#but the essence of the song and its meaning for me is still there.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

as ever like: no two things Need to be juxtaposed, much less like material vs material deathmatch Only One Can Be Good, much less am i thinking i have thee objective word on fuckall b/c who does and it's like perfectly boring & unserious whenever someone just throws out Takes that are just "i think...[xyz] is [adjective]" like okay.

but anyways thinking of how, though differing in execution in a lot of ways ofc, deh & bmc start out in a v similar place & explore a journey to self-acceptance from a despairing starting point....it feels like a lot of the hindrance in deh's exploration of its own Theme there is in like, hey. :) hand on your shoulder. it's okay b/c you'll be able to be more normal. whereas w/bmc it's that it's okay b/c you'll be able to be more abnormal

[veeagainsttheday]

Ed, Killing, and the Kraken in Our Flag Means Death S1 and S2

This meta contains a whole heckuva a lot of spoilers for Our Flag Means Death seasons 1 and 2. Thanks to @petrichorca who gave it a read through and left some helpful comments!

When we first get to know Ed in s1e4, the episode concludes with him telling his first mate, Izzy Hands, about his plans to murder Stede Bonnet and steal his identity so Ed can retire from piracy. Ed and Izzy discuss the plan in a casual manner, like this act isn't shocking or deviant from previous conversations and schemes Ed and Izzy have had before. This is consistent with how other characters, especially Black Pete, have described Blackbeard in previous episodes (‘when Blackbeard kills man, woman, or child…’). While Black Pete is (probably) lying, Buttons was with him until the flip. 

As the song ‘The Empty Boat’ by Caetano Veloso plays, Izzy tells Ed, 'You've still got it' and Ed says, 'I know,' turning away to face the empty deck. Only the audience witnesses his true facial expression - the Blackbeard mask falling, a kind of dead-eyed exhaustion (echoed by the lyrics of the song) taking its place. 

In s1e5, we see Ed threaten violence against the French captain, but he doesn't actually hurt the man himself. We also see him act as if he's about to go kill the French partygoers before Stede steps in and 'handles it'. At this point I think we the audience would, if asked, have said that Ed seems to have a casual attitude towards killing that you would expect from 'the legendary Blackbeard'. He's scary ('next one goes through your fucking eyeball') and almost cartoonishly violent ('skin him. And use the snail fork'). So we the audience maybe make some assumptions about where the show stands on violent killing - not only that Blackbeard is familiar with it, but that it's a commonplace act for him.

Then we come to a pivotal moment. In s1e6, Izzy pushes back on Ed for not killing Stede, there’s the conversation about doggy heaven, and Ed promises Izzy that he’ll be the one to do the killing. We see Ed hyping himself up (‘You’re a killer bro. So kill.’) and then holding his knife while standing next to Stede behind the curtain in the captain’s cabin. They’re interrupted by Lucius cutting off his finger. Ed doesn’t go through with it; the moment passes as Stede exits the curtain to announce the entrance of the Kraken. 

At this point, I as an audience member fully believed that Ed couldn’t kill Stede because of his feelings for him. I wasn’t yet sure what those feelings were, but I knew that Ed had a deep affection for Stede, and for a moment I believed that was all that was holding him back. Then, of course, we see Ed have a PTSD/panic attack trigger from the Kraken fuckery that sends him into Stede’s bathtub, hiding underneath Stede’s robe, where he and Stede have what I believe is the most intimate moment of the entire first season (a reading supported by s2e3). Ed tells Stede, ‘The Kraken didn’t kill my dad. I did.’ We are shown the flashbacks to the way Ed’s father abused him and his mother, and the Kraken story he told on deck earlier is shown again with the figure of the beast in the water replaced by himself, as a young teen, on the dock. 

Then Ed tells Stede, ‘If I’m being honest, I haven’t killed another man since.’ Stede tries to comfort him by reminding him how much he loves a good maim, but Ed is still preoccupied with how the fact that he killed his abusive father as a child means that he’s not a good person, and that this is why he doesn’t have any friends, aka, isn’t loveable. Stede tells him, ‘I’m your friend,’ in essence, To me, you are loveable, and Ed reacts by saying, ‘No,’ and banging his head against the tub.

The next important point happens in s1e8, when Jack invites himself to breakfast and regales Stede (very deliberately, as he’s trying to push Stede and Ed apart) with the tale of Ed setting a ship alight and killing many people. (Also note - the show’s first mention of Hornigold! ‘He treated us like dogs! Worse than dogs!’ and ‘Ground us down into nothing!’) While Jack emphasises the horror and brutality of what Ed did, Ed’s demeanour completely changes - ‘No, Stede doesn’t want to hear about that.’ Jack obviously doesn’t listen to Ed; Stede’s face passes from horrified listening to Jack to squinting at Ed like, ‘Is this - true?’ Ed looks thoroughly guilty as the story continues and Stede asks him, clearly doing his best to preserve Ed’s secret in front of Jack, ‘I thought you’d, uh, given up the killing?’ Ed surges forward in his seat and, not making eye contact with Stede, says, ‘Yeah, well, technically the fire killed those guys. Not me.’ The camera then cuts to Jack looking at Stede with a bit of an incredulous expression as if he’s both gauging Stede’s reaction to the entire thing and thinking, ‘Wow BB’s in deep here if he’s making up some weird story about not being the one who lit that fire.’  

I don’t think the show intends for us to believe that Ed was consciously lying to Stede in the bathtub scene in s1e6. Instead, we see the complex way that Ed - who is shown to be both brilliant and possessed of an internal monologue that just cannot shut up - has constructed mental barriers to protect himself from the trauma of killing while still achieving the highest possible status in a very violent profession and existing in a world marred by colonial violence perpetrated specifically against people like him. 

S1e9 shows Ed continuing to posture to everyone but Stede as Blackbeard, seasoned killer (for example, telling Chauncey that he barely remembers killing Nigel because he’s ‘a real “life is cheap” kinda guy’). At the Academy and briefly after, in the beginning of s1e10, Ed seems set to have given up killing and violence for real, but Izzy’s threats in the cabin in s1e10 send Ed reeling back to the Kraken persona he assumed when he killed his dad. The season concludes with him pushing Lucius off the ship and Krakening up to sail, rob, and raise hell forever - but the final shot shows Ed crying alone in his cabin, his Kraken makeup streaking down his face. It’s heartbreaking, but it’s one of my favourite scenes from a character perspective. Imagine if the season had ended with Ed fully transformed into the Kraken, rather than clearly miserable and heartbroken under his mask? 

Season 2 begins with Ed trying to set a record for most consecutive raids, working his crew to death under brutal and traumatic conditions. His list of crimes on his wanted poster certainly suggests a lot of violence and killing, yet the show is careful to show us Ed himself only seeming to kill one person - firing a gun into a man’s back during a raid - and if you look closely, you’ll see that the man was already dying with a dagger through his body. It feels vital to me that the only direct ‘killing’ action we see Ed taking is shooting a man who we presume he can justify as having been already on his way to death. 

In s2e1 and s2e2, Ed can’t kill Izzy, though he does try desperately to get Frenchie to do it for him. He can’t even kill himself, trying to get Izzy to do it instead. When he thinks Izzy has committed suicide with the gun he gave him, he says, ‘I loved you, best I could,’ as if any love Ed could give would by its nature not be good enough. 

Ed wakes in s2e3 in the care of his old captain, Hornigold; of course, he’s really in the gravy basket and Hornigold is serving as a Jacob Marley-esque psychopomp. They key to Ed realising that he’s really [Buttons voice] ‘down in the old gravy basket’ is the conversation that concludes his attempts to be Jeff the Innkeeper. Hornigold tells Ed that he’s not good with people - after all, he did strangle his father. Ed reacts first with disbelief then cold fury, saying he never told anyone that; Hornigold reminds him that he told one person and Ed flashes back to telling Stede in the bathtub in s1e6; then Hornigold reminds him that the one person he told left him, and we see Ed crying under his Kraken makeup at the end of s1e10. Later, when Ed (finally, even Calico Jack would have had it sooner) realises that Hornigold represents himself, he says that he’s unloveable. Here’s the crux of it - he believes that he is fundamentally unloveable because he killed his father, because he is the Kraken, the monstrous beast capable of lethal violence. That’s why Stede left, his brain is telling him even as he’s dying. 

Then Stede actually proves him wrong by returning, saving him from death, and telling him that he ‘love[s] everything about [him]’ in rapid succession. Whether or not Ed fully accepts this information, we do see him very quickly, yes, melt back into Stede’s arms. Which brings us to s2e6, and Stede’s killing of Ned Low. 

Quick digression into killing and Stede: Stede accidentally kills a man in s1e1, is haunted by his ghost in s1e2. He’s so haunted by dead Nigel that he spends a lot of s1e2 asking first Oluwande and Jim for advice on being a ‘mur-der-er’, and then asking Black Pete how his former employer, Blackbeard (!!!) handled killing. (How Pete says, ‘When Blackbeard kills man, woman, or child-’ lives in my head at all times, Matt Maher with the line deliveries of all time.) Finally in s1e2, during his court-mandated therapy with the tribal elder, Stede admits that he doesn’t feel bad about killing Nigel - he was a horrible person even when he was a child! Stede's guilt is coming from somewhere else. We see this again in s1e9, when Stede says it is time for him to face the consequences for what he’s done - it might seem like he means for killing Nigel, since that’s why he’s about to face the firing squad, but we know that Stede’s guilt is about abandoning his family (the people he’s hurt!). Similarly, when Stede kills Ned in s2e6, he seems to get over it very quickly. Ned is clearly a bad guy, and although the act of killing him was traumatic for Stede (much like the act of killing Nigel), Stede presumably reconciles it by knowing that he was protecting Ed and his crew (and avenging Calypso’s birthday). Stede as a character is shown to have a tremendous amount of natural resilience. We later see him immolate a guy and dispatch a number of British soldiers without hesitation. Stede is also one of the two main protagonists of the show, and his attitude towards killing seems to reflect the attitude of the show itself - killing colonisers and torturers to protect your loved ones is ok, actually. 

(Side note but I found this idea about how zero tolerance policies actually hurt victims very informative on the topic of why it's ok that Stede killed his childhood bully; I got that link from this very interesting post where several people are in conversation about how Ed is not Izzy's abuser.)

Back to Ed in s2e6. He asks Stede not to kill Ned; when Stede does anyway, Ed is visibly saddened and ignores Izzy telling him to give Stede a moment; instead he goes immediately to check in on Stede in his cabin. He knocks on the door and in that soft voice that he only ever uses with Stede, he starts to say, ‘Hey. You okay? Look, I was a wreck after my first kill as well.’ Then he pauses, before rambling, ‘I mean, well, it was my dad, so there's that,’ which feels like a little moment of self-reflection. Like. Yeah. Ed. Baby. You might be super fucked up about the act of killing because the first guy you killed was your dad, when you were a literal child! Also, Ed has never been to (as far as we know) court-mandated tribal elder therapy, so of course his decision to kill his father fucked Ed up for decades! Also as a very clever friend pointed out, we don’t know anything about what the consequences of that were for Ed - how did his mother react, is that why he ran away to sea, etc.

There's another important thing here that the audience knows, but that Ed has never told Stede (or, we have to assume, anyone) which is that the catalyst for Ed becoming the Kraken to kill his father was abuse. The audience is shown through his panic-attack-induced flashback that Ed's father physically and verbally abused his mother and presumably him too. All Ed has ever said to Stede or anyone about it, as far as we know, was his joke to the crew during scary story hour that his dad was a dick. Stede can probably infer roughly why Ed killed his dad, but he doesn't know the details, and he loves everything about Ed anyway, and now Ed knows that Stede does too. 

So Ed and Stede have sex, and as many metas have pointed out (like this one!), it's so meaningful that Ed feels safe enough to give up his Blackbeard/Kraken identity the very next morning. He attempts to get Stede to see that it might be nice to not be pirates anymore due to the high chance of death but Stede manages to completely misread it and laughs it off. (To be fair to Stede, they're both horrible at communicating and Ed is not saying what he wants in any direct manner.) Ed proceeds to have his big beautiful brain start to spiral out of control as Jackie points out how popular Stede is becoming as a pirate; Ed panics, tells Stede he doesn’t even know who he is, and leaves to become a fisherman before he can get left (again!). 

As Ed rows away from his failed career as a fisherman in s2e8, his boss Pop-Pop (who he has managed to recreate a fucked up father-son dynamic with that like so many things in his show is played for laughs but has pretty dark undertones) yells after him, 'If you were ever good at anything, go and do that, you bum.' Ed rows back into the port of the Republic of Pirates and sees the destruction Prince Ricky has wrought upon the pirate community. Ed's first thought is, Stede, and then he imagines Stede calling for help before straight up murdering two British soldiers. He remembers Pop-Pop's words and says, 'Have it your way,' before diving into the sea, retrieving his leather, putting it on underwater, and emerging from the waves fully dressed. It's fantastically hot and the exact level of drama I expect from this man. The Kraken musical cue is playing as it happens. 

We now see Ed murdering British soldiers in the coolest ways possible, demonstrating his skill at fighting in hand to hand combat. One way to read him taking Pop-Pop's advice is that this is what he's good at - killing and violence. 

But you know what Ed’s even better at? Protecting the people he loves. His mother, himself, and Stede. Each time Ed becomes the Kraken, he fulfils that. He protects his mother from his father, himself from Izzy after being warned that ‘[Edward] better watch his fucking step’, and Stede from the invading colonisers who want to destroy their freedom. But something has changed the third time he does it - this time, he can tell Stede that he loves him and he doesn't mean it as a tainted thing, but something that he knows Stede will treasure. He's both loveable and capable of loving. He always has been, of course, but now he knows it. The Kraken, the part of him that is capable of killing, was always a defence mechanism for Ed, but the third time he understands it and himself enough to know that it doesn’t make him a monster. 

[filmofhybe]

a song from me to you

pairing : park jeongseong x reader Genre : Producer x singer , angsty , ex to lovers , fluff warnings : swearing , kissing 1196 words

a/n : been thinking about producer Jay after he was listed in the credit of sweet venom. So proud of my boy and I hope this comeback would be a success as always!!

> masterlist of all my work

© filmofhybe on tumblr — do not copy , translate or share.

Y/n Y/l/n, a talented singer-songwriter who had a gift for pouring her heart and soul into her music, creating songs that resonated deeply with listeners. Y/n’s career had taken off when she met Jay, a skilled producer who believed in her talent and helped shape her sound.

Y/N and Jay not only shared a professional relationship but also a romantic one. They were deeply in love, and their connection fueled their creative collaborations. Jay is always willing to guide y/n through during recording, praising her from time to time like a good boyfriend he is. Staying up late just to produce songs that are now top hits of hers, supporting her through everything. Both of them were so thankful for each other.

However, as time went on, the pressures of the industry and their personal lives began to strain their relationship. As time goes on, both of them eventually realize their ideas aren’t colliding together anymore, nothing seems to be working between them. As stress and disagreements starts involving constantly, they decided to part ways both personally and professionally. Leaving piles of unfinished lyrics and production behind.

After their broke up, Y/N had written a poignant song for Jay, a heartfelt tribute that mirrored the love they once shared. But she had never released it, believing that without Jay's production, the song wouldn't reach its full potential. It remained hidden away, a secret piece of her heart.

“So have you ever have a song you wanted to release so badly but just can’t?”

Currently, an interviewer is asking y/n about the unreleased song during an interview.

“yeah. I always will have. And it will always be that song.”

“And why’s that..?”

“I wrote it for someone, or should I say ex now. I scrapped it, not because it wasn’t nice or it brought bad memories. Is just I think without him helping me produce it, it just won’t be the same as my other songs. And it just won’t hit different.”

Y/N poured her heart out, explaining that she hadn't released it because she felt it needed Jay's touch to truly capture its essence.

“I feel like I know who it is…”

“I think everyone knows. He really means the absolute world to me. I’m just mad the industry broke us apart.”

“If you guys ever cross path again, would you release it?”

“Absolutely. 100% actually. Because this song can imply with anyone if you are still so In love with that person your no longer with.”

Upon hearing y/n’s words, Jay found himself overwhelmed with emotions. He realized the depth of Y/N's feelings and the impact their collaboration had on her music. They realized none of their music would be perfect without each other. They both needed each other without realizing it until one spoke up. Filled with hope, Jay decided to reach out to y/n, hoping to rekindle their relationship and artistic partnership.

A few days passed, y/n was initially surprised by Jay's contact

“Hey I saw your interview.. it was really meaningful.”

“haha thank you..”

“I know it’s about me. I’m willing to risk everything I’m currently doing just to work with you again. Not just work but to continue our love again. You don’t understand I only work best with you.”

“I know.. you’re the only person that gets me. If I’m being honest with you, my songs aren’t the even close to being the best without your producing. I hate how we thought us separating was a good decision.”

“Baby you know I’ll always wait for you, for you to reach out once again. So I can produce more songs and memories with you.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Come over tomorrow I miss you too much..”

they both took some time to reflect on their past and the love they shared. After careful consideration, she decided to give it another chance. She believed in their connection and the magic they created together.

A few days later, Y/N and Jay found themselves back in the studio, working side by side once again. There was a renewed sense of purpose and understanding between them, having grown individually during their time apart. They poured their hearts into their music, creating an atmosphere of creativity and passion. The studio was once again filled with laughter, pictures and Polaroids of each other, kissing and cuddling section through out, and jay’s praises filled the air once again.

“Baby you’re doing really good, I just need your voice to be more high pitch there alright? You’re doing a good job baby girl.”

“Ugh imma die from all these notes your telling me to do..”

“The other producers must be going easy on you because I ain’t, now focus.”

“Kisses for reward?”

“Always my love..”

“You know you’re so good at producing sometimes is scary.”

“And you’re so good at writing lyrics it scares me sometimes.”

“Stop making me Flattered” I mumbled against his neck. Arms wrapped around his neck as I cuddle into his lap. Watching him focus on fixing the track.

“I’m not I’m just being serious love, you’re really good at it.. the lyrics are beautiful. I can’t believe this song is about me and I’m producing it.” As jay looks at you with much adoration in his eyes

“Everything about you is beautiful that’s why the lyrics are always. And with you producing it, it makes it ten times more better!” You laughed and before you know it jay kisses you deeply before mumbling a small “thank you” against your lips.

And finally, the day arrived when Y/N felt ready to share the song she had written for Jay with the world. Titled "A Song from Me to You," it was a beautiful testament to their love and the journey they had been through. Y/N's heartfelt lyrics, combined with Jay's personal touch as a producer, made the song truly extraordinary. She was so thankful for Jay, so grateful that she can finally share this song she once scrapped to the word.

When "A Song from Me to You" was released, it made waves in the music industry. Listeners were captivated by the raw emotion and the undeniable chemistry between Y/N's vocals and Jay's production. The song struck a chord with people from all walks of life, touching their hearts and reminding them of the power of love. After a year of hard work, the song was now a top hit once again.

Y/N and Jay's reunion not only brought them personal happiness but also propelled their careers to new heights. The success of "A Song from Me to You" opened doors for more collaborations, making more memories in the future, loving each other and them continuing to create music that resonated deeply with their fans. Y/n and Jay's journey was a reminder that sometimes, second chances can lead to beautiful outcomes, both personally and professionally.

And I was delighted to know that jay and the world can hear the lyrics of “a song from me to you.”

taglist : @surefornext @spilled-coffee-cup @skepvids @amymyli @in-somnias-world @okjaeminn @nonotwice1 @thinkmyg @blubbfsh

Reblog , comment or dm to be on my perm taglist !

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[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. 

[lelanida]

In light of the fact that the theory that Aurora is a Megabird has become popular in the fandom, I came to express my own opinion on this. I am not questioning that Aurora is a deity (this is obvious), I am only questioning that she is powerful enough to be a force that rotates the universe. And so let's figure it out in order:

1. ORBrora

Our brains all exploded when suddenly Aurora covered the Colosseum with her power and transported us to some other place. It also exploded for me, but when I put it back together by the middle of the song, I began to think about how she did it. And the game itself gave us the answer. Bubble.

The same bubble that she creates before the start of each song.

Her power is limited on the outside, but inside the orb built by her voice, she creates reality herself. So during "Runaway" she showed us the Isle of Dawn even before it became a desert, because this is how she saw it, and this is how it looked in the time of Alef. In fact, we did not leave the Colosseum, otherwise how can we explain that we never moved during the entire concert, although it would seem that we flew half the world. Aurora only takes our mind on a journey while the body remains in still.

Inside the bubble, she is god, and this smoothly takes us to the next argument.

2. Color theory.

Someday I will explain how such a distribution of colors goes into the roots of the lore, and explains the reason why the Storm started and why Skykids are powerless in front of it. But we have come to talk about Aurora and her divine origin.

Yellow is the color of light, the color of a Megabird. And everything that came from her has a yellow accent on it. Well:

What color is Aurora in her bubble?

Boom. Megabird.

What color is Aurora in reality?

Boom. Classic spirit.

What color is Aurora in its true form?

Bo-what?

Yellow is not completely gone. Only half. No other spirit has a yellow color (and a divine form). So Aurora stands above simple spirits. Even above the constellations guides. But then who the hell is she???

Here is my answer:

Aurora is a guide for us Skykids.

No, well, you judge for yourself.

1. The symbol of Aurora is golden wings. What does it mean? The symbol of the season always has a special connection with its participants. But no one except Aurora has wings.

And now remember where else we have seen similar wings.

Does it look similar? But that's not all.

2. Aurora can talk to us.

In all of history, only the Little Prince could talk to us. Because he's our friend. Does this mean that Aurora is also our friend. That's what it means. But what distinguishes her from Prince is that she seems to be able to understand us. She calls the Skykids to dialogue. And if she really understands our speech, then that makes her the ONLY character capable of it. It seems she has a special connection with the Skykids. She knows who we are, about our mission and how it will end. She has seen the Orbit and is able to rebuild it in her simulation. Moreover, it takes us to the real Orbit. She is the voice that greets us at the beginning of our journey and she also guides us to its end. She is our guide. It is not for nothing that we are told this phrase at the beginning of the game:

3. The essence of the Skykids.

Skykids are sensitive to sounds. They do not know how to write, read, draw, but they know musical notation from birth and are able to use various musical instruments. That's why we follow the ringing of the bells, and Aurora calls us with her voice (both in seasonal quests and at a concert). Skykids love music. And Aurora seems to know that.

And that we have:

Mega Bird is the patron saint of nature and animals.

Aurora is the mentor of the Skykids.

"But how is that? We can't have two gods of light!"

How not? How can it not be, my dear ones?! When in the season of Shattering we were confirmed that there were TWO MEMORIES on the side of the light!

It was right under our noses, and we didn't pay attention to it! And if you look at the trees of the essences of light from the season, you will notice that one of them is longer than the other. So one of the entities is more powerful.

That's my verdict. Aurora is not a Megabird, but an ally of Megabird. She also has a certain power, but she is weaker than the main god of light. And she's also a great singer. It's all. Thank you all for reading this.

[ckret2]

whats one thing that bill loves that absolutely NO ONE wouldve guessed? like not in a TRILLION YEARS cause thats how out-of-pocket it is for him to like said thing???

also love your work <33 :) its one of the very few fanfictions where i can feel the true essence of bill cipher and that is very important to me

Thanks! I've tried to squeeze in as much Bill essence as I can.

"What's the most unexpected thing he likes" depends entirely on what you expect, and I feel like that's subjective. You could argue some of the things he likes in canon are pretty unexpected; while, on the other hand, even the unexpected stuff "makes sense" if you have the reason for it. So here's a list of random things that, while they make sense for Bill, might be surprising if you're trying to think of what would fit the image of an evil chaos party god:

First the canon. I feel like "silly straws" isn't exactly SURPRISING for Bill, but I doubt anyone would have expected him to like them enough to voluntarily bring it up if he hadn't. Like there's a long list of likable things he skipped over specifically to give silly straws a shout out.

Some people headcanon he can't actually play the piano and his little performance for Ford was all magic, but I like to headcanon he actually knows how to play and enjoys it. Which implies an unexpected amount of patience and dedicated practice out of a pretty flighty guy.

I mean I don't think anyone would have assumed that meditation fits his vibe.

Fandom's got a pretty good handle on associating him with brightly-colored busy patterns, but only with traditionally masculine or gender neutral aesthetics. Think bowling alley carpets patterns, lava lamps, Hot Wheels-style paint jobs, fire and lightning and lasers. But there's a tendency to overlook aesthetics that are associated with femininity. He WOULD be into Lisa Frank, decora, intricate neon nail art, magical girls that look like they're wearing hyper-saturated overly-complicated dance outfits covered in 24k gold and jewels as big as your thumb, extravagant hats, extravagant jewelry, girly drinks, girly desserts, glam fashion & decor, bubbles, bouquets, rainbows, and hot pink. To Bill, everything is gender neutral.

I think most people wouldn't expect Bill to be into surreal cerebral art films rather than, like, juvenile slapstick or action. But on the other hand, the line between "this is haunting" and "this is boring" is razor thin for him, so he doesn't always like the cerebral films.

He hasn't discovered this yet but he'd love the beach. Sunshine and swimming. The lake would do too.

I don't think anyone would anticipate that Gravity Falls is, actually, in fact, one of his favorite places in the dimension. He mainly keeps complaining about the town because every time he's there, he's TRAPPED AND CAN'T GET OUT.

He's really into math, just recreationally. He would read a whole book about proving Fermat's Last Theorem. He probably proved the theorem himself by 1700. Told no one. He was just bored that week.

Ford got him into DD&MD. Bill wasn't just humoring his human pawn, he genuinely enjoys it. Gets really into the roleplaying and storytelling. He hasn't had anyone to play with in thirty years. Prefers the 90s edition.

Everyone assumes Bill's just humoring Mabel by letting her put on Color Critters tapes. It's like Care Bears crossed with Rainbow Brite and the morals are twice as heavy-handed. But he actually does enjoy the show, it's just for the wrong reasons.

You'd expect the guy who destroyed his home dimension to hate it. There are books, songs, instruments, cars, plays, hotels, cities, convention centers, dams, field trip destinations, even rocks that he misses dearly and will never see again. He still writes to himself and talks to other shapes in his native language. He still constructs houses without ceilings. He still hugs with one arm and shakes hands sideways. He loves his dead dimension. Few people outside of the other surviving shapes know this.

So you decide which is most unexpected!!

[letmehavemyfictionalmen]

Star Crossed; Star-Collide: chapter I

Summary: As a bounty hunter, Din has completed his mission, however, he is unbeknownst to the storm that will knock the wind out of him, literally.

pairing: Din Djarin x afab!Skywalker!reader

warning: 18+ content, Eventual smut, Unprotected sex, Violence, Blood, Age-Gap, Kidnapping, Domestic Bliss, Fluff, a sprinkle of Angst, Idiots in love, Flirting, possessive!Din, powerful!reader, Jedi!reader, Grogu being adorable, Grogu loves his Ma more than his buir.

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The Nevarro desert sprawls out before you, a vast canvas of parched earth that seems to stretch beyond the horizon. Endless dunes of golden sand undulate like a sea frozen in time, while jagged rocks jut out like the teeth of some great beast, scattered haphazardly across the landscape.

The winds whisper a mournful song, carrying with them the sense of utter isolation and a haunting desolation. There is no life in this forsaken place, only the vast emptiness of the shifting sands and a never-ending solitude that engulfs everything in its path.

The star above glows with fervor, its radiance spilling over the land, igniting a heat that suffuses every grain of sand. The air trembles with the sun's intensity, the weight of its brilliance pressing down upon the desert like a hammer.

As if locked in a dance with the arid earth, the sun paints the world in shades of gold and ochre, conjuring an austere beauty in the midst of its scorching assault.

You traverse the vastness of the desert, silence reigning supreme, broken only by the sound of sand crunching beneath your feet. The untamed essence of this barren land engulfs you, but you remain unrelenting, unwavering in your quest

The ivory of your Jedi robes glows against the ashen sand, stark and luminous against the muted desert backdrop. The black of your belt and boots adds depth to your monochrome attire, and your cloak, rippling behind you like a shadow, lends an air of mystery to your austere appearance.

Looking every bit of Obi-Wan’s apprentice, A hushed voice travels with the wind, caressing your ears. You recognize it instantly, the familiar timbre of your mentor Obi-Wan.

Gliding alongside you is Beeb, your trusty astromech droid, a blur of orange and white against the beige sand. Its head, round and dome-shaped, swivels with a keen and curious eye, scanning the endless surroundings.

The stillness of the desert is interrupted only by the gentle hum of Beeb's servos, harmonizing with the soft whisper of the wind.

You watch over him with a protective gaze, your heart filling with a maternal sense of duty. "Take care, little one," you whisper, your voice carried away by the hot winds.

Beeb zips back to your side, emitting a joyful chirp that resonates with the purity of a bird's song happily. Your lips curl into a crescent moon of joy, a twinkle in your eye as you witness Beeb's playful antics.

Beeb swivels his dome-shaped head, emitting a series of chirps and whistles that resemble a curious inquiry. ‘Mama, where are we going?’

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, as if carried on a breeze of mirth at Beeb’s innocent query.

Patting his metallic head and rubbing it as in a way to ruffle his hair gently. "There is a child, Beeb. We must rescue him from the Imperial Remnant." Your voice imbued with unshakable resolve.

‘A child! I get a sibling. That means R2D2 won’t tease me for being the youngest.’ Beeb lets out a series of excited chirps, almost child-like in nature. His head spins around in every direction, as if searching for the little one himself.

A beam of happiness spreads across your face at Beeb's enthusiasm, feeling a sense of warmth in your heart. It's been a long time since you've seen anyone so purely happy and carefree.

It reminds you of your own childhood, before the weight of the galaxy was thrust upon your shoulders.

"I know, Beeb. He's quite the special little guy. I can't wait for you to meet him." Your words are punctuated by a gentle laugh.

The little droid chirps with excitement, his movements quick and sprightly. You follow closely, trying to keep up with his energy as he rolls ahead, leading the way.

The endless expanse of desert still stretches out before you, but Beeb's child-like enthusiasm brings a sense of joy to the journey.

Together, you press on through the harsh terrain, Beeb's infectious happiness making each step a little lighter, each gust of sand a little more bearable.

Through the cacophonous streets of Nevarro, Din strides with a solemn gait, the metallic plates of his armor echoing a rhythmic beat that echoes through the throng of people.

The bustling market envelops the city streets, stalls brimming with wares to behold. Each vendor calls out to passersby, their voices echoing through the narrow alleys as hurried feet beat a steady rhythm on the worn stones beneath.

Din threads his way through the thriving market, the polished metal of his armor gleaming in the scorching sun, capturing the attention of every passerby.

Undeterred by the chaos of the busy market and the looks he receives, Din strides forward with a sense of purpose.

His attention remains steadfast on the task at hand, his thoughts consumed by the mission that has brought him back to this bustling city.

Din treads deeper into the maze of Nevarro's streets, slipping between shadows and darting through sunlight, his every step deliberate and steady as he navigates the twisting alleys.

As Din rounds the corner, his gaze falls upon the entrance to the clandestine Imperial facility, nestled amid the bustling Nevarro market. But in his periphery, a lone rubbish bin catches his eye, discarded and forgotten in the dusty shadows of the narrow alleyway.

Gazing into the dusty bin, Din beholds a heartbreaking sight - the remnants of the child's floating pram now shattered and broken beyond repair.

Din's heart sears with fiery pain, his gaze fixated upon the shattered remnants of the child's once safe haven. The pram, once a symbol of hope and protection, now lies destroyed, its pieces scattered amongst the filth and debris.

Regret grips Din like a vice, squeezing his heart with a brutal force as he recalls the moment he surrendered the Child to the Imperial Remnants.

His fists coil and release, a surge of guilt overwhelming him. A sense of failure seizes his heart, a heavy burden he bears as he paces the alley.

His mind whirls, seeking a solution to the wrongs he's allowed to befall the innocent. A plan he must devise, a way to redeem himself and rescue the Child from the hands of the Imperials.

A burden of guilt crushes his heart as he comprehends the peril that the Child faces. He senses the urgency to act, to save the innocent one from harm's way.

Filled with righteous fury and a burning desire for retribution, Din sets off on a path of vengeance.

For the Empire's cruelty to the Child, they will pay a fee. A debt that only he, the Mandalorian, can claim.

Prostrate atop a terrace, far removed from the grasp of the Imperial agents, Din steadies his gaze through the Amban sniper's lens, locked on the looming Imperial stronghold.

A soft touch to his helmet's earpiece and the mechanism within it hums with life, carrying distant conversations to Din's ear.

Static echoes in Din's ears, as he moves the sniper lens, trying the locate the Child, however, as he scans the base, his attention is drawn to a new scene unfolding before him: the thermal image of the Imperial client and Dr. Pershing.

Their voices, distant and distorted, crackle through his comms. He adjusts the frequency, tuning out the static until the conversation between the Imperial client and Dr. Pershing fills his ears like poison.

"I don't care." The Imperial clients travel through Din's comms. "I order you to extract the necessary material and be done with it."

The Imperial agent's orders blare through Din's comms, their cold and callous tones cutting through his heart like a blade. "I don't care. I order you to extract the necessary material and be done with it." they command as if the life of a child is nothing but a mere trifle to be disposed of at will.

For a while, the voices fade into the hiss of static, the words drowned in a sea of white noise.

With a gentle twist of the knob, Din awaits the return of the conversation, the static hum slowly dissipating, and the sound of voices filling the air once more.

The doctor's voice breaks the silence, his words dripping with obedience, "He has explicitly ordered us to bring it back alive."

"Finish your business quickly, as I no longer can guarantee your safety." The Imperial Client's words travel through the air, a warning of imminent danger.

The beskar helmet conceals the furrow on Din's brow, perplexed by the Imperial Client's cryptic words.

No longer guarantee the safety of the doctor? What is the Imperial agent talking about? Who was this threat that shook the resolve of this hidden Imperial base?

It fills Din with an unknown sense of relief as he realizes that the Imperial agents fear something to the point where they longer feel safe hiding here. For if they fear something enough to flee, then perhaps the Child may yet have a chance at survival.

Thoughts race through Din's mind as he surveys the scene, his voice muffled by the helmet that conceals his emotions. "What are they afraid of? Who is this threat?"

"It is I, they fear, Mandalorian."

A tense stillness grips Din's form, as a distinct hum, like a shrill electrical buzz, reverberates through the air behind him.

Amidst the chaos of his thoughts, a moment of reckoning grips Din like a vice, and he curses himself for his lack of vigilance. His eyes, once sharp and alert, now narrow with anger and frustration, as he realizes the gravity of his mistake.

With steady hands, Din relinquishes his grip on the rifle, previously trained upon the Imperial stronghold. Silently, with calculated precision, his hand glides downward, towards the leather holster secured to his left thigh, where the blaster rests within its sheath.

With quickness unmatched, Din draws his weapon from its sheath, rolling onto his back in one fluid motion. From this vulnerable position, he trains the weapon on the looming figure standing behind him, ready to defend himself against any threat.

Confronting him is a presence, tall and imposing. The figure is draped in flowing white robes, the starkness of which is accented by a contrasting black belt.

Behind them, a cloak of the deepest black dances in the wind, as if daring anyone to challenge the power of the one who wears it.

The figure holds a weapon that Din has only heard in a hushed tone, spoken in reverential tones and remembered with reverence, for those who wielded it were lost to the purge, gone without a trace.

The once-forgotten weapon, now in the possession of an enigmatic form, is wielded with practiced ease and lethal finesse, each hand brandishing one of the glowing blades.

Din offers gratitude to the stars above, for the knowledge imparted by the Armourer, which he now recalls as a child, the different variations of the lightsabers.

The Mandalorian's gaze fixates on the left hand of the figure, beholding the double-bladed lightsaber glowing in hues of royal purple, while the right-hand holds a dual-phased lightsaber emanating a vivid green radiance.

"A Jetii." Din's lips part, his breath caught in his chest as he beholds the figure before him, a being of power and ancient wisdom.

"A Mandalorian." The words uttered by the figure are infused with a sense of serenity, a voice of balance and control.

The voice of the figure reaches Din's ears, and a sudden realization dawns upon him. This is no mere figure, but a woman of immense power, her words carrying a weight that stirs something deep within him.

A shiver runs down his spine, as he realizes the magnitude of his opponent - a Jetii, armed with weapons of deadly prowess. He knows he stands no chance against such might.

Din's senses flare with a sudden urgency, and his body responds with a lightning-quick roll, narrowly evading the Jetii's sudden lunge. His muscles tense, his reflexes honed from a life of constant danger.

The graceful and deadly strike of her dual lightsabers slices through the air where Din had been just a moment before. The sound of the humming blades echoes off the surrounding structures, a symphony of danger and death.

Din's heart races with adrenaline as he quickly springs to his feet, his own weapons at the ready. He knows he's outmatched, but he refuses to go down without a fight.

Din regains his footing with a graceful sway, his blaster at the ready, aimed at the Jetii. Yet her movements are too swift, her form too lithe, as she sidesteps each shot with poise and ease, the double-bladed lightsaber a blur of purple, effortlessly blocking his every attempt.

Din grunts as he swiftly steps back, creating distance between himself and the woman. With fluid motions, he draws his amban rifle/spear from his back, ready for the woman's next move. As she lunges towards him with her green lightsaber, Din expertly parries her attack.

Din charges forward, his rifle at the ready, but the woman is too quick. She leaps over him, somersaulting in mid-air, and lands behind him. Before he can turn around, she delivers a swift kick to his back, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Stepping forward, the woman's words are sharp and unforgiving. "You are a Mandalorian, revered warrior. Family is paramount to you, younglings are precious to your kind. I have respect for your way of life, but I must ask, why did you surrender the Child to the Imperials?"

Din tries to stand up but he is still disoriented from the kick. He glares at the woman, anger simmering within him. "That's none of your business," he growls, his hand hovering over his holster.

He doesn't know who she is or how she knows about the Child, but her words hit him hard.

The woman narrows her eyes, her lightsabers still ignited. "It is my business when it concerns the safety of a child. The Jedi are the guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy, even though there are only two left, it is our duty to protect those who cannot protect themselves."

Din grits his teeth and slowly pushes himself back up, his eyes never leaving the Jetii. "It's complicated," he answers, his voice tense.

The woman tilts her head, her eyes probing. "Complicated," she repeats, a note of skepticism in her voice.

"I am a Mandalorian. Our code of honour includes fulfilling one's obligations and completing jobs. I was obliged by my creed to finish the job." Din tries to reason but knows that even the Mandalorians don't leave children behind.

The woman's stance stiffens, her body a seething cauldron of rage, emanating a fiery aura. "Your creed should also include protecting the innocent, especially the young. You know as well as I do that the Imperials won't treat that child kindly. You had a chance to make a difference, to save a life, and you chose to ignore it."

Din's head droops in shame, the weight of the woman's words crushing him. He has fallen short of his Mandalorian code, failing to protect the youngling. "I... I know. I was wrong," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I have to make it right. I have to get him back."

The woman's lightsabers fall silent, their deadly hum fading as she deactivates them. Din's gaze follows as she gracefully returns the weapons to her belt, then lowers the hood that had obscured her face.

And wow.

Din's heart quickens its pace as the woman lowers her hood, revealing her face at last. But it is not just her physical beauty that holds him captive. In her eyes, there burns a fierce intensity, a wisdom that he has never before encountered. 4

Her gaze pierces through him like a blaster bolt, and he feels a strange stirring within him, a stirring of awe and admiration.

It feels like she is seeing straight into the depths of his soul. A captivating aura emanates from her, enveloping Din in a trance-like state.

At this moment, all of his thoughts, concerns, and fears seem to vanish, leaving him lost in the hypnotic gaze of this enigmatic woman.

Din's mind goes blank as he gazes upon her, forgetting the conflict that had brought them face to face. The way the light dances around her, the gentle slope of her features, the spark in her gaze - all of it blends together to create a breathtaking portrait that he cannot help but be captivated by.

Her voice echoes in Din's mind, her words piercing through his thoughts like a sharp blade. He feels the weight of her gaze upon him, and he struggles to maintain his composure. Her presence is like a force of nature, commanding his attention with ease.

As she speaks, he finds himself lost in the rhythm of her words, the cadence of her voice like a soothing melody. He tries to focus on what she is saying, but his mind is distracted by the beauty of her being. The way she speaks, the way she stands it's as if he's in a dream that he never wants to wake up from.

'You're not a boy anymore,' he reminds himself, 'you're a bounty hunter, a Mandalorian.' The words echo in his mind, a mantra to steel himself.

He musters all his inner strength, fighting against the temptation to be entranced by her allure. He forces his mind back to the present, determined to cast aside the alluring distractions and attend to the matter at hand.

"I'll do whatever it takes to make it right," Din declares, his voice filled with a deep-seated conviction.

The woman nods a sense of understanding in her eyes. "I believe you," she says softly. "But words are meaningless without action. If you truly want to make it right, then you must find the Child and bring him back to his own kind, where he will be safe and learn more about himself."

He nods, determination setting in. "I won't let him be hurt."

The woman regards Din for a moment, before extending her hand out to help him up. "Good," she says, motioning to the Imperial Base with her head. "Because we have work to do."

Din feels a wave of gratitude washes over him at the woman's words. He had been so sure he was doing the right thing by handing the child over to the Imperials, but now he realizes the gravity of his mistake.

Accepting the woman's outstretched hand, Din rises to his feet, his heart still racing from the intensity of the fight. He looks at her with deep appreciation and nods in gratitude. The woman takes a step back, giving him space to retrieve his weapons from the ground.

As Din's hands reach for his rifle on the ground, a flicker of movement catches his attention from the corner of his eye, and his muscles tense as he recognizes the source.

Din's gaze follows as an astromech droid BB-8 unit rolls out from its spot, and over to the woman. Her smile shines like a sunbeam, casting a warm glow over everything around her. She kneels in front of the droid and tenderly pats its spherical head, a gesture that seems to radiate with pure kindness.

Din's eyes narrow, a flicker of suspicion crossing his features as he observes the woman's interaction with the astromech droid. His gut churns with a deep-seated distrust of the machines, borne from past traumas and scars.

The weight shifts on his feet, his body poised like a coiled spring, ready to strike if the droid were to make any sudden moves.

The woman senses Din's unease and rises to her feet, turning her gaze toward him. "Don't worry, Beeb has been with me since I was a child. He is on our side." she says reassuringly, a faint smile gracing her lips.

Din remains skeptical, but the woman's words give him pause. He relaxes slightly but keeps a watchful eye on the droid. "I've had my fair share of run-ins with droids. Can't say I trust them much," he admits gruffly.

The woman nods in understanding. "I understand, but please know that I built him myself and imbued him with the same spirit of loyalty and honor that I strive to embody. He has been with my brother and me through the toughest of battles. You have nothing to fear from him, Mandalorian."

Din considers her words for a moment, then gives a curt nod. "I'll take your word for it, but if that thing tries anything funny, he's getting a blaster bolt to the head."

The woman chuckles. "I wouldn't expect any less from a Mandalorian. But I assure you, Beeb is on our side."

As if sensing his hesitation, Beeb lets out a series of friendly beeps and chirps, rolling closer to Din and nuzzling against his leg. Din glances down at the droid, surprised by the show of affection.

The woman smiles knowingly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "See? He's harmless."

Din grudgingly nods, still unsure of the droid's intentions. But he knows that he can trust the woman and by extension, Beeb. For now, at least.

Approaching him with confidence, the woman strides towards Din, her height just slightly shorter than his own. As she draws nearer, she speaks her name with a voice as soothing as a gentle stream and extends her hand for him to take, a gesture of respect and greeting.

Din takes a moment to compose himself before taking her hand, feeling a jolt of electricity shoot up his arm as they shake hands. He quickly withdraws his hand and takes a step back, surprised at his own reaction.

The woman raises an eyebrow, noticing his sudden shift in demeanor. "Is something wrong?" she asks, her voice laced with concern.

Din shakes his head, trying to push aside the strange sensation that lingers in his hand. "No, nothing's wrong. It's just that...I don't usually shake hands with strangers."

The woman chuckles softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I understand. But I hope we can become more than strangers, Mandalorian."

"Mando. Call me Mando." Din says finally, the word rolling off his tongue with a certain weight.

He can sense the woman's surprise at his response, but he remains firm. He has learned to keep his true name hidden, even from those he trusts.

The woman's gaze locks onto Din's, and as she speaks his name, it rolls off her tongue like a sweet melody, a word to be savored and cherished. "Mando," she murmurs, her voice carrying the weight of reverence and admiration.

A stirring sensation dances in Din's chest as the woman utters his name once more. He's never heard it spoken with such curiosity and esteem, and the sound of it from her lips sends shivers down his spine.

"Shall we go, Mando?" With a graceful motion of her hand, the woman gestures toward the direction they should take.

Din nods in understanding, feeling drawn to her enigmatic presence. "Lead the way," he says, a subtle hint of admiration in his voice.

With steadfast purpose, the pair sets out on their journey, each step resolute and unyielding. Their goal is clear, a daunting challenge ahead, as Beeb follows along faithfully. Their mission: to rescue the Child, to keep the Imperial Agents at bay, and to ensure the youngling's safety at all costs.

Tag list: @babygirlrex0504 @alienated-green-tea @fatima-marisa @dindjarindude @sharin1806 @ruthyalva96 @avengersfan25

☼ Please note that I do not wish to have my work translated or published on any third party reading websites. I claim the rights to my work.

☼ Where I don’t have any rights to the characters, many ideas and OC are my own creation. Please respect that.

[minggukieology]

Hello, I found this old quote from jimin and I’ve seen it translated elsewhere but I was hoping to get your take on it? It’s from this article

https://n.news.naver.com/mnews/article/415/0000001635?sid=004

지민_ 중학교 3학년 때부터 춤을 춰왔고 부산예고에 수석 입학 할 만큼 소문난 춤꾼이지만 동시에 매력적인 보컬로 방탄소년단만의 색깔을 만드는 데 큰 역할을 했다. 또 ‘짐드백’(지민+샌드백)이란 별명이 생길 정도로 팀 내 서열 꼴찌가 됐는데 어쩌다 이렇게 됐나.

▲ 춤뿐 아니라 보컬에 대��� 고민도 많은 편이다. 보컬적인 면에서 아직 너무 부족하다고 생각하기 때문에 스스로 만족할 수 있을 만큼 노력해서 더 좋은 노래를 들려드리고 싶다. 서열 꼴찌인 건 인정한다. 막내 정국이한테 던져지고 나서 이렇게 된 것 같다. ‘정국 맘’이라는 별명이 있는데 이제 ‘정국 장난감’이 된 것 같다.(웃음) 반항할 수 없기도 하지만 그런 장난이 싫지 않기 때문에 어쩔 수 없다.

Hi, thanks a lot for your message.

Since it's quite a bit of text I will give a translation without much of explaining around it for the parts where it just mentions Jimin's history etc and focus more on the parts which I assume were the reason you sent me the message for.

Here I will also try to make it more fun for me (and for those who are maybe interested in going more in depth too) by showing multiple ways of translating certain words or phrases, ranging from 1st option marked as ¹ - 'closest to source' translation (which I typically provide to show what was said in original word as opposed to just transforming it to be more seemless and easier to understand for an English speaker) /2nd option marked as ²- close synonym (kind of middle of the two, optional) / 3rd option marked as ³- 'looser, more flexible' translation (might not be mirroring the source text 100% but brings the essence of the word, phrase closer to the English language and its context). This is just to show translations can vary depending on stylistic choice and preference. Naturally, this doesn't always apply though and there's many further nuances that can be discussed etc.

Note: if you wish to skip the (admittedly long) explanation and my weird number exercise, scroll to the bottom for clean translation.

지민_ 중학교 3학년 때부터 춤을 춰왔고 부산예고에 수석 입학 할 만큼 소문난 춤꾼이지만 동시에 매력적인 보컬로 방탄소년단만의 색깔을 만드는 데 큰 역할을 했다.

또 ‘짐드백’(지민+샌드백)이란 별명이 생길 정도로 팀 내 서열 꼴찌가 됐는데 어쩌다 이렇게 됐나.

"Jimin- You've been dancing since the third grade of middle school and were such a notorious dancer to the point that you got accepted to Busan Arts High School as the top student (*수석 입학), but at the same time, you also played a big role in creating BTS' own specific colors with your ¹attractive / ²appealing vocals.

Though on top of that, you came in ¹last position in the team ranking / ³were last in the team pecking order to such an extent that you ³earned yourself a nickname ¹'jim-deubaek' / ²'jim-dbag' / ³'jim-punchbag' (Jimin + ¹sandbag / ³punching bag), ¹how did it happen / ³how come / ³how did this come about?"

(*note: here of course the tone is playful and the meaning obviously isn't referring to any harmful violence, the question is posed in a way that it implies Jimin is both the top (skills, influence wise) and then finds himself at the bottom when it comes to certain power hierarchy in the group, like when they joke around together (even physically), to the point that not even the youngest regards him as a 'hyung' and rather plays around with him, which Jimin then refers to in the response accordingly)

춤뿐 아니라 보컬에 대한 고민도 많은 편이다. 보컬적인 면에서 아직 너무 부족하다고 생각하기 때문에 스스로 만족할 수 있을 만큼 노력해서 더 좋은 노래를 들려드리고 싶다.

서열 꼴찌인 건 인정한다. 막내 정국이한테 던져지고 나서 이렇게 된 것 같다. ‘정국 맘’이라는 별명이 있는데 이제 ‘정국 장난감’이 된 것 같다.(웃음) 반항할 수 없기도 하지만 그런 장난이 싫지 않기 때문에 어쩔 수 없다.

"Not only dancing, I tend to worry a lot about my vocals too. I think I am still lacking in the vocal aspect, therefore I want to try hard enough to be satisfied with myself and give you better songs.

I admit to being last in ³the pecking order. I think ¹it became/ ³I ended up like this after ¹being ¹thrown / ³tossed around by ¹the maknae Jungkook. I have the nickname ¹'Jungkook's mum' (*the word mum spelled in Korean) but now / from now on I think I am becoming ¹'Jungkook's toy' / ³'Jungkook's plaything'. (Laughter) I cannot ¹defy it / ²resist, but since I don't hate these kind of ¹antics/ ¹play / ²jokes / ²mischief, ¹there's nothing to do / ³I can't help it."

Concluding note: by giving multiple options I tried to show that there are always various ways to go about translations. Here I would say to avoid misunderstanding, it's better to try to convey the meaning of what was said with a bit more flexible translation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TLDR, clean translation:

Reporter: "(Jimin) You've been dancing since the third grade of middle school and were such a notorious dancer to the point that you got accepted to Busan Arts High School as the top student, but at the same time, you also played a big role in creating BTS' own specific colors with your attractive vocals. Though on top of that, you were last in the team pecking order to such an extent that you earned yourself a nickname 'jim-punchbag' (Jimin +punching bag), how did this come about?"

JM: "Not only dancing, I tend to worry a lot about my vocals too. I think I am still lacking in the vocal aspect, therefore I want to try hard enough to be satisfied with myself and give you better songs. I admit to being last in the pecking order. I think I ended up like this after being tossed around by the maknae Jungkook. I have the nickname 'Jungkook's mum' but now I think I am becoming 'Jungkook's plaything'. (Laughter) I cannot defy it, but since I don't hate these kind of antics, there's nothing to do about it."

(exerpt from 그 여름, 우리가 사랑한 방탄소년단, published 27.07.2016 by atstar1)

[bbyquokka]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Got secrets i cant tell

🦙: pairing: Hyunjin & f!reader

🦙: Genre: smut. below 18? DNI

🦙: synopsis: having explicit dreams about hyunjin caused desires to build up. one night, you both caved in and fulfilled what you both want.

🦙: warnings: cheating, unprotected sex, drinking, tipsy, kissing whilst tipsy, explicit language, blowjob, face - fucking, clit play, masturbation, reader becomes dumb, degrading name (slut), implications of choking

🦙: words: 4.5k

🦙: a/n: eh. it kinda got sloppy towards the end. i need more practise writing smut tbh. this wasnt my original idea of a hyunjin fic. my original idea didn't turn out the way i wanted it to be so i decided to move onto something new. maybe i will go back to my original idea but idk, lmao. title is a lyric from “play with fire” - Sam Tinnesz ft Yacht Money. (we all know that song and still havent moved on from it) if i missed anything in warning, lmk. feedback, likes and reblogs are much appreciated. tyvm and enjoy!

🦙:  part 2

🦙: master list

"you're such a good girl for me, (Y/N). you'd do anything and everything for me, wouldn't you?" you nodded frantically. your inability to form sentence disappearing the moment hyunjin penetrated you with his cock. his hips moving from slow to fast, loving the way your face contorted in the sheer amounts of pleasure he was giving you. His veiny hands gripped onto your thighs, pushing and spreading them apart further, enabling a better view for him.

"fuck, your pussy is swallowing me. i can never get over how good you feel around me. so wet, warm and so fucking tight." he grunted as you mewled at his words, hands gripping onto the sheets tightly turning your knuckles white. his name falling out off your mouth, breathing laboured as he thrusted into you with power, the wet sounds mixing in with your moans and his grunts.

hyunjin let go off your legs and lent over you. you instantly wrapped your legs around him, heals digging into him. you wanted more, you needed more, so you tried pushing him in more causing a low chuckle to fall from the man that providing you with immense pleasure.

"such a greedy girl. you want more yet you have all of me. im balls deep in you baby yet youre so greedy and needy for me, its pathetic. its pathetic how you've become like this and its all because of me, isn't that right." he leans in close, lips close to yours, breath hitting your lips with every word that comes out off his mouth. you whimper at his dirty talk, clenching around him causing him to groan. hyunjin kisses you messily, spit and tongues becoming one with each other. you grip onto his back, nails digging in leaving crescent marks behind.

"i need you to do one thing for me baby." hyunjin murmurs against your lips. "what is it? ill do anything for you hyunjin." you whimpered against his lips

"i need you to wake up"

"what..?" you blinked, confused. "what do you mean..?"

"wake up."

you awoke suddenly, panting as you stare at the ceiling coming to terms with what just happened. still in disbelief, you sat up slowly, breathing calming down once you realised it was just another dream. you was in your room, your partner sleeping peacefully beside you. you bit your lip gently as you looked at them, feeling slightly guilty that this was becoming a reoccurring thing. deciding to go for a shower to somewhat calm down some more, you threw the duvet off you, making your way to the bathroom. it was at that moment that you felt an uncomfortable stickiness, underwear sticking to your crotch.

deciding to do something about it, you turned the shower on and locked the bathroom door, back sliding down it as you parted your legs, taking your underwear off. throwing them into the dirty wash basket, you slowly rubbed small circles on your clit, moaning quietly. your free hand playing with your breast slowly, occasionally squeezing the flesh. you dipped your finger into your entrance, finger becoming wet with your essence and using it to stimulate your clit more. you closed your eyes, thinking back to the dream you awoke from.

it felt so real, so good. the way his skin felt against yours, his breath against your lips. the way his hips moved against yours as he thrusted into you. he was gentle, but firm which is what you like. he complimented you, calling you a good girl and that your pussy felt so good around him. he was on the verge of being pussy drunk. you wanted it, you wanted him. you slipped two fingers inside, moving them fast as you thought about all the dirty things you wanted to do to hyunjin. the hand that was on your breast, came down to rub fast circles on your clit, hyunjins name falling from your mouth in the form of quiet whimpers.

you imagined hyunjin was with you right now being the one that was pleasuring you or maybe, he would watch you pleasuring yourself, calling you a good girl, his dirty slut. you wanted his big hands around you, around your neck if possible. a familiar knot started to tighten as you continued to pleasure yourself, thinking of hyunjin, moaning out his name. with one final rub and thrust of the fingers, the knot became undone, your orgasm rippling throughout your body causing you to shake and instinctively close your legs. you bit your lip hard to stop you from calling out hyunjins name as you rode our your orgasm.

coming down from it, a wave of guilt washed over you. your brain becoming clear and aware of what just happened. you just got yourself off thinking of someone else, whilst your partner was sound asleep in the room next door. you sighed, standing up and taking the rest of your nightwear off, stepping into the warm shower. you let the water run over your body as you started to think.

sadly, this wasn't a first for you. waking up wet from a sex dream about hyunjin then locking yourself in the bathroom to get yourself off was becoming a regular thing and it had been for a couple of months now, ever since you met him. its not like you was starving of human touch either, you and your partner are pretty active in the bedroom department, they know how to please you but when they introduced you to hyunjin, his work colleague, you was blown away.

you thought you had met a God, a prince. his beauty was breath-taking, almost overwhelming. from his long, shiny hair that someone stayed in place and never became messy, to his perfectly proportioned face, you thanked the heavens above for blessing your eyes with such beauty in the form of Hwang Hyunjin. As time went on, he slowly became a part of your life. You both got on very well very quickly, which your partner liked. they said it was good that you was finally getting to have some friends and being social. you would invite hyunjin over for dinner at times, sometimes go on shopping dates together or have a picnic in the park. the more time you spent with him, the more you got to know him.

you learnt that he's a hopeless romantic and it showed in his art work. pictures of couples kissing, hugging, taking walks together in the form of either watercolour or pencil was enough to make you think that he couldn't get any more perfect. he gifted you a watercolour painting of your favourite flowers for your birthday which is hung proudly in the hallway. The more hyunjin opened up you, the more you got to know him better and it was until you learnt that he hasn't been in a relationship for a few years, claiming that he only gets used for his looks.

"Its a confidence boost to them, to gossip about how they’re with someone like me. and im not talking about the good kind of confidence boost." you vaguely remember him saying those words before claiming that he only does one night stands. That was the beginning of your curiosity. Hyunjin is a man, he has needs and what he does with his sex life, is his business - but you wanted to be part of that business.

a few weeks went by with you thinking about him. what would he be like? would he be passionate and caring, treating you like a Queen or would he be rough and selfish, not caring about you but himself, chasing his own high. you'd often daydream about his hands roaming around your body, groping your ass and breast, occasionally wrapping his long fingers around your neck, pressing gently before they would be inside you, thrusting and curving them to hit that sweet spot.

you was lost in your thoughts one day whilst grocery shopping until you overheard two females gossiping about hyunjin. you know you shouldn't eavesdrop but you couldn't help yourself once you heard his name. you overheard them both explaining how he knew how to treat and pleasure a woman right, knew which spots to hit and where. How he was an expert in the oral department. "the pleasure was so intense, i thought i was going to pass out." overhearing everything they had to say, made you crave for hyunjin and that craving was merely satisfied one night.

your partner had gone out with a few of his friends, a catch up, he called it but you knew he would be coming home drunk at 4am. An hour into being alone, you called hyunjin over, claiming you needed company and you was bored. 10 minutes later, he was round your apartment, both of you sat on the sofa, gossiping about everything whilst occasionally taking shots and drinking.

after your 4th or 5th shot, you felt the alcohol take effect. you felt a little warm and light-headed. you was a happy drunk, laughing at almost anything there was to laugh at. Hyunjin was also a little tipsy and you learnt that tipsy hyunjin equals physical touch. he couldn't keep his hands off you and not in a sexual way. whenever you would crack a joke, he would slap your thigh gently, push you slightly whilst in fits of giggles. his hands would be situated on your thigh, thumb rubbing small circles on the flesh. Whether it was the alcohol taking effect or your curiosity getting the better of you, you became brave.

hyunjin was putting his glass down on the coffee table, licking his lips causing you to overally stare at them. he noticed you looking, his eyebrow raising slightly as his lips curled into a smirk. he placed his soft hands on your cheek, leaning in slowly. your heart hammered against your chest as you closed your eyes, preparing yourself for what was about to come. After a few seconds, you felt warm, soft lips pressed against your own. you hummed softly, your own hands situating themselves on top of his thighs.

with a little more confidence, hyunjin moved his lips and you responded by moving your own in sync with his. His tongue darting out and licking your bottom lip slowly, requesting permission which you gladly did by parting your own lips. your tongues collided together, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth. Your breathing heavy as you felt excited, skin heating up. you was melting into him, into the kiss. butterflies erupting in your stomach, arousal present at the pit of your stomach. you moaned softly wanting more, needing more. hyunjin pulled away slowly, biting his lip. you opened your eyes and looked at him, swallowing slightly. it wasnt until you was both calm that guilt settled in for you both. you both crossed that line that should never be crossed. you both vowed to keep it a secret, to carry on as normal so your partner, his best friend, wouldn't get suspicious.

a few weeks had passed since the kiss and that was when the dreams started. it started of vague, your dreams taking you back to that night but it soon started to escalate. from kissing to fingering, giving and receiving oral. you would do it in public, in photo booths, changing rooms, cinemas. your dreams where driving you crazy at that point because it just made you want hyunjin more and to feed the burning desire and curiosity within.

Your first full blown sex dream happened shortly after and that was the icing on the cake for you. most mornings you'd awake and do your ritual of locking yourself in the bathroom to pleasure yourself whilst thinking back to your dreams. you couldnt bear it anymore but at the same time, you felt guilty. your partner had no idea what was going on in that head of yours and he also had no idea that you and his best friend shared an intimate kiss. you was good at acting normal with him.

the day you decided to put some distance between you and hyunjin, was the day that you masturbated to him whilst he was in your apartment. it was a scorching hot day and hyunjin decided to stop by, have a chat with his best friend and work colleagues. He was dressed in a sleeveless top and denim shorts. nothing out of the ordinary right? however, his long hair was tied up, loose stands fell in front of his angelic face, he was noticeably sweating, face and neck shiny with moisture, his little baby hairs at the back of his neck sticking to his skin. it was like your dream, except a hundred times better.

you couldn't concentration on what he had to say that day. you couldn't help but admire him, admire how his biceps looked, how his eyes would crinkle when he smiled or that infectious laugh of his that you adore. you had to excuse yourself when Hyunjin innocently placed a hand on your leg, skin burning up instantly. you locked yourself in the bathroom, panting and aroused. after you was done, you decided that it was best for you to distance yourself from hyunjin, for your own sake. you couldn't carry on like this anymore.

months later, you was still having dreams but the weren't as frequent anymore. trying to distance yourself from hyunjin was hard at the beginning but you somehow managed. when he would come over, you'd excuse yourself and go to the store or a café. When he would text you asking if you wanted to grab a coffee, you'd lie and say you wasnt feeling very well. you thought your mind had calmed down until he showed up at your door unannounced.

that's how you found yourself in your current situation. you was backed up against the wall, hyunjin hands placed on the wall beside your head, trapping you in. your mind doing a full 360, butterflies erupting in your stomach, spreading all over your body. your inches away from his body, his lips. those lips you kissed months ago.

"why have you been avoiding me, (Y/N)?" you turned your head to the side, avoiding his gaze. he grabbed your chin firm but gently, making you look at him. you swallowed, heart beat picking up in pace as you looked in his eyes.

"I - I dont know what you mean." you whispered. you could feel yourself slowly crumbling under his touch, melting away as his eyes bore into your own.

"Don't play dumb with me. You don't think i don't know. every since the kiss, you've been acting strange around me. did i do something wrong? something to upset you? did you not like this kiss?" you pressed your lips together, words stuck in your throat. Hyunjin leant in close, his breath hitting the shell of your ear before smirking. "But i know you liked it. i know what you did that day, in the bathroom."

eyes widening, you looked at hyunjin panicked. You had been caught, you thought you was careful. you especially took extra precautions that day. you looked at your feet, eyes welling with tears. you was embarrassed, ashamed.

"I'm sorry." you shakily whispered. hyunjin laughed softly before lifting your chin up with his fingers. "Don't be. it was hot. hearing you moan my name like that. but it does make me wonder, what else do you fantasy about?"

you stayed silent, embarrassed as a flood of dreams and memories came rushing back to you. you shook your head no indicating that you wasn't going to tell. Hyunjin ran his fingers through his hair before leaning in close to your lips. you instinctively licked your own.

"be a good girl and tell me what you fantasies about." you snapped, rationality gone, flying out the window. his hands were trailing down your sides, turning you into putty. he smirked. he had you right where he wanted you.

"i think about how we would have sex in public. i-in cinemas and changing rooms. how id be on my knees, allowing you to use my mouth and fuck my throat. Id let you use me, b-because I'm just a toy, a slut for you." you whimpered as hyunjin growled lowly.

"how long has this been going on for?"

"since we met.." hyunjin let out a shaky breath. the air between you both was so thick with want and arousal, you could cut it with a knife. Hyunjin suddenly crashed his lips against yours. it took a few seconds for you to realise what was happening before you closed your eyes and melted into the kiss, into him. his hands snaked around your waist, pulling you flush to his body. moans and groans mixed with tongues, saliva and pants. you pulled away slightly, whispering "we cant do this. my partner, your friend. what i they walk in? what if we get caught?"

"fuck it. I've wanted you for so long, its agonizing. i want to sink my teeth into you, devour you. i want to feel you around my aching cock, call you a good girl as i watch you ride me. i want to see that pretty face of yours full of pleasure that i will so happily give to you. getting caught just adds to the fun."

you lost. you caved into your pent up desires. your kisses were filled with hunger. his hands trailing over your curves, squeezing ever inch before he squeezed your breasts. you whimpered softly before pulling away from his lips. making eye contact with him, you slowly lowered yourself to your knees, grabbing the waistband of his pants and underwear.

"w-wait. what are you doing?"

"let me. i want to, i always have. I'm going crazy, hyunjin. i want this, i want you." you was desperate as you pulled down his clothing. you didn't care how needy or slutty you looked or sounded, you had him here and you wasn't going to let the opportunity slip away from you again. Hyunjin was in shocked, seeing this side of you ignited something deep within him. running his fingers through your hair, he hummed as he watched you.

pulling clothing down to his ankles, his hard cock sprung free. you swallowed and licked your lips. it was better than you imagined, better than your dreams. you gently grabbed the base, feeling the warmth against your hand as you slowly stroked him, rotating your wrist slightly. you looked up at the man who was towering over you to see his eyebrows furrowed together, lip caught in between his teeth.

sticking your tongue out, you licked from base to tip slowly. you planted soft and delicate kisses along the side before licking it again. stopping at the tip, you licked it, salty pre cum collecting on your tongue. Hyunjin groaned, encouraging you to wrap you lips around him. your warm mouth caved him in as you sucked, flattening your tongue and hollowing out your cheeks. your hand had moved to his balls, fondling them. hyunjin moaned, tugging your hair and collecting it into a make shift ponytail. you stopped suddenly and closed your eyes. you tapped on hyunjin's thighs. he swallowed when he realised what you wanted him to do.

hyunjin thrusted into your mouth slowly, testing the waters to see how far he could go. once confident that he could be a bit rougher, he picked up the pace, going deeper, the tip reaching the back of your throat. hyunjin moaned and groaned as he continued to abuse your throat with his cock, the grip on your hair tightening. tears collected in the corners of your eyes, drool slowly making it way down your chin and on the floor beneath you. your underwear was soaked with arousal, pussy clenching around nothing.

hyunjin pulled his cock out off your mouth, making a loud 'pop'. whimpering at the lost, hyunjin looked down at you to see the state you was in. eyes hooded, chin wet with drool, hair tousled and lips slightly swollen. kneeling down to you, he wiped your chin, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip

"you did such a good job, (Y/N). i always knew you was such a good girl." you whimpered at his praises, your hand making its way down to your pussy. hyunjin watched with a raised brow, licking his lips when your hand disappeared underneath the fabric of your underwear. you rubbed slow circles on your clit, moaning softly. Hyunjin watched your every more and it wasn't until you looked him in the eye and moaned his name, that he snapped.

in one swift motion, he had picked you up and thrown you over his shoulder. you squealed as he made his way to the bedroom you share with your partner. throwing you onto the soft mattress gently, you propped yourself up by your elbows and spread your legs allowing hyunjin to see the damn spot that had accumulated from your arousal. you licked your bottom lip as you looked at hyunjin, fingertips feathering along the inside of your thigh.

discarding the rest of his clothes, hyunjin knelt on the bed in between your legs, taking your top off. his hands lightly trailed up from your stomach to your right breast, gripping it in his big hands, squeezing it. you whimpered softly before kissing him again, this time with hunger. Hyunjins fingers grazed over your nipple, the sensitive nub causing you to shiver and mewl.

pulling away from your lips, he shimmed his way to situate himself between your legs. grabbing the waistband of your underwear, he pulled the down and off. the cold air hitting your arousal caused you to shiver. Hyunjins dragged his finger up and down your slit, occasionally rubbing your clit, teasing your entrance by sliding one finger in and then back out again causing you to clench and squirm

"Hyunjin, stop teasing me! i need you so bad! im going insane! give me that cock of yours. ruin me, devour me. ive wanted you for months and all your doing is teasing me!" you whined, eyes becoming wet with tears of frustration. hyunjin didn't think he was that kind of man, seeing someone beg and be frustrated due to him teasing. he didn't think he would be the type of person to love seeing someone cry yet here he was, cock twitching at the sight you begging for him, hot tears collecting in the corners of your eyes. his name rolling off your tongue in the form of frustrated whimpers.

"give it to me. hyunjin. please, give it to me. i need it. i need you. i need your cock inside me, ruining my insides. i don't care anymore, i just- please!!"

in one swift motion, hyunjin was on his back, you straddled on top of him. your entrance hovered above his tip as his hands situated themselves on your waist.

"you want it, you work for it." pressing your lips together, you grabbed the base of his cock, guiding it towards your entrance. slowly lowering yourself, you felt the burn due to being stretch. hyunjins hands squeezed your waist tightly, doing everything in his power to not slam you down. you soon had his entire length inside you, waiting a few minutes to get use to his size.

"s-so big." you mewled, slowly lifting your hips ups before lowering them again. you picked up the pace once you got accustomed to his size, mewls turning into moans with added groans mixed in from the man below you.

"fuck (Y/N) you’re so wet, so tight for me. i cant believe i’ve waited all this time to fuck you!" hyunjin thrusting upwards to met with your thrusts, moans and wet sounds filling up the bedroom. "Fuck this" hyunjin growled, putting you on your back. grabbing your hips and pushing his length back in. his thrust were quick. he was balls deep in you, his hips snapping against your own. the tip of his cock hitting that soft, squishy area that made you toss and turn in pleasure.

your skin was on fire. your hips and back of your thighs starting to hurt from the constant snapping of hyunjins hips. your mind was blank, the only thing you could think of was the glorious man above you. your hands grabbing his shoulders, nails digging into his soft, milky skin leaving crescent marks behind. pleasure was rippling through your body.

"good. s-so good. its so good. you're so good. oh g-god!" you closed your eyes, a familiar knot tightening in the pit of your stomach as hyunjin rubbed lazy circles on your clit, your pussy clenching around his cock causing him to grunt

"you close, doll? you want to cum?" you nodded frantically, your hand grabbing his wrist that was rubbing your clit, squeezing tightly as you became closer to the edge. "fuck, (Y/N). i don't think i can last much longer either."

"inside. cum inside."

"you sure? that's really risky. we're not even using protection for a start."

"its ok. on the pill. its fine, just give it to me. please hyunjin. i want all of you!" with a final snap of his hips, the knot became undone. moaning out his name in a string of curses, your body twitched, back arched and legs shake as you rode out your high with the help of hyunjin. you pushed away his hand that was stimulating your clit claiming you was sensitive to the touch. seeing you orgasm was enough for hyunjin to halt his movements, body twitching as he painted your walls with him cum. he thrusted shallowly, helping to ride out both your highs before gently pulling out and resting beside you.

panting and covered in sweat, you looked at hyunjin and smiled sleepily. he extended his hand out and stroked your cheek softly. for a brief moment, you forgot about the world, about life. it was you and him, together.

"what do we do now?" you asked, opening your eyes

"well, we go shower and clean up."

"no silly. what do WE do now. as in, where does this lead us?" hyunjin hummed for a second, thinking.

"well, i enjoyed it. a lot." you nodded, feelings mutual. "however, there is a slight problem to that. we 100% crossed that line that shouldn't be crossed and i cant help but feel guilty for it but at the same time, its exhilarating."

you nodded again, agreeing with him. he's right, its so wrong what you two had just done but it felt so right. you felt guilty because your partner didn't deserve the betrayal from you both however, the danger of possibly being caught was exciting to you both. "do you wanna continue or..?"

"do you?" he turned the question back onto you. you thought about it for a second before nodding slowly.

"then i guess you'll be my little secret, princess."

[avissapiens]

Jockbull Summer Week 6 Set B (18/12/23-24/12/23)

Model used Onome egger(yes this is reused, didn't have time to make a new one)

1

So this is the first time I fucked up the fast. I still did manage to keep a net caloric intake of about 700cal because of cardio. But I was so out of it in the morning that i forgot to remove the egg yolks in my eggs. And egg yolks are so full of carbs and delicious delicious fats.

It didn’t ruin the day by any means, and arguably made the morning much more bearable. But it was an extra like 200 calories that I could have docked.

2.

Only one meditation this week and it was very standard. Just trying to sort out my brain and prioritize things so i don’t feel so overwhelmed. Coalesce and relax and remind myself that not everything is actually important. Things can go undone if they don’t need to be. Set things in order so that you can deal with the few important things and everything else can go on auto mode.

3.

Always doing this ngl. I wake up from my pre-gym nap and i stroke a bit before getting ready. But also i did break the edging streak…several times..with a cute himbo slut tho so it’s alright. Was so pent up. Bred him and *literally* tore him open with this fat fucking bull cock. Disturbed all his neighbours for hours. But i Can't wait to build back that energy.

4.

Okay I am working on an ACTUAL creative work right now in the form of an avis abstraction. But I am gonna cheat and declare this as one too.

I have a 600 song music playlist that i’ve been building and curating since I was about 13. My music tastes are very incongruent and eclectic and i love them.

So what I’ve done is I went through the songs and picked out a few for each archetype and put them into little vibe playlists that i thought evoked their essences. Enjoy them! (Alpha/Bro/Bull/Jock/Himbo/Pup/AVIS)

5.

I didn’t write up Last week’s Set C. For that I apologize. If I did I would have told you all how the routine feels set now. I’ve got a whole bunch of skincare stuff. Supplements. A process. And its really helping me I feel. It doesn’t feel monotonous. I feel like its placing me into a good starting position for the day to feel good about myself. 

[suchagallabitch]

🫵weekly wednesday tag 🫵

omg I (simple old me?) have been bestowed upon the honour of coming up with these questions??? i would like to thank the academy for this most sacred honour 😋

1. if you could switch bodies with anybody for only one hour who would it be and what would you do? I think I gotta say taylor swift OBVI. first off im gonna dropping ME! acoustic version. Then I’m gonna hope lover deluxe is already recorded, drop that. If not i will make sure to text Jack and tell him that we need to record it so that i get it either way 😼. Then I would find out the definite truth of what happened between her and Karlie Kloss. I’d wire myself (as in me- me) a few million dollars, pet the cats and then post something really random on her instagram story. Literally want to make the public go absolutely bananas trying to figure out why taylor posted a random twitter meme. I have a lot of faith to believe this could all happen in an hour but I would try. SO hard.

2. whats your most trivial / dumbest hot take?I don’t think we should still be discovering animals. like what do you mean in the year of our lord 2023 we are STILL finding animals?? no they should all be discovered and if they havent been then i think they should stay undiscovered.

3. if you had to teach a college course what would it be in? I feel like we’re all expecting me to say something Taylor related but honestly I could teach a masterclass on the psychology of Ryan Murphy. I hate that man and i have so much to say about him and his productions

4. season 12 of shameless is suddenly happen and youve been put in charge! what plot point(s) are you gonna make happen? I cant think of anything substantial to actually contribute but i want Carl Gallagher to have a fruity little vape. I also want to see him quit the force and flourish in a new job!

5. who would be your godly parent? (can be any mythology). I’m gonna go with greeks as a Percy Jackson stan. I asked my bsf who is an expert in greek mythology. She said: “you’re a Aphrodite child cuz you’re a hopeless romantic and you appreciate beauty. You’re very particular in how you’re viewed and how everything you produce is viewed (what you write, how your feed looks like, etc.)” - I’m gonna have to agree with her on Aphrodite

6. what’s something you love about yourself? I think i’m so very very funny

7. describe your day in 5 emojis: 😴👁️👩‍💻✈️☕️

8. what shameless character do you think you could beat in a fight? Realistically i think the ONLY person i could beat in a fight is Liam and honest to god im not even sure i could.

9. tell us 2 truths and a lie, we’ll try to guess the lie!

- I’m double jointed

- I sleep on the left side of the bed

- I’ve never had pumpkin pie

10. do you have a pet(s). if so how did they get their name? I do! my son (cat) is named Chidi after the good place!

11. show us a meme (or picture) that captures your essence

self explanatory.

12. whats your typical coffee / tea / beverage order? see i gotta have a special lil drinky drink everyday and i mean my little drinky drinks are free so i am likw 80% gingerbread chai at any given time. Alternatively, an iced chestnut praline latte w/ praline cold foam.

13. use a song to describe the last 5 years of your life?

2019- its nice to have a friend- taylor swift

2020- ribs - lorde

2021- nothing new - taylor swift

2022- first love / late spring- mitski OR orlando- leith ross

2023- true blue - boygenuis OR now that we don’t talk - taylor swift.

Thank you friends thats all i got :)

I Tag: @deedala @darlingian @michellemisfit @mybrainismelted @too-schoolforcool @gallawitchxx @gardenerian @sam-loves-seb @thisdivorce @xninetiestrendx @scarcrosseduntouched @juliakayyy @y0itsbri @grumble-fish @grumpymickmilk @transmickey @surviving-maybe @metalheadmickey @heymrspatel @auds-and-evens @deathclassic @flamingbluepanda @crossmydna @sleepyfacetoughguy @vintagelacerosette @depressedstressedlemonzest @thepupperino @squidyyy23 @energievie 🫶🫶

[dearweirdme]

On one hand, jk is heavily implying that he sees and knows more about what goes on in socials than people think he does and then on the other hand, he stays setting tae up? Telling him to get lost and acting like his presence alone is interrupting a serious conversation about music--- then when the switch up comes it's not about how Tae might contribute to discussing the music, it's once again about his looks and how either his visuals or shippers will bump up the view count, and ppl can pretend otherwise but his energy towards tae was real low in that ep.

It's getting exhausting trying to make excuses for this shit now 🙄 he pulled this shit with vmin the other day too---like he was too busy with 'serious business' to be bothered by them.

And yeah he validated the snowboarding trip but still couldn't help but set Tae up for his sad solos to call him a bad friend and question Taekook.

And all the pics you're all FFFFFF over are JK basking in the attention and affection but not really giving shit in return.

He gives the bare minimum, like a bit of dancing to a song, while tae is openly glowing about and praising his stuff and y'all are like 'oh, he's been busy' like tae has been on the sofa all day watching TV or something and has all the time in the world to devote to jk--like he doesn't just make time for him and jk couldn't do the same in reverse if he wanted to. He has time to do all those lives trying to convince delulus that he's singing about them in Seven but not to hype tae's stuff without being asked to by fans?

You can call me an anti or hater or a joker if you want but I'm not. I'm a taekook shipper too who is just fed up of seeing Tae giving all that energy and it not being matched and even not being appreciated. These guys are not approaching each other on the same level and you all know it because you keep making all these excuses for it; about how it's just jk just being to shy and cautious and tae being too bold and impulsive, when all its really covering for is a lack of respect and consideration and a sense of dismissiveness undermining and even passive aggressiveness towards someone who is, at best, supposed to be his boyfriend and at worst, supposed to be his best friend.

Haters out for tae's blood are having a field day with the chum that jk keeps throwing in the water for them so he's either dumb and doesnt think about the shit he does and says or he just doesn't care that tae keeps taking the heat for it.

I want this ship to be real and I still do think its real but he needs to course correct because right now, he's barely managing to pass 'supportive friend' nevermind 'supportive boyfriend'

It's giving 'tae deserves better' on both fronts.

Hi anon!

I don’t actually think the term Taekook shipper applies to you. Because in essence ‘shipping’ means you like the two persons together and you feel they would make a nice pair. You don’t actually think they make a nice pair, because you don’t feel Jk treats Tae well. Leaving aside that you are imo very wrong in interpreting the way Jk reacts to Tae.. seriously like.. how do you not see 🙈.

I’m seriously not going to go into how I disagree with your take on Jk. In my opinion you just don’t understand or get him.

Wanting a ship to be real isn’t the point. It’s either real or not, our wanting has nothing to do with it. I think you are a Taekook believer, but not so much a Taekook shipper (anymore). Maybe your ideas about what a relationship should look like differ from what you see, but realize that we will never get to see them as actual boyfriends.

[mohabbaat]

[BECAUSE it's sth i've been thinking about a LOT lately.] bollywood started out very misogynistic. every time i watch an old movie, while i acknowledge the exceptions, most of them either show a woman who'd sleep with anyone for money or show a woman who's literally just a slave, that's IT. it took YEARS for it to make movies that don't show women in a bad light, that actually appreciate us. and apparently that lasted like, 10 years? (on and off, yk, in total) because now, everyone seems more interested in movies that have women as an accessory, looking pretty, not playing any active role, while her man does his job. *hearts and fire* while good, unproblematic movies get criticised for having "unrealistic expectations" or "too much feminism". they're so obsessed with all that "alpha" "sigma" "masculine" bullshit. it's so. pathetic. so fucking infuriating. yeah-

hard agree. like the english vinglish, queen, kahaani era was truly the peak of women centric bollywood movies. after that even though such movies were still being made, they shifted from being empowering to being condescending. like if you are a strong independent woman, then you must drink and hook up with random men and wear revealing clothes and whatnot. the feminism became too focused on the urban young woman and lost its essence in my opinion. like i can name so many popular recent film/series (4 more shots, thank you for coming, veere di wedding) which are just trying so hard to be relatable that they end up feeling tone deaf and people start hating them and going back to the same old bullshit heroine is an accessory movies (this also means that the actual good movies (qala, bulbull, etc) just go under the radar which is equally irritating 🙄).

as far as the sigma male thing goes, i am so so tired of these directors and actors showing toxic behaviour on screen without showing its fucking consequences. like the man can do anything and the director will make sure that he has a happy ending cause true love is obviously all about forgiveness and accepting everything even if it hurts you. salman khan, akshay kumar, srk, ranbir kapoor, literally every hero rn is guilty of accepting and promoting such scripts. like even in jawaan, there were 5-6 actresses yet srk had all the fkn screentime. i get he's a big actor but god?? give the actresses something other than a song???? maybe a few emotions??? don't even get me started on kabir singh and animal and even pushpa. 🙄

[e-the-village-cryptid]

Velcinta Playlist

A playlist carefully crafted in chronological order of their relationship from beginning to end, with the help of @chipthekeeper

Tracklist, event/time each song was chosen to describe, and lyrics excerpt for each song under the cut!

1. Even Robots Need Blankets by Mayday Parade— the beginning of their relationship

Singing "Oh, love get me out of the cold" Pull me right up by the fire and I'll show you what home means now The words came with a new kind of sadness They meant everything, you mean everything to me I'll take the first train out of this town With a glare in my eye and my pockets full, ready to die And when I get hazy I will think just maybe you're out there somewhere Singing "Oh, love get me out of the cold" If I'd promise that I take you there with me Would you go

2. Lullaby by The Chicks— snuggling on Aldhani while prepping for the mission

I slip in bed when you're asleep To hold you close and feel your breath on me Tomorrow there'll be so much to do So tonight I'll drift in a dream with you How long do you wanna be loved? (Wanna be loved) Is forever enough, is forever enough? How long do you wanna be loved? (Wanna be loved) Is forever enough 'Cause I'm never, never giving you up

3. Bulletproof Heart by My Chemical Romance— the Aldhani heist

Gravity don't mean too much to me, I'm who I've got to be These pigs are after me, after you Run away like it was yesterday and we could run away If we could run away, run away from here I got a bulletproof heart, you got a hollow-point smile Me and your runaway scars Got a photographed dream on the getaway mile Let's blow a hole in this town And do our talking with a laser beam Gunnin' out of this place in a bullet's embrace Then we'll do it again

4. Nevertheless I'm in Love With You by The Mills Brothers— Vel feeling like Cinta is slipping away

Somehow I know at a glance The terrible chances I'm taking Fine at the start, then left with a heart that is breaking Oh maybe I'll live a life of regret And maybe I'll give much more than I'll get But nevertheless, I'm in love with you

5. Chasing Twisters by Delta Rae— Separated after Aldhani

I was born with lightning in my heels Set a spur onto my ankle Bit a horse under the steel And I lost hope when I was still so young Had an angel on my shoulder But the devil always won And oh, I lost it all when I got hurt And I can feel you even now Breaking horses in the sky I can taste you in my rage And in the sweat upon my brow And I went home Chasing twisters in the canyon My cathedral is the badlands Dust and devils on my conscience Come back to me, darling So kiss me now This whiskey on my breath Feel the lives that I have taken What little soul that I have left And oh, my God I'll take you to the grave The only love I've ever known The only soul I ever saved

6. Mirror to the Sky by Yes— The "I'm a mirror, Vel" conversation on Ferrix and subsequent separation

You're my mirror to the sky You're my mirror to the sky Still I dream of a sky without fire Still I dream of a sky without fire falling Still I dream of a sky without fire What the shadow minds behind the third eye Spies in vain define The essence they fail to possess and so resist all They cannot control Their forces then despise the very Soul And Its inseparable ties To the limitless sacred skies

7. Start a Riot by BANNERS— the Ferrix Riot; specifically, that one shot of Vel running into the smoke after Cinta

I will wade through the fire and smoke like sunlight through the haze I will fight till the flag waves white until my dying days Through the bombs and blasts We will take it back If your world falls apart I'd start a riot If night falls in your heart I'd light the fire In the dark, when you sound the alarm We'll find each other's arms For your love, all you are I'd start a riot

8. Like it's the End by Malinda— Vel pleading with Cinta in the aftermath of the Ferrix Riot to just pause and spend time together although the world feels like it's falling down Where we were going, it's gone now What time we had left, well it's done Whatever we learned is wrong now Why did we think we could run? So why don't we shut all the doors now? Smoke seeping in through the walls I'll lie on the floor at your feet now Kiss me open Let me fall Let you Love me Love me, oh Love me like it's the end It's the end, so Love me Love me Love me like it's the end

9. Snuff by Slipknot— Cinta pushing Vel away for the last time in the name of the Rebellion

So, if you love me, let me go And run away before I know My heart is just too dark to care I can't destroy what isn't there Deliver me into my fate If I'm alone I cannot hate I don't deserve to have you Ooh, my smile was taken long ago If I can change I hope I never know I still press your letters to my lips And cherish them in parts of me that savor every kiss I couldn't face a life without your light (without your light) But all of that was ripped apart when you refused to fight So, save your breath, I will not hear I think I made it very clear You couldn't hate enough to love Is that supposed to be enough?

10. Sorry by Kensington— Vel's perspective after the breakup, feeling regret over her belief that she never could be committed enough for Cinta, and maybe Cinta was right to leave and it's better that way

Sorry for the oath that I won't take For the vows that I will break For the role that I won't play Sorry that I'm raising up my walls And whenever you reached over You are thrown back to the start You will forget And I won't remember it When all I ever did was race in circles You will forget And all there's left will be A faded memory A dream you woke up from

[bullet-prooflove]

Love Song - Michael 'Riz' Ariza x Reader

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life, @danzer8705 @mysoulisasunflower @vannabanana1995 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl

You’re not in bed when Riz wakes up, but he can hear the low dulcet notes of your guitar through the closed door. He follows the sound down the hallway, his hand brushing his hair out of his eyes as he lingers for a moment on threshold.

You’re sitting on the couch in one of his button up shirts and a pair of black panties, the guitar perched in your lap. Your song book is spread out on the coffee table in front of you, pencil etchings scrawled across its pages as you pause and make another correction.

He smiles because it’s moments like this that he treasures, the ones where he sees you in full flow, inspired and vibrant. It does something to him to see you like this, to know that you’re comfortable enough in his presence to express yourself and your creativity.

Your head tilts up as he enters the room, attention diverted by the movement.

“Sorry.” You say, setting the pencil down alongside your notebook. “I woke up with a song in my head. I have the lyrics down, but the melody is being tricky.”

“Let’s have a look.” He murmurs, his voice still rough from sleep as he takes a seat from the couch beside you. You hand him the guitar before turning the song book towards him. His fingers pluck at the strings, testing the chords as he finds the impression of the song, the ebb of the melody.

You lean in close, your hair brushing over his shoulder, the faint scent of your perfume clinging to your skin. Delicate rose with hints of saffron, it reminds him of the first blush of spring.

“I’m having a problem with this part.” You tell him, your fingertip skating over the notation. His brows furrow as he studies the notes before he picks up the pencil and jots an alternative beside it.

“We could try this.” He said, tapping the pencil against the paper. “I’ll play, you sing?”

You smile at him, and he feels that warmth blossom deep down in his chest because despite the fact it’s two in the morning, he’s never been happier. There’s something about being around you, making music and collaborating that feels right. He’s never had this with anyone else, never dreamed that he could.

It takes him a couple of tries to pull the song together, to learn it just enough to play without the song book. It’s beautiful, light and upbeat and he can feel the echoes of your essence vibrating through the stings as he plucks them. There’s a signature when it comes to musicians, it’s the difference between mimicking someone else’s music and crafting your own. He can see your flourish, feel the elements of your style as he plays, and it resonates with something inside of his soul. He chases the rhythm, letting it flood his senses until the song overtakes him. This is what he loves about music, you can sense someone’s passion, feel their emotions, it’s something building in your chest until it overtakes you.

It isn’t until the third run through that he tunes into the words your singing, he listens closely as he strums, his brain catching on each of the lyrics, bringing colour to his cheeks.

A dark haired lover with amber eyes to kiss me through the night.

He’s got patches on his skin that tell a story, of a thousand lifetimes lived.

I run my fingers over them, and I hope he knows I’m his.

His heart thunders against my chest, my hands in his hair

As he whispers I love you against my lips.

There’s a feeling deep inside of him, a wanton surge of sentiment that surges through his nerve endings until it engulfs him. He looks at you, his fingers slipping from the fretboard.

“Do you mean it?” he asks you.

“I can’t say it. The words I have they don’t seem adequate enough.” You tell him quietly, fingertip tapping on the place your heart resides. “But I can sing it, it’s the only way I know how to show you how much you mean to me.”

He doesn’t speak, he can’t.

There are no words to express how he feels in this moment, the wild flurry of devotion that rushes through him. Instead, he puts the guitar down and he shows you. He makes love to you on that couch with a song in his heart and your hands in his hair.

Love Riz? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[tokuvivor]

DuckTales Character Songs! (Part 2)

Alright, now we’re cooking here! This time around, I’m going to be focusing on important recurring characters that debuted in Season 1.

Again, giving some brainstorming credit on this to @glowyjellyfish, plus, also, a little bit to @shychick-52, since one of these is in her pinned list.

Flintheart Glomgold

Rasputin by Boney M.

Ah, Rasputin. The Russian mystic who wouldn’t die. And like Rasputin, Glomgold is a very fiery, polarizing character who will say and do anything to get to the top, even if he has to resort to power beyond his normal means (not unlike The 87 Cent Solution!)

Bradford Buzzard

Takin’ Care of Business by Bachman-Turner Overdrive

He didn’t really have a bigger role until Season 3, but he still counts for here! Anyway, Bradford is very serious, by-the-book, and business-oriented, so this song works perfectly for him.

Ma Beagle and the Beagle Boys

Bad Boys by Inner Circle from Cops

Pretty self-explanatory here. Moving on.

Gyro Gearloose

The Scientist by Coldplay

Yes, the title is obvious. But the lyrics can be seen as speaking more to his guilt over his past actions (“Nobody said it was easy, it’s such a shame for us to part,” “I was just guessing at numbers and figures, pulling the puzzles apart,” etc.), such as what happened at Tokyolk and with the Spear of Selene.

Lena

Demons by Imagine Dragons

All throughout Season 1 (and even in later episodes), Lena had personal demons regarding Magica that she couldn’t easily shake. Like the lyrics said, she wanted to hide the truth from Webby and everyone else, but there was nowhere to hide. And she always kept up walls that prevented her from getting too close to people (“Don’t get too close, it’s dark inside.”) And even after she broke from Magica’s control, she was worried that she could still turn out bad, but with the help of others, especially Webby and Violet, she was able to overcome those demons in her mind.

Gladstone Gander

Life Has Been Good to Me by Randy Newman

Gladstone is a naturally lucky character. Whatever happens in the game of life, the dice roll in his favor. I guess other than the events leading up to and within The House of the Lucky Gander!, life is good to him.

Mark Beaks

How Bad Can I Be? by Ed Helms from The Lorax

Life is all about survival of the fittest at times. You gotta do what it takes to survive, even if it means screwing others over. That mindset is 100% Beaks to me. The last half of the song, especially, where the Once-ler is bragging about his business and building an economy, absolutely screams Beaks to me.

Zeus, Storkules, and Selene

Zeus: The Gospel Truth by Lillias White, LaChanze, Roz Ryan, Cheryl Freeman, and Vaneese Thomas from Hercules

Storkules: The Harder They Come by Jimmy Cliff

Selene: Song About the Moon by Paul Simon

I feel it would only be appropriate if I put the three deities of Ithaquack together. First off, I kinda had to throw a Hercules song in there somewhere, and this one brilliantly tells the story of how Zeus came to power. On the second note, Storkules is absolutely a pillar of strength, and he’s very determined, too. Just like the real-life myth and the movie, he will take on any and all opponents, no matter how big or daunting they may be. Finally, we have Selene, the goddess of the moon. The moon is very powerful, graceful, and beautiful, just as she is. The song here explains how in order to write a song about the moon, you need to capture its features, its essence. And in order to write a song about the heart or a face, tie it back to writing about the moon. It just shows how influential the moon can be, just as Selene is in making decisions as a goddess.