o ft. Asta

Comforting s/o during panic attack

Comforting s/o as she paints dead bestie

1700 event: roommate AU

Gauche Adlai 

Smut HCs

Getting Pegged 

Holding hands in crowd

Finral Roulacase

Smut HCs

s/o waking up in a weird position

Crush getting injured

Finral Dad HCs

Holding hands in crowd

Jealous hcs

Trying pregnancy simulator

s/o that gets cold easily

Henry Legolant

Pregnant s/o

s/o describing the outside to him (text)

s/o asks if they can hug him

Meeting s/o

rs hcs

Drunk adrien 

Nacht Faust 

Magna Swing

Holding hands in crowd

NSFW scenario

s/o that gets cold easily

With tall gn! reader

Drunk adrien 

Luck Voltia 

Falling in love with yami’s sister

Easter egg hunting

Elfs

Patry (elf)

Smut HC

Modern Day AU (rivals to lovers) 

Relationship HCs

s/o running fingers through their hair while they slept

Cuddling HCs 

s/o waking up in a weird position

Crush getting injured 

Crush HC

Trying pregnancy simulator

s/o asking for hug

When they did something wrong

Crushing on boss’ daughter / sister

Licht (elf)

Smut HC

Flirty s/o | Part 2 

Relationship HCs

Angst to smut 

s/o asking for hug

No nut Nov with s/o

When they did something wrong

Child carrying their item saying 'dada'

Badly injured s/o

1700 event: imprinting au

Crimson Lion

Mereoleona Vermillion

Playing cards against humanity

Getting s/o’s attention

Fluff HC 

Gn! reader crush on Mereo ft. Fue

Siblings fluff (Mereo comes home on xmas eve)

s/o complimenting their ass

Proposing to s/o

Crush confesses to her

Leopold Vermillion

Bedtime fluff

Announcing rs to siblings 

Crush getting injured

Holding hands in crowd

Jealous hcs

First Date 

Siblings fluff (Mereo comes home on xmas eve)

Golden Dawn

Yuno Grinberryall

Langris Vaude 

Protective HCs

Worried for s/o on long mission (text)

Uncle Langris HC

Falling in love with other squad! reader

Crushing on boss’ daughter / sister

Falling in love with commoner | Part 2 

Jealous s/o

Stargazing with s/o

Green Mantis 

En ringard

Crush confessing to him

Silver Eagles

Solid Silva 

Reaction to Noelle in coma

Confessing to his crush

s/o has an overprotective brother

Nebra Silva 

Reaction to Noelle in coma

Others

Mars (diamond kingdom)

Relationship HCs

s/o waking up in a weird position

Crush getting injured 

Badly injured s/o

Zenon Zogratis (Dark Triad)

Possessive Zenon NSFW

Falling in love one-shot

Kid asking for 2nd child

s/o that is very strong 

s/o returns after 2 years with their child

When s/o drops towel in front of them, tiktok style

Cuddling HCs

Protecting injured reader

Seeing you in their clothes the morning after

Domestic hcs

When y/n has a bad day

Someone calling y/n with their last name for the first time

Dante Zogratis (Dark Triad)

Cuddling HCs

Lumiere Silvamillion Clover 

Being confessed to (text)

Rades Spirito 

With undead s/o

Adrammelech (Devil)

Relationship HCs

Marx Francois

Child carrying their item saying 'dada'

Niege 

First Kiss on a winter day

Morgen Faust 

1700 event: Modern bookstore au

1700 event: Dungeons and Dragons au

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Witches in History - Podcast Recs

If you prefer your history lessons in podcast form, here’s a list of audio treats about witches, witch trials, and witch panics, from antiquity to the modern day. Check out these shows on your favorite podcast app!

I will update this list as I find new examples. Feel free to add your own!

(Last Updated January 16, 2024 - Full post under Read More)

Witches & Witch Trials in History

Hex Positive

Ep. 3 - Hex Positive June 1, 2020 Bree delves into what it means to be Hex Positive, as well as discussing and dismantling some of the confusion surrounding the use of hexes and curses. Just what IS the Threefold Law, anyway? The answer may surprise you.

Ep. 19 - The Trouble with Tarot August 1, 2021 Tarot and tarot-reading have been a part of the modern witchcraft movement since the 1960s. But where did these cards and their meanings come from? Are they secretly Ancient Egyptian mystical texts? Do they have their origins among the Romani people? Are they a sacred closed practice that should not be used by outsiders? Nope, nope, and nope. This month, we delve into the actual history of tarot cards, discover their origins on the gaming tables of Italy and France, meet the people who developed their imagery and symbolism into the deck we know today, and debunk some of the nonsense that’s been going around lately concerning their use. The Witchstorian is putting on her research specs for this one!

Ep. 20 - Witchcraft and the Law September 1, 2021 A discussion of the history of witchcraft-related laws and how changing views on magic, religion, and superstition first denied the existence of witches, then panicked over their alleged activities, and finally settled into something resembling common sense. This is a long slog, encompassing over 3000 years of history from a broomstick-height view, and I get off on a few tangents where history crosses paths with modern issues. But if you’re a history buff, you’re gonna love this episode!

Ep. 21 - Witchcraft and Modern Law September 21, 2021 A follow-up to Ep. 20, this time dealing with modern legal codes that may affect our practices even if they don’t deal with witchcraft directly. There is also some discussion of 20th-century events missed in the previous episode, as well as a brief overview of witch hunts still occurring in some parts of the world today.

Ep. 22 - Bree and Lozzie vs the Witch Hunters October 1, 2021 Bree NicGarran and guest host Lozzie Stardust run down the history and many misdeeds of notorious witch hunters Matthew Hopkins and John Stearne.

Ep. 23 - The Name of the Game November 1, 2021 Bree delves into the history, myths, and urban legends surrounding Ouija boards. Along the way, we’ll uncover their origins in the spiritualist movement, discover the pop culture phenomenon that labeled them portals to hell, and try to separate fact from internet fiction with regard to what these talking boards can actually do.

Ep. 28 - The Easter-Ostara Debacle April 1, 2022 Bree puts on her Witchstorian hat once more to delve into the origins of both Easter  and Ostara and to finally answer the age-old question: which came first  – the bunny or the egg?

Ep. 036 - Margaret Effing Murray with Trae Dorn July 1, 2023 Margaret Murray was a celebrated author, historian, folklorist, Egyptologist, archaeologist, anthropologist, first-wave feminist, and the first woman to be appointed to the position of lecturer in archaeology in the UK. So why so we get so annoyed whenever her name is mentioned in conversations about witchcraft? Well, it all has to do with a book Margaret wrote back in 1921...which just so happened to go on to have a profound influence on the roots of the modern witchcraft movement. Nerd & Tie senpai and host of BS-Free Witchcraft Trae Dorn joins me in the virtual studio to discuss the thoroughly-discredited witch-cult hypothesis, Murray's various writings and accomplishments, and why modern paganism might not have caught on so strongly without her.

BS-Free Witchcraft

Ep 03: The History of Wicca October 06, 2018 On this episode Trae digs deep into the history of Wicca, and tries to give the most accurate history of the religion as they can. I mean, yeah, we know this is a general Witchcraft podcast, but Wicca is the most widely practiced form of Witchcraft in the US, UK, Canada and Australia… so how it got started is kind of important for the modern Witchcraft movement. (And trust me, there aren’t any pulled punches here.)

Ep. 28: The Burning Times May 30, 2020 On this installment of the podcast, we tackle probably one of the more controversial topics in the modern witchcraft movement: The Burning Times. What were the actual “Burning Times,” where do we get that phrase from, and what really happened? Also, how has this phrase been used in modern witchcraft? It’s a heavy one, folks.

Ep. 33: The Wheel of the Year March 27, 2021 After two fairly depressing episodes, it’s time to move on to something a little less bleak. This time around we’re talking about the Wheel of the Year! Well, at least the basic idea. Where did it come from, who slapped these eight holidays together, and are they really something every witch needs to give a crap about? (Minor spoiler, the answer to that last question is a firm “no.”)

Ep. 39. - Mabon and Aidan Kelly Sept. 25, 2021 In the last few years there has been some minor push back against using the name “Mabon” for the Autumnal Equinox. In this episode we’re going to talk about how Mabon got its name, who came up with the name, and why exactly a small group of British Traditional Wiccans are so mad about it. (Spoiler: it’s because a bunch of Gardnerian Wiccans are mad at Aidan Kelly.)

Ep. 43 - “Lilith” Jan. 29, 2022 As long as I can remember, people have been debating whether or not it’s okay for non-Jewish witches to incorporate Lilith into their practices. Is Lilith closed? Is it cultural appropriation? There’s so much misinformation in new age and poorly written witchcraft books on Lilith, it’s hard for some witches to get a clear picture. Like I’ve run into folks on social media talking about Lilith as a “Goddess,” which she very much isn’t. Let’s dive into the origins of the folklore surrounding this figure, and I’ll let you decide whether or not it’s okay to work with Lilith. But, uh, spoiler – I don’t think you should.

Ep. 53 - Modern Witchcraft History Nov. 26, 2022 This episode of BS-Free Witchcraft is actually a panel from CritWitchCon 2022 this last October. Spend an hour with Alex Wrekk, Bree NicGarran, Lozzie Stardust, and Trae Dorn as they talk about the history of modern witchcraft. Also you get to list to Trae speed run like 130 years of history in under five minutes. [It was epic.]

Ep. 54 - A Conversation with Aidan Kelly Dec. 31, 2022 Trae sits down with Aidan Kelly (yes THE Aidan Kelly) to discuss the September 2021 episode listed above and set the record straight about Kelly’s new Wheel of the Year.

Irish History Podcast - The Kilkenny Witch Trial of 1342, pts 1-3 Dec 20, 2018 - Jan 28, 2019 One of the most famous or perhaps notorious incidents in Kilkenny’s medieval history took place in 1324 when the Bishop of Ossory accused Alice Kyteler, a powerful merchant in the city, of heresy and witchcraft. This sparked a lethal struggle in the town that would end in shocking brutality. The consequences for those caught in the middle would be devastating.

Historical Blindness, E105 - Omens, Charms, and Rituals: A History of Superstition Nov. 8, 2022 If you’ve ever wondered about common beliefs about what’s good or bad luck and what might be a portent of doom, then this episode is for you. In it, host Nathan Lloyd looks into the murky origins of superstitions and the folklore it’s related to, like jack o’lanterns, will o’ the wisp, and the fearsome Black Shuck.

Frightful, Eps. 28-29 - Hugh and Mary Parsons, The Springfield Witches Nov, 6-20, 2022 The year is 1651, and strange things are starting to occur. Livestock are dying, crops are struggling, and food is starting to spoil. Locals are even having strange seizures, and at night, as they try to sleep, they are haunted by terrifying nightmares. Then, the children of the village start to die. Are they just going through a terrible season…or might this be the season of the witch?

Cabinet of Curiosities, E460 - Hocus Pocus Nov. 17, 2022 Legendary battles and tales of revenge are the focus of this episode, including a brief rundown of the rather legendary feud between W.B. Yeats and the infamous Aleister Crowley.

Cabinet of Curiosities, E548 - Witchy  Sept 21, 2023 A brief story about the 1894 trial of alleged wizard Jacob Culp.(These events may or may not have been part of a spate of witch panics which swept German immigrant communities in Pennsylvania and Ohio in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.)

Toil & Trouble: A Podcast of the Macabre A Tidbit of Trouble, Ep 6 - Grace Sherwood  (Dec 11, 2019) In this mini episode, Tori is joined by author Bree NicGarran! Bree tells the tale of Grace Sherwood, a strong independent nonconforming healer who was accused of witchcraft.

A Tidbit of Trouble, Ep 15 - The Samlesbury Witch Trials Hey everyone! Our favorite Witchstorian is back with another tale of witchery! Author and podcaster Bree NicGarran joins Tori for this mini episode about a family feud turned witch trial! Stick around for the end of the episode to hear the trailer for Bree’s new podcast, Hex Positive.

Noble Blood - The Witch-Hunter King March 3, 2020 During a post-wedding detour in Denmark, James VI of Scotland learned of the evils of witches, and he brought his anti-witch fervor with him when he returned to Scotland.

Noble Blood - Eleanor Cobham, Necromancer Witch October 31, 2023 After marrying the Duke of Gloucester, Eleanor Cobham became one of the wealthiest and most powerful women in England. She and her husband were a heartbeat away from being King and Queen, and the promise of power tempted Eleanor into making a fatal mistake.

Noble Blood - John Dee’s Language of the Angels January 16, 2024 Alchemist, magician, astronomer, astrologer - John Dee served as an advisor to Queen Elizabeth I, interpreting the stars for her. And when a comet crossed the sky, he told her that it portended the birth of something he came up with a name for: the British Empire.

The Dark Histories Podcast - Benandanti: Anti-Witches & The Inquisition June 20, 2020 The witch trials throughout medieval Europe have become renowned for their relentless, brutal torture and widespread execution. Whether floated as a form of class warfare, patriarchal dominance, or religious persecution, the stories that remain are pitch black with their depictions of callous violence. Likewise, the legacy of the Medieval Inquisition is too one of severe brutality and overzealous, corrupt authoritarians crushing those with differing beliefs and lifestyles. Despite this, there is one story from history of a group of individuals in Northern Italy that whilst crossing over with both The Inquisition and witch trials, somehow came out the other side with relatively few casualties. So unbelievable were the stories that came from the individuals involved that the Inquisitors themselves wrote many off as simple fantasies in the face of their sincere admissions. Known as the Benandanti, this was a group of people whose story was truly one of the strangest in the myths, legends, and lore of historical witchcraft.

Ridiculous History - Brooms and Witchcraft, Pt. 1 & 2 Oct. 13-15, 2020 Most people are familiar with the stereotypical image of a witch: a haggard, often older individual with a peaked hat, black robes, a demonic familiar and, oddly enough, a penchant for cruising around on broomsticks. But where did that last weirdly specific trop of flying on a broomstick actually come from?  Could the stereotype of witches on broomsticks actually be a drug reference? Join Ben, Noel, and Casey as they continue digging through the history and folklore of witchcraft - and how it affected pop culture in the modern day.

Stuff You Missed in History Class - A Brief History of Tarot Cards Oct. 26, 2020 How did a card game gain a reputation for being connected to mysticism? Tarot's history takes a significant turn in the 18th century, but much of that shift in perception is based on one author's suppositions and theories. (This show has many episodes on witchcraft and witch trials.)

Historical Blindness - A Rediscovery of Witches, Pt 1 & 2 Oct 13, 2020 & Oct. 27, 2020 A discussion of the early modern witch craze and the myths, misconceptions, and theories about witches spread by academics. Sarah Handley-Cousins of “Dig: A History Podcast” joins the host for both episodes.

Historical Blindness - Hermes Trismegistus, Father of Alchemy January 5, 2021 In this volume of my Encyclopedia Grimoria, I continue to seek the origin of magic in history, having followed the trail in my previous exploration from ancient Persia to ancient Egypt, where I now find the enigmatic figure of Hermes Trismegistus and his Emerald Tablet.

Historical Blindness - A Very Historically Blind Christmas Dec. 18, 2018 An exploration of the origins of Christmas traditions, with special guest Brian Earl of the Christmas Past podcast. (There is also some mention of Christmas witches!)

The Conspirators, Ep. 63 - The Last Witch Trial Nov. 26, 2017 England’s official laws regarding the prosecution of witches dates back to the 1600s. Those very same laws would also remain on the books until well into the 20th century. In 1944, a psychic medium named Helen Duncan would gain notoriety by becoming the last woman to be tried under England’s witchcraft laws.

The Conspirators, Ep. 217 - The Half-Hanged Oct 16, 2023 In this episode, we’ll explore some of the ways people throughout the 17th century punished accused witches. The host also guides you through the story of the Salem Witch Trials, as well as an earlier tale that helped inspire one of our most famous modern day authors.

The Poisoner’s Cabinet - Alice Kyteler and the Kilkenny Witch Trials May 21, 2021 Witches and heresy and devils, oh my! We are heading right back into the 1300s to tell the tale of alleged murderer Alice Kyteler who was accused of being a witch - and sparked quite the row across Ireland.

The Poisoner’s Cabinet, Ep. 132 - Halloween Special: The Pendle Witch Trials October 28, 2022 Sinead and Nick sit down to discuss the story of the so-called Pendle Witches. What led to so many people being accused of witchcraft in 1612? What crimes were committed? And why are all these names so incredible?

Wine and Crime, Ep. 253 - Witch Hunts Jan. 20, 2022 This week, the gals conjure up some tragic tales of suspected witches. Topics include devil's marks, near drownings, a devastating storm, and a Great Noise. Pour yourself a glass of Winc's Fog Land Cabernet Sauvignon, put on your best Easter Hag outfit, and tune in for Witch Hunts.

MORBID: The St. Osyth Witch Trials (Mar. 15, 2022) Alaina brings us the true story of the The St Osyth Witch trials this week. It all starts with a "naughty named" woman, Ursula, potentially causing the lameness of another woman called Grace. Causing the lameness of another was grounds for being charged with the very serious felony of Witchcraft, and really it all went downhill from there. In the end fourteen were accused, two were hanged and many more died in prison.

MORBID: New England Witches (Sept. 12, 2022) Alaina brings us the stories of the first four women accused of witchcraft in Boston, MA. It gets pretty heavy, so at the end Ash will give us a little spooky witch’s tale as a bit of a palette cleanser.

MORBID, Ep. 496 - Half-Hanged Mary (Sept 21, 2023) In the depths of American history, there are few examples of mass hysteria that loom larger than the Salem witch trials of 1692. As horrific as it was, it was far from the only example of witch-hunting in Massachusetts’ history. In fact, ten years before hysteria over evil magic gripped the village of Salem, similar accusations of witchcraft were aimed at Mary Webster of Hadley, a small village in western Massachusetts.

MORBID, Ep. 503 - The Torsåker Witch Trials (Oct 16, 2023) When it comes to the horrors of witch hunts and trials around the world, Sweden is not often cited as one of the more aggressive or egregious nations. Nevertheless, the Torsåker Witch Trials remain a shocking example of religious hysteria due to the way in which they unfolded, which included local leaders defying the Swedish Crown and taking it upon themselves to identify, try, and execute supposed witches without proper authority. Moreover, while the Torsåker case may have unfolded like most others across Europe, it remains an outlier in that those responsible for starting the hysteria weren’t just held accountable for their false accusations, but were in fact murdered.

DIG: A History Podcast

Both Man and Witch: Uncovering the Invisible History of Male Witches Sept 13, 2020 Since at least the 1970s, academic histories of witches and witchcraft have enjoyed a rare level of visibility in popular culture. Feminist, literary, and historical scholarship about witches has shaped popular culture to such a degree that the discipline has become more about unlearning everything we thought we knew about witches. Though historians have continued to investigate and re-interpret witch history, the general public remains fixated on the compelling, feminist narrative of the vulnerable women hanged and burned at the stake for upsetting the patriarchy. While this part of the story can be true, especially in certain contexts, it’s only part of the story, and frankly, not even the most interesting part. Today, we tackle male witches in early modern Eurasia and North America!

Doctor, Healer, Midwife, Witch: How the the Women’s Health Movement Created the Myth of the Midwife-Witch Sept 6, 2020 In 1973, two professors active in the women’s health movement wrote a pamphlet for women to read in the consciousness-raising reading groups. The pamphlet, inspired by Our Bodies, Ourselves, looked to history to explain how women had been marginalized in their own healthcare. Women used to be an important part of the medical profession as midwives, they argued — but the midwives were forced out of practice because they were so often considered witches and persecuted by the patriarchy in the form of the Catholic Church. The idea that midwives were regularly accused of witchcraft seemed so obvious that it quickly became taken as fact. There was only one problem: it wasn’t true. In this episode, we follow the convoluted origin story of the myth of the midwife-witch.

Both Man and Witch: Uncovering the Invisible History of Male Witches Sept 13, 2020 Since at least the 1970s, academic histories of witches and witchcraft have enjoyed a rare level of visibility in popular culture. Feminist, literary, and historical scholarship about witches has shaped popular culture to such a degree that the discipline has become more about unlearning everything we thought we knew about witches. Though historians have continued to investigate and re-interpret witch history, the general public remains fixated on the compelling, feminist narrative of the vulnerable women hanged and burned at the stake for upsetting the patriarchy. While this part of the story can be true, especially in certain contexts, it’s only part of the story, and frankly, not even the most interesting part. Today, we tackle male witches in early modern Eurasia and North America!

“Wicked Practises and Sorcerye”: Cunning Folk, Witch Trials, and the Tragedy of Joan Flower and Her Daughters Sept 21, 2020 In 1618, the Earl of Rutland and his wife accused three women of bewitching their family. They believed that bewitchment was the cause of death of their first son, and the long-term illness of their second. The women in question were former servants of their household at Belvoir (or Beaver) Castle near Bottesford, England: John Flower, a Bottesford cunning woman and her two daughters, Margaret and Phillipa.

Francis Manners and his wife, Cecily, were convinced that their family had been cursed, but historian Tracy Borman suspects foul play of a non-magical sort. Ultimately, the motive mattered little to the Flower women. Their accusers were too powerful to be denied a conviction, and they were too inconsequential, with too few friends, to survive a witch hunt.

Remember Rutterkin? Witch’s Familiars, Religious Reformation, and Sexy Beasts in Early Modern Europe May 8, 2022 Toads, dogs, cats, ferrets, rats, and occasionally even butterflies were depicted in the 16th and 17th centuries as “witch’s familiars” throughout Europe. A servant of the witches, whose purpose was to help them stir up trouble and cause harm in their enemies, familiars were particularly important in English witch lore. Some were conjured by witches, some sent by the Devil to tempt a woman into maleficence, some were supposed to be the Devil himself in the form of a common black dog. Whatever their origin and intent, familiars were not just background characters in English witch trials. They were presented as evidence and used to sentence hundreds, probably thousands, of people to death for witchcraft – in England. Not so in France or Denmark or Italy. It was only in England that the familiar’s significance was codified in law. Why, you ask? Great question. Let’s find out.

Cheesecloth, Spiritualism, and State Secrets: Helen Duncan’s Famous Witchcraft Trial July 3, 2022 Helen Duncan was charged under the 1735 Witchcraft Act, but her case was no eighteenth-century sensation: she was arrested, charged, and ultimately imprisoned in 1944. Of course, in 1944, Britain was at war, fighting fascism by day on the continent and hiding in air raid shelters by night at home. The spectacle of a Spiritualist medium on trial for witchcraft seemed out of place. What possessed the Home Secretary to allow this trial to make headlines all across the UK in 1944? That’s what we’re here to find out.

LORE

Ep 12 - Half-Hanged (Aug 10, 2015) The attempted hanging of Mary Webster in Hadley, Massachusetts. The event inspired confusion, fear, and a rather stirring poem.

Ep 28  - Making A Mark (Feb 22, 2016) The witch trial of a woman named Cora and her infant in the town of Frisco on Hatteras Island, OBX NC. Part historical happening, part apocryphal folk tale, but part of the lore all the same.

Ep 41 - Hole in the Wall (Aug 22, 2016) This episode of Lore tackles the subject of witch trials in Scotland, including the Scottish Witch Hunt of 1597 and the Paisley Witch Trials of 1697.

Ep 57 - Quarantine ( April 3, 2017) An exploration of the circumstances surrounding the Loudun trial, in which a priest named Urbain Grandier was tried, convicted, and executed for allegedly making a pact with the Devil in Loudun, France in 1633

Ep 62 - Desperate Measures (June 12, 2017) Explores the circumstances surrounding the murder of pow-wow practitioner Nelson Rehmeyer in Hex Hollow, about 12 miles south of York, Pennsylvania, in 1928. Rehmeyer was killed by John Blymire, John Curry, and Wilbert Hess, because they believed that Rehmeyer had placed a hex on Blymire and Hess.

Ep 70 - Familiar (Oct 2, 2017) Describes the life and career of Matthew Hopkins, the Witchfinder General who practiced mostly around Suffolk, England during the English Civil War. Hopkins was at least partly responsible for the executions of more than 100 people, including the burning of Mary Lakeland in Ipswich in 1645.

Ep 75 - Black and Wild (Dec 11, 2017) Describes the exploits of two men from London, England: John Dee, a self-proclaimed scientist who served under Queen Elizabeth I; and Edward Kelley, a con-artist who claimed to be able to talk to angels, as well as having other prophetic powers.

Ep 94 - Hard Rain (Sept 3, 2018) An exploration of the Lithobolia, an account written by Richard Chamberlayne – the royal secretary of the Colony of New Hampshire – and published in London in 1698. Chamberlayne's account describes the property dispute between George Walton and Hannah Jones – who Walton accused of witchcraft – on Great Island (modern-day New Castle) in 1682.

Ep 136 - Foresight (March 16, 2020) A continuation of the exploration of witch-trials throughout history, including the execution of Janet Boyman in Edinburgh, Scotland, in 1572.

Ep 140 - Potential (April 13, 2020) An exploration of the Triora Witch Trials, which took place in Triora, Italy, in 1587-89. 

Ep. 156 - Bottled Up (Oct 26, 2020) A discussion of folk beliefs about witchcraft from Canewdon, Essex, including witch bottles, white mice, and the eternal battle between baneful and beneficial magics.

Ep. 163 - Persistence (Feb 1, 2021) The unfortunate story of Caleb Powell and Elizabeth Morse, together with some account of counter-magic, and the life of celebrated prophetess Moll Pitcher.

Ep. 183 - Suffer the Children (Oct 18, 2021) An exploration of the witch trials in Mora, Sweden in the late 1660s, and the subsequent “Great Noise” in nearby Torsauken, all of which featured a fictional island and children as the main accusers.

Ep. 191 - Throwing Voices (Jan. 31, 2022) The story of John Darrell - Puritan, witch-finder, exorcist-for-hire…and charlatan.

Ep. 209 - Thick and Thin (Oct. 03, 2022) An exploration of the myths and folklore connected to broomsticks and the people who ride them.

Ep. 211 - Charmed (Oct. 17, 2022) An exploration of the history of lucky charms and protective talismans.

Ep. 213 - Dark Tails (Oct. 31, 2022) Superstitions and folklore surrounding the domestic cat and its’ presence in the home.

Ep. 221 - Remote Control (Feb. 13, 2023) A discussion of various examples of love magic.

Ep. 223 - Worlds Collide (Mar. 13, 2023) An exploration of witch trials in which the accused witches were men.

Ep. 235 - Privilege (August 28, 2023) A discussion of the few notable witch trials in Ireland, including the stories of Alice Kyteler and Dorcas Kelly, and why such trials were so infrequent there compared to other places during the heyday of the witch panics.

The History of Witchcraft Podcast, hosted by Samuel Hume Witches didn’t exist, and yet thousands of people were executed for the crime of witchcraft. Why? The belief in magic and witchcraft has existed in every recorded human culture; this podcast looks at how people explained the inexplicable, turned random acts of nature into conscious acts of mortal or supernatural beings, and how desperate communities took revenge against the suspected perpetrators.

Unobscured, Season One - The Salem Witch Trials Welcome to Salem, Massachusetts. It’s 1692. And all hell is about to break loose.

Unobscured is a deep-dive history podcast from the labs of How Stuff Works, featuring the writing and narrative talents of Aaron Mahnke, horror novelist and the mind behind Lore and Cabinet of Curiosities.

As with his other series, Mahnke approaches the events in Salem armed with a mountain of research. Interviews with prominent historians add depth and documentation to each episode. And it’s not just the trials you’ll learn about; it’s the stories of the people, places, attitudes, and conflicts that led to the deaths of more than twenty innocent people.

Each week, a new aspect of the story is explored, gradually weaving events and personalities together in chronological order to create a perspective of the trials that is both expansive and intimate. From Bridget Bishop to Cotton Mather, from Andover to Salem Town, Mahkne digs deep to uncover the truth behind the most notorious witch trials in American history.

Think you know the story of Salem? Think again.

Modern History - The Satanic Panic

(Please note that any report on the Satanic Panic is likely to include discussion of potentially triggering topics, including but not limited to murder, violence, sexual assault, and abuse of children and animals.)

American Hysteria - Satanic Panic, pt 1 & 2 Dec. 10 2018 - Jan. 07, 2019 This two-part episode covers perhaps the most mystifying moral panic in US history, the 1980s and early 90s ‘Satanic Panic.’ For this episode, Chelsey covers the rise of organized Satanism beginning in the late 60s, as well as the adversarial countercultures of the hippies and the metalheads, and their apparent Satanic crimes that would be hailed as proof of their evil, as well as proof that teens, as well as children, were in serious moral peril. Satan was allegedly hypnotizing the youth with secret messages in backwards rock songs, teaching them occult magic in Saturday morning cartoons, and causing suicides through a popular role-playing games, all while helping religion blur into politics for good.

For part two, Chelsey will cover what came next, a serious investigation into an imagined network of Satanic cults ritually abusing children in daycare centers all over the country. Chelsey will try to understand this shocking decade in history, why it really happened, and the cultural issues it was really about.

American Hysteria, Eps. 64-66 - Chick Tracts, pt 1-3 March 20 - April 03, 2023 In his own lifetime, Jack Chick was one of most prolific and widely-read comic artists in history. His company, Chick Tracts, published hundreds of millions of copies of pocket-sized bible comics, filled with lurid illustrations of cackling demons, wicked witches, and sinister cults, all hell-bent on corrupting any hapless mortal they could get their hands on. These tracts were meant to be left where they might be found by a sinner in need of salvation, with a scared-straight morality-play approach to Christianity that contributed in no small part to the period in the late 20th century we now call the Satanic Panic. (There’s also a follow-up two-part episode about one of Chick’s “occult experts,” who claimed to be, among other things, a real-life vampire.)

BS-Free Witchcraft, Ep 10 - The Satanic Panic April 27, 2019 The Satanic Panic of the 70s, 80s, and 90s shaped the Modern Witchcraft Movement in a lot of unexpected ways. Its effects still ripple through a lot of our sources, so in this installment of the podcast we’re digging into this extremely weird part of American history. It’s a bit of a doozy, after all.

BS-Free Witchcraft - Ep. 32: A New Satanic Panic? February 27, 2021 A couple of years ago, we did an episode on the the history of the Satanic Panic of the latter half of the twentieth century, but recent events have led us to ask - could it be happening again? It’s very possible that we are at the start of a new wave of satanic panic, and QAnon is just the latest symptom of a larger problem.

Occultae Veritatis, Case #014: Satanic Panic of Martensville Jan. 28, 2018 Today the hosts cover one of the various Satanic ritual abuse scandals that happened close to them. Is it full of hot air and false allegations? Yes. Yes it is. 

Occultae Veritatis, Case #097A & B: Dungeons, Dragons, and the Satanic Panic Dec. 07, 2019 - Dec. 15, 2019 Dungeons & Dragons, introduced in 1974, attracted millions of players, along with accusations by some religious figures that the game fostered demon worship and a belief in witchcraft and magic

Uncover, Season 6  - The Martensville Panic Throughout the 1980s, Satanic cults were widely believed to be preying on children — torturing and terrorizing them as part of dark rituals. Across North America, there were hundreds of false allegations, scores of unjust criminal trials and countless lives torn apart. But never any real proof. By the early 90s, the panic reached the tiny Prairie town of Martensville, Saskatchewan. And nearly 30 years later, the people touched by it all are still picking up the pieces. So what happened? And why do so many still believe to this day?

CULTS - Satanic Panic miniseries, Pt. 1-5 Oct. 05, 2020 - Oct. 27, 2020 In the 1980s, “Satanic Panic” was a mass hysteria that consumed communities and ruined lives - all over things that never even happened. In this new five-part series, we’re examining the origins of the panic, tracing back through the decades to see how the fear of Satan’s influence in society swept across America.

You’re Wrong About... - Michelle Remembers, Pt. 1-5 March 26, 2020 - April 30, 2020 Intrepid hosts Sarah and Mike delve into one of the foundational texts of the Satanic Panic - “Michelle Remembers.” A young woman spends a year undergoing hypnosis therapy, which uncovers repressed memories of shocking and horrifying abuse at the hands of a Satanic cult. The book became a foundational text for both mental health professionals and law enforcement attempting to grapple with an alleged nationwide network of insidiously invisible child-abducting cults. The only problem is...none of what Michelle remembered ever actually happened.

You’re Wrong About.... - The Satan Seller, Pt. 1-5 June 28, 2021 - August 9, 2021 Sarah and Mike return to Camp You’re Wrong About for another Satanic Panic story hour. This time, the summer book club explores Mike Warnke’s 1972 “memoir” about joining a demonic cult, rising through the ranks of Satan’s favorite lackeys, his sudden downfall and redemption, and the California hedonism that made him do it. This is followed by a discussion of the Cornerstone Magazine exposé that brought the facts to light and thoroughly discredited Warnke’s story.

Frightful, Eps. 20-21 - Doreen Irvine, Queen of the Black Witches June 5-19, 2022 An in-depth look at the curious case of Doreen Irvine, author of “From Witchcraft to Christ,” a Christian activist who claimed to have once been an important leader in the shadowy world of the occult.

Miscellaneous

The Poisoner’s Cabinet, Ep 14 - Mary Bateman, The Yorkshire Witch May 22, 2020 This week, we delve into the dark, deceptive world of Mary Bateman, a murderer and con artist who came to be known as the Yorkshire Witch. How did this cunning woman become so notorious across Yorkshire, how did she dupe so many innocent people with her witchy ways, and what can we learn from the Prophet Hen of Leeds?

The Poisoner’s Cabinet, Ep. 30 - The Affair of the Poisons September 11, 2020 Multiple poisons and witchcraft abound this week, as we celebrate hitting 30 episodes with the conclusion of Nick’s European poisoning trilogy - the famous Affair of the Poisons. Was the poisoning hysteria in 17th century Paris justified? How much do you know about the different methods of fortune telling? And is using a Black Mass to get a royal shag a bit much?

Irish History Podcast - Human Skulls and Pagan Idols - The story of a sacred bog  September 6, 2021 Until recently, few people had heard of Gortnacranagh in Co Roscommon. Then, in early August, archaeologists announced they had made startling discoveries during an excavation of what appears to have been a prehistoric sacred bog in the area.

Dig: A History Podcast - The Demonologist and the Clairvoyant: Ed and Lorraine Warren, Paranormal Investigation, and Exorcism in the Modern World Oct 3, 2021 In the 1970s, Lorraine and Ed Warren had a spotlight of paranormal obsession shining on them. In the last decade, their work as paranormal investigators–ghost hunters–has been the premise for a blockbuster horror franchise totaling at least seven films so far, and more planned in the near future. So… what the heck? Is this for real? Yes, friends, today we’re talking about demonology, psychic connections to the dead, and the patriarchy. Just a typical day with your historians at Dig.

You’re Wrong About...Ed and Lorraine Warren w. Jamie Loftus November 8, 2021 Special Guest Jamie Loftus tells Sarah about Ed and Lorraine Warren (of The Conjuring and Annabelle fame). Topics of interest include Connecticut as a locus of scary happenings, New England uncles, and psychic communication with a tearstained Bigfoot.

You’re Wrong About…Winter Book Club - The Amityville Horror, Pt. 1-3 Dec. 20, 2021 - Feb. 6, 2022 Sarah tells guest host Jamie Loftus about the Amityville Horror, how it’s a Christmas story, and buying murder furniture might not be such a great idea. Further highlights include Jodie the Demon Pig, poor insulation and terrible parenting as evidence of a haunting, lots and lots of sunk cost fallacy, and how the book kind of debunks itself.

BS-Free Witchcraft, Ep. 55 - Lucky Girl Syndrome and the Law of Attraction January 28, 2023 Trae takes a look at one of New Age spirituality’s most toxic philosophies - The Law of Attraction. The history of the idea is discussed, where it came from, and how this dangerous combination of prosperity gospel, purity culture, and victim-blaming has come back in a major way to a whole new generation as “Lucky Girl Syndrome.” 

Dig: A History Podcast - Plastic Shamans and Spiritual Hucksters: A History of Peddling and Protecting Native American Spirituality July 24, 2022 In the late 20th century, white Americans flocked to New Age spirituality, collecting crystals, hugging trees, and finding their places in the great Medicine Wheel. Many didn’t realize - or didn’t care - that much of this spirituality was based on the spiritual faiths and practices of Native American tribes. Frustrated with what they called “spiritual hucksterism,” members of the American Indian Movement (AIM) began protesting - and have never stopped. Who were these “plastic shamans,” and how did the spiritual services they sold become so popular.

(Updated January 16, 2024)

#witchcraft #witchblr #witch trials #history #podcasts #podcast recs #long post #fuck the warrens #satanic panic

[litteidiot]

Four Seasons With You

Volume one: Chapter 1- Spring

Easter Egg Hunt

Pairing: Victor x Mc

Summary: When an unexpected inconvenience gives you the opportunity to make this day unforgettable for him.

“I’ll see you later.” You chriped on a sunny morning. Basically hopping in front of him, you placed a gentle kiss on his lips before parting.

“So cheery today and the day barely started. Does a certain dummy has something in her mind?” Victor hooked his arm around your waist, giving you another kiss on the forehead. “Oh, it’s nothing, just springtime.” You smiled at him. “And it’s also Easter.” You added. He nod reminding himself about the holiday. Today he was supposed to be at home with you enjoying each other’s company. You made him promise you because he is on his day off he won’t look at any document nor report. He is yours only.

But last night in some ungodly hour, the management crew gave him a call, about some hiccups what occurred with the overseas department. The negotiation to collaborate with the new American company took a bad turn and they refused to do anything further if they can’t talk with the CEO of LFG. So it meant he has to go in for an impromptu meeting.

“I’ll make it up for you when I’ll get back.” He pulled you close again, hinting another soft kiss on your temple. It was still early in the morning. He tried to get up beside you without disturbing your sleep, but when you didn’t feel his warmth anymore, you woke up and followed him to the kitchen. You shook your head in refusal. “Don’t rush the meeting because you want to get back home earlier for me. Take your time I know you were in contact with this company for a long time. I’ll see you when you finished.” You smiled at him.

You know this deal can benefit LFG’s future in the overseas market. So of course you don’t want this to end badly because of some holiday. “Even though it means two batches of pudding.” The sweet smile on your makeup free face turned into a mischievous and greedy grin. “Such a dummy. Always thinking about her stomach.” He murmured pretending to be annoyed, but you knew this man long enough to know he will grant your wish. “When I get home I better not see chicklets, bunnies and an idiot running around the house.” With that he closed the door behind him and left.

While you made yourself a light breakfast, what only contained toast and eggs, your mind was furiously racing on how to spend the time while waiting for your boyfriend. As you kept musing on the possibilities on how to spend the day, you gradually remembered the little surprises you left in Victor’s office while you waited for him to finish his meeting a couple days back. A prankish smile tugged on your lips. Shoving down the remaining bites of your meal, and taking a few more sips of the coffee you hurried away to get dressed.

Walking in the step in closet you chose a casual wear for the day. Pushing and flipping the hanged up clothing articles you eventually found a nice beige colored dress among the many formal and ridiculously expensive clothings. When you became Victor’s partner and after the media acknowledged this information you got invitations to balls and fancier parties. It was a natural requirement you had to look high class just like him. Your boyfriend mercilessly spoiled you rotten with fancier and fancier dresses, personally tailored to your sizes by the finest taylors he could find. As the collection grew, it swallowed all your older clothes. The dress you posed with in front of the body sized mirror was like a scavenger hunt amongst the many night gowns and suit dresses.

Quickly putting on your chosen outfit, you left the penthouse in a hurry, barely being able to snatch your purse on the coat hanger. You were having an intense race with time. To not blow up your sudden Easter surprise you tried to do the shopping as quickly as possible. You don’t know when Victor comes home so it added another reason to make this fast.

***

“Goldman, the management team better have a good reason to call me in, because I have a better place to be today.” Victor’s stern voice echoed through his office the moment he stepped in. Several moments of keyboard clicking later Goldman began with his speach.

“The possible partner we are trying to convince suddenly got a more appealing offer from a different company. The deal was that the company will sponsor them PR commercials and advertisings, they can keep their position in the stock market and can have sixty percent of the income.” He said, flipping back and forth on the tablet.

“I see.— Victor rested his chin on his hands— “Remind me please about the deal LFG offered.” The assistant cleared his throat, opening the files what contained the agreement. “Comparing to the new proposal our offer is lacking. Because of their crash in the marketing area lately, you decided to not offer munch in case the collaboration would backfire.” After minutes of thinking, what felt like centuries Victor finally spoke up.

“Rewrite our proposal. Tell them LFG will ensure their stay in the stock market, and will back it up if any unpleasant problmes happens. Also mention they have a two months recovery time and we will give one hundred percent sponsorship with the possibility to function as an independent company like Kiseki Entertainment. This is the best deal they can get and they know it.”

From the very first moment, Kiseki Entertainment functioned independently. Under his guidance, you bloomed into a successful company in barely two years, becoming one of the most productive investments amongst the very few freelancers under LFG. “Arrange an online meeting in twenty minutes. During that, — he stood up, to make his way to one of the conference room— “collect informations about our opponent what can be used for LFG’s advantages.” Goldman nodded already holding his phone to his ear, summoning the staff needed for the conference.

“Anything else you want t— is that an Easter egg?” Goldman pointed at the bunch of tiny colorful eggs scattered around the coffee table. The more he looked the more he noticed. On the shelves, between Victor’s compture, on the coat hangers.

“Goldman who was the last person in my office?” He asked, walking around removing the candy eggs from their places.“Until this morning no one was in here. A few days ago only Ms. Mc stayed here, waiting for you to finish the meeting.”

Victor sighed.

Of course it was you.

***

You looked at the row of numbers at the screen, your purse, and then the ridiculous amount of Easter eggs piled up behind you. Maybe you carried away a little bit.

“Uh, excuse me for a second.” You kept digging in your purse in hope you will find your credit card. After minutes of unsuccessful searching you started to panic a little.

Your plan was to buy plenty of Eggs and hide them all around the mansion. You bought chocolate eggs and plastic eggs in all sizes and colors. Also a pink rabbit onesie because you couldn’t insist. You just didn’t expect the price what came with it.

“I’m sorry Miss, but you are keeping up the row. Do you wish to purchase these items?” The cashier lady asked what made you squeak and panic more. “Please debit these items on Victor Li’s account!” You blurted out. The cashier nodded typing away the informations. “Everything is settled, have a pleasant Easter.” The lady smiled handing you the bags. Thanking her and wishing for the same you made your way home. If you knew ypu will end up with multiple bags you will take the car.

“I’m back.” You opened the door of the house placing the bags on the floor. A small meow eachoed at the corner, a cat trotted towards you. “Hi Pudding, mommy is back.” You bent down to pick up the cat, a light huff leaving your lips. “Victor feeds you too well.” You giggle pocking at the fat at the cat’s belly. “I will bring some Easter spirit into this big house will you help me?” Like the animal just understood you, Pudding meowed and with a hop she escaped your embrace and walked away. Lazy cat.

Shrugging it off you unpacked and stared to hide all the eggs around the house. In the kitchen, the coffee table, the couch, hangers, in his suits. In other words you hide them everywhere you found it suitable. Now all you had to do is wait for his return.

***

Several hours passed, the sun was about to go down when he finally came home. Tossing away the book you were reading, you jogged to the entrance to greet him. “Welcome home!” You smiled at him, what left your face in a second. “Is everything alright at LFG?” You furrowed your eyebrows in conern when you saw his expression. “Sorry for keeping you waiting.” He said. “Nothing is wrong, my plans just takes a little more time to be accomplished.” Victor pulled you to his side, giving a kiss on the top of your head. “Let me make up for you with a dinner. It’s your call, I’ll make you anything.” He unbuttoned the sleeves of his shirt and rolled it up while walking in the kitchen.

“Pudding!” You smiled, Victor rolled his eyes at your remark. “Dummy, you want pudding for dinner?” He asked opening the fridge. “What is that?” He held a green chocolate egg in his hand. “Ah, I see. We are mischievous today.” A smile crept up on the corner of his lips, putting the sweet aside. “So I assume the plenty of chocolate in my office was your doing too.”

“I have no idea what are you talking about.” You shuffled away. “I didn’t do anything.” He chuckled. “Of course you didn’t, those eggs are from the Easter Bunny. So what do you like to eat?” He asked again getting the pots and pans ready. Without a word he put another handful of eggs aside, making it harder for you to comtain the fit of laughter what is about to erupt from your chest.

“Beef ribs would be fine.” You composed yourself. Victor nodded and began to prepare the dish. “So tell me, what were you doing all day?” He asked putting away another egg when he opened the cabinet where the seasonings were. “Aside from scattering sweets all over the kitchen.” A soft giggle left your lips. “Just the usual. I cleaned up, fed the cat. You knows, the things I usually do.” You chatted nonchalantly, like having Easter eggs around the house is ordinary.

“Why you are so clingy all off a sudden?” He lookes at you in confusion when he notices you are following his every step with your eyes. “What? No, I’m not!” You grinned, getting more eager every time he found an egg.

But what you didn’t know that the more he found the more annyed he got. He saw Easter eggs everywhere. On the kitchen counter, in the fridge, on the cabinets even in the cat bowl. But he didn’t have the heart to tell you. You waited for him all day so he can bear with your pranks a little longer.

He didn’t know what will coming.

“The ribs are almost ready.” He closed the oven after flipping them in the pan. “It’s smells so good.” You hummed, mouth already watering just from imagining how smoothly you knife will slide through the juicy ribs.

“I’ll go set the table.” You hopped down from the barstool and opened one of the cabinets to get the plates. While you clattered with the utensils, Victor opened his phone to check the notification he got from his bank during the meeting. The numbers he saw is what made him finally snap.

“What did you do?!” He exclaimed, looking at you, eyes wide as saucers. His sudden harsh tone startled you, almost making you drop the plates you balanced in your hands. “$150?! What did you buy?!” He questioned, his eyes shooting daggers at you. He sighed. “Don’t tell me all that were for chocolate eggs! Are you out of your mind?” He raised his voice at you, his eyes casting a frightening shade. The last time he looked at you this way when you barged in his office, demanding for funding. And that was many years ago. You flinched under his cold stare.

“I’m sorry.— you put everything in your hands down— “I-I’ll go clean that up.” With that you left the kitchen, and disappeared at the corner.

“Mc, wait.” He called after you, immediately regretting the way he spoke to you. A wave of guilt went over him when he caught up to you in the living room. Like you said, you obediently rummaged around to find the eggs. And it would be fine if you wouldn’t sniffling quietly, occasionally reaching up to wipe your eyes. And he hates it when you cry. And despise it if he’s the reason behind your tears. He didn’t mean to be this harsh with you. Or at all.

“Mc.” Victor called your name. Looking at the source of his voice you wiped off your tears in a quick motion. “Don’t bother, — you turned back, to hide your bloodshot eyes.— “I’ll get everything done. Go set up the dinner.” His heart ached, watching you turning away to hide your tears from him.

“No.” He walked up to you, folding you into a hug. “Today I almost lost the client I negotiated for weeks. They got a better offer and I had to change plans. The meeting was unplanned, I should’ve been at home with you.” He murmured into your ear. You stood there in sock while he kept talking.

“So I got frustrated. I shouldn’t have to release my anger on you. You just wanted to spend this day with me. I’m sorry.” He apologized. You on the other hand was shocked. Your boyfriend is a prideful person. And goddamn, he is also stubborn just as much like you are. The man you get to know almost never makes mistakes and if he does, the ground can crack, there’s no money in this world for him to make him admit it. He had to regret his actions very much to muster out an apology.

“It’s okay.” You turned to face him, knowing he meant it. Reaching up you scarping your fingers through his soft and well kept hair. “It was my fault after all. I went overboard with the sweets. And I scattered them all around the house.” You added. “Dummy.” He sighed, a relieved smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he saw you are hot angry at him. A soft giggle escaped your lips, remembering again how many chocolate eggs you hide in this big house.

“This looks better.” He pulled away, wiping the remaining tears from the corner of your eyes. “From now on just smile only. It looks better on you than the tears.” A pink color appeared on your face. When this stone cold man get so romantic?

“I’ll go pick up the eggs. Just keep making the dinner I’ll be fine.” You turned around and walked away.

***

“Almost got it!” You stretched further, balancing with a net in your hand while Victor had a firm grip on your hip. You were practically levitating above the pool to reach for the plastic egg at the bottom. Victor during that grew some gray hair.“I can’t believe you literally threw eggs in the pool. What if I’m not around? You straight up jump in?” You glared at him above your shoulders. “Hold me still or let me go. I can get them myself.” You puffed up your cheeks and reached further.

“Idiot, you can’t even swim.” He sighed. “Mc, stop wiggling you going to fall in!” And like this is what gravity waited for, you slipped on the wet tile, you fell in dragging Victor with yourself. With a swift motion, he scooped you up in his arms and brought you up in the surface. “I told you to hold me!” You screeched between coughs. “If you wouldn’t throw eggs in here like an idiot you are we wouldn’t be in this situation.” He fired back sitting you on the edge of the pool and then he climbed out himself.

“Dummy.” He sighed for the millionths time today, draping you in a towel. “Go get changed or you’ll catch a cold.” He helped you up. In that moment a little smirk appeared on your face, and it stretched wider. “What is it? Don’t tell me you still have eggs.” Victor sighed, a miserable look on his face. “Nothing.” You smiled and ran away.

“How many times I have to tell you? Don’t run by the pool!” He yelled after you but you were already outside. Grabbing the paperbag left on the bedroom you hurried away to the shower. After taking a shower you put on the pink, fuzzy bunny onsie you bought today. Stepping out your bringht pink color looked way too odd compared to the black and claret themed bedroom you two shared.

“What on earth are you wearing this time?” Victor looked at you from the bed. While waiting, he used the guests bathroom and changed into a black silk sleepwear. You giggled and hopped in next to him. “I didn’t remember keeping a rabbit at home.” He chuckled. “Childish.” He added. Rolling your eyes at his comment you laid down besides him. “Today is still Easter so I’m excused.”

“You have 5 more minutes to be like this.” He looked at the clock on the wall. “Then we are stretching it till tomorrow because I’m not changing.” You turned to face him.

Putting down his phone on the bedside table, Victor pulled you closer to his body. “I’ll make it up for you for being away. And for yelling at you.” He sighed, pressing his lips on the top of your head. As he moved closer to you something pierced into his side. Reaching to get it a small plastic egg was in his hand.

“Dummy.”

Your cheerful laugh echoed through the bedroom.

Still feeling tired? Grab some more story at Reading Corner

#mlqc #mlqc kiro #mlqc zhou qiluo #mlqc gavin #mlqc lucien #mlqc victor #mlqc xu mo #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc bai qi #mlqc mc #mlqc shaw #mlqc ling xiao #mlqc fanfiction #mlqc headcanon #four seasons with you series

[aromantic-misguide-to-romance]

Egg Hunt Nightmare - short review

Devilgrams: Easter Egg Panic! (Diavolo), Race for the Golden Egg! (Mammon), Let's Decorate Eggs! (Beelzebub)

Easter Egg Panic!

The premise is ridiculous. Diavolo caused very stupid trouble again, mostly, and MC runs around with him, trying to help him fix it. Standard, just dumber than usual. The ending excuses it all though and I understand that sacrifices must have been made.

Most of the Devilgram is, as expected from the Nightmare, egg hunt and running after magical eggs. Since the title isn't as obvious as with other Devilgrams, I won't say much about plot.

First 3 episodes are generally not very memorable, but despite the generic topic of egg hunt, the plot is well executed. The scenes surprisingly vary a lot - some faster paced, some calmer, some sweeter, some more comedic, so you don't get bored with one motif stretched for too long. It's a decent mix of comedic action, a sweet word here and there, casually hinting the bond between Diavolo and MC.

That underlying bond naturally opens the door for more romantic exchanges and scenes and gives a reason for this ridiculous premise.

Part 4 is much longer and much more rewarding, so it makes up for the slightly bland previous parts, it's mostly both heartwarming and funny. It also offers a kiss option. Also in that cute sweet adorable situation, if you don't go for the kiss, the alternative suddenly kicks you in the gut with a completely casually dropped angst bomb, so enjoy your screamcat.jpg moments.

Choices: quite okay, nothing rude, nothing stupid, they're incorporated into the story in a believable way. But they're mostly just choice + reaction and most of them don't change anything. One chain of choices however is relevant, as a whole unlocks quite a long and meaningful scene. You have to get them all right to get to the end of it and to the kiss choice.

Music: with the variety of moods that the Devilgram covers, every one of them has a fitting piece playing. Well-chosen.

Very fun Devilgram, worth a try for the comedic moments - spiced up with usual Diavolo angst. It's not groundbreaking though - a decent story rather than a masterpiece.

Race for the Golden Egg!

The Devilgram has plenty of action plot as the title suggests so Mammon and MC are constantly running around but that's pretty much it. It is... not very interesting, and doesn't bring interesting interactions between characters either. It's focused entirely on Mammon's hunt for the golden egg, so it's exactly what it says on the tin. Nothing less, nothing more.

There are two romantic moments, but the first romantic option is disconnected and wasn't properly incorporated into the scene - it's sweet but the transition between it and the plot is very unnatural and throws off.

Of course, it's not one of those Devilgrams with lots of romantic potential, it's rather intended as one of those comedic ones... but it could have more bond between MC and Mammon and most of Mammon's hunt is rather bland than funny anyway. It's too focused on the hunt that it completely doesn't have ideas for. It tries to move the action around but it doesn't bring much variety into the adventure.

Choices: the main problem. You generally can choose between cheering Mammon on to amplify his recklessness or being a jerk, even in romantic scenes. Considering that people probably read Devilgrams to spend time with characters they actually like, I don't think the Devilgram gives any sensible options to react. There are various Devilgrams that make the turn down options actually fun, hilarious and friendly and this… definitely isn't one of them. Good choices aren't fun either since they might come off as making fun of Mammon rather than genuinely helping him - he does mess up specifically because MC was rushing him to dive into action but when MC doesn't rush him - he figures out right away how to get it done. So if you don't feel either like being a jerk or amplifying Mammon's tendencies for laughs but let's say would like to raise the number of braincells from zero to one… no choices for you.

Music: doesn't disturb, it's well-chosen and plays multiple pieces typical to funny moments and shenanigans.

I'd say that this Devilgram is very mediocre - nothing new or interesting about Mammon there, few heartwarming moments, annoying choices, the humour isn't outstanding either.

Let's Decorate Eggs!

The Devilgram is about cooking and decorating eggs, so exactly what it says on the tin, nothing more, nothing less. As such, it doesn't have any plot aside from cooking the eggs and decorating them, obviously, and is much calmer and slow paced than the other two. We don't really see any new unexpected sides of Beel and generally it doesn't offer much plot-wise, but it's a pleasant read.

It shows Beel trying out a new hobby and MC is accompanying him on various tasks related to it - so fortunately it has some variety and not just one scene stretched for 4 episodes.

The story itself is quite fluffy but not overly sweet as it's not focused on romance but spending time together, doing something fun. It has one (1) comedic moment - it's funny but it won't make you wheeze.

As a story with such a limited premise it's definitely well-done. It could be more balanced if it had more romantic moments, so if you look for romance and kisses all over the place, it's not this Devilgram.

Choices: some are boring - MC can either be enthusiastic or meh (bordering on rude, I'd even say) about Beel's ideas, most give just a reaction. There are choices that unlock more romantic scenes and further choices - it's quite easy to guess which choice does that.

Music: well-chosen, it's mostly just music typical for just calm everyday stuff going on, so exactly the right pieces for the story.

In general, the Devilgram doesn't offer anything particularly interesting, but it might be a nice addition to your Devilgram collection if you're interested in spending some time with Beel on a new hobby.

In conclusion, Diavolo's SSR is a fun, good read, Beel UR is just nice, Mammon's UR is skippable… maybe that's good, considering the trouble getting the card...

#devilgram reviews #obey me diavolo #obey me mammon #obey me beelzebub

[bananaofswifts]

Taylor Swift’s ‘Folklore’: Album Review

It’s hard to remember any contemporary pop superstar that has indulged in a more serious, or successful, act of sonic palette cleansing than Swift has with her eighth album, a highly subdued but rich affair written and recorded in quarantine conditions.

While most of us spent the last four months putting on some variation of “the quarantine 15,” Taylor Swift has been secretly working on the “Folklore” 16. Sprung Thursday night with less than a day’s notice, her eighth album is a fully rounded collection of songs that sounds like it was years in the interactive making, not the product of a quarter-year’s worth of file-sharing from splendid isolation. Mind you, the words “pandemic hero” should probably be reserved for actual frontline workers and not topline artistes. But there’s a bit of Rosie the Riveter spirit in how Swift has become the first major pop artist to deliver a first-rank album that went from germination to being completely locked down in the midst of a national lockdown.

The themes and tone of “Folklore,” though, are a little less “We can do it!” and a little more “Can we do it?” Because this new collection is Swift’s most overtly contemplative — as opposed to covertly reflective — album since the fan favorite “Red.” Actually, that’s an understatement. “Red” seems like a Chainsmokers album compared to the wholly banger-free “Folklore,” which lives up to the first half of its title by divesting itself of any lingering traces of Max Martin-ized dance-pop and presenting Swift, afresh, as your favorite new indie-electro-folk/chamber-pop balladeer. For fans that relished these undertones of Swift’s in the past, it will come as a side of her they know and love all too well. For anyone who still has last year’s “You Need to Calm Down” primarily in mind, it will come as a jolting act of manual downshifting into actually calming down. At least this one won’t require an album-length Ryan Adams remake to convince anyone that there’s songwriting there. The best comparison might be to take “Clean,” the unrepresentative denouement of “1989,” and… imagine a whole album of that. Really, it’s hard to remember any pop star in our lifetimes that has indulged in a more serious act of sonic palette cleansing.

The tone of this release won’t come as a midnight shock to anyone who took spoilers from the announcement earlier in the day that a majority of the tracks were co-written with and produced by the National’s Aaron Dessner, or that the man replacing Panic! at the Disco’s Brendon Urie as this album’s lone duet partner is Bon Iver. No matter how much credit you may have given Swift in the past for thinking and working outside of her box, a startled laugh may have been in order for just how unexpected these names felt on the bingo card of musical dignitaries you expected to find the woman who just put out “Me!” working with next. But her creative intuition hasn’t led her into an oil-and-water collaboration yet. Dessner turns out to be an ideal partner, with as much virtuosic, multi-instrumental know-how (particularly useful in a pandemic) as the most favored writer-producer on last year’s “Lover” album, Jack Antonoff.

He, too, is present and accounted for on “Folklore,” to a slightly lesser extent, and together Antonoff and Dessner make for a surprisingly well-matched support-staff tag team. Swift’s collabs with the National’s MVP clearly set the tone for the project, with a lot of fingerpicking, real strings, mellow drum programming and Mellotrons. You can sense Antonoff, in the songs he did with Swift, working to meet the mood and style of what Dessner had done or would be doing with her, and bringing out his own lesser-known acoustic and lightly orchestrated side. As good of a mesh as the album is, though, it’s usually not too hard to figure out who worked on which song — Dessner’s contributions often feel like nearly neo-classical piano or guitar riffs that Swift toplined over, while Antonoff works a little more toward buttressing slightly more familiar sounding pop melodies of Swift’s, dressed up or down to meet the more somber-sounding occasion.

For some fans, it might take a couple of spins around the block with this very different model to become re-accustomed to how there’s still the same power under the hood here. And that’s really all Swift, whose genius for conversational melodies and knack for giving every chorus a telling new twist every time around remain unmistakable trademarks. Thematically, it’s a bit more of a hodgepodge than more clearly autobiographical albums like “Lover” and “Reputation” before it have been. Swift has always described her albums as being like diaries of a certain period of time, and a few songs here obviously fit that bill, as continuations of the newfound contentment she explored in the last album and a half. But there’s also a higher degree of fictionalization than perhaps she’s gone for in the past, including what she’s described as a trilogy of songs revolving around a high school love triangle. The fact that she refers to herself, by name, as “James” in the song “Betty” is a good indicator that not everything here is ripped from today’s headlines or diary entries.

But, hell, some of it sure is. Anyone looking for lyrical Easter eggs to confirm that Swift still draws from her own life will be particularly pleased by the song “Invisible String,” a sort of “bless the broken roads that led me to you” type song that finds fulfillment in a current partner who once wore a teal shirt while working as a young man in a yogurt shop, even as Swift was dreaming of the perfect romance hanging out in Nashville’s Centennial Park. (A quick Google search reveals that, yes, Joe Alwyn was once an essential worker in London’s fro-yo industry.) There’s also a sly bit of self-referencing as Swift follows this golden thread that fatefully linked them: “Bad was the blood of the song in the cab on your first trip to L.A.,” she sings. The “dive bar” that was first established as the scene of a meet-cute two albums ago makes a reappearance in this song, too.

As for actual bad blood? It barely features into “Folklore,” in any substantial, true-life-details way, counter to her reputation for writing lyrics that are better than revenge. But when it does, woe unto he who has crossed the T’s and dotted the I’s on a contract that Swift feels was a double-cross. At least, we can strongly suspect what or who the actual subject is of “Mad Woman,” this album’s one real moment of vituperation. “What did you think I’d say to that?” Swift sings in the opening lines. “Does a scorpion sting when fighting back? / They strike to kill / And you know I will.” Soon, she’s adding gas to the fire: “Now I breathe flames each time I talk / My cannons all firing at your yacht / They say ‘move on’ / But you know I won’t / … women like hunting witches, too.” A coup de gras is delivered: “It’s obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together.” It’s a message song, and the message is: Swift still really wants her masters back, in 2020. And is really still going to want them back in 2021, 2022 and 2023, too. Whether or not the neighbors of the exec or execs she is imagining really mouth the words “f— you” when these nemeses pull up in their respective driveways may be a matter of projection, but if Swift has a good time imagining it, many of her fans will too.

(A second such reference may be found in the bonus track, “The Lakes,” which will only be found on deluxe CD and vinyl editions not set to arrive for several weeks. There, she sings, “What should be over burrowed under my skin / In heart-stopping waves of hurt / I’ve come too far to watch some namedropping sleaze / Tell me what are my words worth.” The rest of “The Lakes” is a fantasy of a halcyon semi-retirement in the mountains — in which “I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet / Because I haven’t moved in years” — “and not without my muse.” She even imagines red roses growing out of a tundra, “with no one around to tweet it”; fantasies of a social media-free utopia are really pandemic-rampant.)

The other most overtly “confessional” song here is also the most third-person one, up to a telling point. In “The Last Great American Dynasty,” Swift explores the rich history of her seaside manse in Rhode Island, once famous for being home to the heir to the Standard Oil fortune and, after he died, his eccentric widow. Swift has a grand old time identifying with the women who decades before her made fellow coast-dwellers go “there goes the neighborhood”: “There goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen / She had a marvelous time ruining everything,” she sings of the long-gone widow, Rebekah. “Fifty years is a long time / Holiday House sat quietly on that beach / Free of women with madness, their men and bad habits / Then it was bought by me… the loudest woman this town has ever seen.” (A fine madness among proud women is another recurring theme.)

But, these examples aside, the album is ultimately less obviously self-referential than most of Swift’s. The single “Cardigan,” which has a bit of a Lana Del Rey feel (even though it’s produced by Dessner, not Del Rey’s partner Antonoff) is part of Swift’s fictional high school trilogy, along with “August” and “Betty.” That sweater shows up again in the latter song, in which Swift takes on the role of a 17-year boy publicly apologizing for doing a girl wrong — and which kicks into a triumphant key change at the end that’s right out of “Love Story,” in case anyone imagines Swift has completely moved on from the spirit of early triumphs.

“Exile,” the duet with Bon Iver, recalls another early Swift song, “The Last Time,” which had her trading verses with Gary Lightbody of Snow Patrol. Then, as now, she gives the guy the first word, and verse, if not the last; it has her agreeing with her partner on some aspects of their dissolution (“I couldn’t turn things around”/”You never turned things around”) and not completely on others (“Cause you never gave a warning sign,” he sings; “I gave so many signs,” she protests).

Picking two standouts — one from the contented pile, one from the tormented — leads to two choices: “Illicit Affairs” is the best cheating song since, well, “Reputation’s” hard-to-top “Getaway Car.” There’s less catharsis in this one, but just as much pungent wisdom, as Swift describes the more mundane details of maintaining an affair (“Tell your friends you’re out for a run / You’ll be flushed when you return”) with the soul-destroying ones of how “what started in beautiful rooms ends with meetings in parking lots,” as “a drug that only worked the first few hundred times” wears off in clandestine bitterness.

But does Swift have a corker of a love song to tip the scales of the album back toward sweetness. It’s not “Invisible String,” though that’s a contender. The champion romance song here is “Peace,” the title of which is slightly deceptive, as Swift promises her beau, or life partner, that that quality of tranquility is the only thing she can’t promise him. If you like your love ballads realistic, it’s a bit of candor that renders all the compensatory vows of fidelity and courage all the more credible and deeply lovely. “All these people think love’s for show / But I would die for you in secret.”

That promise of privacy to her intended is a reminder that Swift is actually quite good at keeping things close to the vest, when she’s not spilling all — qualities that she seems to value and uphold in about ironically equal measure. Perhaps it’s in deference to the sanctity of whatever she’s holding dear right now that there are more outside narratives than before in this album — including a song referring to her grandfather storming the beaches in World War II — even as she goes outside for fresh collaborators and sounds, too. But what keeps you locked in, as always, is the notion of Swift as truth-teller, barred or unbarred, in a world of pop spin. She’s celebrating the masked era by taking hers off again.

Taylor Swift “Folklore” Republic Records

#taylor swift #folklore #review

[fanfictionaries]

Giiiiirl, I am CRAVING some baking with Bucky. Like some good old recipe from his mom or sisters, eating half the batter, being all innocent and goofy. Maybe Reader introducing him to the world of cupcakes with a second batch of batter they make. Just a sweeeet baking day ❤️

I made myself happy sad with this one. XD 

Might be a little more angsty than you were looking for, but all the sweet fluff is there as well! 

Inspired by my own great great grandmother’s recipe. 

Orange Rolls

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: None, just the fluffiest fluff you can imagine; slight angst. 

Author’s Note: I loved doing this, so please people. Send me more requests! ALSO this is an actual family recipe of mine. I recommend trying it! 

I recommend listening to this song while reading this: https://open.spotify.com/track/7pR7yPgbYcipmTUHT5g68p?si=nQZeCOmoTcm43qOI1YRPNA

***

Step 1. Dissolve 2 yeast cakes in ¼ cup warm water.

The room was alight in the glow of soft warm sun. Nestled in your blankets, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and yawned widely, stretching and turning to snuggle into the familiar warmth of Bucky. Firm muscle, soft skin, ticklish arm hair – all missing. Instead only cool sheets, drawn back on his side of the bed. You didn’t have to check the time to know it was early, but you rolled over to the bedside table to check your phone anyways. Five AM. Much too early to be up on a Sunday morning, even for your early bird of a super soldier. Rolling onto your back, you stayed quiet, attempting to hear any signs of life in the small apartment. Perhaps he’d only gotten up to use the bathroom. The sound of heavy items falling and a string of curses coming from the kitchen brushed away the thought. Jumping out of bed, you pulled one of Bucky’s large sweatshirts over your head and stepped into your slippers.

When you rounded the corner, the first thing you noticed was the expanse of your pantry laid out onto the floor. The second thing you noticed was Bucky, sat cross-legged in the middle of the array of flours, sugars, and spices, head in his hands. You knew this look. This crumpled, defeated look that so few had the privilege to witness. Everyone saw the stoic, cold Winter Soldier. So little saw Bucky Barnes, a kid from Brooklyn. Tiptoeing around the spilled bags of sugar, flour, and sprinkles, you stood beside him, leaning over and placing a gentle hand to his back, rubbing soft, slow circles.

“Nightmares?” you asked, moving your hand up to thread through his freshly cropped hair, scraping your fingernails against his scalp. Bucky tilted his head back, leaning into your touch like a cat leaving its scent. You could see the telltale signs; red rimmed eyes, pink tipped nose, raw bitten lips.

“No, no nightmares. I uh…I had a dream about my mom,” Bucky answered, the end of his sentence biting off in a short, harsh laugh. You held your breath. It flattered you that Bucky felt comfortable enough with you to share the gory, ugly details of his past – the things that kept him up at night. The things he thought you couldn’t love him for. But never had he talked about his family. The only memories of his past life you ever heard were the ones Steve brought up, the rowdy stories of two young men up to no good in 40’s Brooklyn. Yet on his own, Bucky remained silent about his life before the war. You never pushed him. It would be cruel of you to press a subject that was most likely too painful for him to think about. Now, the waver in his voice and the tears that welled in his eyes told you that that assumption had been correct.

“I was sittin’ in my old kitchen and uh—” he sniffed, taking a moment to clear his throat “—it was Easter. I know it was Easter ‘cause ma made orange rolls. She only ever made them on Easter. And it—it was the best damn orange roll I’ve ever had. I woke up and I remembered Steve brought over some boxes of my family’s old things, stuff Rebecca left behind I guess, and I found this.”

In his hand he held an aged recipe card, stained from years of use. The yellowed card stock was bent and torn, but the writing still held clear, thick and messy in some places as if it had been traced over multiple times. It was well used. Well loved. At the top, clearly labeled in large looped font, were the words ‘Orange Rolls’.

“I couldn’t get the taste out of my mouth. I figured I’d try to make them, but I wasn’t much for the kitchen back then, let alone now. And—and you don’t have any yeast cakes. I can’t make them without yeast cakes (Y/N). It’s the first ingredient and I can’t—” The words broke off, catching in the back of his throat. He wrapped his arms around your legs, clinging to them like a broken child. Rolling off of him in waves, the permeating sadness and longing washed over you, breaking your heart with each hit.

“I don’t think they make yeast cakes anymore Bucky—” you spoke slowly, choosing your words carefully. At the statement, you felt his arms tighten in a panic. You were quick to placate him “—but I have some dry active yeast that I think should work. Why don’t we clean this up and then see what we can do, yea?”

Step 2. Warm 1 cup milk, add ½ cup sugar, 3 Tbsp shortening, 2 tsp salt.

Turns out, a single yeast cake is equal to approximately 4 and ½ tsps of dry active yeast. After this joyous announcement and your internal praise to Google’s ever living library of knowledge, Bucky was up on his feet, standing in front of the stove over a saucepan of milk.

“How do you know when it’s warm?” he asked, looking curiously down at the pan of milk in front of him.

“Stick your finger in it, if it feels warm, then it’s probably warm,” you answered sarcastically, reaching into the depths of your pantry for the Crisco. A rarely used, but very important staple for any kitchen.

“What? I’m not sticking my finger in it,” said Bucky, watching with rapt horror as you walked up beside him and dipped the tip of your pointer finger into the warm, white liquid.

“I think it’s warm enough to put the sugar in. What?” you asked him when you saw the look of exasperation on your boyfriend’s face.

“You put your finger in the milk.”

“And? My hands are clean. You watched me wash them. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of catching cooties. Cause I hate to break it to you but, you probably already have them.” Lifting on your toes, you placed a sweet, soft kiss to his lips. Catching you around the waist before you could drop back down, Bucky kissed you back with slow purpose.

“Is that right?” he asked teasingly, breaking away from your lips ever so slightly.

“Afraid so,” you murmured against the soft, heat of his mouth.

Step 3. Beat in 3 eggs, 2 cups flour, and add dissolved yeast. Let rise for 1 hour.

The wet dough sat on the counter; a kitchen towel draped lightly over it. By this time, the sun had fully crested over the city skyline, pouring blinding light into the small space of your kitchen. The two of you sat at the kitchen island, sipping your coffee as you waited for the dough to rise. Your bare feet sat, propped in Bucky’s lap, the thumb of his metal hand absentmindedly rubbing the arch of your right foot as he spoke animatedly.

“You should have seen her. Becca was so mad; I thought her head was going to spin all the way around!” laughed Bucky, the creases at the corners of his eyes making a warm and welcome appearance as he regaled a story that you had never heard before.

“Well that’s what she got for touching your stuff,” you said, taking Bucky’s side in the long forgotten sibling argument.

“Thank you! See, you get it. I wish I could say the same for my parents. My pa gave me such a lickin’ and then ma sent me off to bed with no dinner. All for putting worms in her bed!”

“Did she get in trouble for letting your pet frog loose?” you asked, enraptured by the story.

“No! Do you know how hard it was to find a frog in Brooklyn?”

“Impossible. I don’t even know how you did it.”

“Well, really it was Steve that found him—”

“Him? Did he have a name?” you interrupted him with a cheeky smile.

Bucky scratched the back of his head, a light pinkness appearing on his cheeks, “He might of…”

“Aaaand?” you pressed, wanting to know the name even more at the prospect of it being embarrassing.

“I don’t know if I wanna’ tell you. I think you’re just gonna laugh.”

“I won’t! I promise!” you exclaimed, drawing an invisible cross over you heart.

Bucky looked at you skeptically, a raised eye trained on you before answering, “Fine. It was Mr. Ribbits.”

You tried your hardest, really you did. But a snort escaped your nose before you could stop it and then Bucky was playfully pushing your legs off of his lap and turning away from you, “See! I knew you’d laugh. You’re such a bad liar!”

“I’m sorry!” You reached for him, still attempting to stifle your giggles as you pulled at Bucky’s arm, turning him back towards you. “Really, I am. I think Mr. Ribbits is a respectable name.”

“Thank you. It is.” His tone was resolute, but it didn’t take a trained eye to spot the small smile working its way onto the corner of his lips. “But no, Becca didn’t get in trouble. In fact, my pa said I was too old to be picking up animals off the street anyways.”

“How old were you?”

“I think I was about ten.”

Step 4. Add 3 cups flour and beat in with spoon. Let raise 1 and ½ hours.

“We have to wait again?!”

“Yea, we have to let the dough rise, otherwise the rolls will be tough and there won’t be enough to roll out,” you explained, placing the towel over the bowl once again and reaching for your empty coffee cups.

“But I thought we just did that,” said Bucky in confusion. You tried not to smile at him, but the cute little scrunch of his eyebrows made you a weak and gooey fool.

“Baking is more of an art in patience than skill. Especially any kind of bread, babe. Don’t worry, once they’re done, they’ll be more than worth the wait,” you reassured him, patting his cheek gently.

“Well…can we make something else while we wait? What’s your favorite thing to bake?” Bucky asked, his innocent tone making him sound like a wide-eyed child.

You smiled, big and happy, and walked over to the recipe box that sat atop the fridge. Taking it down and setting in on the counter in front of you, you dug into the baking section and produced a handful of recipe cards.

“Take your pick soldier.”

Step 5. Roll out dough and spread on icing – 2 cups sugar, 1 orange: rind grated and juiced, 6 Tbsp melted butter. Roll, cut, and place in muffin tin. Cover and let raise 20 mins.

“Stop eating all the batter!” you scolded, whacking the back of Bucky’s hand with a spatula. The impact had no effect, the sneaking man having had the forethought to use his metal hand.

“If I wasn’t supposed to eat it this way, then why is it so delicious?” he argued, sneaking another finger into the chocolate concoction and bringing it to his mouth.

“Because it’s five pounds of sugar and fat,” you laughed, grabbing hold of his wrist and bringing the chocolate covered finger to your mouth instead. “Also – how is it gross for me to dip my finger into the milk but you can have these grubby little paws buried deep in my brownie batter?”

The question caught Bucky off guard. Raising his hand up, he wiggled the vibranium fingers in your face, “Metal arm – they’re, uh, sterile.”

You guffawed, absolutely tickled by the lame response, “Sterile. Okay. Well, preheat the oven Mr. Sterile.”

Using the spatula, you scraped the double chocolate chip brownie batter into the greased pan. Strong arms wrapped around your waist and a head came to rest on your shoulder, watching you scrape the sides of the bowl. Nuzzling his face into your neck, he placed a gentle kiss just below your ear.

“You know, you’re getting pretty mouthy these days. I have half a mind to take you over my knee,” Bucky growled playfully.

Before your brain could connect with what your body was doing, the spatula had already lifted away from the bowl and made contact with the side of his face. The wet splat of batter to skin sounded plainly through the kitchen. Releasing you from his hold, Bucky stepped back, his expression vacant and shell-shocked.  Dropping the spatula back into the bowl, you covered your face with your hands as you tried not to lose it. He looked positively ridiculous. Chocolate covered the left side of his face, dripping down from his brow bone to his chin. You watched as he brought a hand up slowly, touching his face and bringing it back down to examine it. He stared at the chocolate proof on his fingertips for a few moments as you waited with horrific anticipation.  

“Oh, that’s it, doll. You better run.”

The menacing words sent your heart rate soaring. A playful shriek escaped your lungs as you bolted from the kitchen, Bucky on your heel with a growl in the back of his throat.

Step 6. Place in the oven at 375 for 10-15 minutes. Makes around 3 dozen.

The brownies, already baked and cooling on the counter, were long forgotten as Bucky sat in front of the oven. Arms wrapped around his bent legs, he watched as the orange rolls slowly rose in their muffin tins.

“When are they gonna be done?” he asked you, staring into the depths of the oven like a fortune teller stares into their crystal ball. Like if he looked hard enough, he’d find all the answers to the universe.

“About five more minutes.” You sat down beside him, leaning into his side as the two of you watched his long-forgotten memories rise. You were excited to try the rolls. It was a recipe you had never heard of, which was a rare thing. But most importantly you were excited to try a little piece of Bucky’s life. A piece of the man, the boy, that he used to be before life happened. It felt special and intimate.

“What if they’re not as good as I remember?” The words were soft and honest. You could feel the same sadness and apprehension as earlier that morning drift from him to you. Leaning against him firmer, you took his hand into yours. Threading the warm flesh into your own, you continued to stare into the heat of the oven.

“They will be.”

Step 7. Enjoy.

The rolls were a beautiful sight. Small, golden brown swirls in a neat, compact shape. The sugar filling had melted down into the bottom of the pan, creating and thick and chewy caramel layer at the bottom of each one. A delicious detail that Bucky said was supposed to happen, but also made it incredibly difficult to pry them from their tins. Still, with the help of a butter knife and a lot of patience, the two of you were able to get most of them out unscathed. A buttery orange scent swirled through the air, causing your mouth to salivate as they sat atop of the wire cooling rack. The two of you sat at the kitchen island, staring at the rolls in silence – you with a look of anticipation, Bucky with a look of confusion.

“What is it?” you asked, wondering if he still doubted that they would hold up to his dream.

“I’m pretty sure they had frosting.”

While the recipe didn’t call for it, Bucky insisted that they always had a frosting on them. After a few minutes of questioning about what kind of frosting it was, or at least what it looked and tasted like, you came to the conclusion that it was most likely a simple glaze. A few minutes later, you each had a plate in front of you with a single, gooey, glistening orange roll sat pristinely on it.

You were starving. You’d been up for nearly five hours and you hadn’t eaten anything yet. But you didn’t dare dig in until Bucky had his first bite. Reaching out tentatively, he picked up the roll, twisting and turning it, inspecting it with a warry expression. Holding your breath, you watched as he brought the baked good to his lips and took a generous bite. He chewed, and chewed, and chewed – each second leaving you with more consternation than the last. When he finally swallowed, he set the rest of the roll down onto his plate and heaved a heavy sigh. Your heart dropped.

“No good?” you asked, fearing you already knew the answer from the way his shoulders bunched over the counter.

Looking to you, tears once again welling in his eyes, Bucky did something unexpected. He kissed you. A firm, chaste kiss that lasted only a moment but formed butterflies in your stomach before he pulled back.

“They’re even better than I remember.”

The proclamation sent your heart soaring. You let out the breath you’d been holding, feeling your own tears of relief and joy begin to well. Blinking them back, you smiled at him, blinded by the dazzling smile you received in turn.

“Well then, let’s eat them all because I am famished,” you replied, picking up your own orange roll and taking a giant bite. The mix of soft, warm bread, zesty orange, chewy caramel, and sweet frosting set your taste buds alight. As you chewed, you envisioned a ten year old Bucky sitting in his mother’s kitchen on Easter morning. Curly brown hair, all teeth and dimples in his Sunday best and as happy as a kid could be. Why?

Because this was the best damn orange roll you’d ever had.

Marvel Taglist: 

@caffiend-queen

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

#requests #fan fiction #fanfic #fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #memories #baking #angst

[everyblog147]

Cool Math Games Parking Panic Cheats Level 11

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Cool Math Games Parking Panic Cheats Level 111

Cool Math Games Parking Panic

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Cool Math Games Parking Panic Cheats Level 111

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Oh great... Now that you've finally finished a tough day at work, you get to your car just to find out that the exit is completely blocked! Luckily all of the other cars still have the keys in them (how irresponsible...), so you can move them to get your car out!

Cool Math Games Parking Panic

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TGamer4's Levels

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TGamer4

Date:

Jun 12, 2016

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