#and when he has his own children although a part of him would lament that they never got to meet their grandfather

[irafuwas]

Utada Hikaru - 「Sakura Nagashi」

開いたばかりの花が散るのを 「今年も早いね」と 残念そうに見ていたあなたは とてもきれいだった

When you stood there and watched Disappointed As the flower petals dropped to the ground You murmured "They fell early this year, too" You looked so beautiful then

もし今の私を見れたなら どう思うでしょう あなた無しで生きてる私を

I wonder What would you think If you could see me now Going through life without you

Everybody finds love Everybody finds love In the end

あなたが守った街のどこかで今日も響く 健やかな産声を聞けたなら きっと喜ぶでしょう 私たちの続きの足音

Today, too The healthy cries of a newborn baby echo in the streets Of the town you once protected If you could hear them now I'm sure you'd be so happy Their footsteps will carry on where ours left off

Everybody finds love In the end

もう二度と会えないなんて信じられない まだ何も伝えてない まだ何も伝えてない

I still can't believe I'm never going to see you again There's so many things I never got to tell you So many things I never got to say

開いたばかりの花が散るのを 見ていた木立の遣る瀬無きかな

Maybe this is how the trees felt As they stood there Helpless Watching their flowers fall to the ground Right after they'd bloomed

どんなに怖くたって目を逸らさないよ 全ての終わりに愛があるなら

No matter how scared I feel I won't look away As long as there's love in the end

[heroes-among-us-all]

How would Katsuki react to an s/o that can’t have babies because of their quirk? thanks love!!

Despite how he may come across, Katsuki is actually very family-oriented. He's the type of guy you can always count on when things get tough, and when it comes to his family and loved ones, he will always put them first and make sure they feel happy and safe.

That being said, if Katsuki has chosen you as his significant other, it means he loves every part of you, and would never dream of changing a single thing.

The fact that your Quirk prevents you from having children doesn't upset Katsuki. There are other means of starting a family - adoption, for one, and even taking on a potential surrogate or other such approaches. What does upset him is seeing you feel self-conscious or even a bit guilty because you can't get pregnant. It isn't your fault that your Quirk impacts your body this way. He hates to watch you blame yourself for something that is completely out of your control.

Katsuki will go to great lengths to try and erase your self-doubt. He loves you more than he can even expresses. You're amazing, and you deserve to feel comfortable in your own skin.

It's no secret that he isn't exactly the best at issuing comforting words, but even so, he'll try. If he ever sees that you're feeling dejected and lamenting the fact that you can't get pregnant, he'll wrap you in his arms without even wasting a beat.

"You're worrying about this again?" he frowns. "I keep telling you you're perfect. Or did someone say some nasty shit to you? I'll kick their asses if that's the case. Fucking losers with nothing better to do than gossip about others."

Katsuki will never stand for any form of slander directed your way, especially if it's regarding your inability to get pregnant - something that you're highly self-conscious about.

He's certainly gotten quite aggressive on more than one occasion, and more often than not, you're the one who has to calm him down when he's all riled up. Although it isn't great to go around yelling at people, you know that he's only doing it because he loves you and wants to protect you from the people that try to tear you down.

Even though some days are definitely harder than others, Katsuki loves you unconditionally. You know that no matter what happens, he'll always be right by your side.

[divasae]

yandere childhood best friend x reader

desc: childhood best friend x f reader, fell apart/distance, general yandere behaviors, possessive, jealous, innocent reader, slight nsfw!

I gotta admit, this trope has been on my mind for a good while now, and ive giggling and kicking my feet imagining scenarios, so enjoy!

side note: feel free to critique my work, as its my first time posting content on here, or even writing a fic in general. I'm also open to suggestions of what I should write next, as long as I'm comfortable enough with the suggestion.

word count: 3.2k

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The day the both of you had met happened to be the first day of kindergarten. You had worn a frilly dress that your mother dressed you in, and as she took pictures with her camera, you bounced around in excitement. However, as you walked to the school with your mother, you immediately hid behind her skirt as you saw a crowd of children huddled near your assigned classroom, feeling overwhelmed. It was your first time in such an environment, and as usual, your mother didn't understand you at all! She had practically pushed you into the classroom, and before you knew it, she had already left. Tears filled your eyes as you looked at the unfamiliar environment, and when the teacher had instructed everyone to find a seat, you began to tremble and cry, unsure of what to do.

When the teacher finally took notice of you, they quickly rushed to your side, ushering you into a seat. You sniffled as you wiped your tears, before you suddenly felt a poke on your shoulder. You looked beside you, to find a boy your age, giving you a toothy grin. "I snuck in candy, do you want some?" he whispered, smiling mischievously as he showed you the candy discreetly. You, having a sweet tooth, quickly nodded, and he generously gave you half of his candy.

Since that day, you both were inseparable. It started with exchanging snacks with each other, to building towers together, to playing family. He would always play father, and you would be the mother, where you raised your "children", being other kids in the class. Even other parents would gush at the sight of you two, being as an adorable pairing. As you both grew older, you both managed to maintain the tight knit bond. However, unbeknownst to you, things had begun to fall apart, ever since you both entered middle school.

Suddenly, he was too cool for you, and couldn't be seen with you anymore. Your heart broke slowly, as you saw your former friend go from a sweet boy to a disrespectful and misbehaving one, frequently sneaking out of class with his friends to go smoke under the bleachers.

Eventually, you stopped thinking about him, after high school had started. However, you found yourself looking at him sometimes, with a yearning gaze. He had made a large network of friends in high school, being outspoken and charming. On the other hand, you had a small group of friends, all prim and proper, not even willing to bend a single rule.

You despised it. It felt suffocating, to be stuck in the same loop every day. You felt pressured, by your parents and friends alike. When your parents would stress you to do well in your studies and not talk to any boys, it distressed you. When you would go to school to tell your friends, hoping for a semblance of sympathy, you would be met with confused faces.

You admired him, in some way. While you were stuck in the same loop daily, you saw how your former best friend was enjoying his own life, and it irritated you. You knew it was illogical, but a part of you resented him, for leaving you behind all those years ago.

'Did he even think about you?' you would question yourself, as you passed him in the halls, with no form of acknowledgment on his half. 'No, that was impossible, of course', you would lament later, after you had seen him sling his arm around a beautiful girl.

Although you knew deep down that the path he was going down was not one you should want for yourself, you secretly yearned for the amount of freedom he had. You wondered what would happen if you rebelled, just like him. However, you knew that was impossible, so you admired his antics from far away, wishing it could have been you.

And soon, you had graduated from high school. As you left the hall with your family, you turned back one last time to see him in a crowd with his many friends, hugging him. With a twinge of jealousy, you turned around and left the hall quickly, unaware of a pair of eyes looking at the back of your head.

During the summer, you had began to work as a waitress for a restaurant, to save up money. When asked why, you would give everyone the same reply. "I'm saving up to get a new car" you would say cheerfully, flashing a smile at them. But only you knew the real reason.

For your studies, you had purposefully chosen to study in a different country, for you could no longer stand it. You were leaving behind no one, the only person you had felt a genuine connection with was long gone anyway. All you wanted was a fresh start, away from the suffocating environment you were placed in. You were planning on moving away in silence, and only your parents were aware of your plans, having begrudgingly agreed after many arguments.

It was a friday evening, when you were cleaning tables, when you had suddenly heard the bell chime at the front door. You looked up with a practiced smile on your face, only to fall after seeing who it was. There he was, walking in with a couple of his buddies, with that arrogant, cocky smile on his face. You froze, like a deer stuck in headlights, a conflicted and panicked expression plastered on your face as he made eye contact with you, and smiled. Finally having regained your sense, you quickly ran to the back, hiding from the group.

One of the other waitresses looked at you with a confused expression as you practically ran off, before smiling at the new customers and seating them. You snuck glances at him and his friends, as you tried to find any work to do in the back. However, when you heard your name called, your face flushed, and you looked up to see the other waitress calling you. "Apparently, the men seated requested for you specifically!" she exclaimed, as you smiled at her with a pained expression. She nudged you playfully, whispering a "they are SO into you" before pushing you their way.

Meanwhile, your friend stared at you, with a smirk on his face, relishing your thunderstruck face. As you had hesitantly made your way over to their table, he looked at you up and down, admiring the way your hips moved. He had to admit, you were quite easy to look at. As he heard your meek voice greet them, he leaped at the chance to ask about how you were doing. Not that he didn't already know, but he found it enjoyable to see how you fidgeted nervously, talking in a quiet voice without meeting his eyes.

"That's all darling" he said, as he finished ordering, noticing your flustered expression. As you scurried off, he smiled to himself, his eyes lingering on you. As you had finished serving them, he saw the look of relief on your face when he had stood up to leave. He flashed you one more charming smile, before leaving into the dark night.

Once you heard the bell at the door chime as it closed, you breathed a heavy sigh of relief, your shoulder slumping. After so long, you had finally spoken with him again. In the past, you had envisioned your reunion more times then what could be counted, filled with tears of sadness and joy. However, now that a whole different scenario had occurred instead, you couldnt identify the feeling that was creeping over you. Perhaps it was a mix of sadness and jealousy. You watched the group of young men chat in front of what you assumed was one of their cars from afar, at the window, before tending back to your work.

The rest of the night, you counted down the minutes until you were able to go home, leaping for the chance the manager had given you to leave early. As you walked outside into the dark and quiet atmosphere, a gust of cold air engulfed you, as you began to make your way home. However, a feeling of dread creeped up on you, as you heard a horn honk in your direction from afar.

You turned your head back so fast you couldve gotten whiplash, just to see a black car following you from behind. Your heart began to race, colour draining from your face, when you hear a voice shout your name. Only then do you recognize the voice to be your childhood friend's. You breath a sigh of relief as he rolls down his window, staring into your eyes with a playful look. "Are you seriously walking home alone princess?" he asked, his eyes boring into your own.

You cringe, as you're forced to look at him, the last person you had wanted to see. Your feel heat rising to your cheeks as he stares at you, breaking eye contact with him and looking down at the ground. "Well, it's a daily routine" you say quieter than you had hoped to say, your cheeks flushing even more. You feel his eyes on your head, as he slowly says, "Why don't I drop you off?"

Your head shot back up at these words, your eyes wide with surprise. "Oh no, I couldn't" you say almost instantly, clutching your arm. The sudden shift in attitude from him was almost enough to give you whiplash, and you had some doubts as to why he was suddenly acting so strange. "Why were you here anyway?" you ask suspiciously, as it had been a while since he had left the restaurant.

"Nevermind that, he waved off impatiently. "Get in dear, I can't have you walking home alone in the dark" he says, followed with a "Who knows what people would do if they caught you" muttered more quietly. You look at him, feeling conflicted, but finally agree, not wanting to be rude.

Once you had entered his car, he begins driving, an awkward silence filling the car. You clutch your skirt with your hands, resisting the urge to look at him, instead plastering your eyes onto your hands. That is before he suddenly asks a "How have you been?" quietly, his eyes still on the road. You take a moment to find the words within you, before mustering a "good" in a meek voice.

"What are you planning on doing, now that you're done high school?" he asks, now eyeing you with a glint in his eyes. Your own eyes widen, and it feels as if your heart rate spiked suddenly. "Oh, I don't know, settle down for a while maybe" you squeak out nervously, hoping he didn't notice.

What you didn't notice however, was a pair of knowing eyes, darkening when you had told such a pathetic lie on the spot. He already knew about what you were planning to do of course, but he had wanted to hear it from your own lips, and yet, you disappoint him once again.

How had he known though? Well, it was foolish to think that no one would find out, especially with having arguments with your parents with the windows open. He had his eyes on you for ages, he was bound to overhear the fact that you were planning on moving away.

In middle school, he had made the terrible mistake of letting you go, and it took him years to realize what a huge mistake he had made. So, he had made the habit of watching you from afar. Admiring you, when you would laugh as you walked along with your friends, when you would spend time in the library reading, or when you would cry, thinking no one would hear you.

However, his feelings of anguish and guilt stopped him, every single time he tried to speak to you again. He missed your voice, reminiscing frequently of you calling out his name so beautifully. But it had gone too far now that you made such a huge decision, and he wasn't a fool to let you go for a second time. You didn't get to do that to him, no matter what he had done.

If you would see him as a monster, so be it. All he needed was you, by his side for once and for all.

"Is that so?" he hummed, his grip on the steering wheel tightening, as his eyes narrowed. The rest of the ride followed in silence, apart from the occasional swearing from his road rage. Once he had gotten to your house, you had practically jumped out of the car, muttering a quick "thanks", before running into your house.

From that day on, it felt like he was suddenly everywhere. No matter where you went, it felt like you would always spot him. It was a small neighborhood, but it startled you quite a bit.

In addition to that, your own parents weren't helping your situation either. It felt like they were penalizing your every move, being as critical as ever, as the days towards you moving away approached.

After a particularly rough day, you had went home just to argue with your parents again, as they criticized your lifestyle choices, along with the talk of being an "improper lady". What broke the camel's back that night, however, was when you had retreated upstairs, and overheard your parents harsh words about you.

Tears filling the brim of your eyes, you sniffled, before crawling out of the window of your bedroom door. As you walked in the dark, thoughts of everything began cropping up in your head, too angry and clouded to notice your surroundings.

There was only one place that brought you comfort, one that you would go to whenever you felt down. When you and your best friend were still good friends, you had accidently stumbled upon a place up a steep hill, with a bench. You both would sit there, and talk for hours on end. However, even after you had stopped talking, you would still visit the place sometimes.

As you made your way there, you sat on the bench, looking into the starry sky. However, even then, you couldn't feel at peace. Perhaps it was because of his sudden intrusion into your life. Or perhaps it was because you were frustrated with yourself, you think, tears flowing down your cheeks freely. As you stared into the night sky, you heard some rustling beside you.

With a yelp, you jump out of your seat, to see a dark sillhouette in front of you. You nearly let out a scream, until the figure moves forward to cover your mouth. Only then, do you recognize who it is.

Just great, you think to yourself, seeing your friend in front of you. You quickly wipe your tears, before asking "What are you doing here?" more angrily then you had intended to.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you saw a tender expression on his face, looking into your eyes softly. "You still come here?" he asked softly, acting as if he was surprised.

"I should be asking you that" you snapped, crossing your arms, as if to defend yourself. He looked at you with a concerned expression, before asking, "What happened?", as he sat down next to you.

"That's none of your business," you said with a weak voice, turning your head away from him, tears filling your eyes. You tried so hard to contain yourself, to not show your vulnerability in the moment, but tears had begun to flow from your cheeks, spilling onto your lap.

"Darling, are you crying?" he asked in a concerned voice, before attempting to pull you into a hug, before you pushed him away.

"Get off of me" you shout in a shaky voice. "You think you can barge into my life all of a sudden and act as if nothing happened?"

As silence followed, your cheeks burned, and you went off on a tangent, despite the voice in your head telling you to stop. "You think you can drop me at the drop of a hat, and then pick me back up when it suits you?" you shriek. You breathe heavily, your chest heaving up and down, glaring at his presence.

He sat there with an unreadable expression, his facial features accentuated by the soft moonlight glow. "Somethings clearly bothering you" he said , skillfully dodging your question. "But you won't tell me, nor will you tell anyone else" he said slowly, staring into your eyes with a softened expression.

"Because you always want to do things yourself" he finished. "Let me help you" he said, taking in your astounded expression.

"Hah, you have some nerve" you say shakily, before you begin to sob, as his words crash down onto you, and sink deep down. He quickly pulls you into an embrace, one hand pulling you into his shoulder, and the other supporting the back of your head.

"You're upset because you have no control over your life, I know" he says, and you stay silent, not processing his words properly enough to question him how he knew all of this. "Let me help you" he repeats, pulling you into a hot searing kiss, his hands now on your cheeks.

"I love you" he says when he finally pulls apart, opening his eyes to meet your widened ones, soaked with tears. Your mouth is agape, as you try to process what had just happened. As you stare at him, you feel a burning sensation at your thigh, which he gripped suddenly.

"I always knew there was much more, something much deeper within you" he hummed, stroking his hand up and down your thigh. "You want me too, don't you?" he whispers into your ear, with glimmering eyes.

Suddenly, a ring fills both of your ears, as your phone flashes. Its a call from your dad, and looking at the contact description makes your face lose all of its colour. Your lips tremble, when suddenly your friend pulls your hand into his, your phone falling into your lap. "Focus on me" he says, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

"You do want to take control over your life, don't you?" he says playfully as he relishes your conflicted expression. "Then let me show you that pleasure," he says, as his fingers play with the top button of your blouse.

Alas, that was only the beginning. As he ravished you, his mind was filled with thoughts of you standing beside him, as his sweet wife. He could only imagine how adorable your children would look together, and he was going to make sure that it would happen, whether you liked it or not. After all, he had no doubt that he would eventually persuade you into sharing the rest of your life with him. The first step towards achieving that, was to stop you from moving away, and he was prepared to do just about anything to stop you.

[atopvisenyashill]

I think I need to be a little more clear: I'm asking what happens what do Joanna, Minisa, and Lyarra do differently if they're regents for their sons and how different they would be from their husbands. Like who would they want their children to marry for instance? And I didn't say anything about Cassana being regent although now that I think about it would Steffon and Cassana even go on that voyage if there's no Aerys around? Or maybe it's Rhaegar who orders them to go cause he shares his father's blood purity views and in that case they probably go earlier than in canon or they go for an entirely and reason. And the only reason that Aerys let Jaime join his kingsguard in the first place was to spite Tywin and gain a hostage. So it's very doubtful that he still becomes a kingsguard since there's no reason for Rhaegar to do this especially with Jaime being the Lord of casterly rock and even Rhaegar would probably know that's not a good idea and his mother who is friends with Joanna would likely advise against this.

well, like i said in the first ask, if rhaella is taking the regency at a young age, she needs a strong hand, so it’s likely to be tywin, as the best friend of her dead husband and the cousin of one of her ladies, for the beginning of the regency up until tyrion is born at minimum. it stands to reason rhaella would therefore be receptive to tywin’s overtures at marriage between rhaegar & cersei. however, she has several ladies, several friends, who all have ideas of their own. as i mentioned in the second ask, to avoid the incest, joanna might want to get jaime married to elia very quickly, given that in canon joanna and loreza had planned to marry their children to each other. that does leave cersei open to marry rhaegar, but once tywin is dead, joanna might not want to marry cersei to rhaegar bc she’s worried about the incest & figured the further the better, but if rhaella presses the subject, joanna can’t say no, and if rhaella catches a weird vibe and turns to loreza, loreza might not say no. however, rhaegar has a lot of room to wiggle out of whatever engagement his mother decides for him once he comes of age, and given the age gap between him and cersei, he will be of age before her, maybe even before she starts menstruating, and he can choose whoever he wants.

now as i stated in the first ask, when a child becomes an adult, they tend to chafe at their old regents, so i made the assumption that rhaegar would chafe against tywin & rhaella, which gives him wiggle room to reject or marry cersei. if he marries cersei, and cersei comes to him begging him to let jaime join the kingsguard, there is precedent for a man giving up his seat or engagement in order to join up - barristan selmy himself calls off an engagement and gives up his father’s seat to be part of the kingsguard. yeah, aerys did it to spite tywin but it’s a high honor, and cersei is both intelligent & manipulative. and if rhaegar doesn’t marry cersei, but he has been trying to stand out from rhaella, and has resented everyone lamenting tywin’s death bc tywin was the true great king of westeros, and cersei is a trusted confidant of his wife, she could very well convince rhaegar that way as well. so i do think there’s a non zero chance here that cersei can convince rhaegar to foil this match, it’s fine if you don’t agree. regardless, the only canon information on what joanna wanted for her kids was loreza’s kids so maybe cersei married oberyn as a way of getting cersei separated from jaime, or maybe she marries rhaegar bc rhaella suggests it and joanna can’t say no, or maybe joanna decides cersei can wait a few years and marry a rich redwyne, or willas or edmure, and cersei stays unwedded for a few years as punishment for attempting to escalate the incest. she’s almost definitely not marrying a cousin - joanna won’t let her stay that close to jaime.

we don’t really have canon personalities for minisa, lyarra, or cassana, so it’s hard to say what they would have wanted but we know jon arryn is a schemer, plus the nine penny kings war brought a lot of the lords together in friendship, plus there are already strong ties between the vale & north, so it stands to reason that he is still going to reach out to lyarra & cassana about fostering ned & robert, which means robert-lyanna still happens bc there’s no reason for lyarra to say no to that match. we know hoster had very lofty marriages in mind for his girls and i think it stands to reason that minisa would have shared these goals, so it makes sense that the brandon-catelyn match still goes through. lysa-jaime doesn’t bc of elia, so jaime probably never spends that time at riverrun, but that doesn’t mean Minisa isn’t looking around for lysa & baby edmure’s matches. she’s not letting petyr marry lysa tho, and i do think she’d pick up on the crush quicker and deal with it, probably hurting lysa’s feelings in the process, but maybe lysa isn’t marrying jon, so, that’s progress.

as i stated before, i think minisa would still be involved in the southron ambitions plot, because i think a man like hoster would marry an ambitious woman, and jon arryn would be happy to direct her the way he wants. that plus being regent means that even with lysa maybe being more stable, catelyn likely has the same heiress type upbringing bc minisa is leaning on her for help as the oldest the same way hoster does. joanna is likely as plugged into the political scene as tywin so her goals are as lofty, but she has the added benefit of knowing about the incest. likely she relies on kevan in a similar way that tywin does to help raise jaime. when it comes to rhaegar, he’s likely even more melancholy because his father died at summerhall, and being king gives him a way to really dig in and get invested in the prophecy he finds. i don’t think rhaella would have any reason to dissuade him from this initially, though she might not like it because of summerhall. i can see this being a point of contention between them. like i suggested in the first ask, rhaegar could perhaps get invested enough that he too seeks out jenny’s woods witch or goes searching for his own witch - as king, even with a regent, he has that power. considering that the last prophecy obsessed targs got most of themselves blown up, i can see the realm not loving this inclination in their young king, which would make rhaella want to guide him away from it but he doesn’t technically have to listen. there’s likely to be conflict here, especially once he starts having kids.

[innerpalaces]

THE PRINCESS WEI YANG - 189 PART 1

CHAPTER 189: Visiting Relatives in the Palace

Yuan Ying inherited the beauty of the Yuexi imperial family and the calmness of the Guo family. Although he was born into the imperial family, he did not have too much arrogance and had a good temper. He always smiled and was very approachable. But in Li Wei Yang's view, he is a very interesting person. If she saw it right, there was clearly a domineering aura in this man's eyes, and he definitely wasn't an ordinary person. What he said to her that day was actually a warning to her not to harm the Guo family no matter what her purpose was. Moreover, this kind of concern is not because he is worried that his power will be damaged, but because he is sincerely protecting his relatives. In a sense, such a man is obviously more responsible than the ruthless Tuoba Zhen.

If she followed Gracious Consort Guo's wishes and married Yuan Ying, it would give her an even stronger tie to the Guo family, and for her, she would be closer to her enemies. If it were in the past, she might not hesitate to use all means to seek revenge, even risking herself. But now, for some reason, she did not have this kind of thought.

Consort Guo looked at Madam Guo and said with a smile: "Originally, these words should not be said in front of the children, but you and I are both candid people, so we might as well just say them out. Although Yuan Ying is my son, you have also watched him grow up, and he has not contracted any of the bad habits of those aristocratic children, and if he dares to bully Jia'er in the future, I will definitely deal with him."

Li Wei Yang showed a surprised look. Gracious Consort Guo actually said it so clearly... But, dealing with Yuan Ying? She glanced at the smiling tiger opposite and shook her head inwardly.

Madam Guo understood what the Gracious Consort meant. After all, everyone knew how strict she was in disciplining Yuan Ying. Once upon a time, Yuan Ying secretly snuck out of the palace. At such a young age, he knew how to ask for leave from the Imperial Tutor, so he only hid it from Gracious Consort Guo. When Gracious Consort Guo found out, she thought he was being a playboy so she ordered her guards to bring him back to the palace. The princes in Yuexi are different from those in Dali. If a prince here makes a mistake, even his own mother cannot beat him casually. There will be a special companion to take the beating for him. But Yuan Ying's reading companion was Guo Dun from the Guo family. It was absolutely impossible for Consort Guo to touch him, so she beat Yuan Ying severely without a second thought. Gracious Consort Guo is different from those delicate palace concubines. She comes from a family of military generals. Due to poor health since childhood, the eldest princess Chen Liu specially invited the best masters to teach her martial arts. After entering the palace, her martial arts training was abandoned, but the foundation was still there, and she was unambiguous in fighting people. Poor Yuan Ying was beaten, but he refused to say what he was doing outside the palace. Gracious Consort Guo became more and more angry, breaking the bamboo sticks, and finally even alerted the Emperor. Yuan Ying lay in bed for half a month without even groaning. When others came to see him, he still had a smile on his face.

It wasn't until Consort Guo's birthday a month later that she saw a white jade Guanyin given by Yuan Ying and realized that her son had prepared a birthday gift for her. While feeling regretful, she also lamented her son's stubbornness. In fact, Yuan Ying could have told everything, but he prepared the birthday gift to give his mother an unexpected surprise, so he insisted on his original intention and refused to tell the truth. From this incident, one can understand that Yuan Ying has an extremely strong side in his character.

At this moment, when Yuan Ying heard Consort Guo's words, he kept a moderate smile on his face, but his eyes looked thoughtful.

Li Wei Yang was nervous seeing his gaze. She had a premonition that Yuan Ying would agree to the marriage, even if it was just to marry her home and watch her. Does she seem so unreliable? She has obviously said repeatedly that no matter what she does in the future, she will try her best to take care of the Guo family. But it was obvious that the other party was very suspicious and did not trust her.

Madam Guo did not expect that Gracious Consort Guo would talk about this, and sighed in her heart. This sister is good at everything, and she also looks shrewd in front of outsiders. How come she is completely defenseless when she comes to family. If she mentions it privately, couldn't the two of them make some plans and matches up the two children? Being so hasty now, she's afraid Jia'er will be unhappy.

In fact, Madam Guo is willing in her heart, because she loves Guo Jia so much and is afraid that she will be even a little wronged in the future. However, her daughter will eventually get married, and she cannot keep her for the rest of her life. But if she marries someone else, if her life does not go well, wouldn't she feel heartbroken to death? Only Yuan Ying is different. For one thing, Gracious Consort Guo is his sister-in-law, and she has a very good relationship with her, and she has a protective personality. When Jia'er is married, she will never face any difficulties from her mother-in-law. Secondly, Madam Guo has watched Yuan Ying since she was a child. He is capable and has a good personality. She has never seen him lose his temper... No matter how you look at this kind of husband, you feel that he is good.

It's a pity that Yuan Ying was born in the imperial family. If in the future... Madam Guo is a little selfish in her heart. She would rather her daughter not have glory and wealth, but just have a peaceful life. So, she smiled and said: "Look at you, you are so anxious, Jia'er has just come back!"

Since she didn't immediately decline, and also tactfully postponed the marriage, Madam Guo's words were also very artistic. Consort Guo was very smart and understood as soon as she heard it. She nodded and said, "Yes, you mother and daughter have just reunited. You must be reluctant to marry her off now. We might as well talk about it later." As she said that, she turned to look at her son and said: "I just want you to be close, do you understand?"

There was a commanding tone in her words, obviously she was joking. Yuan Ying immediately laughed, glanced at Li Wei Yang, and said: "Son understands."

There was a hint of a smile in his eyes, but Li Wei Yang lowered her head and deliberately pretended not to understand.

Gracious Consort Guo looked at the two people and felt that this was more and more likely to be the case, so she said to Madam Guo: "I have already taken care of things. You will stay in the palace this time."

Li Wei Yang was slightly surprised when she heard this. It is not allowed to stay overnight in the Dali Palace... Even if it is a female family member, it is the same, but now it seems that there is no such rule in the palace in Yuexi. Seeing the look of surprise on her face, Gracious Consort Guo smiled and said: "It's taboo if you are an outsider, but you are my closest relatives. I have already explained to His Majesty that I will keep you here for a few days. What's wrong with this?"

Li Wei Yang just smiled, and Madam Guo already agreed: "Then I thank You Majesty." Although she said this, she was actually ready to stay in the palace temporarily, and she even put a suitcase in the carriage at the back. It's just that she forgot to explain it to Li Wei Yang.

Madam Guo thought for a moment and then asked: "According to the rules, we should pay our respects to Empress Pei and the other consorts."

When Gracious Consort Guo heard her mention Empress Pei, her smile suddenly cooled down and she said, "Sister-in-law, my status in the palace is second only to Empress Pei. You don't need to see the other consorts at all. As for Empress Pei, she has already said, as long as the concubines and their relatives enter the palace, they only need to go through the proper procedures and there is no need for her to meet each of them."

These were polite words, but it was obvious that Consort Guo deliberately "complied with the rules". Li Wei Yang laughed. This aunt's personality is really tough enough.

Gracious Consort Guo led them to eat, but the dishes were very ordinary. Gracious Consort Guo saw that Li Wei Yang did not show any particular surprise. She nodded secretly and was more satisfied with this future daughter-in-law. She took the initiative to explain: "Jia'er, the dishes in the palace are too luxurious and expensive. I still like these folk dishes best, don't mind it."

Li Wei Yang just smiled: "What do you mean, your majesty? I often hear my mother talk about it at home. Your majesty loved to eat the fried meat with alfalfa and Sixi meatballs the most. Although they are ordinary dishes, they are the most heartwarming."

The Guo family are very charming and have a very happy family life. No wonder Consort Guo is unwilling to forget her life before she was married. Li Wei Yang understands this very well.

Seeing that she spoke so appropriately, Madam Guo was relieved. But Yuan Ying, who was a table away, raised his head and glanced at her. Now, he felt that he could not see through this girl more and more. Of course, for a prime minister's daughter to climb up and attach herself to the imperial family and eventually obtain the title of princess, not to mention Dali, probably no one else in the entire world had accomplished such a thing. So he always felt that she was very scheming and needed to be guarded against to avoid doing anything detrimental to the Guo family in the future. But now when he looked at her words and deeds, she is ordinary but very sincere, not like a scheming and sweet-talking woman at all. Maybe, he is too worried...

Yuan Ying lowered his head and stopped looking at Li Wei Yang.

"Yes, the dishes on this table are really what your majesty used to love." Madam Guo said.

"That's right!" Consort Guo didn't say that she specifically ordered four or five more dishes because her relatives were coming.

Li Wei Yang glanced at the dishes on the table and thought in her mind that she heard that Empress Pei liked to be extravagant, while Gracious Consort Guo was very simple. They were two extremes. No wonder they disliked each other.

After lunch, Yuan Ying left. He usually had his own errands, and it was rare to stay for so long. Madam Guo watched him go, and for some reason she looked back at Li Wei Yang with a strange expression on her face.

Li Wei Yang deliberately pretended not to see her eyes, and her face was calm.

At this time, Consort Guo stood up and said, "Let's go for a walk."

It is normal to need to stroll after lunch, but Consort Guo's so-called walk is just to accompany Madam Guo and Li Wei Yang, walking from the east end of the yard to the west end, chatting while walking. Li Wei Yang had gone for a walk in the Imperial Garden in the Dali Palace and it can be seen that many rules in the two countries are different. If Madam Guo hadn't instructed her in advance, Li Wei Yang might really be unsure of what to do.

The two noble ladies were walking in the yard, but Li Wei Yang stood on the steps, looking at the red walls and blue and white stone bases on both sides, thinking to herself, Gracious Consort Guo grew up in such a friendly family as the Guo family, but she had to throw herself into a hell that eats people without spitting out bones. She has to spend the rest of her life in such a deep palace... I really don't know how she survived. Li Wei Yang had already tasted this kind of experience in her previous life, and she hates this endless waiting, so she doesn't want to go through it again. Yuan Ying was indeed a good marriage candidate, but it was a pity that he was from an imperial family and would have a lot of troubles in the future, so she was unwilling to take another risk. Therefore, she had to pretend that she didn't notice Madam Guo's expectations.

At this time, Gracious Consort Guo looked back at her and suddenly said: "Jia'er is really bored staying with us. Let the palace troupe perform a show and let's have some fun."

Consort Guo had good intentions, and Li Wei Yang couldn't refuse, so the troupe quickly set up in the Gracious Consort's yard. They were all singing some happy ending dramas, which in fact were all boring, but one also has to pay attention to one's mood when watching a drama. Consort Guo had a cheerful temperament and got along well with her sister-in-law, so the atmosphere was very harmonious.

At this moment, Grand Prince Xu Yuan Lie had entered the palace. 

Of course, he cannot go to see Li Wei Yang blatantly. Officially, he entered the palace to play chess with the Emperor. The old eunuch Zhang Zhong led the way for him while secretly sizing up the newly appointed Prince Xu. Speaking of which, the previous Grand Prince Xu was indeed deeply loyal to His Majesty and has never offended the Imperial Will. At least, before the currentEmperor ascended the throne, there were people who thought about supporting Grand Prince Xu to become Emperor. However, he never had that intention and instead devoted himself to assisting the current Emperor. Compared to the arrogant Commander Pei, it was countless times better. Therefore, whether in the court or in the palace, he had to be respected.

However, everyone thought that the empire's more covetted title would be inherited by the eldest son of Grand Prince Xu, but suddenly such an illegitimate son appeared. Eunuch Zhang glanced at Yuan Lie secretly and saw those amber pupils, which were very dazzling.

Yuan Lie glanced around and saw Eunuch Zhang's stunned eyes, and asked: "What is Eunuch Zhang looking at?"

Eunuch Zhang spoke cautiously: "Your Highness is very imposing and has the demeanor of the old prince. He is really better than his predecessors. I can't help but feel happy for him when I look at you..."

Even if you are the world's best liar, no one will believe this. The corner of Yuan Lie's mouth raised slightly, with a hint of warmth: "Oh? Really?"

Eunuch Zhang was murmuring in his heart. He always felt that Yuan Lie's appearance was very similar to a certain person. Who was it? A vague shadow flashed across his mind, and his heart suddenly skipped a beat, and he glanced at Yuan Lie subconsciously. No, absolutely impossible!

"Eunuch Zhang must be an old confidante next to His Majesty. I heard that he served Princess Qixia back then." Yuan Lie said casually.

Eunuch Zhang's eyelids twitched. He glanced about and saw that there was no one around. He breathed a sigh of relief and said quickly: "Your Highness, I know that you are a person favored  by His Majesty, but there are some things in this palace that are taboo." No matter if it was because of the Emperor or the Empress, no one was allowed to mention that person, but Yuan Lie actually spoke of her without any scruples.

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[pridepages]

Winterlude: This Winter

I just finished This Winter by Alice Oseman. I have thoughts...

Here there be spoilers!

Tis the festive season! In honor of December and the approaching holidays, I’ve decided to fit a couple of more titles fit for the spirit into these last weeks of the year. Although, as for many struggling queer people, not all of these stories are merry.

This Winter is a novella featuring the beloved cast of Heartstopper and Solitaire. Readers of either or both will recall that Charlie Spring’s mental health required him to spend time inpatient, and that he finally came home in December. But as This Winter reminds us: mental health treatment isn’t the end of the journey. It is at most an interlude. And one of the hardest tests comes after, when patients and their loved ones have to figure out: where do we go from here?

Winter is a quick read set entirely over the events of one day--Christmas--narrated from the views of all three Spring children: Tori, Charlie, and Oliver. Though the struggles have largely been Charlie’s, the split perspective allows the reader to understand how living and loving with mental illness doesn’t happen in a vacuum. All of the children have suffered in different ways, and all of them are desperate to find their way back to each other in their new reality.

Of all of them, Tori Spring is the one I feel for the most. All eyes in the family have been on Charlie, as they had to be when Charlie’s life was at risk. But that hyperfocus allowed people to push Tori and her quieter suffering to the side. Tori has trained herself to believe that Charlie’s illness “was probably my fault” because “when I noticed something was off with him...I didn’t talk to him enough. I didn’t do enough.” Because the adults who love her have trouble discussing and processing emotions, Tori’s shutdown isn’t questioned. People have no idea that Tori feels desperately lonely and inadequate, longing to be loved by the brother she adores: “I’m trying my best...I started being his friend as well as his sister.” But Charlie’s too lost in his own suffering to see how his rejection hurts Tori. And Tori doesn’t dare push for more support. “He’s being unfair, but I don’t have any right to be annoyed with him...I don’t matter. He matters.” But of course she matters. Just because her anxiety and depression fold inward, are quieter, doesn’t make them less worthy of being seen. Tori is not less worthy of love just because her distress isn’t as evident.

I don’t mean to be cruel to Charlie. He’s clearly come a long way in his recovery, finally able to recognize that “the restrictive eating, the self-harm, and my other compulsions...are coping mechanisms. It’s not about just stopping myself doing those things, it’s about figuring out why I feel those impulses, what the emotional stuff is underneath. While there’ll be good days and bad days, I can get better.” But the holidays are almost automatically guaranteed to be Bad Days. Because, as Tori points out, “Christmas is a stressful time for people with eating disorders, since food is such a big part of the day.” Add to the volatile mix a bunch of visiting family who can’t seem to stop making insensitive comments about everything from Charlie’s mental health to his sexuality and the toxic mess begins to boil. Charlie tries his best to grit his teeth through every painful conversation, navigate his triggers, and stay in control. He wants to deliver the Perfect Family image for his parents. But as he takes hit after hit, Charlie finds his reserves drain to zero: “I should have defended myself better. I’m tired, though. I’m so tired of defending myself.” Ultimately unable to take any more, Charlie flees his home to go find comfort with his boyfriend, Nick.

It would be easy to cast Charlie as the perpetual innocent victim. While Charlie is dealing with a lot, Winter doesn’t absolve him of his responsibilities or his wrongdoing. Charlie laments “when people know you’re mentally ill, most people treat you like you’re strange, scary, or fascinating. Very few people are actually good at the middle ground. The middle ground isn’t hard. It’s just being there. Being helpful, if help is needed. Being understanding, even if they don’t understand everything.” But he’s wrong about at least one thing: the middle ground is not easy. People who love Charlie, like Tori, desperately want to know what the right way is to navigate that middle ground. They’re struggling to figure it out, and all they’re getting from Charlie is negative feedback about how they’re doing it wrong. The middle ground doesn’t look the same for every person, so it requires some trial and error on both sides to find out what it looks like to each individual. 

As Nick gently points out to Charlie: “I think sometimes you’re so scared of being a burden that it makes you terrified to ask for help. But you have lots of people around you that would be there for you, if you opened up about what help you need.” Charlie does have a responsibility here to communicate: to tell his loved ones what’s working as well as what isn’t. And if he’s not getting something he needs, Charlie needs to ask for it instead of expecting them to read his mind. Most importantly, Charlie needs to recognize that just because he needs more support in this area at this time doesn’t mean he can ignore the ways he is able to love and support others. Tori still needs him. Tori is asking for his love and affection, as is little Oliver, in his own way. Charlie can’t keep neglecting the ways that they need him back.

The fact is that we’ll never be perfect. Naturally selfish creatures, people have a tendency to get lost in their own perspective and lose sight of what others are going through. We end up hurting each other, disappointing each other, and making mistakes. So after a dark interlude, how do we move forward? It’s little Oliver who brings us the simplest, truest wisdom: “You could just say sorry. That’s what you have to do when you say something bad. Say sorry.” In the end, we leave the Spring siblings where they belong: with each other. They recognize that there’s still a lot of work to do. They have to learn how to communicate with each other. They have to learn how to spot Bad Days on the horizon, how to weather the storm, and how to come back when it passes. But you believe that they can. You believe that they will.

[elvendara]

Jumin Week 2022 6 Oct '22

@juminweek2019

Philia: Affectionate Love/Deep friendship and feeling part of a group

October 6th 2022

“Happy Birthday you old fart!” Zen cackled, his once brilliant silver hair tarnished gray, but still magnificent. He closed his crimson eyes, heavy with cataracts but still sufficient enough to not need glasses.

Jumin rolled his eyes, his once raven locks now as deep a grey as his eyes. “Old fart huh? After all this time you can’t think of anything new?”

Shoving his old friend Zen chuckled good naturedly, remembering a younger man, full of pride. “Let me tease you, I haven’t done that in years!”

“I suppose you’re right, it has been years since you’ve nettled me. My old friend, remember when you hated me?” he grinned, the lines on his face deepening with mirth.

“Not so, I only thought I did because you seemed to have it all! Good looks, money, respect, love! Ahh…” he waved his wrinkled hand and gave a crusty laugh.

“All? Never. It only seemed so. Although, I have to admit, it is awfully nice to not have to worry about money. But I would have given it all up to live a life with my lovely Lillie.” He held his elderly wife, her hair a bright purple now, she loved experimenting with color since her hair became completely grey.

She giggled, as if she was still a young girl of twenty something. In truth, Jumin still saw her as such. The young, beautiful chestnut brown haired girl that had stolen his heart.  The others in the room laughed in good humor as they gathered to celebrate his 70th birthday. The twins, Saeyoung and Saeran, their red hair a thing of history, yet still so whimsical and youthful in their behavior. He hoped that Saeyoung would at least restrain himself from one of his spectacular surprises. He had spoken to his wife, MC, and made it clear that his heart might not be able to take it.

Yoosung had calmed the heart of Saeran and Jumin was all too glad to see how happy they still were together. The younger man, he chuckled at that thought, as he was now old and grey as well, though he still saw him as the young yellow haired boy with so much life and passion that it seemed to make him shine like the sun, still shone as such on those he loved.

Looking around him he was grateful for all that he had. For all that he had been given. Even Jaehee still remained a true and dear friend, though she continuously teased him about the love he had for his once beloved Elizabeth 3rd. So long ago had she passed now, yet he still thought about her and the joy she had brought into his life. Her progeny lived on in the lives of his grandchildren. He watched the young ones as they played and ate the cake that had been meant for him alone. He cared not, enjoying to youthful playfulness.

Three children his loving wife had given him, two daughters and one son. They were the joys of his life, as had his myriad of grandchildren. He could see his wife in them, and himself as well, though he was happy that they had inherited only the best of him and not the worst. He lamented the passing of his father but was grateful for the love the man had given him. He wholeheartedly passed that love onto his children and grandchildren. Love, love had always been more important than respect and money. More important than power and influence, yet because of these very ideals, he had accomplished those selfsame objects.  

His life had been sweetened by those around him. The people who saw right through him and called him on his own bullshit, like Zen, who could still make his blood boil even after all of this time. Yet he was grateful and thankful for that. He loved his friends, his family, and would do absolutely nothing to change a single thing.

“Thank you my friends, for staying by my side. Thank you for all that you have done for me in these long years. I love you all!” he said, tears glistening in his elder eyes.

“You old fart!” Zen guffawed and shoved at the other man. Everyone burst into good natured laughter, the two old men embracing as two old friends are wont to do.

[janumun]

A [Cat] Parent's Memoirs of Pregnancy ft. Spouse (Pregnancy Headcanons)

Game: Shall We Date: Obey Me! Rating: General Audience/SFW Tags: pregnancy sweetness (and shenanigans)

Summary: Satan's approach and reaction to having a baby with his S/O.

Author's Notes: YESSSS YOU CAN @niphredil-14. 💚💛 This is cute and very, very warm. I tossed in between giving him either fur babies or demon babies (he deserves both!), and chose this! I hope you enjoy your read. 💚

Requests for this event are now (long) closed, dear readers. Thank you to all those who participated!

Perhaps three or twelve feline babies later, the two of you might plan on making a hybrid child — with two hands and two legs, five fingers on each and absolutely no fur in sight.

Satan would prefer waiting until your youngest adopted foundling — a tiny, dark slip of a cat — is well into its second year in this world before he decides to try for a baby, of your own flesh and blood. A decision he hardly takes in frivolity. Every vulnerable life, be it cat or person, is important and requires adequate care; Satan is very well aware of the fact.

When the two of you discover you are with child, happiness trumps within alongside multiple plans he’s already running through his head for the arrival of your child. Unfortunately, his immediate task on the agenda is informing Lucifer about the upcoming arrival — fighting for board for his adopted cats’ was Hell enough, war waged with you by his side — lest Lucifer demand he find elsewhere for the two of you to care for your baby. He’s going to stomp out of the House of Lamentation if Lucifer so much as suggests displeasure at your child.

Begrudgingly — and as frightening as it is to witness this conversation in between the two brothers, you fear you might almost collapse at how tensed you are watching the two glare at each other — though your demon breaks the news, and perhaps almost surprising for Satan, Lucifer greets the news with good cheer.

Claret gaze warming in affection as it slides towards you before he congratulates the two of you on your pregnancy.

Suffice to say, once his other brothers are informed of the news, they’re gathering over to express surprise (you suspect it’s more about them wanting to fawn and coo over a human pregnant) and extend their well-wishes to the two of you. Gifts from every single brother — in good will, but largely injurious to your health and the baby’s — Satan has lined against your side of the bed. Lucifer’s he burns with his unearthly verdant fire the moment you’re presented with it and the elder brother’s out of sight.

Manuals are brought out, books are being purchased. Shipments from all four corners of Devildom, pricey tomes on human pregnancy from the Earth.

Satan’s here to provide you with all information necessary to nurturing a baby within your womb, random facts and tid-bits even you’re hearing for the first time. He stresses on keeping yourself healthy. He isn’t an over-bearing future father but does definitely encourage you to stick to the health schedule he draws up for you every week, making a point of, time and again, how important it is for you to follow a good lifestyle in order to see through a safe pregnancy and delivery.

Everyday walks, Kegels, healthy amounts of fruit and meat in your diet (let him know if anything — anything at all — upsets your appetite and he’s quick to swipe that item out of your plate, and your lives). None of which you’re doing alone because he’s more than happy to accompany you throughout your regime.

Don’t let him choose too many of the baby’s clothes however, he’s pulling the oddest combinations of clothes off the rack and it leaves you half-amused half-terrified for your future baby’s sense of fashion. [That is way too many cat onesies in bizarre shades, Satan!]

He would never force you to adhere to something he wasn’t capable of seeing through himself. And, first and foremost he wants to be there for and with you. If you’d let him, he’d be very hands-on in helping deliver your baby as well.

Every single time the two of you make progress through your health list, Satan’s got a pat on the head ready, stroking your hair, affectionate, praising you on how well you’d done that day and what good progression you’d been making lately. Parting stray locks to press a kiss against your forehead. One to your lips in a smile more than happy to, if you ask for more. He’s that perfect balance between strict and adoring.

Future Father™️ (not so) secretly loves to be wrapped up in surprise cuddles any day of the week. There is nothing more joyous than the thought of being needed by you.

Perhaps one of the more enjoyable parts of your pregnancy has been how much more physically affectionate your child has made you and he can hardly complain when you crawl across the covers to join him in bed as he reads. You settling soft against him, needy arms coming around. Swollen stomach, round and wonderfully full, pressed into his side, he almost thinks he feels the baby within, kick a foot in welcome against his side — Hello Dad, as if that’s what Baby’s saying, if they could speak. The rather ridiculously sweet thought’s enough to pull a soft bout of laughter from him and an arm he fits carefully against your shoulder to drag you in.

“Are you cold again, kitten? Come sit next to me. We don’t want you and the little one to get sick now, do we? Is that better? Do you need me to go fetch a blanket? Alright then, sweet dreams.”

He’s here to answer to your every need, so long as it’s within the bounds of reasonability and not injurious to you or the baby.

As much as Satan might seem in control of the entire situation; calm rationale persevering through your hurdles of new pregnancy and future parenthood. Despite how he is the one you seek comfort in and take pride in as the father of your child… Satan is not entirely without his own chips in a seemingly flawless armor.

His knowledge, no matter how vast and thorough, doesn’t replace the practicality of witnessing you nurture a child — your child — within your belly for nine long months. Less than even a speck within a demon’s eternity but so very long and at times… challenging, more than he’s ever encountered throughout his lifetime. Having been born of Lucifer’s rage and anguish, Satan has never known of a parent’s love, nor does he pretend to understand what it might entail. He’s never really felt the need to, past that hollow ache that surfaces at times, to know he was born of loathing and negativity, not nurtured from love.

Lucifer’s hatred of his Father, Levi’s brief mentions of his Mother… a bedtime story narrated of times within the Heavens past with their family, among the brothers, in Lucifer’s absence, is all he knows of the entities called ‘parents’. He does not know what he ‘feels’, if his emotions and reactions are appropriate for a life the two of you are responsible for, together. If his version of love would ever be adequate enough for your baby — the thought that they too might grow missing half the love of their parents, to have no outlet for restless agitation and hurt towards a father who’s never had one of his own… it terrifies him beyond belief.

Times like these are when you need to read him like the very books he’s so fond of picking apart. Seat him by your side and engage him in conversation of your future as a family of many, many children (demon/human and feline alike). Let Satan voice his thoughts, unformed or firm, however they might come across. Pity or sermons are not what he needs; rather quiet understanding and thinking space. To let him realize how he has no need for anxiety; his version of love is just as much valid and your absolute faith in Satan’s ability to love your child as much as he does you. Something you’re willing to learn, a new experience of loving your child, together, with him by your side.

And if the hand that reaches out to caress your distended abdomen, as if towards one very precious, the soft affection in that verdant gaze is indication enough, he’s already begun to learn.

Bonus: Baby Wrath™️ is studious and very interested in learning of the world around, from a tender age. Drinks milk regularly and lick-finishes their cup clean, like they are supposed to under the watchful eye of Dad Wrath™️.

Satan is strict only in terms of good manners and good education; he’s nurturing and encourages the child to enjoy whatever hobbies they develop over their years. (Reading is one and no one’s more proud than Satan that Baby’s often found burrowed within their father’s mountain of books). You do allow the child more leeway, in terms of candy consumption and staying up past bedtime, although that influence can be traced back to Uncles Mammon and Levi who are terrible role-models and have more than once caused Dad Wrath to explode on their sorry souls. Baby Wrath is — much to the chagrin and woe of his father — very fond of Uncle Lucifer and he is their (second) favorite in terms of gifting new and fascinating books to study, and teaching to write simple words, on occasion.

End Notes: Thank you for reading!

♧° Link to Master List °♡

[brawltogethernow]

@mirrorfalls​ submitted: Came across this while searching for James Bond’s scrambled-eggs recipe (long story). Your thoughts?

~~

But did you find James Bond’s scrambled eggs recipe?

In this article, Scocca laments his inability to find accessible, lighthearted superhero comics suitable to read with his young son, while also demonstrating a mysterious aversion to looking at DC and Marvel’s lines of comics for children, which is where the accessible, lighthearted superhero comics suitable for reading with young children are. He wants his elementary schooler to be able to safely have the run of all superhero media so he doesn’t have to touch the yucky baby books.

This is not an industry-wide crisis. This is just one dude who got paid to write an article where he accidentally exposed one of his personal hangups.

The child headed toward the trade paperbacks of Marvel and D.C. superhero titles on the side wall […] a few steps in front of me. […] Is he with you? a clerk asked me. I said he was. You know, the clerk said, we have a kids’ section. The clerk gestured backward, at a few shelves near the entrance. I said, Thanks, we know and tried throwing in a little shrug, as the kid kept going.

You can’t just turn a seven-year-old child loose in a comic-book store to look at the superhero comic books. […] My seven-year-old really wanted to see that last Avengers movie […] that is, he wished it were a movie he could see, but he understood that it was, instead, a movie designed to scare and sadden him—a movie actively hostile to people like him.

They have a children’s section. Because comics are a medium suitable for stories for everybody, and they are sold in comic book shops, which have sections, like bookstores. You can use this organization to find books that you know in advance are suitable for children. What goes in that category is determined by industry professionals. This area will be bigger the bigger the shop is. These comics are not lower quality that titles from the main lines. They are actually slightly better-written on average.

Your local comic book shop has considerately wrapped Empowered in a plastic bag, so your child will not be drawn in by a colorful superhero and accidentally read a graphic scene. If you think your kid might find a memoir about internment camps upsetting, it is your job to notice them picking up They Called Us Enemy and read the blurb on the back before you let them have it. This comic adults are meant to read is in a comic book shop because that is where comics are sold. Not every public place is supposed to be Disneyland.

Movies have ratings systems. If you do not want your child to watch a PG-13 movie, you will find that most superhero cartoons are for children. They are about the same characters. Some are quite good! I really enjoyed Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Your child may like Avengers Assemble. At least I think that’s right. I’m always mixing those titles around.

This is a deeply weird bias for Scocca to casually demonstrate, because he identifies in the article that real childishness is striving for empty maturity.

He compares an old comic,

[…]a 1966 Spider-Man comic in which Spider-Man meets, fights, and defeats the Rhino; participates in a running argument between John Jameson and J. Jonah Jameson about his heroism; buys a motorcycle; breaks up with his first girlfriend, Betty Brant; flirts with Gwen Stacy; and reluctantly agrees to let Aunt May take him to meet her friend Mrs. Watson’s niece, Mary Jane.

and a new comic,

[…]a 21st century comic book in which Thor, brooding in a Katrina-destroyed New Orleans, beats up Iron Man. He also yells at Iron Man a lot about some incomprehensibly convoluted set of grievances, including involuntary cloning, that he believes Iron Man perpetrated against him while he was dead(?), and then summons some other Norse god from the beyond somehow for reasons having something to do with real estate. I think. Where the 1966 comic is zippy and fun and complete, the whole contemporary one is muddled and lugubrious and seems to constitute a tiny piece of a seemingly endless plot arc—simultaneously apocalyptic and inert.

and concludes that the edgier comic is actually less mature. This is true. (This is not news about mediocre comics.)

It also has nothing to do with either comic being child-friendly, the article’s nominal thesis, except in the sense that ASM #41 (yes, I eyeballed that from that summary, yes I am just showing off now) is better written, making it more everyone-friendly. It also has practically more space dedicated to word balloons than art and is about a college student juggling girl problems and a part-time job with a tyrannical boss. But the immature one, as Scocca points out, is dour.

These are both teenagery issues, separated only by quality. It’s true that lots of new comics published by the big 2 are bad in the specific way Scocca describes here, taking themselves too seriously and hauled down by associated stories instead of buoyed by them. Some are not! Some titles from these companies’ main continuities are zippy, contained, and child friendly. Give your child The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl! Or if you like vintage comics so much better, why don’t you…buy some?

The books on the kid’s rack are good and fun and totally suitable for parents to read with their children without wanting to scoop their eyeballs out. Scocca cites the Batman ‘66 comics as the brightly colored, tightly written all ages solution to his problem about sharing superhero stories with his son. My local comic shop stores this title in the kid’s section. I am glad that Scocca’s does not, as he seems to have a peculiar aversion to looking for comics to read with his son there.

Scocca cites Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse as a superhero movie he could watch with his kids. (I was surprised when this line made it sound like he has several. I don’t want to assume the other one isn’t in this article because they’re a girl, but I very much am assuming that.) Great! Go to the kid’s section and look for Marvel Adventures: Spider-Man. It’s a fun, zippy title directly inspired by ITSV where Miles, Gwen, and Peter superhero together. It’s much more tightly written than most of the various Spider-Verse comics, which are ambitiously messy ubercrossovers. You may not want to give those to children because they include murder and so on, but also you just have the choice between the two as an adult reader deciding how much continuity you want to deal with. Adventures is one of the only titles I would buy on sight before corona. The kid comic rack is a reliable place to take a break from How Comics Get Sometimes regardless of how old you are.

This article makes me feel quarrelsome. Maybe it’s that it doesn’t seem like exploration of a single idea so much as a loosely grouped bundle of things to kvetch about. Maybe it’s that the experience of getting into superheroes that Scocca describes experiencing, projects his seven-year-old son will experience, and from which he extrapolates a metaphorical microcosm of the history of the genre is completely alien to me.

Comic books [and] comic-book movies—are […] trapped in their imagined audience’s own awful passage from childhood to adolescence. A seven-year-old has a clean […] appreciation of superheroes. They like hero comics because the comics have heroes: bold, strong, vividly colored good guys to fight off the bad guys and make the world safe.

But seven-year-olds stop being seven. […] They become 13-year-olds, defensively trying to learn how to develop tastes about tastes.

The 13-year-old wants many things from comics, but the overarching one is that they want to prove that they’re not some seven-year-old baby anymore. They want gloomy heroes, miserable heroes, heroes who would make a seven-year-old feel bad. (Also boobs. They want boobs.)

Not because of the boobs line, although that does illicit an eyeroll that this gloomy thinkpiece is fretting over preserving the superhero experience of little boys who resemble the little boy the writer was while casually dismissing everyone else. I was one of those unlikable little seven-year-olds with a college reading level and the impression that maintaining it was the crux of my worth. I only read Books - distinguished media you could club someone with. I have a formative memory of pausing, enraptured, in front of a poster for Spider-Man 3, preparing to say that it looked pretty cool, and being beaten to the punch by my mother making a disparaging comment about how the movie was trash. It wasn’t out yet, but it was a superhero movie. That meant it was for loud, brainless children.

That was the total of my childhood experience with superheroes, excluding being the unwilling audience to incessant renditions of “Jingle Bells, Batman Smells” that left me wondering why in god’s name Batman’s sidekick was named Robin. I certainly never visited a comic book shop. I got into TvTropes, which got me into webcomics, which got me following David Willis, who got me into Ask Chris at ComicsAlliance, which led to me rewarding myself for studying like a demon for the AP tests with three volumes of Waid’s Daredevil, pitched as a return to the character being colorful and swashbuckling. I was seven…teen.

This is of the same thread as Scocca’s point that immaturity is running from childish things. It leaves me baffled that he doesn’t follow that maturity is embracing them.

I will disclose here that while I think it was dumb I had to overcome my upbringing’s deeply embedded shame associated with enjoying arbitrarily defined lowbrow media and children being childish, I think it’s fine that I was allowed largely unchecked access to technically age-inappropriate content. In my limited experience, content small children are too young for is also content they’re too young to understand, so it kind of just bounces off of them, and what actually ends up terrorizing them is unpredictable collages of impressions that strike out at them from content deemed perfectly child-friendly. I would not forbid a seven-year-old I was in charge of from seeing an MCU movie unless I had a reason to believe that specific child would not take it well. These are emotionally low-stakes bubblegum films. It will probably be easier to socialize with other kids if they have seen them.

But then, when I picture being in charge of a hypothetical child, I usually imagine this being the case because they are related to me, and the pupal stage in my family strongly resembles Wednesday Addams. ALL children love death and violence, though, right?? This isn’t a joke point. I know it looks like a joke point.

The MCU thing seems especially weird in light of the article’s particular focus on Spider-Man, which is the kiddie line of the MCU, even if they refused to waver from their usual formula enough to get a lower rating. Though I am more inclined to describe it as “preying on the young” than “child-friendly”.

(MCU movies are increasingly dubious propaganda, but I would not judge them in front of a child who wanted to watch them for that reason, just in case this led to them partaking of them without me the second they were old enough to and then they grew up to run a blog about them while our relationship suffered because they didn’t feel like it was safe to talk to me about their interests…Mom.)

I tried to overcome the philosophy of letting anyone read anything while compiling this handful of mostly-newish superhero recs for the road that anyone can read. (Handily, I have been in spitting distance of being hired as a comic shop clerk enough to have thought about it before):

For actual children:

Marvel Adventures Spider-Man (the new one is reminiscent of ITSV, the old one is more like 616) any DC/Archie crossover, Archie’s Superteens The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl (for bookish children who think they’re too good for comics and adults afraid of the kid’s section) Teen Titans Go (even if you hate the show) Superman Smashes the Klan

For teens:

Ms. Marvel Young Avengers (volume 2) Unbelievable Gwenpool Batman: Gotham Adventures Teen Titans Go (the tie-in comic based off the old show was also called this)

Here are a bunch of relevant C. S. Lewis quotes.

[mmvalentine]

What Cardan Knows | Jurdan

Canon compliant I suppose, just more post-QoN nonsense. Smut aplenty.

Cardan knows a secret about Jude.

Knows she likes to be kissed right between the shoulder blades.

Knows that if you move your lips on the vertebra that sticks out at the base of her neck, she melts like chocolate in the summer sun.

Jude has spent today, like many days, sitting on her throne like she was born there. There is something so natural in the way that she rules the fae that never came quite so easy to Cardan. He feels more comfortable next to her now than he ever thought he would. Still. He does not think he relishes the power like Jude does.

And of course Jude looks spectacular while she does it. Cardan reclines in his own throne, throwing one leg over an armrest and letting his head fall back against the back. He watches Jude, straight backed and imperious, as she hands down stern judgement for a faerie who stole a human child. She had outlawed changelings since she has been Queen, and although the folk do not like it, they abide by her word.

Cardan finds it sexy that the court is still a little afraid of Jude. Cardan finds it sexy that this sharp and unyielding ruler is his alone to unravel. Later.

Jude does not like anyone to know that she can be tender. Even now, years after she’s gained the loyalty of her court, she avoids being vulnerable. Puts on her armour every morning to meet her subjects, her advisors, and even her sisters. Oak might be an exception. And Cardan, when he knows where to fit his myriad keys.

These are not things Jude has ever told him out loud. Not even to her husband would she confess the chinks in her armour aloud. But Cardan knows anyway. Knows the secret places she keeps her softness, and delights in uncovering them when they are alone in the safety of the dark of their bedroom. Only when she is sure no one is looking does she bare her underbelly to him and let him press toothy kisses there. Cardan loves when Jude is ruthless. Cardan loves when Jude is soft.

Now Jude is sending the faerie away and the fae dislike her changing the rules. But she hands out cruelty like treats in the throne room and so they still adore her. A good public punishing is as good as trading babies. There is a hard glint in Jude’s eye as she watches him go, and then she flicks her wrist and the revelry begins once again. It’s all so simple. She looks out at the crowd with a cold boredom on her face, but Cardan knows she’s riding a high from watching her own orders executed. He also knows it turns her on like nothing else.

And so Cardan pushes himself up off his bramble throne, leans over to his wife with his back to the court, and murmurs, “take your leave my Queen, for I have business with you elsewhere.”

Jude’s lip curls when she answers, and her voice trickles like ice water over his skin. “I do not attend your bidding my Lord, I would stay to see the end of the revel.”

“Nevertheless,” Cardan says, and his fingers slide down her wrist to read her telltale pulse. “I have business with you elsewhere.”

And although Jude does delight in denying her husband, she rarely denies herself. So she rises smoothly while Cardan watches with one eyebrow raised, and allows him to take her hand and lead her into the alcove behind the throne room.

Cardan shuts the door and the noise outside suddenly chokes off. He turns and Jude is staring at him with her chin up in her regal golden gown, and she is resplendent.

“Well?” She demands. “What is it you wish to discuss so urgently?”

“First,” Cardan purrs, “I mean this to be an informal meeting, since you and I are wed and need not stand on ceremony. Let me remove your formal attire.” He walks behind her and Jude’s head turns, but she doesn’t otherwise move. Cardan’s movements are careful as he removes the heavy crown from Jude’s head; he has had his fingers bitten for this before.

But Jude does not react, so he goes for the heavy collar of gold plates she wears, unhooking the clasp and lifting it carefully from her shoulders. Next is the fastening in the back of her bodice, and even as she is undressed Jude’s spine remains as straight as the sword at her hip.

There have been times where she fucks him just like that. With steel in her eyes and Cardan’s throat between her fingers, when she holds him down with her thighs and draws his rapture from his lips like she can summon his very soul.

But today Cardan wants to pull at Jude’s threads and unspool her at his feet. So he stands behind her, and kisses her like feathers in that secret spot of hers. In between her scapulae. Traveling up toward the bones of her neck. And infinitesimally, Jude’s shoulders loosen beneath his touch.

Cardan smiles against her skin as his fingers skim the outside edge of her bare arms, and she leans her head back toward him so his lips can better reach her throat. When her eyes slide closed, Cardan pulls the tie of her skirt and it pools around her feet. He lifts her out of it and by the time her weight is in his arms, Jude is pliant against his chest.

Cardan lays Jude down on the low couch, and in the moment between kisses where his tongue lifts off her skin and his teeth touch down elsewhere, he whispers honeyed pet-names to her. "Ruthless," he calls her sweetly. He moves down her belly. "Unscrupulous. Uncompromising. Without mercy. Immovable."

At the last, he curls his tongue in the apex of her thighs, and Jude lifts her hips to his mouth with a soft cry. She is not immovable, and he knows it. His tail wraps around her ankle as her leg tries to jerk upward, and holds it in place. Cardan moves lazily, breathes steadily against the Queen and relishes in her slow undoing.

"Cardan," she whispers, and he hums with his lips on her pussy.

In fact, the real secret that Cardan knows is that Jude is not any of the things he calls her, and despite the way fae crave wickedness like opium, it is the very heart of Jude that he loves the most.

"Will you punish me, too?" Cardan asks her. His face moves up her body but one of his fingers replace his tongue inside her and Jude is not able to answer him. "If I confess my sins to you will you hand down my own judgement?"

"Did you steal any children away?" Jude manages to ask him, but her breathing is coming in short pants and her voice is strained.

"No," Cardan laments. "Although I think I would enjoy having a pet."

Jude's eyes flash, but Cardan makes one finger two and her words don't make it out.

"My sins," Cardan tells her, and then leans close to admit it in her ear while his hand speeds up between her legs. "are so numerous as to be unforgivable." He even sounds a little sad, and Jude's eyes open.

"There is always mercy," she breathes.

"Then forgive me, my saint," Cardan says, and then twists his fingers and presses down on her clit at the same time, so Jude climaxes suddenly and unexpectedly. Her lovely brown eyes widen in surprise and her lips part in bliss, and before she has come all the way down Cardan removes his fingers and slides his cock into her even as she shudders and spasms.

Cardan barely moves before Jude is coming again, and the waves of it around him are exquisitely divine. He moans his pleasure as he sinks into her again and again, and revels in the Queen laid bare. His hips kiss hers and it is in this space he finds his absolution daily. For as hard and uncaring as Jude is not, so is Cardan secretly not so unaffected or shameless as he makes out to be.

And as Jude wraps her legs around his waist, and her hands around the back of his neck pull his forehead down to hers, he wonders if this is what Jude knows, too.

Cardan moves his lips against Jude's neck and the increasingly irregular rhythm of his hips matches the erratic beating of his heart, and when Jude's teeth bite into his throat as if to suckle at his lifeblood, he comes hard buried deep inside her.

Minutes later, the King and Queen of Elfhame are still tangled together on the couch. Jude's head is on Cardan's chest and he has the sharp claw tip of a fingernail circling against her shoulder. A faint bruise is blooming on his throat, and the tip of his tail is brushing against her elbow.

"Shall we return you to the revel, my love?" Cardan asks her. Jude looks at him, then stands fluidly and holds her chin up and her arms out.

"Dress me, husband," she commands, and Cardan picks up her clothes off the floor and puts everything back on. Piece by piece, layer by layer, fingers meticulous. Pinning her hair and fastening the scabbard by her waist. Jude is still like a mannequin, and when he is done she lowers her arms and sweeps out of the room without a backward glance.

Cardan straightens his own clothes, plonks his crown back on his head and then saunters back out to the thrown room. Jude is already being offered a selection of the fattest, sweetest grapes and she spears them with a fine dagger before she puts them to her kiss-swollen lips. And when she drags the knife point back out of her mouth, he doesn't know whether he'd rather be the blade or the fruit.

Either way, he is more than content to spend the rest of the night watching Jude rule the fae with an iron fist, as his kisses fade on her skin.

****

Sorry that was so curly! When I started writing Jurdan I just thought I would write these snarly, snappy creatures but it turns out I'm just a sucker for them shedding their skins when they're alone. Also, I planned on writing hardcore smut and all that came out was... intense feels? What is happening?

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @asteria-of-mars @swankii-art-teacher @loosingdreams @feysand-loml @cityofbookish

*NOTE* I have two entirely separate masterlists/ taglists for my feysand and jurdan stuff!! Hope this makes it all easy to navigate!

[hannie-dul-set]

— contrariety & confluence | jung jaehyun.

SUMMARY | there was not an instance in your life where your judgement was proven to be mistaken— especially with regards to infatuations outside of your own. after an unpredicted introduction with a far too remarkable farm boy, you took it upon yourself to find a suitable match for him, not realizing that perhaps this time; your usual correct judgements might have been incorrect. PAIRING | jung jaehyun x female! reader [slight johnny x reader and jaehyun x oc, mentions of dotae and other pairings] GENRE | emma! au, matchmaking! au, strangers to lovers! au, slowburn (like i mean slow slow), period romance, humor, one suggestive scene, very very tiny angst, also jaehyun falls on love too quickly LMAO WARNINGS | implied and borderline smut, other than that none <33 (omg there’s no SWEARING in this wow) WORD COUNT | 16.9k TAGLIST | @sehunniepot​ @ukiyoneo​ @roury66​ @nct-writers​ @czennienet​ @neowritingsnet​ @kpopscape​

a/n: i wrote this....in seven days (not even JSFSD) ANYWAYS i hope you like this huhu jaehyun really has gotten me in a spell lately HJFF inspired by jane austen’s emma! but it doesn’t follow the actual book’s plotline hehe

A pleasant afternoon was how one would describe the present air and scenery— the sunrays scintillating over the nearby stream in such a manner that made its blue tint rival that of the clear sky, a faint brustling of the wind that shuffled the neverending tall, forest trees, and distantly was a flowered meadow of the countryside that visually neared as the carriage horses took their light gallop on the dirt path towards it.

Indeed, it was a pleasant afternoon, yet your temperament was less than pleasant; it leaned more into the adjective “stormy” from the way your eyebrows knitted together to accompany your deep frown, only worsened when an envious bump interrupted your supposedly pleasant carriage ride.

“Father, perhaps it isn’t too late to reverse? To return back to the estate?”

You made no effort in hiding your sour expression in front of your dear father, who was sitting before you inside the small space of the closed carriage. “Now, Y/N, we would not want to be tiresome to Mr. Jeon, do we? Not when we are already a mere walks away.”

“Mr. Jeon would not be troubled by his own occupation,” you reasoned, but the debate was settled because as though your father was lenient and doting towards you, his only daughter, he was a sensitive man who considered the welfare of all those that surround— that included Mr. Jeon, the primary coachman of your estate.

Mr. L/N had never failed in being quick to catch your subtle tells, and this moment was no other. He saw your parted lips breathing out a sigh, your gaze in a faraway spell to the open window, and shoulders slacked in despondency.  “Eyes up, my little birdie,” your father called out. “I am aware that it is most upsetting for you to have lost a dear friend to the covetous hands of wedlock, but this excursion would prove to be a remedy for your mourning heart! Have I ever told you about kind Mrs. Lee and her children? Mrs. Lee, I have known far before you were born, but I have never been lucky enough to be acquainted with her children yet. Though I hear that they are quite pleasant fellows.”

The word pleasant simply grated your annoyance further. There was no such thing as pleasant when all your heart could feel was the grief brought about by the marrying of Miss Anna— your governess slash mother figure slash best friend— a week prior to today’s present. You had no pleasure in calling her Mrs. Qian, because quite frankly, you were still lamenting over the great sorrow of the loss of such a dear and close person, catalyzed by very much your own urgings and schemings.

It was an ideal match, her and Qian Kun. Highly congratulated and expected. A happy wedding for both parties except your own.

“Oh dear, how affected must you be for tears to well up,” your father cooed, leaning forwards to wipe away your cries with his handkerchief, to which you simply insisted him to sit back down as you had your own. “Miss Anna is in a very much happy disposition right now, my dear Y/N. And I predict that she would want the same for you.”

Your intellect was not ignorant of that fact, but your emotions pressed on to ignore Miss Anna’s wishes. It would take more than three-and-twenty excursions to Hollybrook Farm in order to fill the missing gap of one most cherished.

Mr. L/N’s heart was weighed heavier from having a front seat to your sorrows, and a thought came to him. A thought that he wished to never have thought of at all. “My dearest daughter,” he started in a shaky voice. “My only daughter. You aren’t going to leave your poor father this soon, are you not?”

“Oh what nonsense, papa!”

Your abrupt refute sang in line with yet another bump on the road, though your tenor was much less unaffected from your impenetrable indignancy.

“Such unthinkable, ineffable nonsense!” you cried in your seat, the lines of your embroidered handkerchief crumpling from your tight grasp. “I love you much too dearly to even ponder on marriage. You need not to fear that moment else you will only worry yourself into sickness.”

Your father’s silly notion had managed to ease you momentarily, allowing you to breathe and admire the natural scenery in a way that you were not able to a minute prior. Although that brief moment of serenity only lasted until the end of the ride. The ground crackled when you dropped down from the carriage, and you were once again hit by the wretchedness of the three or four realizations as you stood a reasonable distance from the farmhouse of Hollybrook; the first being the fact that Miss Anna will never be reverted back to maidenhood by a trivial excursion, or any excursion for that matter. The second, how shabby the presenting structure of Mr. and Mrs. Lee’s home appeared before you. And third, the idea that you were to stay here for an entire night and two half-days.

It was tortuous.

“Mr. and Miss L/N! How grateful we are to have you company! Oh, come, come, please do come in!”

Half forced was the smile that you willed to your face as you passed through the fence that surrounded the wide vicinity of the family’s land. Mrs. Lee was a rather chipper lady, having none to not talk about as each second her lips were steadily moving, and though she was polite, pleasant, and very much hospitable, you found her incessant speeches far too tiring to stand. “Mr. Lee is unfortunately not with us today for he and my eldest had business to be dealt with in town, but please oh please do not fret! My three sons and I will be sure to provide a pleasant enough company for the both of you.”

“It is you that must not fret, Mrs. Lee,” you smiled at her. A pleasant smile. Mildly forced. But politeness was a must. “My father and I are sure that our stay here will be much enjoyed considering how amiable the lady of the house is.”

“Oh, Mr. L/N. Your daughter is as much of a charmer as you are,” the lady guffawed at your remark, a fond smile on her weathered features. “We will forever be indebted to your kindness! If it weren’t for you, we would not even have a house to live in. Though brief— I do hope you enjoy your stay here at Hollybrook.”

As the two chatted away along the cobbled path, you took the moment to study the sight before you— a large house, not as large as yours at Whitland, but large enough to fit a family of six or seven. The grey brick walls were infested with an overgrowth of vines, painting it with a green that matched the surroundings of grass that stretched farther than you could see. It was a very pleasing structure if it weren’t for the muddy windows, wheelbarrows unkempt, and the evident disarray of shoes that you were welcomed with at the entrance. That enough was telling of the people that lived here, and though you disliked holding prejudices, it was something that you could not control.

You breathed in, drowning out the unwavering voice of Mrs. Lee in the background.

A less than pleasant afternoon. You could only hope for a more pleasant evening.

“Mark! Please do check on the oven— Jeno! Be a dear and set the table for our guests— oh my— Donghyuck!”

A snort of a pig.

“How many times must I tell you; do not bring Kosher into the house!”

A door slamming to a close.

It was far from a pleasant evening. In fact, it was even less pleasant than the afternoon, yet your father seemed to be pleased enough with the mess that was dinnertime preparation, even laughing along as he aided Donghyuck in luring out Kosher back into his pen. All you could do was sit in your chair at the very far corner, recollecting all the information that you have thus far observed from your new acquaintances— which only brought about a bitter taste of cold, chilling, malcontentment. Mrs. Lee was quick to judge, and so were her four sons; though one was absent, for you it was easy to formulate your discernment of his character— not quite concrete, but concrete enough to know that the eldest Mr. Lee was a hardworking whose sphere of concern is limited within the family, and the family only.

Quite an amendable quality so long as you were in the sphere. Not when you were a guest. He could have spared some time to accommodate you and your father, but as he did not wish so and so he did not.

Next in line was Mark Lee. Handsome, well-mannered, well-spoken— exemplary despite his upbringing, but the boy was lacking the respect of being the standing eldest of the three with his brother’s absence. Poor Mark was being buried in all of Donghyuck’s chores without his concurrence, but without any protests.

Jeno Lee was objectively the handsomest of the three, and arguably the most agreeable. He would be rivalling Roselake’s Jaemin Na in terms of manners, politeness, and overall gentlemanly constitution. If only it weren’t for his regretful fear of women, then he would have been a chivalrous candidate for marriage. He was inherently unable to send a glance at your way without wearing the prettiest shade of red on his personable features.

Lastly, Donghyuck Lee was very much like his mother— exceptionally good-humored, exceptionally unwavering, and exceptionally tiring just as she. You could not handle a minute of his presence and you were yet to arrange a plan on how to exactly to last the entire dinner alone. The deafening of one of your senses was enough to blind the other; it was truly a shame as he was both handsome and intelligent, too. Well, it did not matter since marriage was a bleak concept for you, but you could have set him up with someone you knew.

Dinner, which was supposed to be a quiet occasion with light and educated conversation, was beyond what you had prepared for. And as if Mrs. Lee’s and your father’s chatterings weren’t boisterous enough, as if the three brothers’ over the table deviltries weren’t rasping enough, your dinner was further intruded by the irksome knock of the door.

“Oh, dear Mark, would you please answer the door? Hurry, hurry!” at his mother’s command, the clattering of utensils was heard, and following after was Mark’s hurried steps. “How I have completely forgotten from all the frantic preparations— Miss Y/N, you have room for one more acquaintance, no?”

You were not given the proper opportunity to react— only enough time or you to open your mouth in preparation for speaking, yet you could not. It was either from your voice momentarily dysfunctioning, or perhaps from the inhibitions attracted by the intruders attendance. Though the most plausible conclusion would be both.

Both. Indeed it was both. How could one even think to speak when brought before the presence of such a man.

He caught your stare. You forced your mouth to a close.

“Jaehyun, how was the delivery? Oh, I hope the journey wasn’t too fatiguing.”

“Madam, fatigue is but a distant cousin that I have never come to know in years,” the man known as Jaehyun smiled, causing distinct indentions to sink on his cheeks. He diverted from your sharp gaze. Handsome, you drew, continuing to eye him as you took a subtle sip from your water. “The delivery and transaction went as usual. Though I would appreciate if you weren’t to worry each time,” a laugh— even his laugh was handsome. “Shall we sit, Mrs. Lee?”

The three sons cheerily greeted Jaehyun as he sat amongst them, though not before aiding the older lady to the seat of her own. Perfectly handsome, perfectly mannered, perfectly agreeable; never in your life had you been beheld to such a perfect subject of a man. Though his clothes were wrinkled and skin dusted, those measly details were little enough to be overlooked by his overall disposition.

He was almost far too perfect to be deemed true.

“Miss Y/N, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Jung Jaehyun—” nods and smiles exchanged across the table right before Mrs. Lee continued to speak. “He is almost like my own son after living with us since he was four! Now three-and-twenty and has grown into such a fine gentleman indeed!”

Ah, you clicked your tongue. There it was.

But an unknown background was something that you could work with.

“May I inquire your opinion on something, Mr. Jung?”

He flinched midway eating his meal; expectedly so since the first words you’ve spoken to him after all those unwavering and calculative stares was something so bleak and ominous. He gingerly settled down his spoon, replacing it with a napkin to wipe his greased lips. One look at him was impossible to discern his upbringing of being a farm boy. “Please refer to me as Jaehyun, Miss Y/N. That enough is all right.”

Your lips quirked into a smile.

“Never have I met someone so politely hypocritical,” you hummed. He simply pressed his lips into a thin smile. “Very well then, Jaehyun. How do you feel about daisies?”

Daisies. A quizzical question that entranced the entire dinner table— though the subject of your question did not take long to think and utter out his answer.

“Well, a small bouquet of daisies would be sufficient enough to comfort an ailing friend,” Jaehyun thought out loud, then a flash of concern flitted through his eyes. “Are any of your friends ill, Miss Y/N? I know of a nearby patch where you could pick them.”

It was a different kind of triumph that you felt when you heard of his practically perfect answer; the notion of is character to be knowledgeable from the brief explanation of flower, the poignancy from the thought of a misfortune of a friend of an acquaintance (not even friend of a friend), and the unconditional, compassionate offering a service.

At that point you had decided.

“Oh, not at all, Jaehyun. All of them are perfectly healthy. Thank you for providing a response,” picking up a fork, you sent him a full, satisfied smile. “Anyhow, I believe that is enough conversion for one night. Let us dine, shall we?”

That a man such as Jung Jaehyun does not deserve to be bound inside the fences of a farm, for the world has much more to offer.

It was without precariousness and uncertainty that you, Miss Y/N L/N, sole heiress of Whitland Estate, can conclude with no much further deliberation required, had not, in fact, slept a single wink.

Even Kosher the pig might have slept more soundly than you.

“Mrs. Lee, I’m going out!” you announced from the door. “Please tell father in case he looks for me when he wakes up!”

It was thirty before six, and since there was no hope for you to rest atop the rock hard bed that you were provided, you ultimately opted to take a walk outside for some early exercise. (Frankly, it was not that hard— you were simply not used to beddings apart from your own inside your estate. You didn’t blame the Lee’s for your inability to adapt). A heavily clouded sky met you outside as it had showered a few hours prior, therefore you took it upon yourself to watch your step so as to not slip and fall.

Despite the unclear sky, there were moments where sunlight had just managed to slip past the cloud, allowing for a brief moment of golden rain. You anticipated the said occurrence during each moment of your walk.

You were forced to a stop upon being met by a downhill slope, and there you realized that Hollybrook Farm was quite actually much larger than the front had presented itself to be.

“Good morning, Miss Y/N! Jeno wishes you a good morning to— hey! Did I say something wrong?!”

Your laughter was unprevented due to the younger boys’ antics. They were rather lively for it being too early— though they were probably used to waking at such a time, perhaps even earlier due to their responsibilities in the farm. Undeniably, your initial impression of the lot was quite critical and nit-picky, but you had no doubts on them being pleasant fellows (as long as Donghyuck does not speak a thousand words a minute, of course).

Smiling, you hurriedly trekked towards the two boys who were still quarrelling among the flock of sheep, and so you momentarily forgot about the rain that had occurred prior, subsequently forgetting about the risk of slipping on the soft dirt.

Therefore the next event was to no one’s surprise but your own.

A misstep. You let out a scream as you slid down.

With your eyes squeezed shut and with the wind racing past you in such a terrifying speed, the fear of crashing down was numbed by the adrenaline that coursed through your veins, and all you could was wait for the imminent impact that—

You squeaked.

—that never seemed to have come.

“O-oh,” your breath staggered, eyes lost from the heat of the moment, and your slanted figure was caught by an arm that caged you, serving as a barrier between you and the mudded ground. In an instinctive motion, your head snapped up, meeting the eyes of the one who had just been in time to save you. It was Jaehyun. “I—”

You did not know what were the appropriate words for such a situation, and apparently neither did he because all he did was stare at you wide eyed with mixture of worry and panic and relief, making you believe that he was just as frightened as you because of the fall. An exchange of eye contact; blinking and unblinking. Jaehyun released a sharp huff of relief, and quite unexpectedly, he lifted you off the ground and into his arms in a bridal carry.

Your heart stirred in bewilderment.

“Ex—excuse me, Jaehyun, but it is less than appropriate for a man like you to be—”

“I apologize, Miss Y/N, but I am less concerned with propriety and more so with the possibility of you sustaining an injury,” he declared. “I cannot allow you to walk.”

None more was said after. You were left to ponder on your thoughts.

Jaehyun had his nose pointed forward as he carried you, eyes ahead and shadowed by the tufts of his hair; a manly disposition overall in addition to his declarations prior. Your admiration was simply stretched further. Though, it was not an admiration that strung one’s heart in fleeting motions; rather it was a type of admiration that an aesthete would hold towards a work of art, unaffected and untouchable— though still open to refinery. Jung Jaehyun was indeed a walking piece of art.

It seemed as though you were not the only one to agree, because as you passed near the fence, still in his arms, you caught sight of a group of young girls. You inwardly scoffed. It was obvious that they were here to admire the boy. It was also obvious that they had to be content with merely admiring, as a single step closer would be an insult to Jaehyun. He deserved someone of the same degree.

Wait.

“Miss Y/N, I will be setting you down, now.”

You were far deep into thought to realize that you had settled into the barn, quite frankly in a daze when Jaehyun gently placed you atop a squared hay bale. He made sure not to linger his touch on your skin for far too long, but also making sure to not be hasty— treating you with such a delicate care that made you think: Mrs. Lee raised him well. Far too well.

“I apologize for my rudeness,” you said. “I haven’t even properly thanked you for saving me.”

Jaehyun squatted before you, wordlessly asking permission to check on your ankle, and you gave him a wordless response in return. He pulled your boots off of your feet. “Please do be careful next time, Miss Y/N. The soil gets slippery when it rains,” he mumbled. “Does this hurt?”

“Not at all.”

He sighed in relief. “All right. But you should remain inside to rest for the time being. I am afraid I would not get any work done if you remain. I would be far too worried.”

You appreciated the addition of the last sentence.

“Allow me to repay your kindness one day, Jaehyun.”

“There is no need, Miss Y/N. I just— ah, allow me to help you.”

Jaehyun did not even let you get off of the hay bale on your own despite your countless assurances that you could walk as fine as any other, but he insisted on escorting you outside of the barn, extending until the door of the farmhouse, and even when you mounted the carriage as you and your father were already to make your leave. You feared that your father might actually pass if you tell him about your accident, but luckily Jaehyun was there to assure him of all his worries.

He certainly deserved someone of the same degree.

“Please do visit again soon!”

And unlike when you arrived, the departure was far more pleasant. Because as you were gazing outside the window of the carriage with your countless thoughts, you had come up with the perfect match that was fitting for a man such as Jung Jaehyun.

The moon had already replaced the sun when you and your father returned to the estate, and there waiting was Johnny Suh— a close friend of your father despite being years and years younger. You did not view him as a friend; he was much like a fond annoyance that you perceived as familial at best, and nefarious at worst. Your ideals simply did not align, and more likely than not, it was the prerequisite for all of your arguments. Though, you would be lying if you said you did not find joy debating with him. The joy being found in his defeat.

“Mr. L/N,” Johnny started. The three of you were sitting around in the manor’s reception room, the usual tea and chat taking place. “If I were to be honest, I did not expect a trip to the countryside would do your daughter’s selfish grievances any better, but perhaps miracles do exist.”

You sent him a sidelong glance as you took a sip from your tea. Johnny returned it with a charming grin. The nerve.

“What makes you say that?”

“You left looking like a widower and returned looking like a newlywed. That is enough for me to draw my conclusions.”

A wispy laugh was released by your father, and for a moment you felt betrayed. You elicited a cough, placing the cup on the saucer that was held by your other hand. Johnny looked at you expectantly. “But is that enough for you to draw the reason as to why I’m in such a happy mood?”

“Unfortunately not. But I do have a bit of an idea,” he answered “You are scheming again, are you not?”

You smiled innocently. “What could you possibly mean?”

This was not an unnatural sight in the estate, seeing as your father was simply reading in silence as he listened to your back and forths. Johnny was not by any means amused by your lack of definitive response. He really wanted to know what, or who brought your spirits to such a high considering that you had practically been weeping not even a day ago. You would not simply let go of Miss Anna unless you found a new occupancy— and something like that was unlikely to be found at a farm.

“Oh? You feign ignorance when not even a month ago you were rejoicing your victory of finally getting Mr. and Mrs. Wong to be wed.”

“Ah, I simply pulled a few strings here and there.”

“And what about Taeyong and Doyoung?”

“They would not have gotten together if it were not for me mediating between their stubbornness.”

Johnny exhausted a sigh. “Y/N, you are quite frankly the impossible woman I have ever met.”

“I do not believe you have met enough women to surmise such a deduction.”

He was getting annoyed. You could tell from the way his jaw clenched. He ignored your quip and instead shifted back to the topic beforehand. “You are still acting innocent as if you are not scheming something when you are practically incriminating yourself by evidence that came from none other than yourself. Who is it this time?”

“I am not scheming, Johnny,” you pressed on, choosing to ignore the last question. “A scheme is something grand— elaborate. I am not even lifting a finger.”

“You never change,” he huffed. “Still as proud as ever.”

“Of course, as there is undeniably something to be proud of when you help in watering love to bloom,” you reasoned, and a subtle smirk glistened on your face. “Well, your indifference is quite understandable. A man that is five-and-twenty and unmarried would never—”

“Coming from someone who declared herself to be an old maid,” Johnny proclaimed in a loud voice, a glare shot into your direction. “You should be more sensible in who you point your fingers at.”

You scoffed. “That is a completely—”

“Y/N, my dear!”

It was fortunate that your father had interrupted before the both of you could verbally rip each other’s throats apart from a distance. You and Johny visibly calmed down, a simultaneous, unspoken truce as you breathed in and relaxed in your chair.

“Are you still to continue your hobby in matchmaking?”

Completely ignoring Johnny’s dirty stares and incoherent mumbling, you spread your lips into a bright, wide smile. “Why of course, dear papa! Vicariously romancing through the lives of others is the only way a destined old maid such as I could feel the profound experience of falling in love. There is no reason for me to stop, there not?” a  choked out laughter is heard from across the room, unmistakably from Johnny, but you simply responded by a threatening gaze, to which he promptly shut his mouth. “Oh, by the way, father. When is our dear, little Hwayoung returning from boarding school? Has she sent a letter, by any chance?”

Johnny chuckled, bringing the teacup to his lips. “You still call her little when she’s a mere year younger than you.”

“Then shall I call you uncle as you are four years older than me?”

Sohn Hwayoung was the daughter of a merchant in Roselake; a very pretty, very charming, and a very chipper young lady that had always followed you like a baby duckling since you were thirteen. She was like a little sister to you— always heeding your advice and exemplifying you as “Miss Y/N can never be wrong”. Apart from Miss Anna, you had always been especially fond of Hwayoung, and therefore you were devastated when you found out about her leaving, just as you were during your governess’ engagement. But now it was summer. She was to return to Roselake on any day this week.

Your father wore an approving smile, and you clasped your hands together in hopeful expectancy. “She is to return this Friday.”

A bright, beaming grin splendored your face, squealing, and you nearly jumped out of your place.

“Oh, what a joyous occasion! Shall we celebrate her return, papa? It has been far too long since a ball was held in the village.”

“I do not suppose why not,” he chuckled. “I will be calling Mrs. Qian for the arrangements.”

“Thank you so much, father!” you ran over to embrace him, to which he returned with one of his own. “Also, Mr. Jeon— will he be off tomorrow? You see, I would like to send a letter.”

This particular statement piqued the interest of Johnny, as he sat up in his seat with a n air of attentiveness and curiosity. The man was as sharp as ever, but you knew your way around him. “To Hwayoung?” he inquired, the subtle cock of his brow, but you simply gave him a secretive yet knowing smile.

“No,” you replied. “Not to Hwayoung.”

The streaks of sunlight leaking through the open window would have woken you from your slumber if it were not for Mr. Kim, a servant of the house, waking you up by a loud, hollow knock on your door in such an urgent manner.

“Miss Y/N, a visitor has come. Please hurry down.”

You were rather alarmed when that was the first thing that greeted you the moment you woke up, but a side of you somewhat expected this sudden visitation. Quickly, you raced down the halls of your manor, passing by lines and lines of windows, paintings, and statues in such a pace that did not allow you any moment to admire their intricacies. Mr. Jeon had departed yesterday to deliver your message— and it appeared that it was properly relayed. You were still in your nightwear when you had passed through the arch that led to the entrance hall, a shawl draped over your shoulders. When your eyes landed on the visitor that came in such a short notice, you couldn’t prevent the winning smile from replacing your previously drowsy expression.

He never came to disappoint.

“Miss Y/N!”

Jung Jaehyun sprang from the long sofa, a bouquet of daisies in hand, in such a frantic resolution that nearly made you feel guilty.

“Is everything all right?! Are you hurt?! Did you— wait, hold on, why are you standing? Dear god, did you walk all the way— you— you should not be—”

“It is quite appreciative that you have responded to my invitation with such an exemplary promptness, Jaehyun.”

He blinked at you, mouth opening and closing in a confused, convoluted manner that was almost comedic if you weren’t the precursor for his distress. You simply stood in front of him in the middle of the room with a fixed smile on your face. He was lost, disordered. And it reflected on the dirt on his clothes, the dust clinging onto is skin, and the tousled nature of his hair.

“I thought— I thought there was an—”

“There was no accident, Jaehyun. That was simply made-up.”

“But you said you were—”

“Alive and well, as you can see.”

“Then why did you—”

“Simply because I wanted you around,” you perked, eyes twinkling and hands politely folded behind your back. “You would not have come otherwise, am I correct?”

Prior to writing your letter to the Lee’s, you had come to a realization that a responsible man such a Jaehyun would not just abandon his duties at Hollybrook for something as trivial as tea time. You had to come up with a different reason— a more urgent, pressing, and important reason— even if that reason was a mere fabrication. Jaehyun seemed to have only realized it now. He was made to believe that you have gotten into an accident much worse than yesterday’s.

He flushed scarlet.

“Well—” Jaehyun stammered, embarrassed, unable to meet you eye to eye. You pressed your lips together in the hopes of preventing an amused smile from forming in such an inappropriate situation. But it was difficult with his ears getting redder by the second. Honestly, considering the situation, it was you that should have been the shameful one, not him. “If— if that is the case then I believe it is only right for me to take my leave.”

“On the contrary, I believe you should stay,” you quickly strided when he turned away and ready to leave through the doors, blocking his attempt of escape. “Apart from the—” you coughed. “—red herrings in the letter. Your presence is still highly welcome in the estate. How about extending your stay until tomorrow?”

Jaehyun let out a strangled cough at your suggestion. “I am afraid that would be highly inconvenient for you, Miss Y/N, as I have brought nothing but myself.”

“Well, you certainly brought along these lovely daisies with you,” he forgot about those, and you took the bunched up flowers from his right hand, the faintest brushing of your skin, and you smiled at him when you brought them up to your face to smell the grassy, earthy scent. His ears became redder. “Come. You need not to worry about clothing, toiletries or essentials, as the L/N residence has more than enough to provide. You do not have to worry about the farm either— I will be sending another letter to Mrs. Lee about your temporary absence. She would be delighted to hear that you will be staying a few days here.”

From how determined you were, there was no hope in objecting, but Jaehyun still had yet to try. “Miss Y/N,” he began, following your back as you started to leave the entrance hall. “I simply cannot be intrusive to your hospitality. I do not wish to be a burden.”

“Nonsense, Jaehyun!” you suddenly swiveled, meeting him face to face, the bouquet pointed against his nose. He swallowed hard. “I lured you here and therefore it is only rightfully so that I redeem myself by treating you as an esteemed guest.”

You carried yourself with such a confident and dignified air that Jaehyun simply cannot help but consent. The scarlet rouge seemed to have no intention of leaving his face— only darkening and growing warmer. You hadn’t judged him to fluster easily, but perhaps the hot weather was a contributing factor. You paid no mind.

“Well, anyway,” you hummed in satisfaction, leading him deeper into the manor. “Would you prefer a view of the front garden or of the back garden?”

After an entire day in Whitland, Jaehyun had proven himself to be even more agreeable that you had accounted for, which brought about no regrets in your decision of bringing him here to Roselake as it was the utmost sense of pride that you have ever felt. Not only was he such a fine dancer, he knew how to play the pianoforte and was highly cultured in music altogether. He even knew how to cook. And above all— he collected all sorts of poems, riddles, and charades that he penned in a small notebook, which simply accentuated your making of a good character for him. You had made no errors when you judged that he belonged in high society. He would fit right in.

All that was left was to do something about those drab costumes of his.

“Is it really all right for me to wear such an expensive attire, Miss Y/N?”

You had invited him for breakfast together as your father and Johnny went out into the village, and you simply did not like solitude when there were others around. He sat before you, across the table, squirmish and unsure. You frowned. The both of you were seated in such a beautiful spot inside the house— right beside the large window that opened to the gardens. This was no place for negativity.

“Why, surely!” you bellowed. “Would you rather run about uncovered, Jaehyun?”

It was instantaneous how he reddened.

“But of course, if that is what you wish, then—”

“Miss Y/N!” he stammered indignantly, his palm heavily dropping onto the table, causing it to rattle. “I— I had never expected vulgarities of any kind to be expressed by lips such as your very own.”

His flustered outrage was very much obvious by the way exhaled in such an exasperated manner, looking away into the window because it was far less perilous to eye the rose bush peeking from the glass. The red roses matched his face. “I believe this is not an appropriate topic to be discussed over a meal,” he sounded. “It is ill-suited in general.”

Jaehyun was unfortunately unable to catch the glimmer in your eyes. “You seem to boast a deep knowledge about vulgarities, yet you do not know that it is vulgar to speak about a lady's lips without her discretion,” he would not have choked on air if he had caught it.

“Oh my,” Your chair grated against the floor as you stood to help him, but he waved you off back to your seat “I was simply teasing, Jaehyun. I apologize, I really could not help myself.”

He drank from his glass of water, still rather ruffled from the event. “You seem to find a lot of joy from teasing others, Miss Y/N.”

“It is a lot of fun,” you agreed. Thankfully, Jaehyun seemed to have recovered now. “I would recommend the activity to you but I’m afraid you are far too nice to enjoy it.”

“Oh?” he pondered, a raise of a brow. It was about time that he took a bite from the prepared breakfast as he did not want to invade any further, but he was worried that it would be a waste. He took a fork from the table and started to eat. “How are you sure that I would not enjoy such a thing?”

Was he trying to challenge you? You chuckled. He may have seemed tolerant and forbearing over anything based on the air that he bequeathed as he went, but perhaps he hasn’t chosen to forgive you yet for pulling such a jest— he was extremely flustered, after all. You wouldn't have forgiven yourself, either. “It is a first that I have met a gentleman as constitutionally juxtaposed as you are. Are you upset that I teased you?"

“Not at all,” he said. “It would be rude for me to think ill of my host. I simply wonder how you’ve made so quick of a judgement when we've only met twice."

“Oh, judgement is arbitrary, Jaehyun. I draw conclusions as I wish and change them as I wish. Yet so far my impression of you has not changed one bit.”

He was silent for a moment, looking at you so intently that you could hardly recognize him as the same blushing boy as earlier. “Will I ever expect a change, Miss Y/N?”

This caught you by surprise.

It was vexing— how you had no theory on what prompted such a question, and what exactly kind of answer was he expecting and what he was to do with it. Jaehyun appeared to be anticipating your response; he stopped the clattering of utensils altogether and instead waited for you to speak in patience. You had no choice but to simply answer honestly.

“Oh, do you wish for it to change? But I believe my judgement of you is the best judgement one could ever make from a man,” you replied. “Well of course, that depends entirely on you, Jaehyun.”

You couldn’t tell if he was satisfied or less than, because all he affirmed with was a puzzling, thin smile that showed his dimples, followed by a reserved  “I see.”

Throughout the stretch of the day, Jaehyun had continued with his odd, dilapidated behaviour which brought you to the paramount of confusion, irritation, and inadmissible fluster. You could quite confidently assume that his sudden coquetry as you made a turn around the garden, his uncalled for compliments and comparisons, was to prove his insistence that he did, in fact, enjoy a little tease.

Gentlemanly yet competitive, you took note. He is such a character.

Jaehyun only stopped when you admitted defeat right before sunset, but you defended that your initial perception of him had still yet to change because he was still as contradictingly confluent as he was during your first meeting, and you were sure that it would never change. Confusing enough, he visibly dampened when you made him know of it, and you did not understand what was there to be disappointed about. Was he that bent on changing your idea of him? But you assured that your idea of him was nothing but agreeable.

It followed you until dinner with the three men, and by then, you had not the slightest idea that all it took to completely silence one Johnny Suh was a Jung Jaehyun. The reason why, you did not know and you did not care. You should invite him as often as you could.

“I sincerely apologize for my daughter calling you here under the guise of an injury,” your father sent you a berating stare through his glasses, the rhythmic sounds of knives and spoons and forks and plates filling in between the gaps of the conversation. “I hope it has not troubled you so, Jaehyun.”

“What would have been so troubling, papa?” you spoke up, switching your concentration into someone else. “Is Roselake not such a welcoming place, Jaehyun?”

“Well, I have only toured as far as your estate, so I have none much to say regarding the entire village. But you see I have this belief that a part greatly represents that of the whole,” a charming smile was flashed. “If Whitland is already this captivating, then Roselake might be all as well.”

There was a cough from the other side of the table— Johnny— and it stirred Jaehyun’s and your father’s concern. He assured the two that he was fine, but you didn’t fail to catch his expression— one that he always wore when held knowledge of something you did not know of. You opted to fish information from him after dinner.

“Such a well-spoken and well-mannered boy,” your father hummed, reaching out for a dish on the table. Jaehyun politely passed it to him. “Do stay as long as you wish, son. There is no such thing as overstaying your welcome here at  Whitland.”

“Oh, sir. I simply cannot abuse your hospitality.”

“Nonsense!” it was a familiar reckoning— your father’s remark. Jaehyun now knew where your persistence came from. “You would not have travelled all the way here if it were not for Y/N’s scheming. Please, Mr. Jaehyun. We are very much indebted to you.”

“Jaehyun,” you interrupted, smiling piquantly. “I would love for you to extend your visit until Friday.”

At that juncture, Johnny abruptly stopped his meal after spending the rest of it in silence. He shot you a look, to which you gave the look back. He was not even saying anything yet his peace was enough to be an annoyance. You really needed to have a word with him after this.

“Oh, that is right! We will be holding a ball on that very day, Jaehyun. It would be such a shame for you to miss out an occasion while you are already here.”

Jaehyun opened his mouth in an attempt to refute, but he caught your expectant gaze— the evidence of you looking forward to his attendance stopping him from saying what he had planned on saying. “If that is the case, then I suppose why not.”

“Excellent! You need not worry about your departure, son. I will prepare a carriage for you first thing on the seventh if you need to leave hurriedly.”

“Papa, how about inviting the Lee’s, as well?”

Jaehyun brightened at the mention, and your father was in no objection to accede.

Dinner had come to a close with a pleasant mood, and you went off to chase after Johnny who disappeared into the terrace right as the meal struck to an end. He thought he could run away from you. The nerve. You still had a bone to pick with him.

“Johnny Suh,” you announced your entrance, and he simply sighed without even turning around to acknowledge you. “What was that during dinner?”

That being, but not limited to, his constant, incisive stares directed to Jaehyun, his uncharacteristic quietness, and of course the moment he coughed in the middle of the scene which would have been dispensed by you if it were not for that irksome, knowing look on his face quite immediately after.

“Why do you not join Jaehyun and your father in the lounge?” he dodged.

“They are talking about farming," you grimaced. "Your presence is more welcomed than that. But anyhow—” you huffed, taking a stance right beside him. He was leaning against the railings in such an easy manner that annoyed you to bits. “Why do you not tell me what you have in mind?”

A moment of silence. He smiled at you knowingly.

“I have faith that you would know in due time.”

What?

“Johnny, I do not—”

“Moving on,” he brushed you off. You glared indignantly. The absolute nerve. “Hwayoung and Jaehyun?”

Ah.

Your eyes twinkled, your temper subsided. He looked at you with curiosity. You pursed your lips into a smile. “A good match, are they not? I believe this would be my greatest one yet,” you confidently declared and you had expected him to agree, to provide support despite his disagreements towards your pursuits as he usually did, but all you got from him was a painfully insulting laugh; sounding nothing but impertinent ridicule. If murder were not a crime, you would have pushed him off the balcony at that very instant.

“Miss Y/N, take this advice from a friend,” he breathed out in between chortles, needing to switch around his position as he was nearly stumbling in his own twisted amusement. “Do rethink your decisions. I am confident that this match will not go the way as you are used to.”

“Dear John,” you spat, venom lacing in each utterance. “You and I both know that I am miles closer with each of them than you are, I am more sympathetic towards the emotions of others than you are, and therefore it is not impetuous for me to conclude that I am a more fitting judge to this match’s success than you are.”

“And that is exactly where you fail.”

You blew a hot breath, appalled. Was he simply doing this to prove his superiority? To gravel you to the ends of the earth with a much more severe attempt?

“I am not saying to challenge you, Y/N. Do as you wish, I assure you that I will not go against,” he stated, ready to make his leave, walking from the railings to the terrace door, and your eyes followed him all the way through. Though before he left, he made sure to make one last testimony. “But do know that there are some things that can only be seen from afar.”

It was safe to say that this was the second night that you had not managed to fall asleep, but this time was for a different reason. That being the fact that Johnny’s words ceaselessly, obnoxiously echoed inside the taverns of your head like a damned curse in frequent enough episodes to drive to the very brink of insanity.

You were about to go insane— proven by the fact that you were quite literally mumbling to yourself inside the public space of Roselake Tailler Shop.

“That man speaks nonsense! Nothing but utter, indisputable, ridiculous nonsense! He thinks he’s sharper than me for simply being a few years older, when really he is none the wiser! Gosh, that stupendously arrogant—”

“Miss Y/N?”

A soft voice broke through. Dear lord, how you have forgotten.

Prior to your episode of madness, you had shoved Jaehyun into the hands of the dressmaker to fit his suit for tomorrow’s ball. It was on quite a short notice, but luckily you were acquainted with the owner, and that she already had a select few that suited Jaehyun’s frame and face with only a few alterations needed. Now, Jaehyun had emerged from the back of the shop, donning a dark tailcoat, cravat in a stylish ruffle, and bottoms that perfectly accentuated his tall height. You had nearly forgotten all your distresses from earlier.

“Is this all right?”

Yes, he was absolutely dashing, but could he please momentarily keep it down for the sake of your gradually withering rationality?

“My god, Jaehyun. That is by far the most foolish thing that I have ever heard you say.”

You marched up to him, evading the rolls of cloth and stands that littered the place, up until you found yourself standing right before him. His cravat was in a slight mess, and so you silently took it upon yourself to fix it, not realizing that you were far too close for Jaehyun’s comfort. You did not notice the way his eyes widened, the way his breath practically stopped when he could see how your lips pursed in concentration as you were very very close to his face. But what you did notice— albeit only when you looked up for a fleeting second— was that his ears were very much tinged red.

Johnny’s words echoed once more. You squeaked and stumbled away.

He is just poisoning your thoughts, that damned rat.

Unfortunately for you, there was a dress form right behind, and from your stumbling, you had almost fallen over it, setting off a disastrous domino that would have led to an absolute mess inside the shop. But of course that never happened. Jaehyun had not let that happen. He was just in time to catch your fall, arm steadily hooked around your waist, the other swiftly moving to balance the dress form, and his handsome face just as close as ever.

“You seem to have an inclination for situations where you are destined to fall, Miss Y/N.”

Your mind was yet to fully register your current situation, yet your heart was already far too many steps ahead with the sudden flushing of heat, darting of your nerves, and sporadic fluttering of your eyes.

Oh dear god.

With a cough and a huff and a stutter, you hopped back onto your feet. “I—It is not like I deliberately put myself into these situations. I assure you that I am not as clumsy,” you straightened yourself, a stern look on your features, though somewhat forced. Johnny was the cause of this pitfall; had he not rooted those ridiculous notions into your head, this never would have happened. “Please put your hair up on the day of the event.”

He smiled at you. “Ah, I will keep that in mind. Thank you.”

You blamed Johnny for all the palpitations that you have endured and have yet to endure within your presence of this deadly man.

Easy, Y/N, easy, you inwardly sighed as the both of you finally left the shop, entering the main streets of the village. The tailor said that his suit was to be delivered later in the day. Everything will fall into place by tomorrow— this is simply a test of your fortitude.

Your assurance was generously granted as you and Jaehyun strolled through the streets of Roselake on the way back to your estate, because in every side and every corner, from passersby and lingerers, people seem to have been magnetized towards your companion. You smugly smiled in voluminous pride. A head turner was he indeed, though he seemed to pay no attention to the stray stares. It was either he didn’t know or he didn’t care, but you were granted to believe that the former was far too unlikely.

“Jaehyun,” you roused. “Are you aware of the attention that you’re garnering?”

“I am aware that people have been looking this way since earlier,” he sent a polite smile to a nearby group of young ladies that were sitting at the side, right before bringing his attention back to you. With how the rays of gold were showering atop his dark hair, highlighting all the high points of his face, one might believe that even the sun was magnetized by him. “But I believe it is you that they are looking at, Miss Y/N.”

You laughed. “Please do not impart with me your false modesty, Jaehyun. Even a child is enamoured by you.”

“You are far too kind.”

At the suggestion, a little girl had walked up to him along with her sister— Miss Hana, you had recognized. It was an endearing exchange, Jaehyun and the little girl, and though you were willing to wait, Jaehyun had cut the acquaintanceship short, much to Miss Hana’s dismay. Perhaps it was not only the little girl that was enamoured.

“It is simply the truth, yet you insist on pretending,” you sighed, lamenting. He only chuckled in response, striding beside you as you crossed the busy street. “I can already see it, Jaehyun. Almost everybody at the ball tomorrow will be wondering who is this esteemed gentleman that Miss Y/N L/N had brought along to Roselake. Why, dozens will be vying for your favour.” It was unusually crowded today, possibly due to the event tomorrow. All of Roselake was to be invited, after all.

“It is nice, but I do not necessarily seek the good favour of everyone around me. Your father, your good friend Johnny, Mr. Jeon, and you, Miss Y/N,” a horse carriage interrupted your walk, the vehicle passing just inches away from your side. Jaehyun gallantly pulled you away, his hand on the small of your back, and it elicited a quiet gasp from your part. You landed on his chest, and he looked you in the eye. “It is your good favour that I deem more important than those of a nameless dozen.”

Had you not been devoted to your pursuits, you as well would have been enamoured. He did not care about making a good impression on others, but unconsciously he is doing so.

You quietly thanked him, pushing yourself away once the street was once again cleared. “That you need not to worry about, Jaehyun, because I have assured you many times already. We must hurry if we wish to return to Whitland before sunset; there are still plenty of preparations, after all.”

The evening of the sixth was as lively as the stars in the sky.

Whitland estate was not shy of inviting guests, and just as you had anticipated, almost if not all of Roselake have welcomed themselves into your manor. Visitors and guests flooded inside the ballroom and out, the gardens and yards littered with the jubilant merriness of conversations and introductions. You gratifyingly smiled as you stood at the center of the ballroom, underneath the striking chandelier, and you greeted people as they came and went. The current guest being Mrs. Qian— who lended a generous hand in preparation for the ball.

“You have always had an eye for the littlest details. It is quite thanks to you that the mood is pleasantly heightened,” you said with great praise, yet your former governess simply laughed it off in modesty.

“Dear Y/N, none would be merry making right now if you had not designed the entire event,” she rebounded, the liquid in her glass swaying in tune with her movements. “You are most fitting to be the lady of the house, Y/N. All that is left is to marry, but of course, you have no plans in doing so.”

“I need not a man to run the estate, Madam,” you mused, not adding anything further thanks to a new presence arriving. “Oh, Mr. Qian.”

You humbly bowed, and he followed suit with a drawing smile before he took place beside his wife. “I apologize, Miss Y/N, but allow me to seize my wife for a moment.”

“No apologies needed, sir. You are very much inclined to do with her as you please.”

Your teasing remark elicited a hearty laugh from the couple, and right after they disappeared into the crowd. It was quite strange how unaffected you had become to your dear friend and governesses’ marriage despite being wholly wrapped in grief only a week ago, but perhaps it was about time that you had come to its acceptance. You were very happy for the two’s union, and happier when it was, of course, orchestrated by your command. You could not have thought of a better ending for the both of them.

Moments later, you had retired to a separate room which was far quieter primarily because there was a dance going about. You would have joined, but there were not enough willing men who wanted to partake, and that at every second there seemed to be a guest that wanted your conversation. You had just sent away Mr. and Miss Yoon because the daughter’s father could not stay up for too late, and despite it being already hours into the ball, you had still yet to meet Jaehyun or Hwayoung.

Perhaps they found themselves to each other, you jokingly thought as you readied to come inside once again. No matter how unlikely, that instance is still very much welcomed.  

Just was you crossed the frame of the open door, a voice called out to you.

“Miss Y/N!”

It was impossible to hold back a smile.

“Oh, Miss Y/N! Oh, how I missed you so!” in came Hwayoung running into your chest as she buried herself in a tight, gripping embrace. You laughed, caressing the crown of her head while she went on with her declarations of much she longed to see you while she was away. She turned her head up, a blooming excitement on her face.

“My sweet blossom!” it was against your better judgement how you decided to squeeze her plump cheeks in between your palms, planting a tender kiss on her forehead. You really could not help but to coddle the younger girl. “Are you well? Was the trip pleasant? Oh, I should have sent over one of our carriages so you’d been of best comfort.”

She managed somewhat of a response, though it was barely coherent (“ish okay!” she tried to say, but at least you understood). Prying your hands away from her face, she beamed at you, excitingly swinging your arms back and forth. “I am very happy to be back again!”

You smiled at her fondly. “I am very happy to have you back again as well, Hwayoung. Come, let us get inside.”

As you two passed by the many guests with Hwayoung clinging onto your arm, she had told you how it was like at the boarding school— her storytellings had always been convoluted, going back and forth from one scene to another, which was a fitting reflection of her bright and youthful nature. Though, when the both of you squeezed past the energetic dancers, the topic had shifted; and you more than welcomed the change of subject.

“Miss Y/N,” she started, a large, curious smile on her face as she talked. “I had been talking to Miss Hana as I walked toward the manor— oh! This was before I managed to find you— well anyway. She had told me that you had been acquainted with such a handsome gentleman while I was away! She says that he is more handsome and agreeable than Mr. Taeyong Lee which I found really surprising because Mr. Lee is quite the most dashing fellow I have ever seen! Is it true? Did you really meet such a man?”

Hwayoung looked at you with her big, round eyes with such an adoring enthusiasm that you could not help but release a chuckle.

“One at a time, one at a time,” you tapped her nose. “I cannot say whether he is more handsome than Mr. Lee,” you smiled, “I will leave you the judge of that, Hwayoung”

“Oh my, Miss Y/N!” she gasped. “Are you allowing me to meet him?”

“If that is what you wish, then who am I to say no?”

“I would love to, Miss Y/N! I should better express my thanks to him as he kept you company while I was away, even if it was only for short. I could only imagine how devastated you must have been with Miss— oh rather, Mrs. Qian marrying. You were not too lonely, were you, Miss Y/N? Oh, I do hope not; the very thought makes me so sad because Miss Y/N is far too great of a deal to ever feel sorrow.”

You did not have the heart to tell her that you had indeed been inflicted by troubles. You had many acquaintances considering your status in society, and you have indeed busied yourself with the company of Miss Jihye Kang from Hartlace, and sometimes even Mr. Renjun Huang whenever you were sick of the emptiness of your drawing room. At one point you had even invited Mr. Jaemin Na to your estate— which was quite unheard of because once the public had made news of you and him being in the same space, rumors were sure to arise and you simply found it far too cumbersome to deal with for the mere sake of having company.

Yet despite all these many acquaintances, none could take the familial position of Mrs. Qian’s wit and wisdom, nor could they rival the fondness of your dearest Hwayoung. It was blasphemy to even compare. But you didn’t have the heart to admit this to the girl.

Well, a thought flickered. There is one.

“Miss Y/N?”

“Oh, not at all, Hwayoung,” you flashed her a smile. “Come, let me introduce you to him.”

Jaehyun believed that he was struck with bad luck the moment he had entered the ballroom, because somehow, despite all of the odds (that were quite frankly stacked against him), there was not an instance where he had caught you alone. You were always with a person or two, never by yourself.

Was he to suffer the entire night?

“Miss Y/N—” you were skewed away by a Miss Kwon.

“Ah, Miss Y/N—” Donghyuck had decided that it was the perfect time to drag you into a dance.

“Miss—” he could not interrupt while you were so amiably conversing with a couple, could he?

He could not.

Once again, he could only sigh as he witnessed your retreating frame, presumably accommodating two of the guests who were ready to make their leave for tonight. He could not even garner the chance of telling you how beautiful you looked in burgundy and gold. He had come to accept that he will never get the chance to tell you.

“This is not an event of frowns, Jaehyun. Are you not enjoying the party?”

Mark, who was alone at the moment as the rest of his brothers were running about, had come to approach his evidently despondent friend with a drink in hand. If he could read his friend’s thoughts, which he could not, he would be able to hear him lamenting over the fact that he even styled his hair up tonight just as you had asked him to (with the assistance of Johnny, of course. The two got along quite well). You would not even be able to see it.

“I am just tired, Mark. No need to worry,” he pressed his lips into a thin smile. “And you?”

“Very much so!” he nodded. “Donghyuck seems to be in his element here, and Jeno has finally come out to join a few others after hiding behind the statues and pillars— Miss Y/N’s earnestness managed to force him out of his shell and— oh!”

Mark lit up in the middle of his thoughts, while Jaehyun only dampened at the mention of your name. Even Jeno had an opportunity to talk to you.

“Please do send our thanks to Miss Y/N for inviting us here! And of course, my gratitude is with you as well, Jaehyun. If Miss Y/N did not like you as much, then I believe we would not even be—”

“What?”

If Miss Y/N did not what?

“What are you saying, Mark. Miss Y/N simply views me as a friend.”

Mark knitted his brows in confusion.

“Oh, does she? Did I misunderstand? I thought she fancied you, really. She would not have called for your presence all the way here, in Whitland, in such a short and desperate notice if she did. Even insisting on your extended stay,” he drank from the glass, shrugging. “But I suppose I was mistaken.”

“Uh—” arranging his thoughts and words in a coherent manner was quite impossible considering his physical state and state of mind— his usual tells being reflected by his ears and Mark did not fail to notice but he remained quiet as he waited for Jaehyun to operate again. But out of further misfortune because his bad steak still had not yet come to an end, he saw you, unmistakably so, approaching him from a distance

The one time he wished not to confront you had to be the time that you decided to confront him.

Fate be damned.

“Jaehyun?”

He sped off in a rush and panic that hesitation could not even catch up.

Mark could not comprehend his friend’s sudden actions, but he could not go after him because at that very moment, you had decided to show up right in front of him.

“Was that Mr. Jung just now?”

Hwayoung asked, confused. You answered her, just as confused. “Indeed. I’ve no idea as to why he ran away, though. Mark?” your eyes flicked to the by who seemed to be in a trance. “Is there a problem with Jaehyun?”

“I’m not too sure either, Miss Y/N,” he answered, still dazed.

“Well,” you clicked your tongue, looking towards the entrance where he disappeared off to. An idea ventured inside your head. An opportunity just presented itself. You looked over to the younger girl. You inwardly smiled. “Hwayoung, would you mind checking up on the lad? He probably went off to the fountain.”

“Oh, should you not be the one to check on your friend, Miss Y/N?”

“Perhaps I had done something to upset him as he ran away the moment I approached,” you sighed in dismay and Hwayoung's expression was tugged down into a frown. “I believe it would be best if I leave him for the time being. But I do not wish to simply fester his constitution further.”

A look of concern shrouded Hwayoung. “Oh dear, that is most unfortunate! Would you like me to talk to him, Miss Y/N? To find out why he might have not wished to see you?”

“Such a kind girl, but there is no need,” you lifted your hand to her head in an affectionate pat, smiling. “I ask you to be in place of me, dearest. Your social gallantry will be sure to bring his spirits up.”

“Are you sure, Miss Y/N? Would it be all right to leave you alone?”

“Mark shall keep me company,” you beamed in assurance, grabbing the unsuspecting boy by the arm, who flushed scarlet at your sudden action. “You may go, Hwayoung.”

Now ascertained, Hwayoung nodded in determination. “Understood! I will be sure that Mr. Jung Jaehyun returns to Hollybrook without any misery or grief. Then I will be off, Miss Y/N!”

You sent her off with the fondest expression that you could ever manage. Mark was about to ask you of something, but the boy was far too slow to speak a syllable because not long after Hwayoung’s departure, you discreetly went off as well to follow her with a considerable enough distance as to not be noticed. Intrusive inquisitiveness was not your proudest trait, but you could not help yourself.

There, through the window, you watched as Jaehyun and Hwayoung animatedly conversed under the shining moonlight, and a smile stretched by triumph displayed on your features. You did not miss the way Jaehyun's eyes disappeared mid laugh from something she had said. It was far too impossible to not love a lovable girl such as Hwayoung. Things had been going just as you had predicted as the two seemed to be enjoying each other’s company, but of course your judgements were always correct. It was inconvenient that you couldn’t hear what they were conversing, but knowing their more than pleasing introduction to each other would suffice for now.

Introduction meant acquaintanceship, and acquaintanceship to friendship. All knew what came after next.

The morning after the ball, all the guests including Jaehyun, Hwayoung, and the Lee’s have left Whitland with as much pleasure as when they have arrived. You had not woken early enough to interrogate either of your two subjects on the happenings of last night, and therefore you had arranged a tea party with the both of them at their earliest convenience— which happened to be Wednesday of the next week.

It was for tea on the invitation, but of course you had other motives at hand. Johnny simply ridiculed you when you had told him. That was to be expected, but you only told him because you were determined to prove him wrong.

“She is quite the beauty, is she not? well-mannered too.”

You took a small sip from the teacup, eyes following the excitable girl as she collected flowers from the shrubs as you had instructed. It was at the back garden that you had arranged the small gathering. Hwayoung was not fond of tea so she went off to gather flowers for a new drawing of hers. You knew that of course. How could you not. You specifically settled for a tea party because Hwayoung would have still chosen to come, though she would simply not join you. That was the perfect opportunity to figure out what kind of opinion Jaehyun had for the girl.

Perhaps Hwayoung had noticed your stare, so she momentarily stopped picking the fresh blooms to send a bright smile and wave to your direction. You returned the gesture with an air of fondness.

“Although I have to say— she is a tad slow and air headed at times. But rather it adds more to her charm than making it fall short,” with a clang, you replaced the porcelain onto the saucer. “Do you not think so, Jaehyun?”

No answer. Your eyes flickered over to the boy.

“Jaehyun?”

“O-oh! Yes— uhm,” his gaze wavered, visibly startled unlike his usual disposition. His ears were pink. A shameful pink. As pink as the carnations decorating the table. Your curiosity was drawn. It was a relief that him running away from you during the ball was only a one time occurrence; you were afraid that he wouldn’t take your invite, but surprisingly he answered with much promptness and without any complaints or excuses. “I apologize, Miss Y/N. I admit that your words were not completely received by me.”

Your lips quirked upwards. That was easier than you had thought. “It is all right. Enjoying the scenery, perhaps?”

“The scenery,” he coughed out. “Indeed. A lovely scenery, indeed.”

“Is such a sight present in Hollybrook?”

“Unfortunately and quite fortunately not,” Jaehyun replied, the blush that had been painting his fair skin now fading but not completely subsiding, and his usual, dimpled smile taking place with an air of charm. “Such a sight can only be seen here.”

The smile on your face grew triumphantly wider, and your eyes directed back to the flower-picking Hwayoung, who had already filled the basket to the near brim. The summer leaves fell perfectly into place and you needed not to even intervene. It was only a matter of time until another successful match was to bloom thanks to your favor.

“As expected. Then I shall leave you to admire the scenery further, Jaehyun.”

He simply nodded, but you weren't looking at him to see.

Unbeknownst to you, Jaehyun's attention had been long riveted to the same spot ever since. He simply wondered how long it would take for you to notice.

To say that the next few days were eventful would be an understatement.

Your determination in getting them together alone in contrast with Jaehyun and Hwayoung’s insistence in keeping your company did not come into confluence, much to your frustrations and disheartenment. They are very clearly enraptured by each other— you were not amiss to the smiles they shared, to their heightened enthusiasm for the others’ presence, and the confirmation that you sought for was already given by Jaehyun during your time at the garden. But if they were far too shy to take their steps towards each other, you were left to take it upon yourself to string them together under the impression of destined, fated coincidence.

Today was also one of your devices.

“Mr. Jaehyun, I am very honored to be bestowed upon an opportunity to make a round in your lovely farm— granted it is my first time to visit one, but Hollybrook is a very refreshing spot to visit around the summer! I might have to schedule another trip here,” Hwayoung revelled in the natures of the area in the countryside, as she and Jaehyun strolled along the dirt path underneath the shade of the tall trees.

Jaehyun mirrored the younger girl’s smile. “I am glad that you think so, Miss Hwayoung. But it is quite a coincidence that we have been frequently running into each other as of late,” though welcomed, he had not expected Hwayoung’s arrival, as it was fully unannounced.

“Oh, but it is for sure such a delighting coincidence!” she beamed. “Miss Y/N and I were supposedly meeting here today, but quite unfortunately and on such a short and sudden notice, Mr. Johnny had come to visit. Poor Miss Y/N really did wish to come.”

Wait a minute.

Jaehyun stopped walking. “Miss Y/N asked for you to come here?”

“Why, yes. I had already departed when Mr. Jeon came and made news to me that she was not to come anymore. Oh, did you perhaps wish to see her? I believe she would not mind an unannounced visit if it is from you, Mr. Jaehyun.”

Miss Y/N had declined his letter of visiting Whitland earlier today, saying that she had somewhere to be.

Hwayoung had grown concerned at her companion’s sudden silence, but Jaehyun was yet to be ready to resurface from his thoughts. He was aware that this had not been the first time you had brushed him off, that you had deliberately made way to erase yourself from the narrative just so he and Hwayoung would be alone. Many a times have you invited him over only to be met by your absence, times that you left in a hurry over reasons that were questionable yet he did not choose to question. He was neither blind nor stupid nor unaware.

He simply did not linger for he cared too greatly about your opinion.

Even when that opinion was evidently unreciprocated.

“Mr. Jaehyun, did I say something wrong?”

But even if that was the case—

“Miss Hwayoung,” he started. Hwayoung was surprised by the sudden volume and seriousness of his voice. “I am afraid I must take my leave.”

“You slithering snake.”

Johnny simpered, looking you in the eye as he toppled over your King on the chessboard.

“It appears you still have a long way to go, Miss Y/N.”

You were starting to regret your decision of inviting Johnny over for a game of chess, but it was a very much needed excuse in order to make sure that everything was to work. From your calculations, Hwayoung was probably with Jaehyun at Hollybrook right now, as Mr. Jeon had already earlier in the afternoon from his task of making her know of your absence. You did not enjoy lying to any extent, only bending situations into your favor, which is why you were led to the very invite that you were oh so desperately trying not to regret.

This was the third game that finished with your defeat, and this was definitely not the last as you two decided to set up the chessboard once again. You were far too stubborn for a defeat. “Please,” you scoffed, lining up the pawns indignantly. “I have far too many thoughts running about inside my head at the moment, and it is not to my surprise that you have won this game by chance. I will win the next one.”

“Y/N, we have played chess many times in the past and never once have you won against me. But it is all right. I will pretend for the sake of your satisfaction,” he codded. “Do some of those thoughts involve Mr. Jaehyun and Miss Hwayoung, perhaps?”

“A grave majority, Johnny. Not some.”

“Well,” he had a rook wedged between two of his fingers, his chin resting on the same hand as he looked at you smugly. You rolled your eyes in preparation for whatever ridiculous chide he had in mind. “From that statement alone, then I assume that your plans are not going as smoothly as you would like.”

You scoffed, raising a brow at him. It appeared that the next game was already to be postponed.

“Quite the contrary, actually,” you refuted, taking the fallen knight into your hands. “The past few days have been going exactly in my favour. Before you make any hasty conclusions, Johnny, I suggest that you see how the two are undeniably so perfectly enraptured in each other’s company. Hwayoung had always looked forward whenever Jaehyun was announced to be visiting, and Jaehyun had always been especially attentive to the girl. And my, and this very moment, they might already be professing their ardor for each other, just about—”

“Lady Y/N.”

The doors to the drawing room swung open, prompting your attention. Mr. Kim had made a sudden entrance.

“A Mr. Jung Jaehyun.”

You dropped the knight to the floor. A hollow sound echoed inside the room.

“Well,” Johnny hummed and you abruptly turned to face him, eyes widened. “Are you still to continue with your speech?”

You did not, for there were no words that your throat could manage.

The clattering of your heels through the empty hall, the tranquil air of the clear afternoon sky, and the faint brustling of the wind through the opened windows did not resemble the thundering storm of disorder that you carried inside your head as you chased towards the manor’s entrance.

Mr. Kim took much effort in running after you because your pace and temperament was just as fast as the throbbing of your heart that rang inside your ears like a tempest coming to whisk you away. You were wildering.

“Lady Y/N, please wait a moment. Please—”

You pushed the doors open without a moment to waste.

And there stood, a mere few meters away, was Jung Jaehyun.

What could he possibly be here for?

“Jaehyun, what are you— why are you here? Were you not with Hwayoung? What are you—”

“Miss Y/N, it is with great displeasure that I admit that I perhaps am not worthy of your good merit seeing as you are quite in shock and disappointed from my untimely arrival— but I am afraid that I cannot hold it off any longer,” he was breathless as he spoke, and he spared no breath for you to release either as within seconds of his speech, he took his place before you, clutching both of your hands, desperate and rattled, and you could feel it through his pulsing veins. “Therefore before I begin, I would like to ask for your permission.”

You looked up to him, eyes wide and tongue tied. His chest was rising in falling, heaving during the moment of brief pause, and you could not even bear to uncover the emotions running in troubling circles in his dark eyes. You nodded wordlessly. He swallowed.

“I am not as naive as you may believe me to be.”

You could hear your heart pounding.

“I hope that you would not be too gravely burdened by the next words that I am to say— that would be the least of my desires. Instead, I would rather you be freed from the burdens that you have been carrying onto yourself since the moment we first met. Would you like to hear it, Miss Y/N?”

Once again, you nodded.

“I like you.”

For a brief moment, you felt yourself slipping away, or so you thought because once again you were met by the reality of Jaehyun’s fervent confession as he was still holding into your hands with no less desperation as he had since the very first second. It was difficult to breathe at that point. He too, was experiencing the same, but that did not stop him from pouring all the depths of his senseless sensibilities, out of regret that he did not do so earlier.

“However I do not wish for you to be afflicted by affections as heavy as mine, because the mere fact that you are not turning away from my touch—”

There was a pause. Your eyes followed how he lifted your hands to his lips, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss on your knuckles with enough warmth to send your entire being ablaze. He looked at you. How he had never stopped looking at you.

“—is enough to satisfy my yearning heart for now. Good day, Miss Y/N. I bid you well.”

And with that, he left. He left, but not without leaving a memory of him behind closed eyes.

I like you.

It rang inside your head.

I like you.

Once more, it rang.

I like you.

It rang until you were already underneath your covers, the moonlight leaking into the window, but you could not sleep because closing your eyes would mean the recollection of Jaehyun’s ever enchanting visage as he repeated those words in your head until you became sick of it.

Jaehyun liked you. Not Hwayoung. You.

It did not make sense.

Did you mistake his kindness, courteousness, and attentive generosity as something it is not? You had been wrong? That was impossible. He had been far too kind, courteous, and attentive to Hwayoung for you to perceive it as anything else. There was always a special kind of thoughtfulness when he uttered a word to her, presented by his moments of contemplation just before making his utterance. A kind of thoughtfulness that you had only seen in gentlemen who wanted to assert a good impression on someone they liked, yet he decided that he liked you instead of her, which the very idea carried a great amount of absurdity because not once had you caught a subtle hint, even a mere glimpse from him that he carried such— such ineffable feelings for you. He never showed that he did

“Did he?”

Would you have been this heavily affected if he had not?

The moon outside your window had been calling you to sleep, and you deduced that it was about time that you did. You only hoped that your dwellings would cease to transpire in line with the moon, but the opposite occurred, because when the sun had come to rise, so did its never ending repetitions which you had finally come to terms with.

Jaehyun liked you.

This new mantra stretched until early noon, and Hwayoung had come to visit, just before it had started to rain.

And at that very moment— as you both sat in the middle of the drawing room— it occurred to you.

What about Hwayoung?

“Miss Y/N, you never told me that Hollybrook was such an enjoyable farm!” the girl gushed in such a cheerful radiance that contrasted your own casket-ready appearance. How were you to break the news to the poor girl? “The meadows and fields were all so very pretty and— oh! I had met with Mr. Jaehyun for a very brief moment, but he had to leave for reasons I do not know. He seemed to be very shaken, yes, so I assume it was urgent, but I do not hold it against him that he rushed to leave. He is a kind fellow, and how lucky was I that Mr. Lee— the eldest Mr. Lee— was there to—”

“Hwayoung.”

She stopped talking, taking notice of your grey countenance, dazed and unfocused, and she immediately grew worried.

“Yesterday—” you breathed in. “Yesterday a very puzzling thing happened.”

“Oh my, what could it possibly be to have troubled you so much, Miss Y/N?”

“Jaehyun came by.”

Hwayoung’s mouth dropped, pleasantly surprised. “Really? Is that why he left yesterday? Oh, what did he—”

“He says he likes me.”

There was silence. You drew in a deep, regretful breath. “Hwayoung, I—”

A squeal.

“He— he says he likes you? Mr. Jaehyun? He likes you?” she repeated it just as many times as it haunted you leaving you unable to speak or even think for that matter. “Miss Y/N, oh my— oh my, this is—!”

Your younger friend was practically bouncing in her seat from the joy and celebration but you did not understand. Heartache and sighs and despondency— that was what you had expected. But the response that she came up with was enough to somewhat bring you back to your senses.

“Hold on, should you not be upset?” Hwayoung deemed the confused bewilderment crawling onto your face ill-suited for disposition. She grew confused as well. The gap between you and her as you sat across each other seemed far wider than it actually was.

“Huh?” she blinked, cocking her head. “Why should I be upset when this is wonderful news?”

“He says he likes me and not you!”

The volume of your cry caused her to flinch, and you gasped, covering your mouth with your fingers. “Do you— do you not like him?”

“Why, should I not be the one to ask you that?”

“You do not like him?”

“Miss Y/N, you are being rather confusing right now.”

You blinked, mouth hung open in shock. You were wrong. Very wrong. You could not have been more wrong in your life.

“Mr. Jaehyun is a very nice, very good looking, very agreeable man, but I do not like him in the way that I believe you are asking. Not at all,” Hwayoung politely replied, her hands resting on her lap. You had only realized now that the rain had grown stronger. “I do not like him, But you, Miss Y/N.”

Your eyes flickered up to meet hers.

“Do you?”

Did you like him?

It was a difficult question, far more difficult than anything you had ever encountered because you had never— not in your twenty-one years of life— liked anyone in a way that Hwayoung had suggested. How were you to know something you feel when you have never actually felt it? How were you to be sure that this feeling is actually romantic when your emotions themselves cannot judge it? Perhaps this was why you had misjudged Jaehyun and Hwayoung’s opinion on each other; in actuality, you knew nothing of love. You simply did not know.

“Do I like him?”

“Oh dear, why are you asking me, Miss Y/N? It is you that should know the answer.”

But you did not

How did Mr. and Mrs. Qian come to know that it should be each other that they were destined to marry? How did your father come to realize that it was he and your mother that were meant to be? All these people knew what they were feeling, knew who their hearts were set out to, but you—

“Miss Y/N, what are— oh my!”

“Hwayoung.”

All of a sudden, you leapt from your chair and onto the floor right before the poor, startled girl without much of a warning for her to be prepared. You knelt right in front of her, quickly snatching her hands and placing the right on top of the left side of your chest. You looked at her with so much conviction and earnestness that she had no choice but to go along.

“Is my heart beating fast?”

“Yes,” she stuttered. “Quite fast.”

“Hwayoung.”

You had wasted no time to transfer her hands to your face, pressing both of her palms onto your cheeks.

“Is my face getting hot?”

“Yes, quite hot. You are getting quite— wait,” she knitted her brows in dumbfounded perplexity. “Miss Y/N, is this a physical examination? Are you feeling okay? Should I—”

Once more, you had changed the position, with you now holding her hands tightly on top of her lap. Hwayoung stared at you, wide eyed, and perhaps waiting for the next question that you were about to ask.

“Hwayoung.”

You started.

“Could you ask me who I am thinking of?”

“Who…” she echoed, slowly and surely. “Who are you thinking of?”

“Jaehyun.”

You answered at once, looking at her, but your eyes felt like they were looking elsewhere. The rain continued to fall— stronger than when it had started.

“I am thinking of Jaehyun.”

It was against your better judgement to run into the wind, rain, and mud with nothing but two thin layers, but all your judgements thus far have been proven to be false anyway, so who was to say that you were wrong? Hwayoung had called out to you to return to the manor, but you were already far too lost in your thoughts, and too far for your ears to hear because you had already slipped past the gates of Whitfield to your unprompted journey to Hollybrook.

It did not matter if your hem was six inches stained with mud, if you were wet, disheveled, or far beyond propriety’s sake, because all that mattered was for you to tell him about your far too late realization that you, more than you could quite possibly know, liked him.

Him. Jung Jaehyun.

And so you ran through the dampened dirt path, past the daises and all the trees and the linings until you were met by the looming visage of the farm house, breathlessly standing before the fence, until your eyes landed on the familiar figure of a boy sitting underneath the porch, who immediately stood up upon seeing you from a distance.

He was looking at you.

And you were looking at him.

There were no words nor time wasted when he ran up to you, fighting against the onslaught of raindrops to swing open the fence gate, grab you by the arm, and lead you inside the house where the rain was no longer. He sat you on the sofa while he went off to get something to dry you off with, and when he returned, a large cloth towel offered to you, he turned over to the unlit fireplace to start the fire. You had not even realized that you were shaking.

“Miss Y/N, I have not the slightest idea on what is your motivation for running into the rain and mud despite the risk of catching a cold,” he started with a sigh, back faced towards you as he crouched before the now kindled furnace. “But unfortunately if it is the Lee’s that you have business with, they have sadly left for a wedding in Oldham just this morning. I am sorry that your journey to Hollybrook has led to such a waste—”

“No,” you said. “Not a waste at all seeing as you are here.”

He stood up, turning around. The rain was muffled inside the walls of the house, so he could very clearly hear what you had just said.

“Jaehyun, I—”

You felt yourself withering under his stare when you looked up to talk to him, words choked up inside your throat because of his appearance; his hair, face, and skin drenched from running into the rain because of you, yet even with the disheveledness of his constitution, still nothing could compare. You pressed your lips tightly in guilt.

“I have been very, very stupid.”

“Please do not speak ill of yourself, Miss Y/N. You are—”

“I am!” your outburst caused him to flinch, the crackling of the hearth filling the momentary silence. “I am possibly— no, without a doubt the most foolish, stubborn, and idiotic person that you are most unfortunate enough to like because not only was I blind to the feelings that you garnered for me, I was also blind to the feelings of my own.”

He almost doubted the next words that fell from your lips.

“Jaehyun, I like you.”

He had to take a moment.

“Perhaps— perhaps I mistook my admiration for you as simply pragmatic because I had never, for the life of me, harbored any feelings of the sort but that is besides the point because I was very very wrong. I was wrong about a lot of things,” you were stammering, your usual air of self-reliance unable to be found by Jaehyun's eyes. It was a different disposition. He did not mind either one. “But this time—" your breath wavered. "This time I am more than certain that I like you.”

Somehow the rain kept coming, the fireplace kept crepitating, and Jaehyun spoke after a moment of silence.

“Are you sure?”

You looked at him, blinking, unable to decipher his expression. You let out an incredulous breath.

“After all I have said, that is what you respond with?” you huffed, standing up from your seat and marching up to him with heavy steps. ”Jaehyun, what more do I have to say and prove that I really do— oh!”

Too burdened by your indignation, you did not pay much attention to your surroundings, and this you tripped over your own dress that was given more weight after being soaked in the rain. You fell forward with a shrill scream, and just like the past few instances, Jaehyun had been there to catch you, an arm securing your waist, a hand holding your wrist into the air. Startled, you were fixed on him, and you had only caught the subtle grin on his face of amusement, ever charming and directed to none other than yourself. How had you missed it?

You batted your eyelashes. He intertwined your fingers together.

“Then, I am glad.”

This time, you did not miss the twinkle in his eyes, to which you responded with a flustered dumbfoundedness. Heart racing, you tried to push yourself off of him in mere embarrassment— you had completely forgotten how much of a mess you looked, all wet and muddy. But Jaehyun seemed not to care because the moment you let go of his hand and attempted to back away, he simply pulled you closer to him with a more humored expression. You squeaked when you hit his chest once again with a thud.

“What are you doing?” you exhaled, still dazed. He simply hummed with an airy laugh.

“Something I have been meaning to do for a while now.”

You could not even question. You did not get the chance to ask him what exactly he meant by that, but it was not any more needed because Jaehyun’s answer came in the form of a kiss that snatched the air out of your chest within seconds.

It was sudden, how easily you gave in, how within seconds you found yourself slowly slipping away from his touch, how any semblance of elegance, manner, and respectability was disparaged into nothingness in between tangled limbs, shallow breaths, and feverish lips on the cold, wooden floor that you had fallen onto. You gasped, positioned in between his legs and right onto his chest, pulling away to take a moment to stare at Jaehyun’s face, heated under the glow of the fireplace. He hummed a fluttering smile.

“Are you all right with this, Miss Y/N?” Jaehyun asked, running his fingers down your cheek, falling underneath your chin as he planted yet another kiss without a warning. You breathed out a staggered breath. “If you wish for me to stop, please say it now.”

“Is it not far too late for such a question?”

He mused, his hot breath tickling your skin as he drew near to your neck. “Are you sure?”

“You are such a tease.”

“It was you who refused to believe that I am,” he mumbled in between his wet, fleeting kisses all over your bare neck and chest, hands peeling away at your dress that stuck to your body from the rain and you had done nothing but gasp helplessly underneath him. You held onto the hope that he was giving you a moment to compose yourself, that was until he dipped down in between your thighs. “Must I prove it to you at once?”

“I—”

You had not prevented the moan from slipping past your lips as you unconsciously threw your head back when he started nipping on the skin of your inner thighs, his hot tongue darting over your sensitivity without much to hold back. His darkened eyes flickered over to you. “What was that, Miss Y/N?”

You were unsure how you were to last the entire night.

The rain had stopped when the next morning came.

It was thankful that the Lee’s were not yet to arrive until the afternoon, else they would see you and Jaehyun on the floor, in front of the dead fireplace, a mountain of blankets covering your huddled figures with the early sunlight showering over you from the windows up above. Jaehyun had long woken before you, yet he had not moved an inch as your head had been snugly resting over his arm for the entirety of your slumber.

There was a fond smile on his face as he watched you writhing, wanting to run away from the bright, morning rays in your sleep and he couldn’t help but release a laugh. Your eyes fluttered open momentarily after.

“Good morning,” Jaehyun mumbled into your hair, still half asleep when he decided to rest his large hand on your forehead. “You had not caught a cold, have you?” you stared at him, blinking, detached, until all of a sudden the events of the night prior crashed onto like yesterday's rainfall. Jaehyun figured that you had finally woken up when you let out a gasp of realization and attempted to self-consciously bury yourself under the covers.

“My, you are far more innocent than you presented yourself to be, Miss Y/N,” he chuckled as he caged you in his arms from behind, rendering you unable to run away. You squirmed when he tickled your fevered skin with a million kisses. “You may only run away once I am done with you.”

It was far too early in the morning for you to be breathless. You turned around so you could glare at him.

“I tell you that I like you once and now you believe that you can do with me as you—”

“Twice,” he cut you off with a kiss, noses touching, an annoyingly endearing smile on his face. His skin glowed underneath the streams of light. “You have told me you like me twice.”

You could not bear to continue with your indignancy.

It did not take you more than five seconds to bury yourself in his chest with a sigh, to which Jaehyun welcomed you with a fluttering laugh, gently running his fingers through the disheveled state of your hair. “You know, I was very worried yesterday,” you murmured. “I had not the slightest idea on how to tell dear Hwayoung that her feelings were not reciprocated. Only to find out that there were no feelings in the first place.”

“Y/N.”

You looked up to him.

“How am I to tell you that never once had I felt that your friend had liked me of any sort. I believe all knew that my eyes were set solely on you since the beginning.”

“Was I… the only one who did not know?”

“I believe so.”

A sound of anguish left your lips in the form of a defeated groan, burying yourself further into nonexistence. Had Johnny also known? That would explain everything, then. You could only sigh upon realizing how much of a clueless fool you have been— going after the pursuit of something that was already deemed futile before it even came to exist. You could have kissed Jaehyun earlier if only you were not so dense; his words, his actions, and all of the subtle hints that he had been leaving had clarified themselves to you now. It was ridiculous.

“But now you do, so there is no need to be upset,” he chuckled, brushing away the fallen strands of hair from your face. “Shall I accompany you back to Whitland?”

“No, my father will have your head the moment you step foot into the estate.”

You answered without even batting an eye and thus Jaehyun had to believe that you were being serious. You were serious. Your father would have the entire village after him. “Tomorrow,” you had come to a conclusion. “Can you wait until tomorrow?”

Jaehyun smiled at you, daylight not shying away from kissing his soft features. There was not a sound to be heard inside the near empty house— only the ticking of a grandfather clock and the chirping of birds that flew past the window. It was the most pleasant of mornings.

“I can wait until as long as you wish, Miss Y/N.”

© hannie-dul-set, 2020.

[sequinsmile-x]

Day-to-Day

Chapter 4: Aaron

Words: 5k

Warnings: None 

Read over on ao3, or below the cut.

Please let me know what you think <3

December 2009

He’d convinced her to go. Aaron had seen her hesitation as she stood at the front door of their temporary apartment, the twitch in her fingers when Amelia almost immediately reached out for her after Aaron took her. The way she bit her lip when Theo asked her, again, if she really had to go out.

She did have to go, despite how much she would deny it. He knew she needed some time with her friends, and Penelope and JJ had practically begged for a girls night. The 6 months Emily had been gone long and drawn out for all of them. She talked them down to dinner, not wanting to spend too long away from her family that had been so delicately stitched back together. Getting a table at any restaurant so close to Christmas had been difficult, but being the daughter of an ambassador had its advantages, and for once Emily hadn’t been hesitant to use them.

Aaron had sent her on her way with a kiss to her cheek and an assurance that they would be ok without her for a couple of hours.

He was now slightly regretting that decision, but he would never tell her. Their children were feral. Jack was in a mood. His teenage angst was out in full swing this evening, the anger he had experienced shortly after Haley’s death coming back to the forefront in the fallout of the situation with Foyet. He was hiding out in his room, playing a video game and ignoring his father.

Theo was asking where Emily was every few minutes and when she’d be back. He tried to placate his son with his favourite tv show and pizza, and it wouldn’t do. Theo was sitting in the living room, sideways on an armchair as he watched the front door intently. Aaron knew he was going to have to have a conversation with Emily soon about the attachment issues, but it was not the time yet, knowing his wife wouldn’t take it well either. That part of her loved that their son constantly sought her out.

Amelia was cranky. She still didn’t fully trust him, but things were better than they had been when she first shied away from him a few weeks ago. He knows that Emily nursed her before she puts her to bed, that it’s a treasured part of his wifes daily routine, so in the hope that a snack will help he grabs a small yoghurt from the fridge and places her in her high chair.

He feeds her, and although just under half of it ends up on her face, she does calm down a little whilst she is eating. He cleans her up, but she starts fussing again almost immediately.

As soon as Emily walks into the apartment he breathes a sigh of relief. Theo jumps out of the chair and to his mothers side, immediately hugging her.

“Mommy, I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” She kneels down to hug him properly, kissing the side of his head. She pulls back to look at him, thumb worrying over the now mostly healed cut on his forehead that he had acquired during Aaron’s final showdown with Foyet. She looks over and sees Amelia crying in Aaron’s arms. “It’s late, why don’t you go to bed and I’ll come say goodnight in a bit?”

Theo nods, hugging her again before bounding off, throwing a goodnight aimed at his father as he runs down the hallway.

“You were right.” She says, happiness pouring off of her as she removes her coat and shoes at the door. “I really did need that. Pen kept trying to convince me to drink wine even though I told her I’m still nursing.” She says with a laugh in her voice, she turns to him and the smile slides off her face as she takes in the sight of him, and he realises how stressed he must look.

Ameila tries to turn in his arms at the sound of her mother’s voice and starts to cry harder as she reaches out for Emily. Aaron transfers her with little fanfare, knowing that whatever was wrong with the little girl was something only his wife could fix.

“What's this all about, baby?” Emily says as she holds her daughter tightly, her lips pressed to her forehead as she rocks her. “Has she been like this since I left?” She asks as she looks up at her husband.

“The past hour.” Aaron says, watching as Emily gently bounces Amelia in her arms as she attempts to settle the 11 month old. “I’ve been struggling to calm her down.”

The sympathy on his wifes face makes frustration flood his veins, another reminder of something Foyet had taken from him. His relationship with his daughter was still fragile, the way she was still unsure around him a punch to the gut every time she frantically reached out for her mother. Emily looks at the high chair and frowns when she spots the yoghurt pot still sitting on the tray.

“Did she eat that?” Emily asks, her hand rubbing delicate circles on Amelia’s back.

Aaron looks over before turning back to his wife. “Yeah, she was cranky. They all were. I thought a snack would help tide her over until you got home.”

Emily hesitates. It’s fast, almost undetectable, but he catches it.

“Aaron.” Her voice is soft, gentle in a way that was usually only used on the children when she wanted them to know they weren’t in trouble. “She’s lactose intolerant.”

The memory hits him suddenly. Emily curled up next to him in the hotel room they had stayed in when they were first reunited, filling him in on anything and everything to do with the kids. He remembers her telling him that the doctors had got to the bottom of Amelia’s bad stomach, and that she was dairy free herself because she was still nursing her. She’d lamented missing chocolate and cheese, and joked it was her biggest sacrifice as a mother so far.

“I’m sorry.” He stutters, not sounding like himself as it dawned on him. “I’m sorry.” He repeats as he runs his hand through his hair.

“Aaron, baby, it’s ok.” She says, her hand on his arm. She has Amelia on her hip, one arm securing their grumpy baby to her. “It happens. I should have reminded you before I went out.”

“I should know what my daughter can and cannot eat without being reminded.” He seethes, his anger aimed at himself. He tears his arm from under her hand and takes a couple steps back. He watches as she tries to placate him further, useless reassurances on the tip of her tongue. “I’m going out.”

“Honey-”

“I need some air.” He grabs his keys from the side table and leaves the apartment before she can argue any further, the door closing a little too harshly behind him.

Emily sighs and closes her eyes. Amelia buries her head further into her mothers neck, whining as she did so.

“Oh, sweet girl. I know you feel icky.” She kisses the side of her daughter's head and rubs her back. “Let's go see what your brothers are up to.” She kisses her head again and walks through the apartment in search of her sons. ________________

She feeds and settles Amelia before reading with Theo for a bit, smiling as her son drifts off to sleep against her side. She quietly slips out of his room, well practised at the quick and silent exit, and gently closes his bedroom door. Jack gives her a small wave and a grunt when she pops her head into his room, his grumpiness obvious the second she lays eyes on him.

Emily washes her face, blowing out a breath as she takes in the sight of herself in the bathroom mirror. Any joy, any relief she felt after spending an evening with her friends had wilted as quickly as it had bloomed in her chest. The lightness that JJ’s laugh, and Penelope’s overly personal questions about Emily and Aaron’s reunion, had brought was torn away by the devastation in her husband's eyes just before he left the apartment.

Everytime they made progress, every step away from what Foyet had done to Aaron, to their family, it felt like they were thrown right back into it. Emily was exhausted. She missed the version of them that had existed before she had come home to find her husband missing and his blood staining their hardwood floor.

She wondered if they’d ever get the old them back, or if they would slowly build something better. Emily was hopeful that the move to the new house would help, that it would give them new foundations. Somehow even stronger than the ones they had before.

She’s finishing up getting ready for bed, pulling her pyjama shirt over her head, when she hears the front door open, and her husband’s familiar steps throughout the apartment. She hears their bedroom door open and close quickly. She takes a deep breath before she walks out of the ensuite and she sees him sat on the end of the bed, his head in his hands. She sits next to him, purposely keeping her hands to herself despite how much she wants to touch him, to assure him everything was ok. A slight clench in his jaw is the only indicator he has even registered that she's there. She waits him out, knowing he needs to process this himself before he’ll speak to her.

“I should have remembered.” He finally says, removing his head from his hands but not looking at her.

“Aaron-”

“Don’t.” He interrupts, finally looking at her. There are unshed tears in his eyes that make her heart ache. Thoughts about how she could find a way to bring George Foyet back to life just so she could kill him herself burning through her.

“Don’t what?”

“Tell me that it’s ok. Because it isn’t.” He shakes his head at himself. “I gave our little girl…” His voice falters and he clears his throat. “I gave her something that’s made her sick.”

“And so did I.” She reasons, and she grabs his hand. “For the first almost 5 months of her life she was getting it through my breast milk. You did it once. Give yourself a break.”

“I should have remembered.” He says, repeating himself.

“Baby.” She says, moving her hands to grasp his cheeks. “Please stop this. She’s going to be ok. She is ok. She’s fast asleep next door.” She leans her forehead against his, her thumbs stroking his cheeks. “We’re all ok.”

He starts to cry, sobs escaping him that he hadn’t set free since their ordeal had ended. Emily had been waiting for it as he processed everything at his own pace. She pulls him towards her, his head resting on her chest as she wraps her arms tightly around him, one hand in his hair as she presses fierce kisses to the top of his head.

“I’m right here.” She kisses the top of his head again, unsurprised when she can feel her own tears on her face. “You’re ok. I’m here.”

She comforts him like she does their children. With tender words and soft touches, the whispering of nonsense against his hair as he slowly calms. The grip he has on the back of her shirt loosens ever so slightly.

Aaron sniffs as he pulls back, a shaky smile on his face as she wipes his tears away with her thumbs.

“I’m sorry.” He apologies, his voice cracked and torn open by the months of repressed emotion he had let out against her skin.

“You have nothing to apologise for.” Emily says tenderly. “I’m your wife. This is what I’m here for.”

Amelia’s cry through the baby monitor visibly undoes some of the work she had done in calming him down, some tension returning to his shoulders. Emily kisses his cheek before she stands up.

“You get ready for bed, I’ll go see what's up with her.” She says just before leaving the room, crossing the hallway into the small bedroom serving as Amelia’s temporary nursery. Most of the baby's things are boxed up ready for the move to the new house. Emily smiles as she approaches the crib, Amelia already standing with her arms reaching out for her. “What’s wrong, sweet girl?”

She picks up her daughter, settling her on her hip as she kisses the side of her head. Amelia almost immediately settles, her crying quietening down as she presses her face into her mother’s neck.

“You just wanted to cuddle, huh?” Emily says, pacing the small room. “I think your dad could do with a cuddle too.”

Emily walks back into their bedroom to find it empty, but the tap running in the ensuite calms any nerves that he had left again. She settles into bed and lays Amelia on her chest, the baby snuggling down, her fingers grasping at her mother’s shirt.

When Aaron leaves the ensuite he falters slightly at the sight in front of him. Emily catches it, the small hesitation before he climbs into bed. Amelia is already half asleep, the discomfort she had been in when Aaron last saw her gone, and Emily watches the tension leave him as he sees with his own eyes that the baby is ok.

“See, she’s fine.” Emily says, smiling at him as he lays down next to them.

He kisses the top of Amelia’s head, which makes her open her eyes. She reaches out for him and he carefully takes her to settle her against his own chest. Emily smiles as she moves to be closer to them, her head resting on Aaron’s chest next to their daughter. He presses a kiss to the top of his wifes head.

“My girls.”

“Yeah.” She replies. “Your girls.” ________________

April 2021

Aaron sighs in frustration as his phone rings, distracting him from his lesson plans. Emily often teased him for his interpretation of retirement, the profiling classes he taught at the academy taking up a fair amount of his time. He turns from his computer to pick up his cell phone, frowning when he sees a number he doesn’t recognise as he answers.

“An inmate at the Federal Correctional Institution in Otisville, New York is calling you, to accept the charges please press one.” An automated voice says through the phone.

The name of the prison makes him freeze, there is only one person he knew who was in prison in New York. He presses one and puts the phone back to his ear, waiting for the call to connect.

“Aaron?” He hears down the phone, the voice on the other end of the tinny line was unsure, nerves easily showing through.

“Sean?” ________________

The rest of the day goes by in a blur and the next thing he is truly aware of is the front door opening, Amelia and Theo bursting in, both of them animatedly talking about their days.

“Hi Dad.” Theo says as he passes through the kitchen where Aaron is sitting, grabbing a snack and leaving the room almost immediately. “I’ve got loads of homework, back in a bit.”

“Hi Theo.” He says, a small smile on his face as his ever studious 18 year old is already out of the room, his mind clearly on whatever work he was assigned that day.

“Dad, do we have any antacids?” Amelia asks as she joins him in the kitchen, grimacing as she walks in with her arms wrapped around her stomach.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?” He asks, frowning, pulling her into a quick hug she only protests slightly as she walks past.

“Yeah, just a bad stomach.”

Before he can ask any more questions the front door opens again, and Emily’s voice soon follows.

“Hi.”

“We’re in the kitchen, Em.”

She joins them, a wide smile on her face as she kisses his cheek.

“Everything ok?”

“Everything is fine.” Amelia answers far too quickly.

“Mills has a stomach ache.” Aaron says, and he can’t help but smirk at the way she narrows her eyes at him.

“Traitor.”

“Amelia.” Emily says, her hand gently grasping her daughter's chin to tilt her head, sighing when she sees the hives on her neck. “You had the cheese fries for lunch again didn’t you?”

The 12 year old sighs, knowing lying to her mother, to either of her parents, is pointless. “Yes.”

“Baby, you’re lactose intolerant.” Emily chastises as she tucks some of Amelia’s hair behind her ear.

“Mom, it's cheese fries. Totally worth it.”

Emily sighs, knowing that the slight grimace on her daughter's face is nothing to do with her rebuke, but the discomfort she knows she is in.

“There is some Pepto in the medicine cabinet in our bathroom. Go take some and go lie down.”

Amelia smiles gratefully and starts to make her way out of the room before she turns back. “I’m not going to find anything gross in there am I?”

“Amelia.”

“What?” She says, throwing her hands up. “I’ve caught you guys making out way too many times not to check. I’ve been burned before.”

Emily raises an eyebrow at her. “Go. Now.”

“I’m going.” Amelia says as she leaves the room, something a bit too close to a curse word muttered under her breath.

“That girl will be the death of me.” Emily says as she turns to Aaron, his silence throughout her exchange with their daughter, the lack of quips about how similar they were, now only striking her as odd as she takes in the look on his face. His gaze fixed in the distance, not focused on anything in particular. She frowns and takes a step closer to him, placing her hand over his on the counter. “Honey, are you ok?”

He looks at her, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Sean called me.”

Emily doesn’t cover her shock, her hand tightening over his. It had been years since they had heard from Sean. The supposed truce the brothers had come to in New York, when a rare family vacation had turned into a case, had fallen apart as soon as Sean was formally sentenced. Aaron had tried reaching out at the beginning, attempting to visit his brother, but it had always been radio silence on the other side.

Over time he stopped trying, his attempts at calling Sean getting further apart. His requests to go see him stopped. To anyone else it would look like Aaron had accepted it, that he simply was no longer going to be a part of his brother's life. Emily knew better than that.

“What?”

“He called from prison. He wants me to go see him.”

“Oh.” She replies, taking a second before she joins him at the kitchen island, linking their fingers together properly as she settles next to him on one of the stalls. “Are you ok?”

“I think so.” He answers, looking at her, uncertainty all over his face despite his answer. “No.”

Emily places her spare hand on his thigh. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to see him.”

She nods, squeezing his leg in comfort. “Then we’ll go.” She smiles when he turns to look at her, his brows furrowed.

“You don’t have to come with me, it’s fine. I know work is busy.”

“Aaron.” She replies firmly, leaving no room for argument as she moves her hand from his leg to cup his cheek. “I’m coming with you.”

“What about the kids?”

“We’ll be gone one night. Theo is sensible enough to look after Amelia, and Jack lives 20 minutes away if they need him.” She pulls him towards her for a kiss. “Stop arguing with me, it never gets you anywhere.”

His lips twitch, a brief smile taking over. “You think I would have learnt that by now.” _______________

It takes a couple of weeks for them to get things lined up, so that the quick trip to New York wouldn’t disrupt their day-to-day lives too drastically.

Amelia was unimpressed when they told her that Theo was in charge, rolling her eyes at the thought that she needed babysitting, but when they come to leave her attitude fades when she sees how stressed her father was, how on edge he seems as he checks they have everything before they set off on their drive.

She doesn’t remember her Uncle Sean, she had only met him once when she was 3, and she knew enough from what her brothers and parents had told her about that trip to New York to know why she had never seen him again. Another seemingly life changing moment they went through as a family that she had no memory of, relying on hearsay from her brothers and the toned down version she knew her parents told her.

“Please behave for your brother, Amelia.” Emily says as she hugs her daughter.

“I always behave.” She replies, rolling her eyes when she sees her mother raise her eyebrow. “Ok fine, I’ll be good.”

Aaron hugs her next, and Amelia doesn’t miss how he holds her a little tighter than usual. She hugs him back, smiling when he kisses her forehead as they pull apart.

She feels bad for her dad, knowing how much he values his family tells her how much it would hurt him to not be in touch with his brother. Amelia considers how it would feel to not be speaking to Jack or Theo, and despite how much they both annoy her frequently the idea makes her heart clench.

“Call if you need anything, ok?” Aaron says and Amelia nods before pulling him back into a hug.

“I love you, Daddy.” She says, using the moniker she dropped a couple years ago and it makes her chest fill with happiness when he smiles into the top of her head.

“Love you too, Amelia.” ________________

The drive is long, and quiet, and by the time they pull up to the prison Emily is grateful to see it. Aaron had insisted on driving and she’d let him, knowing it would ultimately be worse for him to not be occupied on the trip here. She was planning on taking over when they left for their drive back to the city, but she hadn’t mentioned it yet, knowing that he would already try and argue that point.

They get through security and are shown to the visiting room. They take a seat next to each other and Emily turns to him, trying to read her husband’s face.

“Are you ok?”

He chuckles. “Ask me later.”

A buzzer sounds and a door opens, prisoners walking out and greeting their family and friends. Towards the back is Sean. Emily thinks of the first time she met him. He wasn’t much older than Amelia was now, and already damaged by the things he had been exposed to in his young life. She remembers how he had been nervous around her, a crush on her that he barely concealed.

“Aaron, Emily.” He says as he makes it to the table. Aaron stands and hugs him, and then Emily does the same.

“Sean, how are you?” Aaron asks as they sit down.

“As good as I can be considering I’ve been here nearly 10 years.” He says, his eyes fixed on his brother. He looks at them both. “You guys have hardly changed. How are the kids?”

“I have a picture.” Aaron says, pulling out his wallet and removing the photo of his family that he keeps in there. It was taken on Emily and Theo’s birthday the year before, her 50th and his 18th, all five of them and Sara together and smiling. It was one of his favourites. He slides it across the table to let his brother look at it.

“Wow, they look grown up.”

“It’s been a long time.” Aaron says, the conversation stilted. The awkwardness cloying, making the air around the table feel thick.

“Jack is 28 now, and married. That’s his wife, Sara, in the picture with us” Emily says, trying to break the tension. “Theo is 18 and Amelia is 12.”

Aaron is staring at his brother, profiling him as he listens to Emily talk about the kids. He watches as she explains that Jack is a resident at Georgetown, and that Theo was going to Cornell in the fall. He watches as his brother listens to her stories about Amelia, their wild thing of a daughter who kept them both on their toes. He recognises his brother's expression, it’s one he perfected when they were young, a way to get what he wanted from their mother. It clicks in his head, and he wonders why he didn’t think of it sooner.

“What do you want Sean?” He asks, interrupting the conversation between his wife and brother.

“Aaron-” Emily begins to say, uncertainty in her voice.

“He wants something. That's why he asked me to come here.” He looks back at his brother, and Sean chuckles slightly.

“You don’t miss anything do you? I’m up for parole soon.” Sean explains. “My lawyer said it would be good to have someone upstanding talk at my hearing, and I don’t know anyone more upstanding than you.”

“You want me to talk at your parole hearing? That’s why you got in touch?”

Emily feels how tense her husband gets next to her, the disappointment he clearly feels at Sean only getting in touch because he needed something palpable. She grabs his hand under the table, providing the best support she can in the moment. He lightly squeezes her hand in a silent thank you.

“Yeah. I told my lawyer what you do for a living and he said it was perfect.” Sean says, missing the way his brother sighs, the brief closing of his eyes as he tries to cover his disappointment. “So will you?”

“Of course.” Aaron replies, clearing his throat as he does. “Get your lawyer to send me the details.” He turns to Emily. “Excuse me for a second.”

He gets up and walks towards the bathroom. Emily turns her attention back to her brother-in-law.

“Are you kidding me, Sean?” She says, exasperated.

“What?” Sean asks, his face screwed up in confusion.

“It’s been 9 years.” She explains. “9 years and you reach out because you want something.”

“It’s thanks to him that I’m in here in the first place.”

“You know that’s not true, Sean.” Emily implores, and she stares at him until he relents and nods. “He’ll do it for you because he’s your brother and he loves you. But when you get out you will work on your relationship with him. I won’t let you use him for this and then disappear from our lives again.”

“Are you...threatening me, Emily?” He asks, an eyebrow raised at her in a way that reminded her of Aaron.

“Very much so.” She says seriously, before she smiles. “I’d also like you to get to know my kids better.”

“I’d like that too.” ________________

When they get to their hotel in the city he barely looks around the suite they have for the night before he goes into the bathroom. Emily sighs as she puts her bag down and goes to the mini bar, grabbing a drink for each of them.

She feels his arms wrap around her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder.

“Did I ever tell you that you’re my favourite wife?”

‘I’m your only wife.” She chuckles, turning to give him his drink.

“That works out well then.” He leans down and kisses her. “Thank you for today.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” She cups his neck, and strokes her thumb over his jawline. “My place has always been by your side.” Emily kisses him quickly. “Lets go sit down.”

She leads him over to the couch in the room, leaning against him as they get comfortable. They sit in silence for a while, having their drinks whilst his fingers trail up and down her arm.

“I let him down.” Aaron says eventually, making Emily turn to look at him, a curious look on her face. “Sean. I’ve been letting him down since we were kids.”

“Honey, you know that's not true.”

“It is. I left when he was young, I left him in that house with the ghost of our father and our shell of a mother.” He says bitterly, throwing back the rest of his drink.

Emily stares at him for a second before she takes his glass out of hand and places it with hers on the table next to the couch. She settles herself over his lap, straddling him in a way that makes him raise an eyebrow and place his hands on her hips. She cups his face in both her hands.

“Listen to me, Aaron. You are not to blame for any of this. You were a kid yourself, Theo’s age, and you wanted to start your own life. You are not responsible for your parents and what they did or didn’t do. Or for the decisions that Sean has made that has led him to where he is.” She looks directly into his eyes, looking for some understanding or agreement. “Ok?”

“Ok.” He nods his agreement, and she can tell he isn’t completely convinced, but it’s enough to placate her for now.

She still wants to cheer him up, so she changes tactics, moving her hands so she’s cupping the back of his head instead before she leans down to kiss him. She presses herself closer to him, signalling her intent, she smiles against his lips when he pulls her closer, his grip on her hips tightening.

“Let's go to bed.” She says, slightly breathless as she pulls away.

“I like the way you think, Mrs Hotchner.”

[everythingsinred]

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt. 25)

Hi there.

According to Wikipedia, the term "star-crossed lovers" refers to a couple "whose relationship is thwarted by outside forces". Furthermore, "such pairings are said to be doomed from the start". Often, the tragic end of these pairings can be seen from a mile away, even though the audience may hope and wish desperately for things to be different. In fact, the relationship between Romeo and Juliet is immediately revealed to end tragically, with both of them dead. It's just a matter of watching the heartbreak unfold.

The same is true here. Natsume and Mikan are "doomed" from the start. You hope and wish desperately that fate will be kind to them, that certain things will be different, that they can be happy, but it's not to be and you know it, deep down. All you can really do is watch the specific way it all goes up in flames. Now that we know they're both romantically involved, star-crossed to be separated, we're about to see a tragedy unfold. Let's suffer about it.

Chapter One Hundred and Forty

The school was being invaded, and the only one of Shiki’s conditions that the ESP could not accept was Mikan being out of his reach. In order to save the school, Mikan allowed herself to be put into the ESP’s custody under the condition that she cannot be harmed or manipulated.

But Chapter 140 doesn’t start by checking in on Mikan or even showing the others’ reaction to her absence. Not yet.

Just in case you didn't know how this would end to begin with, Higuchi will let you know now. It will not end well!

The chapter starts with a monologue from Ruka about the lengths Natsume would go to for Mikan, but also pleading for him not to go anywhere. This is unsubtle foreshadowing. We see a glimpse of the future, of Natsume’s presumably dead body, and the misery his death brings. We can see more evidence of what we already knew: Natsume thinks so little of himself that he’s willing to sacrifice anything for others, never considering that his absence will cause utter despair in the people he leaves behind.

At this point, it becomes even more obvious that the story will end with tragedy, and Natsume's probable death will be part of it.

We finally get to the real start of the chapter. It’s winter again. Ruka is musing on life at the academy without Mikan. They all talk about her often, even after months of not seeing her. They don’t even know where at the academy she is, or what she’s been up to.

Just for a glimpse. ;-;

He recalls Yuka’s funeral. The children were instructed to leave the area, but it was the last time they’d see Mikan, so they all stay. Natsume doesn’t even have an umbrella despite the rain. Mikan was then escorted from Yuka’s grave by the ESP. Her classmates want to know where she’s going, concerned that she’s in trouble. When the ESP threatens Shiki for not disciplining them, Mikan smiles and promises to see them again.

Fate does not smile upon them.

Natsume watches, and although they’re all surprised and concerned, he seems more so than anyone else. The last time he saw her there was a lot left unsaid. She had confessed her requited feelings telepathically and he’d had to say goodbye over and over and over. But Mikan hasn’t used up all of the telepathy stone quite yet, so he’s able to promise her that he’ll do everything he can to find her. She smiles, tears in her eyes, and that’s the last image of her he has for a while. He will find her. That’s his new mission, his new reason for living.

Back in the present, Natsume finally appears to join the group. He’s been missing, looking for Mikan. He spends most of his time running around campus trying to find her. The telepathy alice stone is the only tie they have to each other now. It’s all he has to go off of.

He smiles upon joining the group. Mikan isn’t there, but he’s still smiling. It might not be entirely genuine. He’s smiled like this before, to make Ruka feel better before the Z Arc. He has to have hope, too, because he can’t die before he finds Mikan. Submitting to the misery will only mar his chances.

Ruka knows that Natsume’s long absences are due to his search, that he spends hours and hours looking for her, calling for her, waiting for a response.

Yes, Shiki, and as a minor, he CANNOT consent to being a member of a group that has "war potential" because that's against international law and you should be charged with human rights' violations. Also, since he's a child, even being a criminal wouldn't justify this kind of punishment either, on account of him not even being a teenager yet.

Natsume is still a Dangerous Ability type. Shiki urges him to transfer out, but Natsume can’t. He has to stay, because as a DA type he can search in more areas that are off limits to normal students. In general, the DA class is more comfortable now that they’re under the management of the Middle School, not the ESP. Still, it’s described as a group “with war potential” and he wants to feel like he’s doing something to protect the people important to him rather than simply standing by. Natsume’s mindset of always having to protect people, to the extent that when he cannot protect people he feels useless and worthless, is damaging. He thinks he has to do these things, and although the narrative paints the DA class choosing to remain as them choosing to protect people, it’s kind of ridiculous that a school would put such a task on students’ shoulders in the first place. They’re the ones who should be protected, not the other way around. No matter who is in charge of the DA class, sending kids on dangerous missions where they could get hurt is still child abuse and endangerment.

In any case, he’s told it’s useless to try and find her, that the barrier hiding Mikan is too powerful, but he won’t listen. He won’t let anything anybody says get in the way. Just like he said when he first rebelled, no matter how much somebody tries to convince him not to, he’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Two

Tsubasa is also opting to remain in the DA class. It’s easier to be in on the action that way, for one. He also wants to help Natsume because he’s concerned about his alice shape. Natsume and Misaki both tease him for this, and Tsubasa chases after Misaki. Natsume watches them wistfully. Tsubasa doesn’t even seem to realize how lucky he is. He can hug Misaki, tease her, apologize, talk to her, see her. Natsume misses Mikan and he’s jealous that Tsubasa is able to have with Misaki what he’d love to have with his own girl. So, naturally, he sets his hair on fire.

God, Tsubasa, have some sensitivity!

Back at the dorms, Yuu laments that Mikan won’t be allowed to attend the Christmas Ball, and it’s unlikely she’ll be allowed to graduate with them either. Hotaru comes up with the idea of sending Mikan Christmas presents, and everyone is immediately on board. They all try to come up with present ideas, but Natsume’s a step ahead, already making another alice stone for her.

Hotaru notices and immediately tears him apart for it. He knows the stone won’t make it through the examination, and the fact that even making alice stones takes a toll on his body will only make Mikan worry. In addition to all that, Mikan already has his alice stone, so there shouldn’t be any worries on the “love tradition” front.

Hotaru is Mikan’s best friend, someone who knows her pretty well and whose opinion Mikan cares about. This criticism wouldn’t hit as hard if it was some random person, or even just another kid in Class B. Because it’s Hotaru, he has to take it seriously. Hotaru is calling him out and he’s embarrassed and defensive, but she’s a step ahead of him, having thought of a much better present.

Natsume's like, "I'll be her prince!"

She gives him a story book, about Rapunzel. The story is similar to Mikan’s--a girl is trapped in a tower with no way to escape. She found a prince and they were able to escape together and live happily. All Mikan needs is to find her prince and the story would fit perfectly.

Natsume likes this story a lot. He wants to be Mikan’s prince. He has to be her prince. He doesn’t have a choice but to save her, because that’s all he’s living for. And letting Mikan know that a prince is on the way seems an important enough mission that everyone wants to help get Rapunzel through the examination. They will all send story books to make Rapunzel seem less suspicious. Of course that doesn’t stop Hotaru from claiming that the prince in her story is actually more useful than the one in Rapunzel, implying that Natsume is a subpar prince as well.

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Three

It’s time for the Christmas Ball. Mikan isn’t there, so Natsume is morose. Just like last year, he finds refuge in the tree. Last Christmas was pretty nice, all things considered, because he got to kiss Mikan.

It's just not fair. All he wants is a smooch. And to save her and keep her safe but. The kiss too.

At the time, he’d thought it was a one-off, his only chance. He was just going to kiss her real quick because he was convinced Ruka already had, and then when it was done he would run away and never do it again. She wouldn’t want to kiss him over Ruka anyway, right? But apparently Mikan loves him too, something he had never even considered a possibility, so maybe she’d want to kiss him again?

Except that Mikan isn’t around and the only way he can see if she wants to kiss him again would be if he found her.

How come everyone is calling him out so boldly lately? You guys DO realize his days are numbered, right? Not even double digits? So cruel.

Sumire is talking about dancing with him this year, but he’s only thinking about Mikan. Koko calls him out for it, saying there’s someone in the tree thinking about kissing. It was such a strong thought that it took Koko by surprise, even.

There’s a present exchange and Yuu again expresses sadness that Mikan isn’t with them, wondering if she’s spending Christmas all on her own. This spurs Natsume to get the hell out of there. He can’t sit around for too long, after all. He wants to find her and he won’t find her at the ball for sure.

He’s out looking for her, just like he does every day and every night. Shiki might be a hopeless romantic, or feeling guilty for having Mikan watch the ball on TV, so he loosens the barrier on Mikan enough for Natsume to be able to find her.

Shiki is also a NatsuMikan shipper... You a legend for that one, fam.

He hasn’t seen her in months, not even after searching every corner of the school over and over again, but tonight he has finally found her.

Conclusion

Although in many ways, Natsume's story was set up to be tragic from the beginning, these chapters establish for good that something horrible is coming, and we know that to be Natsume's death, in about a week. I'll talk more about the star-crossed lovers aspect in the upcoming parts. It's an aspect of their relationship that I find very interesting.

Thank you for reading this far!

Y'all have caught up to where I'm at, more or less. I won't post tomorrow because there'd only be a chapter of content to post and that's no fun. I'll spend the weekend getting ahead a bit and then on Monday I'll continue. In no time at all, we'll be wrapped up! It's all so exciting!

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[jokertrap-ran]

(时空中的绘旅人—For All Time—) Clarence Route Translations (Chapter 16-2 阿萝拉: Aurora)

*For All Time Master-list / Clarence’s Personal Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Maintaining Si Lan’s name as Clarence *Route Tag is #Chapter of Legacy

I carried the napping Aurora back to the Mage Tower.

Seeing how her body was becoming horribly cold, I held her with my own body as she slept.

It was a while later that she turned, looping her arms around my neck.

Aurora: I'm a little cold… Uncle told me that I should sing loudly whenever I'm cold...

Saying so, she started singing in a gossamer-like voice by my ear.

Aurora: Stars are sleeping, snow gently falling. Where has the butterfly gone; for my hand still holds the fragrance of flowers…

She sang in short bursts. Maybe it was because she was still unfamiliar with it, or perhaps it was because she was distracted by something else.

Aurora: That Uncle sings it so well. Sadly, Aurora hasn't completely learnt it…

She hugged me tighter to her because of how cold she felt. Her other hand reached over to press itself against her stomach. I knew her stomach was still hurting.

Clarence said that these were all drawbacks of being a Mage.

But for a child so young? On what grounds, does she have to be bearing this immense burden for the sake of the world?

I didn't know what to do. All I could do was to hold her small body tightly within my arms…

A night passed.

It was very quiet when I awoke.

No, something's wrong. Aurora should be beside me, and she's gone! Did… Did Clarence deal away with her already, since she was on the verge of losing control?

I hurriedly got up and recalled what Sun Zhuoyi had told me yesterday. I felt a gut-dropping sense of unease. I MUST find her!

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

I quickly smoothed out my clothes and went hunting for her up and down the Mage Tower.

The carriage was already ready and waiting outside the Mage Tower. Clarence was giving Aurora the instructions to her assignment in front of it.

I got a little closer to them and listened in on their conversation.

Sounds like Aurora’s mission this time is to clear out the Rebel Mages who worked under the Silver Knight.

The Silver Knight had managed to rope some Rebel Mages into his plans and allowed them to attack the Palace, as well as the residences of Nobles. I’ve also vaguely seen the aftermath of the chaos caused by the Rebel Mages before, in my previous journeys.

To my knowledge of the matter, they’d managed to successfully scare the Aristocrats, but they were all quickly dealt away with by Clarence himself, so nothing particularly serious happened.

But this time, upon overhearing Clarence as he explained Aurora’s task to her, I knew; This wasn’t the slightest bit simple at all.

The Silver Knight has been pulling out all stops and laying out the groundwork every step of the way in his plans to attack the Capital. Not only did he have Ordinary Mages under his control, but also a team of Mages that were already out of control.

The Silver Knight utilized potions to forcefully alter the Mages into a half-butterfly metamorphosis― He coerced the Mages to consume the potion of their own accord, making them willingly fall into a state of nearly losing control, before maintaining this state through the use of another potion.

A Mage in this state had icy wings in place of arms and their entire body covered in ice crystals. Their sanity will be on the brink of madness, yet they still hold a sliver of consciousness.

Of course, when under excruciating pain, the only thing they can process is to kill, destroy, and freeze everything. And Clarence’s method of dealing with this impending “destruction”, was to “engulf” it all.

He’d decided to send out Aurora, one of the “Nine Seats'' to deal with the matter. He told her that she didn’t need to care about who, or what was on the other end, merely to treat them as Ice Butterflies and devour them all.

Aurora: Wow. Aurora can eat till she’s full if there are that many monsters this time. Right?

Clarence: That’s right. You’ll be able to eat to your heart’s content this time. And then after you’re done… Do make sure to get a good night’s sleep. You will not feel cold anymore, and neither will your stomach hurt ever again after you fall asleep this time.

I felt my eyes dampening.

Aurora… She really doesn’t know, does she…?

This was a death sentence in the farce of a mission. However, Clarence was as calm and unwavering as ever as he delivered Aurora the details of her mission. While Aurora, on the other hand, was only worried about whether she could “eat till she was full”.

The fate of all Mages was to be born in the throes of desire, pain, and suffering; and also, to fall into the spiral of madness and depravity.

It was then that Clarence breathed a light sigh.

Clarence: Do you hate me, Aurora?

Clarence actually asked another about their thoughts on him? I’d long since thought that he’d forgo how others saw him, given his personality...

Aurora wore a blank look of utter confusion. She looked up at Clarence, unable to come up with an answer even after thinking for a good long while.

Clarence: I am the Master of the Mage Tower. I should be the one guiding and protecting all of you Mages.

Clarence: However, you are all nought but tools to me. I use you, I sacrifice you… I watch you all die, one-by-one… Yet, I do not bat an eye.

Clarence: It would only make sense if you were to hate me for what I did.

With how he was bemoaning with lament at this point, rather than talking to Aurora about it, it might as well just be him, criticizing himself with his own monologue.

He was blaming himself for being as icy and closed-off as he was.

— Does this mean that somewhere deep down in that heart of his… Clarence has a heart that feels for all the Mages under him?

Aurora: Hate…? You mean, not liking you? Aurora doesn't dislike you, Master Clarence~

Aurora: Aurora doesn't like being hungry. Aurora has always been hungry before meeting you.

Aurora: Aurora cried back home and kicked up a fuss, asking dad for food. Dad took Aurora and dumped Aurora by the river, picking up many hard pieces of bread to eat.

Aurora: Aurora doesn’t like hard bread, but Aurora was just so hungry… So, Aurora ate them all down anyway.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

… I could guess what the “hard bread” she was talking about really was. I’d heard of a distant legend about the olden times, where the poor would feed their offspring stones in place of food during times of famine...

The children who ate stones will die, but at least that would save some food for the rest of the family.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Aurora: Aurora always got a tummy ache whenever Aurora eats the hard bread, but Master Clarence gave Aurora medicine to drink. It was bitter, but Aurora’s stomach no longer hurt after drinking it.

Clarence: I’m not doing a good deed. Your strong desire for food, “gluttony”, was what drew me in. I merely thought that you had the potential to become a Mage.

Clarence: I took you under my wing, taking you to the Mage Tower. I offered you all the delicacies that Yemsaiel has to offer. Yet, at the same time, I required you to devour Ice Butterflies. Your stomach still hurts all the same.

Aurora tilted her head in thought. She patted the sides of her head, seemingly trying to make sense of what Clarence was trying to say...

After a while, Aurora started sucking on her thumb in thought, apparently none the wiser.

Aurora: Err… I still have stomach aches, but I can’t blame you for that, Master Clarence. You’re a Mage… not someone who treats bad tummies...

Aurora: I heard that you’d get a stomach ache from eating too much, and I can’t stop myself from eating… So, I think it’s pretty normal for me to be getting tummy aches...

Aurora: So be it then! I like to eat! And I’m super happy when I’m eating! You let me eat all I want, Master Clarence! Of course, I like you!!

Clarence: ……

Clarence stays silent for a while before sighing gently.

As pure and innocent as Aurora was, there was nothing Clarence could say to make her understand the truth.

It was probably only because of her naive earnestness as a young girl that allowed her to concentrate as much as she did on her Magic, hence the reason why she was able to attain the rank of one of the “Nine Seats” at such a young age.

Suddenly, Aurora jumped in front of Clarence and patted his face.

Aurora: Stop pulling such a long face, Master Clarence...

Aurora: The Mage Tower is very noisy. There are always people yelling and crying, but everyone also has times where they smile. Only you, Master Clarence. You've never smiled.

Aurora: Aurora smiles when Aurora's full, and the others smile when their wish is fulfilled.

Aurora: Aurora is thinking that Master Clarence's wish hasn't been fulfilled yet. Aurora hopes that it'll be fulfilled soon~

Aurora: Although, even if Aurora might already be asleep by then… Aurora will still be happy! Just like when Aurora has a full stomach!

Hearing Aurora's words, the realization finally dawned on me that she never truly understood anything. She was as clueless as they came.

Clarence paused for a moment before reaching out, caressing her hair and touching her face.

Clarence: How cold… The skin of all Mages is always cold to the touch. I apologise for making you turn out like this.

Clarence: I create all of you, let all of you grow and indulge in all of your desires. And in part, I've also made all of you the very thing feared and hated by the world.

Clarence: But at the same time, I'm also aware that all of you are the true victims, the true sacrifices, of this world.

Clarence: I am incapable of saving you all. But not letting your sacrifices be in vain is the least I can do.

After that, Clarence's lips parted slightly into a faint chuckle.

Clarence, he… he's really laughing…

Aurora was elated, skipping in front of Clarence and jumping up to pull his cheeks upwards.

Aurora: He’s laughing… This is the first time I’ve seen Master Clarence laugh!

Actually squishing Clarence’s face like that… Only Aurora would ever dare to do such a thing…

Clarence wasn’t mad, only maintaining his smile.

Clarence: Aurora. I treat all the Mages here in this Mage Tower as my pawns, with no emotional attachment whatsoever. But that is only because I do not want anyone to influence my emotions, and the decisions I make.

Clarence: — But that doesn’t mean that all the time I’ve spent with all of you is meaningless to me. I do not regret the time I spent with any of you.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥Chapter of Legacy✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Previous Part: (Chapter 16-1) | Next Part: (Chapter 16-3)

[madsdefencesquad]

The semi-companion piece to Kevin's one and it's all about Mads, of course. Dedicated to Kevison Nation (every single fudging one of you) and to @flythesail and @penny259 (your comments have me weeping haha 😚). Also on ao3.

A little into Madison Pearson by x (with additions) Summer 2026

I first met Madison Pearson a year ago at George Clooney’s 65th birthday celebrations in Perthshire, Scotland in a fashion closer to that of long-travelled friends who haven’t seen each other in years than that of complete strangers who just so happened to enjoy the same foodie indulgence (bacon-wrapped dates, anyone?). Despite the grandeur of the guests present at the lavish affair – politicians, laureates, philanthropists and A-list celebrities (including her own husband actor Kevin Pearson) – Madison Pearson had the kind of invigorating energy that just drew absolutely anyone in.

Perhaps it was the enchanting mix of contained excitement and understated class she exuded that will warm you upon beholding up close, or perhaps it was the charm of a more loquacious woman of California mixed with the rare intelligence of a world-traveller. Either way, despite the taxing social waltz her husband took her throughout the night bumping elbows with the elites, Madison was one of those people who truly left a lasting impression.

Squeezed next to her in the back of a cab, Madison is head-to-toe in Temperley London x Axel Arigato (vintage-inspired nautical jumpsuit and platform suedes) en route to a baking class where her five-year-old twins Nick and Franny are waiting for her to join them along with their father.

“I was supposed to get changed,” she says, lamenting on her attire worn for a meeting with some West Chester development executives that’s perhaps too luxurious for an afternoon of mixing flour and butter and sugar. “But you have to make at least a bit of an impression, right?”

Madison has been the powerhouse head honcho of the Pearson family business, Big Three Homes, since its establishment three years prior. With a solid background in business management and a surefooted ability to navigate the mores of an ever-changing property development landscape, it was no question that Madison would rise up to the challenge of breaking into the market with a business model founded on family, philanthropy and sustainability.

Despite growing up largely independent without people close enough to call family, Madison has also found the means to speak about her experiences in an effort to encourage and give hope to the younger generation of girls and young women who may be going through an ongoing battle between themselves and their self-worth.

“I never felt enough,” she says of the origins of her battle with her eating disorder that began when she was still in middle school. “I look at Franny and she’s so small and carefree and I want to give her everything I never had, but I know that even that won’t be enough unless she herself realises how worthy she is of all the good and all the love that she deserves.”

We pull up outside the baking studio and she brightens at spotting her husband and twins’ silhouettes behind the frosted glass windows. Nick and Franny almost topple over their stools as they rush to overwhelm their mother while their father scrambles to keep his heart rate down—a close call with their foreheads hitting the edge of the marble benches as they got down will just about do it.

Even with her petite frame, Madison carries the twins like she’s just holding a bag of groceries. Unsurprisingly, both Nick and Franny are as enamoured of their mother as she is of them and are on the verge of complaining when put down just as Kevin, grinning ear to ear, envelops Madison in his huge arms—to be fair, he’s always been quite remarkably chiselled but the Tom Ford sweater and those tailored jeans (chosen by his wife “of course” as Kevin credits) is a different level altogether. He leans down to give her a kiss.

Back in Perthshire a year ago at the Clooney extravaganza, I caught up with the married couple the day after the festivities over a traditional Scottish breakfast as we overlooked the highlands of the Gleneagles.

Perhaps unlike the Clooneys, who were still entertaining their guests from all over world, the Pearsons were much more relaxed within their own family bubble. Having just celebrated Kevin’s twin sister’s wedding three days prior with close family and friends, the pair was grateful to spend some quality time with each other and their twins without the need to be anything but present.

From my perch, Kevin and Madison were the kind of couple that were very much “old souls”. They held an affection for each other that is rooted from sincere fondness and adoration for each other—they converse like deep friends and trade wits like secret lovers. And despite the media attention of the adorable moments shared online (often by the social-savvy actor), Madison is uncompromising when it comes to the privacy of their children.

While the twins dipped in and out of the table pilfering scones or taking over their mother’s green juice, neither one of their parents were the least bit bothered by the constant attention they need to provide such a rumbunctious pair.

“They’re so funny,” Kevin said, a careful eye on little Nick who was staring at the whipped cream on his tiny finger like he was contemplating on wiping it on his dad’s face.

I do recall having a good laugh when I accompanied the family on a tour of a nearby 17th century castle and little Franny, a copy-and-paste of her mother, pointed at a wood-cut table decoration of what looked to be intertwined lovers and confidently yelled, “That’s mommy and daddy!”

The fierce mama bear of the Pearson household of four (Madison sometimes calls her husband “kid number three, but don’t tell him that or he’ll get ideas of trying for another!”), remarks that forging her own path away from her husband’s spotlight had been remarkably easy, and she gives much of the credit to the rest of the Pearson clan who all treasure family more than anything.

Even with the notoriety of her brother-in-law, rising political star Randall Pearson, who currently serves in the Philadelphia municipality and is on track for a career in congress, Madison says that quality time to rest and recuperate is a must.

“[My sisters-in-law] and I have a girls weekend every other month when we can where we literally book ourselves a gorgeous Airbnb and just glamp down. I’m talking sleep-ins, endless mimosas, spa sessions… you name it! It’s the kind of getaway that [our husbands] get really jealous for.”

And upon being reminded, Kevin, now sporting Franny’s tiny chef’s hat, shakes his head at his wife conspicuously as if in reprimand that he most definitely should be included in the gals’ next glamping session despite him being, well, not a gal.

While Nick proudly counts five of about a thousand sprinkles that are scattered on his side of the bench, Madison congratulates him with a warmth and pride that is infectious enough to make you think that she’s proud of you too. And despite her husband’s very obvious possessiveness over her—you could count only one occasion where the actor is not at arm’s length from her—when Madison focuses her attention on you, it’s not difficult to believe that this powerhouse woman could truly do absolutely anything.

“She is that and more,” Kevin says about his wife. “Sometimes I can’t believe that this is my life. Our life! Like, she’s mywife, and these two are our kids. It’s just wild! I’m grateful, just grateful.”

Despite the doubts and fear that had been Madison’s constant companions for most of her life and especially going into adulthood, there is a fierce resilience in her that she could only credit her dear grandmother Frances—her own daughter having been named after her.

“She always believed in me,” she recalls, an eye on the twins squatting by the oven watching their creations rise. Despite the deep grief and loss that are quite intimately shared by the married couple, Madison says that it has only made them more resolute in loving their children and each other as best as they possible can every day.

“You just don���t know when it’s your time,” she says. “So, Kev and I make sure that there are no ‘next times’ when it comes to our family.”

When I had asked Madison about Big Three Homes back in Scotland, she squealed at the origin story of its founding, which started with Kevin’s late father Jack Pearson having asked his wife Rebecca to start the business together as partners.

Although Jack’s tragic and unexpected passing put an indefinite hold to this dream, its fulfilment through his son Kevin and through Madison is a testament to the kind of legacy that Jack Pearson had begun through his kids.

“I mean, it started off as more of a passion project for Kev,” Madison says. “But we knew it was always going to be something really special. Especially because his first project was the house that Jack had wanted to build for his mom. And when Kevin had this wonderful idea of bringing the family together to start the business and he asked me to be a part of it, how could I have said no!”

Kevin makes a point to say though that even if the idea of Big Three Homes originally came from his parents, its fulfilment is as much a part of his and Madison’s own story as it is his parents’. And choosing to have Madison work alongside him wasn’t just the best choice (given how much of a boss she is), but it was the only choice he ever wanted or considered.

“I know this is cliché, but I can’t stand not being with her,” Kevin says. “I made a point of this when our twins were born, and I meant it!”

Madison and the family split their time between California and Pennsylvania both for Kevin’s work and for the business, but nowadays, it’s more of an 80-20 split in favour of the east coast.

When asked about a career path carved away from her hometown in California, Madison says fondly, “It surprises a lot of people when I say this but I’m actually an east coast girl.”

This fun fact translates quite well in Madison’s day to day. She could turn any conversation into an erudite discussion, and she will utterly beguile you with her knowledge of books and literature—her constant companions when she can sneak away to her own personal Taj Mahal, a stunning Japanese garden in the backyard of their Pennsylvania home which Kevin built especially for her.

As the Pearsons continue to make a splash in the world of construction, politics, arts and entertainment—a rare mix indeed for a family in the spotlight—Madison is determined to continue writing a story with her husband and her children that she never had growing up.

With the twins happily destroying their creations by the mouthfuls, Madison promises that another visit is a must and perhaps this time, she can show us a collection of Kevin’s baby photos coupled with her own personal commentary to boot.

And who would say no to that.

[dorottyacrow]

Walter Crow had his fair share of fun in his younger days, always ready for a party back at Oxford and then afterwards, finding the whim to travel Europe. In his youth one might say he had certain. . . Lascivious appetites, which introduced him to Analee while he was in the Kingdom of Hungary. He certainly was not gentlemanly but when he found out she was pregnant with his child, he did what few men would; he married the poor girl. She returned with him to Oxfordshire where they settled down, and Walter finally left his more rakish tendencies in the past. He took his role as father and husband with upmost seriousness, often fretting whether he did enough for his family or not. Although he’d never expected to fall into married life the way that he had, he was grateful for them, and wanted to do right by them. For the most part, he did, but the stress took its toll. He died in his sleep the winter of 1792.

Analee Crow married far above her station, leaving many family and friends back home wondering how she’d done it. Her lips were sealed, of course, and though she and Walter weren’t a love match, they were friends. She respected him so when they were married and she found herself leaving her home behind, she wasn’t terribly disappointed. There were periods of resentment here and there but overall, they were happy together. It wasn’t a love for the ages, there wasn’t passion, but there was friendship, there was commitment, and there was admiration. Not a terrible foundation for a home, she didn’t think. She took his passing especially hard, much to her own surprise. It wasn’t until he was gone that she truly understood how much he had come to mean to her, it had crept up so slowly that she just didn’t know until it was too late. She lamented never getting the chance to tell him.

Imre Crow was the oldest of the Crow children, as well as the only son. Being the big brother meant that he was the favorite of all of his sisters, and he took great pride in looking out for each of them, along with his mother. His father was difficult to please, having such high standards for himself that he instilled in Imre as well, but he understood his meaning, even if he often felt inadequate beside him. Leaving to study at Oxford had been freeing for Imre and it turned out, he wasn’t so different from his father, after all. He too came to enjoy his share of parties and the reckless abandon of young men. Upon his father’s passing, he didn’t entirely give up those vices but he did step up to provide for his mother and sisters. He made several lucrative investments, sending a good portion of the money back home. Being in business with Sidney Wyatt proved to come with some unanticipated risks, however. . . In 1798, when all seemed well to his family, his body was found in the River Thames. Authorities say it was a suicide.

Hanna Bentham is the oldest daughter of the Crow family, and came into this world ready to take whatever it had to offer. She was confided in by her father and Imre a good deal about their family’s financial troubles and made it her mission to assist them by being wed as soon as possible. She had a dowry secured already and goodness, she knew how expensive she was to keep at home. It wasn’t only that, of course; Hanna also envied the other ladies in Oxfordshire their families, and wished to begin one of her own. Her debut was rocky, to say the least, but her second season proved fruitful. She married Mister Bentham after a speedy courtship in 1788, and is now the happy mother of three girls of her own. She’s always been good at keeping in contact with her family, writing to her mother and sisters regularly.

Gizella Camden was the most mild mannered of all the Crow girls. Even Analee found herself bewildered by Gizella’s calm, subdued elegance. Did she really manage to raise that? Someone so poised? Wherever did she learn any of it? It has always been a mystery to every one of them but what surprised none of them was the illustrious match she secured for herself. She married a viscount after her first season in 1791, both of them wildly in love and so beautiful together it made Analee weep with joy seeing her daughter that happy. Her quiet elegance often meant she was difficult for the rest of the family to get close to but regardless, she’s well adored by them all, private as she is. She didn’t do as well as Hanna about keeping regular correspondence but she writes often enough that they all know they haven’t been forgotten.

Klara Crow debuted in 1796 and has had a rough go at the marriage market. She’s got a marvelous sense of humor, often cracking jokes and sparking laughter wherever she goes but she’s also rather brazen. She’ll tell someone without a second thought if they have food in their teeth or if she thinks they have a chance with that prospect so far above their station and. . . Well, it’s hindered her a good deal. When Imre died, she put a pause to her quest to find a husband, halting in her grief along with the rest of her family. Although she was always prone to bickering with her siblings, Imre included, she does still love and care for them a great deal and so the loss was terribly hard on her. When blame began getting passed around, she was implicated in a fair bit of it, always starting fights, always critical, why couldn’t she be more like her other sisters? Now that she’s back for her third season, she’s decided to at least try and water herself down a bit more. It’s becoming more and more difficult to get along with her mother and little sister and though she loves them, she’s eager to get on with her life.