#regency!price

[mimiiis]

Must Be Love Pt.1 — Regency Au! Price x Fem! Reader

summary: A general looking to marry for duty and a girl looking for a love match, what could go wrong?

warnings: n/a

work count: 5.9k

a/n: this was low-key supposed to be a small series of blurbs but I couldn't help myself, full on fic/series !! hope you guys enjoy </3

I’ve been rewatching Bridgerton and got to thinking…Regency!Price.

General John Price, who has come back to London during the marriage season to find himself a wife after deciding it was about time for him to do so. It just so happens to be that you are a new debutante, foisted out onto the marriage market and ready to be wed. 😚🤭

☆☆☆

The General had just recently returned to London, ready to marry and not hesitant to announce his intentions on what brought him back into the city. It was not long until everyone got the word that he was looking for a bride. Respectable men were not entirely few and far in the ton, but to find a truly accomplished man who came from a respected family was almost rare. Where most men were seen coming in and out of brothels almost daily , John Price was hardly seen indulging in such…pleasures. But in fairness, he was away from the watchful eyes of society for many periods of time, and no one knew much about him. With his return and new step into the marriage market, it is the first ball of the season that changed everything in his life. 

The first ball was always so exciting, uncertainty of what the night may bring lurked at every corner of the room. Ladies practically flocked to him, their mamas right behind them as he struggled to fill out each dance card he was presented with. The general was more than polite, making his intentions clear and being his usually charming self. The ladies giggled and flirted, trying to impress him with their many accomplishments and the status of their families. He would simply nod and listen to them ramble with each passing dance. Though as the night drew on longer, the more he began to worry. 

He hadn’t truly realized how hard it would be to properly court a woman in his position. He knew that as general he would not be with his wife for long, that he would be away longer than he would ever be with her. He saw no point in growing an attachment, inevitable heartbreak and hate would follow if he did. Every young lady he talked to seemed too eager, practically begging to be loved and adored. He knew he would have to find a wife willing to accept the conditions that awaited, someone he can establish a decent, or even good, relationship with. It did not hurt him to turn down several young ladies, he knew it was for the better. Yet somewhere, deep inside of his heart, he ached for the same kind of fondness they did. 

☆☆☆

The ballroom erupted in a wave of applause and laughter as the dance finished, your chest heaving after performing the lively routine. The young lord you had entertained left with a bow, kissing your hand before leaving to go grab himself a cup of punch. You smiled at him, bidding him a good night before walking to your mama. Droplets of sweat formed at the corners of your hair, slowly falling down your skin as you tried to hide away behind your mother. She stood at the corner of the room, hidden away by a crowd of people who rushed by. 

“What did you think of him? Lord Langley?” She asks you, handing you her fan as you plant your back against the wall. You quickly take it, opening it and blowing air in your direction as you finally took what felt like your first breath in hours. Your cheeks burned as your feet ached from dancing for so long. You could feel the boning of the corset digging into your skin as you slouched over slightly. 

“He is kind. Rather handsy. Not an exact fit.” You breathe out, still winded as your mother placed a handkerchief against your forehead. ���None of them will be, my dearest, if you keep holding them up to such an impossible standard.” She states, grabbing you by your shoulders as straightening your posture. You groan, letting her smooth out your crinkled skirts out and continue to wipe off the sweat from your brow. 

“I know what I want and I will not hesitate to find it.” You argue back, pushing her hands away from you. You step back a few paces, giving yourself more room to breathe. You hadn’t considered how stuffy a ballroom might feel with more than half of the ton packed into a tight space. It almost made your head spin, a slight ache creeping up at the back of your head. Dread began to fill you at the impending headache, but you shook your head in an attempt to ignore it. 

“You will spend a lifetime searching if you do not let it come naturally.” She tells you, shaking her head. You eye her, considering her words before you catch sight of a footman walking by. Your mother watches you reach for a glass of champagne from his tray, slapping your hands away the second you move them. You gasp, glaring at her as she dismisses the man away. 

“That is not fair-“

“You can drink to your heart's content when you are married.” She argues, locking her arm in yours as she begins to pull you back into the eyes of society. So much for a few minutes to hide away. “You really must consider and think about a second plan. What will happen if you cannot find the love match you so desperately desire, hm? What then?”

You groan once more, embarrassment heating heating your cheeks. Her speech and the way she still talked to you as if you were a child sent a wave of shame over you. You wanted to crawl back into the corner of the room, to get away from her at any cost as she continued to scold you for having “such impossible standards.” But you cannot, not after you spent so long convincing her to even allow you to have a say in who you married. She gives you an inch, might as well take a mile. 

“There is no second plan. I will get what I want, no matter how long it takes me.” You stubbornly reply, voice in a hushed whisper as you politely smile at other young ladies passing by. “What is so hard about finding a love match anyways? Is it simply not the process of meeting someone and just knowing? That is how you described what happened to you with father, I will not settle for anything less.” 

“It is…much more than just that.” She repeats the same words she always has, never elaborating further. For the woman meant to help you through the marriage season, she was certainly not helpful. You glance at her for a second, the usual disappointment filling you. You start to search the dance floor for a man to sweep you back up into the crowd. Anything to get away from her right now. You watch as all the lords and men you had previously danced with talk and laugh amongst themselves or other young ladies, your own friends being taken up with suitors or being pulled to one by their mamas. It was a never ending sea of controlled chaos, dresses swishing and feet stomping as the sea of dancing color passed you.

“Where is Johnny?” Your mother suddenly asks. The arm she had locked with your slips away and rises to your shoulder, helping her balance as she begins to stand on her tiptoes, looking over the crowd around you two. “Shall he really miss your first ball?” Her brows furrow, scanning every corner of the room before falling back onto her heels. You shake your shoulder, brushing her hand off of you as the topic of your brother sours your mood. “I do not think Jonny cares about the affairs of young ladies.”

“Do not be so negative, he is your brother-“

“And he still does not care.” You say with a bite in your tone, making your mother furrow her brows, but you only continue you scan the room for a way out of her grasp.

It took a few seconds, but you finally caught sight of a man one of your friends said was serious about his courtship this year. “Besides, he need not bother himself with my business unless a suitor is asking for my hand, yes?” You flash her a faux smile as you slowly begin to pull away from her side. “I am going to get a glass of punch, I will be back.” You told her before hurriedly walking and escaping between the cracks of the surrounding crowd to get away from her. You walked as fast as you could without raising any alarm to others, her shouts and protests falling on deaf ears as you managed a good distance between the two of you. You were able to get across the dance floor and near the table of desserts, not stopping until you found a rather hidden corner to further disappear into. 

You sigh and giggle to yourself as you look back, making sure she was not following and in fact far from you. A smile creeps up onto your lips as you watch her try to carefully push through the crowd. She excuses herself, getting stopped by other Ladies and Mamas on her way towards you. Frustrating builds on her face, eyes glancing every second back to you as she is forced to make small talk. A giggle leaves your lips as you watch the aftermath of your small victory. You straighten your shoulders and hold your head high as you walk backwards, keeping an eye and planning on disappearing from her view when she looks away once more. But the moment is short lived as you suddenly bump into someone. 

Your back crashes into an elbow, the bone hitting between your shoulder blades and causing you to groan at the sudden pain, back going stiff and straight as a slight ache begins to spread throughout. You yelp, whipping your body around and groaning at the discomfort the swift movement caused. You begin to stutter out apologies, explaining how you didn’t know where you were, how you weren’t looking and all sorts of nonsense without even looking at who you were speaking to. The words jumbled together into a string of incoherent mumbles, but your mouth stops when you finally look up. Your body freezes, mouth falling into a small ‘o’ as you look at the man before you. It's strange, you would assume to find a frown and displeased face looking at you. But to your surprise, the man seems to give you the kindest smile, and breathes out the softest of laughs. 

Your eyes meet his, and you can't recall ever having seen someone look at you so… fondly? He was tall, a strong and fit body, shoulders stiff and broad as the deep red of his suit makes him look all the more alluring. His hair was brushed back though it still appeared as a soft mess when paired with the beard he sported. You had never put much thought into what you would think a real man would be like, but good god, if he was not it. You continue to study him, practically entranced by the way he looks, until you see his lips begin to part in question and quickly snap out your thoughts, shaking your head and closing your still slightly agape mouth. “Apologies, Sir, I truly did not see you.” You bow your head slightly and part your eyes from his. 

He smiles and replies, “It is quite alright, Miss.” His voice was deep and gruff, the sound made your knees want to buckle. “Are you hurt? I myself must apologize for not having seen you either,” he looks at you with worry, remembering how harshly you bumped into him. “Ah!” You exclaim, suddenly feeling a slight discomfort between your shoulders but quickly dismissing it. “I’m simply a bit shaken, that’s all. Though I must ask if I did not hurt you either, my lord..?” Your voice drifts off in question, waiting for the man to introduce himself. 

The sound of the title has him letting out a small huff of a laugh,“I am not a lord, Miss, but a general. General John Price, Miss. Mr.Price would do just fine if you do not mind,” He replies with a small shake of his head and a hint of amusement in his voice. Embarrassment immediately fills you as his words process in your head. Your cheeks heat and eyes widen and the urge to crawl into the deepest hole you can find consumes you as more apologies spill from your lips. “I-I’m sorry I didn't mean to-! It is just that so many of the men present here are lords and the title has become a natural response to say to any man I speak to that I-agh!” You stutter and ramble on again, but soon stop yourself from further embarrassment by placing a hand on your awfully loud mouth. “I must stop.” Your eyes look away from what you expect to be a judgemental or annoyed gaze this time, but when you glance back up, it is still neither of those.

“I must admit I had grown rather tired of not being able to get away from you young ladies this evening, but out of all I have spoken to today, you seem to be the most amusing.” He jokes, that laugh of his loud and brighter than before. The sound makes you relax and a sense of comfort washes over you. The rest of the world seems to drown in the sound and sight of him. A man with a large presence and contagious energy, how had you not seen him?  You watch the way his chest rises and falls in his chuckles and how he slightly throws his head back with each “hah”. Before you know it, your hand is falling from your mouth.

“Oh, is that so? I must say the same for the men, you all are at every corner and yet I haven’t found a single one worthy of a good conversation.” You joke back, a playful smirk making its way onto your lips. His smile widens at your comment and the same spark of mischief in your eye ignites in his.

“Truly? Have they all been so boring?”

“Terribly so, I could not even last a minute speaking to them.”

“I must apologize for my fellow men then, for they do not seem up to the challenge of courtship.” 

You giggle at his words, he chuckles in return. “Of that you are right, Sir. In fact, I do not think I’ve ever wished for interesting company to arrive so much as now.” You jest. 

“It seems we are both in luck then. For here I am with you. And you, with me.” The humorous tone of his voice drifts into one of sincerity, flirtatiousness. The hair at the back of your neck rises and your back straightens at the shift in mood. You gulp, feeling his eyes on you, looking at you– truly looking at you now. “Here we are.” 

Your eyes meet once more, only neither of you look away or speak this time. You’ve had to look into the eyes of many men this evening, and you’ve found the saying of the eyes being windows to a person's soul to be true. You could tell when a man only wanted a marriage for money or influence, how they felt about the young lady they were dancing with, who they truly wanted and set their sights on even with a glance. And the way he looked at you, oh it scared you. You can’t recall someone ever looking at you like this. It made your breath catch, heart race, and wonder if the truth in his eyes was not a lie. There was a glint of light in the blue of his eyes, and you realize the look he’s giving you. Almost as if you amuse him, as if he likes you. And you find yourself feeling the same.

It’s as if the realization dawned on both of you at the same time, the mutual attraction, for a comfortable silence soon followed. You both continue to stare, smiling as the two of you seem to breathe in time together. Waiting…Waiting to ask or be asked the same question. Will you dance with me? 

You wanted this to happen, it is what you were looking for. To feel that click, the instant gravitation to one person in a sea of people, and it was here. Standing right in front of you– only you were not prepared for how it would feel. You wanted to revel in it, shout at the top of your lungs ‘I told you I could!’ to your mother and friends who said you that what you wanted was impossible. Here, in front of you, the moment you’ve waited for. All that was left was for either of you to seal it, to grab each other's hand and spend the night talking, to form a proper and real courtship. The possibility made your heart flutter, though only off of a feeling and small conversation, you think you found what you were looking for. But you could only have peace for so long. A hand suddenly wraps itself around your arm and pulls your attention away from the man in front of you. Your damned mother. “General Price, how nice it is to see you!” The woman exclaims in surprise, her arm yanking your body behind her and away from him. ‘You were being improper’ she would later say. The General’s eyes widen at the sudden interruption, but he is quick to compose himself with a smile and nod of his head. “My lady,” he greets her.

“I see you have met my daughter, I do hope she has not been bothersome, she has a rather… colorful personality!” Your mother snides, a false laugh falling from her lips as you roll your eyes. 

“Of course not, she and I were having a rather enjoyable conversation.” He replies, eyes drifting to yours. You let out a weary smile, facial expression screaming “I am sorry!” as best as you could. His gaze softens at you in understanding before in looking back to your mother and further exchanging formalities with her. How are you, where have you been, and other such things they discuss before it is cut to a quick end by the woman. 

“It has been a pleasure to see you again, good Sir, but I am afraid it is time for my daughter and I to retire. I do hope we will see you again.” She smiles, looking your way to give you a stern look, ‘let’s go’ she seems to say. You nod lightly, watching as they exchange goodbyes before your mother leaves to fetch the carriage.

You watch her go and before long the two of you are alone again, standing in a rather awkward air after your mother had interrupted your previous conversation. Neither you say anything, trying to find the words as your feet shuffle in tune with that of the music. You play with your fingers, pulling and twisting at them, unsure of what to say before seeing the man open his mouth. 

“For how short it was, I did enjoy our talk.” He says sincerely. 

You grin, cheeks heating at the simple words. “I do hope you choose to call.” You nod your head politely, watching him do the same before walking away. Butterflies swirl in your stomach, eyes widening in shock the second your back is turned to him. Your first day, your first night and ball as a debutant, and you think you may have found a man you would like to marry. Foolish wishing, others would tell you if they knew you thought this. So you never shared it. You would not whisper it to a soul, but keep it inside a pocket of your heart only to be spoken until the wish comes true. 

It is not long until you are on your way back home, sitting across from your mother in your carriage. The street lights illuminate the carriage as you pass through town, the fabric of your dress shining as you play the flimsy material along your thighs. You yawn, sleeping creeping and taking over you from the change of chaos to quiet tranquility. You’re slouching forward, the ache in your back growing and not letting you sit straight. 

 Your mother scolded you, but laughed, when you told her why it hurt to do so. You rolled your eyes before looking out the window and thinking of Mr. Price. You wanted to ask your mother how they knew each other, why she pulled you away so quickly, what she thought of him. But you spoke not, shaking the thoughts out of your head and happy enough with the idea that you will see him again tomorrow. A love match to be made.

☆☆

General John Price tiredly makes his way to the far end of White’s furnished bar. The club had a signature smell of tobacco and thick wood polish, smoke and cups of brandy filled his vision in a stark contrast to the flowery and bright ballroom he had just made his way from. To be fair, he did not want to come here so late in the night, but an old friend invited him and the man was not one to break a promise. He approached a group of men at a far back table, all talking over a game of cards with several cups half full and empty scattered across the table. John made his way towards the chair on the farthest end, giving the man who sat in it a good strong pat. 

“Johnny boy!” He greets. The man in the chair looks back, jumping in surprise before a wide smile appears as he realizes who is in front of him. 

“Price! I dinnae think you’d come, old man.” The man, Johnny, exclaims before standing to properly shake and give the General a hug. They share a laugh and exchange pleasantries before Johnny introduces him to the other Lords who he was previously talking to. Price recognized a few from the ball, he had wondered where they had wandered off so early. 

“I assume yer awfully tired from havin’ many young girls stepping on yer toes tonight, aye?” Johnny jokes, leading Price away from the group and to the bar. He orders them a whiskey each, the glasses clinking as they share a toast to the older man’s coming back to town. Price shakes his head lightly, “I will admit that I underestimated just how…draining this prospect would be.” John sighs, downing the glass in front of him with one gulp. He plays with the rim of his glass and watches the remaining drops swirl in the dim light of the room, he thinks of how many young ladies there were and it was only the first night. Each was as pretty and delicate as a flower, bright smiles and rosy cheeks but altogether, desperate and grasping onto any man who looked their way. Though he could not blame them, it was what they were born and raised to do, it was all they knew to do.

“Exactly why I haven’t taken on the task myself. Yer stronger than I’ll ever be Cap’in,” Johnny chuckles, taking a sip from his own glass. “Did you meet a lass you might set your sights on?”  The younger man grins, nudging the elder as he notices his eyes drifting down in thought at the question. 

“I found a Miss I am to call on tomorrow. She seems agreeable, timid but with a sense of humour and not as” he pauses to find the right word, “eager as the other ladies. Though her mother stepped in before I could invite her for a dance. Does not matter, we have a whole season to talk and dance and do what people do in courtship. If all goes well, I may have a wife soon.” Price says, going back to fidgeting with his glass. As he looks at it though, he can't help but think about the girl. From the way they met, to her mannerisms, she truly did intrigue him. Only now that he looked back on their interactions does he feel as if he forgot something. He moves the glass back and forth, watching the light seep through and glimmer– trying to remember something important he has forgotten but cannot seem to place. 

“A Mrs.Price, at last!” Johnny exclaims, Price rolls his eyes. “And do tell, my dear friend, what is her name?” 

John freezes at the words. His eyes widened and head rising in a swift motion. He stares at Johnny, shock and realization written all over. That’s what he forgot. Johnny catches on immediately, eyes widening with his friends. 

“Dinnae tell me…” 

“I did not catch it.” 

The men look at each other a second longer before Johnny begins to shake his head. “Now how in the hell do ye forget to ask a lass her name, John? You’re the general, for christ sakes, aren’t ye supposed to have a strategic battle plan for everything ye do?” He lets out a dramatic sigh, brows furrowing and going to rub his temples in disappointment. Price slouches and rubs his eyes with his palms, trying to wipe away the fog of his mind. 

“I figured I did not need to ask as I knew her mother, she was an old family friend. It has just occurred to me I never knew who she married. The girl and I met in a rather odd situation as well, I didn't even have time to ask her.” 

Johnny slowly chuckles in disbelief at his words, “That poor girl is going to be truly devastated when you don’t show up tomorrow morning.”

“Mactavish,” John says his name sternly, eyeing the younger man in warning. 

Johnny holds his hands up in surrender, before grabbing his unfinished glass of whiskey and downing the remaining contents. The men sit together in silence, waiting and thinking for a kind of solution to help with the unfortunate circumstance. 

“I tell ye what,” Johnny interrupts after a few moments, “My sister, she’s in her first year as a debutante and friends with almost half of the lassies in Mayfair. Come over in the morning, and I believe we can ask for her help identifying your bonnie, aye?” 

The proposal interested John enough to consider it, to think of how it would play out. “She would not mind?” 

“Nay, all I’ve got to do is tell her yer a friend, that’ll put you off as a potential suitor and help yer little predicament.” Johnny grins, with teeth, for having thought of the idea. In all fairness, it was not the best or brightest plan, but who is John Price, a General of the British Armies to say no to a friend simply trying to help him. 

☆☆☆

You awake at the crack of dawn, a giddy and anxious feeling bubbling in the pit of your belly from the second you opened your eyes. It was with you the whole morning– as your maid helped you dress, as you ate breakfast, as you talked to your mother and brother of what bachelors you predict may come to call. 

“Lord Harding was quite taken with you last night, my dear. As well as Lord Langley and even Mr. Anderson, their mothers and I spoke of what a handsome match you would be with either of them. They are agreeable men, are they not Johnny?” Your mother says, sitting across from you on a plush settee and drinking a cup of tea. Johnny, who was sitting in the chair nearest to the window and farthest from you replies with a nod. “Aye, though Anderson’s got a taste for losing a pretty sum every time he’s at the club.” He comments, looking out the window as if waiting for something. Your mother lets out a small ‘ah’ and nods her head at the information. You roll your eyes and manage to bite your tongue. It was too exciting of a day to waste your energy bickering with him. 

“I talked to another gentleman as well last night.” You share instead. Johnny turns his head toward you, slightly tilted in questions.  

“Aye, did ye?” Johnny questions you, doubt in his voice. He looks back out the window when the noise of a carriage passes by– not even bothering to hear your answer. “Yes, I did. He was kind, kinder than the other men I talked to all night.” You reply, brows furrowing and staring daggers at him. “Oh please, darling, I hardly doubt he’d come today. You did not share a dance, or even speak for that long.” Your mother says, making you slightly frown and look to her. 

“Perhaps after your next meeting he shall come to see you. And does he not seem a bit older to you? Would you not prefer a younger man, closer to your age? Remember, we have the whole of the season to find you a match, my love. Try not to think of him and focus on the men who do come today, yes?” You sigh, fighting your frown from deepening at her words. You try to slouch in your corset (which was pulled tighter today) to help the still aching injury on your back. Your mother catches you and lets out a ‘tsk’, a reminder that she is watching your every move. You almost start to argue with her, already upset and bothered. Your mouth opens and brows furrow but are interrupted before you can get any words out. 

‘Excuse me,” Johnny suddenly coughs. “But it appears as if we already have guests.” He slowly stands from his chair and makes his way to sit next to your mother. They would be your chaperones for the evening and any other event for the season. You know that he would rather not be here, but your mother had to remind him of his duty. To you, and to the family.

“How exciting! Now remember,” Your mother exclaims before assessing you with her eyes, “smile, be kind, and do not push too hard on the whole…love match aspect. We want our guests to feel welcome and to get to know them, yes?” You nod obediently, not minding her words. Such control, the woman wanted. From your hair to your shoes and dress, she tried her best to dress and present you as a pretty doll. “Yes, mother.” You nod once more, your lip forming into a thin line of a smile as you manage to sit up straight and mentally ready yourself. 

Many suitors came to call, the room filling with men and the sound of laughter as the day went on. They brought you flowers, boxes of chocolate, and some even went as far as bringing you a pair of earrings with your favorite jewels. The room was filled with gifts and men by noon, the energy and rushing making you grow weary by the third gentleman caller. It was strange, having so many eyes on you and being the center of attention. To have men try to entertain you with their small talk and aspirations in marriage and life, hoping you’d pick and entertain them back. 

Through it all, you kept thinking of Mr.Price. In the few minutes you spoke together, it did not feel like this at all. You wondered if it would be the same in your next meeting, if you would be tense or if he would be as welcoming as before. Every time a suitor left or came, you looked toward the door for any sight of him. You wanted to sight in disappointment each time you did not see him. The ache in your back only reminded you of him furthermore which each movement you made, his presence there even if he wasn’t. 

The whole of the morning felt so unnatural. Saying all the practiced and calculated responses your mother taught you, not like you at all. Even watching her speak to the callers, seeing her smile and compliment you so kindly felt like you were a part of some grand facade and did not know your role in it. As exciting as it was, it was also quite terrifying. The mountain of expectations was a weight you could not shake off of your shoulders.

It was strange to think, but to find any kind of normality throughout it all, you looked to Johnny. He sat at the window seat again, glancing over to watch you and your mother every few seconds, just as before. His presence grounded you, even if distant. While your mother put on an act, he was still himself. Your distant, kind but irritating, brother. 

You were in the middle of speaking to your mother's preferred suitor, Lord Harding, when you saw Johnny rise from his seat and excuse himself from the room. Your eyes follow him, and you can’t help but feel a small sense of disappointment and sadness watching him go. Of course he wouldn’t stay. You thought to yourself, but quickly shake the thought from your head and continue your conversation with the man beside you. 

“The gardens in my family home are quite beautiful, each rose bush having been planted and cared for since the start of my family's lineage. My mother hopes to host a ball near the end of the season, I hope I am able to show them to you soon.” The man says to you, his voice sincere and kind.The gentleman was kind and respectful, young and handsome with a sort of boyish charm that made talking to him a bit easier than the other callers. “I would be most delighted to.” You reply with a smile, ready to ask him more about his family home when you see your brother walk back into the room from the corner of your eye. You hadn’t expected him to come back, much less with a guest. You move your body slightly, turning to see who it was he came back with. 

What you saw next, you did not expect.The sight shocks you. Your eyes widen, a gasp leaves you, and your heart almost leaps out of your chest when you realize who was with your brother. Your mother, who has been sitting across from you, follows your line of sight. Her eyes widen slightly as well, before a sigh leaves her lips. 

Johnny’s guest locked eyes on you the second he stepped in the room.

“Mr.Price.” The name leaves your mouth before you can even think. 

“Miss…Mactavish.” He looks just as shocked as you were. His eyes widen, but the same soft smile from last night makes its way upon his lips.

“What?” Johnny cuts in. You both look towards him the second he speaks. Confused, and almost upset, Johnny's eyes meet yours. You open your mouth, ready to explain, but he only looks back to the man at the door. 

Now, you have seen him upset a handful of times, but in those times you knew what to do. Knew what to say, knew when to walk away.  But looking at him look at Price, all you could do was hold your breath. 

Oh hell. 

Thank you for reading </3!! Comments and reblogs are v much appreciated! If you have any insights please leave them kindly!!

A/n: This chapter was meant to be a bit silly, but im not sure if i was able to do it that well🥲 Also my first time writing a Scottish accent for Johnny! Apologies if i got anything wrong. More to come soon and I hope you all enjoyed 🩵💖!!

[gloomwitchwrites]

Thinking about…Regency!141 AU

Regency!Price who is a widower. He lost his wife and child during childbirth. Since then, Price has lived a fairly lonely life, vowing to never remarry to not further leave himself to potential grief. He throws himself into his work and his estate, expecting to remain single and heirless until his death. But a certain someone comes stumbling into his path, and suddenly Price’s life becomes bright and vibrant again.

Regency!Soap is the rake of society. He flirts with every woman who crosses his path (married or not). He indulges in too much drink, loves a good duel, and genuinely enjoys the fact that he’s living his best life. But Soap is the first-born son. There are standards and expectations. The pressure is mounting, and he needs to find a wife fast.

Regency!Ghost who is the brooding bachelor of the bunch. He’s confident, well-mannered, and handsome, but he’s incredibly cold upon first meeting him. Many young women fancy him but he doesn’t appear to fancy them. Until he meets one who has a mouth and demeanor that easily matches his. Ghost loathes her, but he also loves her.

Regency!Gaz is the newest eligible bachelor. He’s landed. Rich. Handsome. He’s charismatic, and a favorite amongst the ladies. But Gaz is harboring a secret. One of his dearest friends, a woman he adores, has his whole heart. But she’s engaged to another. Her wedding is arriving quickly, and he might just be selfish enough to ruin it all just so he can have her.

[yeyinde]

someone say creepy regency price x maid?

p!link: https://xhamster.com/videos/maid-getting-fucked-hard-14510307

like. i grew up with the word skedaddle thrown abouts pretty liberally here and there. but never really had a mental image in my head for what it kinda looked like. until now. because my god. did she just skedaddle on outta there, hey

but basically the whole vibe, yeah. i want it to be ultra creepy. i want him to give you a queasy feeling in your stomach whenever he's around lmao

like he makes you clean his desk (while he's sitting in his chair), with an obvious hard-on. probs gropes you, too. doesn't even try anymore to make it seem like something proper. bends you over the desk (a la the above) and then makes you clean up the mess all over again when you're done all with his cock still out, drinking scotch and smoking a cigar. totally casual as if he wasn't making you stammer out bible passages about premarital sex and sin in the evening while him and his wife watch you humiliate yourself. condemning your illiteracy for poor character instead of, you know, having to take care of a family as the sole breadwinner.

he's a scoundrel. def says, "i pay you, which means i own you, love." or, "if you don't like it, you can always leave" knowing full well you have mouths to feed and no one else will hire you because he blacklisted you in almost every surrounding county. like, gross. so, so gross. literally views you as his property because his wife decided this little street urchin was less likely to steal her gems over the rest 🙄

[ryuzakemo128]

How Did You Find Me?

Pairing: Duke!Poly!141 x female reader/ you cw: drug use, protestation, smut, sexual tension, your ex shows up, hinting at possible opium repeat use. Words: 627 Masterlist Divider Credit: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics Summary: How did they find you there?

John interrupted your time with your ex, he noticed you were blindfolded and your ex’s cock was about to slide into your wet, sopping warmth when John decided to walk into your bedroom. You didn’t think he’d find out so quickly. You were mistaken when you thought you could hide this from him. 

What were you doing with your pathetic excuse of an ex? You should have gone to them instead if you were this desperate. 

What are you doing getting all hot and bothered, squirming around for a guy who would pretend your relationship wasn’t real to satisfy his mother’s concern? 

Eyes burning with a fury you could feel despite the pastel pink silk blindfold covering your eyes. You picked it out, thinking it would be a fun time to spend separating yourself from the four dukes whomst thought were losing a lover a month ago. 

You never thought they’d find you this fast. As you were always careful about who was looking at you, who saw what part of you and where. How did they know to find you in some dingy little brothel on the coast of Somalia? 

The thought of you getting yourself caught in such a compromising position. Both terrified you and aroused you at the same time. 

But the voice cutting through the fog is unmistakable. High from the opium you took to take the edge off. Thinking, ‘They’re not going to know. They won’t find me down here’ and ‘I’ve done a little prostitution work for the guy. Who says I can’t do it again?’.

It wasn’t until you were carried off the bed by someone else completely, it wasn’t until the blindfold is ripped from your face that you see someone other than John. Simon’s glare through the bright sunlight, sun rays spilling through from outside peering through the windows. The sudden bright light making you squint your eyes. 

Was your ship that recognisable in the dark, gloomy skies? What urged them to find you like this? Who told them to look for you? Why did they look for you?

The low groan from the depths of your throat as the room spiral, just enough to make you sick if you opened your eyes again. The nausea building inside your stomach. The combination of gin and opium. 

A dreadful idea on your part. One could also say it was a godawful one. A careless action to undertake.

“Who do you think you are? Recklessly endangering yourself in a…..place like this?” Simon hissed into your ear.

You tried opening up your eyes again, “I can explain everything.” 

The four dukes weren’t having any of it. They spotted you after months of trying to find you again. “I’d rather not hear your excuses right now.” John wiped the opium from your nose, his anger palpable, clearly appalled with the state they found you in. 

Your creamy nectar all over the centre of your thighs like a begotten, exiled son, a symbol of your lost innocence to a man who didn’t even bother to remember your name after he’d had his fill. 

The desperation mixed in with the opium, the sex, the lust and the carnal need to be taken like you were some kind of thrill seeker. Seeking out new tastes only to forget them as soon as you have taken the first bite. 

It wasn’t the first time you tried opium. As you so drunkenly state on the way to your lovely Defiant. Leaving your ex behind. Right inside the brothel’s room, heart pounding inside his chest. Fuming with rage at their interference. 

By the time you were awake again or conscious again, you were inside your bedroom heaving, vomiting into your bucket. 

How did they find you there?

[hostilecandle]

This Truth Is So Well Fixed

Pairing: John Price X M! Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Gentleman Price and Male Reader in a Regency AU

Tags/Warnings: Mildly Suggestive, Age Gap, Light Angst, Time Period Accurate Internalized Homophobia, Miscommunication, VERY light religious symbolism/imagery (mentioned like once), Fluff

A/N: I wrote this with the reader being in his Mid 20s while Price is a little older than his reboot version and its in his Early to Mid 40s. Cross posted to my Ao3 Here. Fic below the cut! Enjoy <3

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” -Jane Austen

It’s late, no one knows you’re out here. You shouldn't be out here. The stars shine overhead and the whisper of the wind whisking through the trees sends a chill down your spine. You should be in bed, resting like the rest of the world. But your home itself haunts you, every time you step foot inside you think of your last encounter with the gentleman Mr. Price. A tall, wealthy, handsome man and friend of your late father’s.

You’ve known Mr. Price since you were quite young, a consistent presence in your life as you grew from a boy into the man you are today. A steady figure that has helped you navigate all this callous world has to offer. You’ve always held a great admiration for the man, he had an air of strength and dignity that rivaled no other. It was intoxicating to be around, to stand in his presence as he commands the attention of a room as naturally as breathing. Mr. Price had never married in his youth and while the notion had always intrigued you, you pushed the thought from your mind long ago out of respect for the man’s privacy. 

That respect and admiration you held for the older man had shifted over the years into something you’d never speak aloud. That didn't stop the thoughts that ran wild whenever he came near. Every visit was something you cherished, you coveted every gruff word spoken between you two, and replayed every brief touch made in passing.

Long past have the days of boyish naivety and now that admiration has turned into a man’s wanting. In the aftermath of those visits, the sound of his voice keeps you company in the lonely dark of your bedroom. In your privacy, you hold yourself in a firm grip as you imagine those hands that gripped your shoulder in the midst of laughter to be the very hands that touch you now. And when you are finished, you sit in your shame promising every time will be the last. And then like clockwork, Mr. Price will call for a visit and the cycle repeats.

For years this has been how it has worked. But a fortnight ago the two of you had shared a night of spirits and laughter. However, as the night wore on and the conversation shifted to more deep and intimate topics, the prospect of you marrying soon came about. Now, you have not set eyes upon any woman, too busy looking at the man across from you for several years. But you're aware what is expected of you, and naturally you looked to the older man for guidance.

Mr. Price seemed to have stiffened at the topic, looking off to the side, avoiding eye contact. Something that is very unusual for him. With the courage of alcohol and familiarity running through your veins, you confess you've never met a woman who has caught your eye. This catches his attention and he turns back to face you, this time making direct eye contact with you as you speak. Feeling anxious under his gaze you stand to pace the room, his eyes following you as you continue to air your fears of finding a lady suited to you. At some point he rises as well, coming to stand behind you, a solid presence at your back.

He places a firm and steady hand on your shoulder and you relax in the familiar gesture. After a moment of silence, his grip tightens and he turns you around before 

Gently pushing you against the wall to your back. He steps into your space, a leg pressed between yours and he looks into your eyes before glancing down at your lips. Your heart feels like it's about to beat out of your chest, you have spent years imagining this, and now here it is and you find yourself at a loss for words. 

He dips his head down and you lean in, smelling the scent of tobacco and the drinks you've shared tonight. He looks back at your eyes one last time before closing the distance. You can't help the small groan that escapes your lips and in return feel his hand grip the side of your neck and face like a man possessed. He kisses you like he’s dying of thirst and your lips are the only thing that can quench his ache. As the kiss deepens you roll your hips against the leg he’s had pinned between yours, and suddenly it all stops.

Price steps back, his eyes wide with horror. The coolness of the air in his absence raises bumps along your skin and you reach to pull him back, still confused as to why he disappeared. He takes another step back before turning sharply on his heel. Grabbing his jacket and hastily putting it on. 

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn't have done that. If you’ll excuse me.” 

“Mr. Price wait-” you begin but he is already brushing past you and walking towards the front door. The sound of the door closing echoes down the hall and you can feel the dread seep into your bones at the finality of it. ‘What have I done?’

Shaking yourself from the memory, you find the night has grown colder still while you were lost in thought. Deciding enough is enough and clearly the night air isn't helping you clear your head any, you head back inside. After sneaking in quietly so as not to disturb anyone else in the residence, you begin to head towards your room.

Suddenly there comes a loud knock at the door, practically making you jump from your skin. Who could be calling so late at night? The knock sounds again and you rush back to the door before whoever it was woke everyone up and you’ll also have questions as to why you’re up so late. Opening the door, a tall man stood disheveled and shrouded in moonlight, hand raised as if to knock again. You’d know that silhouette anywhere, it's been haunting your mind for years. Once the shock wears off you begin to speak in a raised whisper.

“Mr. Price! What are you doing h-”

“John. Please, call me John.” He interrupts, uncharacteristically.

“John.” You whisper softly. “What are you doing here at this hour? People will most certainly talk. Come inside.”

You usher him inside and offer to take his jacket. Holding a finger to your lips, an indicator for silence, you motion for him to follow you to your private bedroom, away from any listening ears.

He follows closely, slipping in behind you, avoiding eye contact as you shut the door behind him.

Turning, you finally get a good look at him. He looks unkempt, bags under his eyes, and certainly not fit to be seen in any form of polite society and you begin to worry. Silence stretches between the two of you as he shifts his weight uncharacteristically from foot to foot. Deciding to break the silence first, “Mr. Price, what are you doing here? Is everything alright?”

He looks at you then and you remember his request at the door. “John.” You begin again and he snaps to attention as though you had burned him. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

He opens his mouth to say something and then closes it. This happens several times before he seems to lose his nerve. “I’m sorry.” He croaks out. “This- this was a bad idea. I shouldn't have bothered you.”

You reach out and grab his arm before he can walk out the door again. “John… talk to me. Please. If it’s about the last time you were here, Im sorry-”

This time, it's him that turns to you, his eyes incredulous. “Now why are you apologizing? That should be me. I should be begging you not to tell anyone, practically groveling for betraying you in the way I have. I should offer you anything you’d like and walk away so you never see my face again. Why are you apologizing to me?” He sounds confused and wrecked and this time you join in the confusion reverting back to the comfort of formality. 

“Mr. Price, I thought you were simply giving me what I have desired for so long now. Offering yourself to comfort me as I have longed you would, and I am so sorry to have tempted you so.”

As you’re speaking he runs a hand through his hair and barks out a laugh, almost self deprecating, before he speaks again. “You? You think you have tempted me? I am almost twice your age and you truly believe that you have wronged me, regardless of the fact that I forced myself upon you while you were in a state of distress and have betrayed any trust you may have once had in me?”  

“I'm sorry, Mr. Price. I’m afraid I’m not understanding. Were you not acting on my poorly hidden desires?”

This seems to level him in some way. His shifting has stopped and now he stands, back straight with leveled shoulders as he stares into your eyes. “Your desires?” He whispers before taking a step forward. Confused, you take a step back and feel the hard plane of the door against you. Taking another step forward he asks, “Am I to understand that you have desires for me?” 

You look away as your face floods with embarrassment. He takes a final step, this time crowding against you, pressing you against the door to your back. “I'm sorry.” You whisper as shame flows through you.

He shushes you as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “You haunt me.” He leans in close, your faces are almost touching and he grabs your chin. Running his thumb along your bottom lip and feeling your breath tremble beneath his touch. He forces you to make eye contact as his lips graze against yours, the touch but a whisper.

"I want to hear your voice catch in ecstasy, my love. Wanna hear you moan in my ear the way you did when I first kissed you. In my dreams whimpers fall from your lips, wet and hot. I want to catch your breath in mine and devour your sounds. I want to hold them between my teeth. I’ve wanted you for the better of five years now. From the moment I realized you’d grown to become a man I haven't been able to breathe right around you."

You can't believe what you are hearing. It seems too good to be true. He leans back to look you in the eye, you can see the seriousness and truth in the words he speaks. He means every word he’s spoken. "Do you understand what I'm saying, my dear? What I'm asking, no, what I’m begging for? Can you hear the pleas that fall off my tongue for your ears alone? Will you allow me to satiate the hunger that burns within me for you? Will you let me have you?"

You find yourself nodding under his intensity, trapped between his arm by your head and the hand holding your face a small “Yes, please” falls from your lips before he’s kissing you breathless, stealing the air from your lungs. Once he's had his fill of your lips, his mouth travels the column of your throat, across your shoulders and down your arm kisses every inch of exposed skin he can find.. He grabs your wrist and pulls back the sleeve that covers it as he presses his devotion against your knuckles and across your fingers. You're leaning against the door, still caged in by his arm and out of breath, light headed from the feeling of all his attention on you by the time he flips your wrist over to press kisses to your palm.

He pauses his ministrations, breath hot against your hand as he looks back up at you. “Have you ever kissed someone's hands?” He asks. Have you felt your very breath echo against their palm? Traced your lips along fingers and felt every divot and ridge that makes it so explicitly them? There is something so sensual about one's mouth meeting another's hand, of bowing your head and offering yourself, don’t you think?” He moves his mouth down to your wrist, placing a soft kiss at your pulse point, feeling the racing beat against his lips.

“Have you experienced the euphoric rush of your teeth grazing against the veins in a wrist, life-force itself flowing millimeters beneath your teeth? The knowledge you could bite down and fill yourself with them? ” He lightly nips before soothing it with his tongue and you have to place your other hand against your mouth to muffle the sound that is aching to come out.

He releases your wrist and stands back upright, towering over you as you now lean against the door for support. He reaches a hand out to you to help you up, and you reach out to grab it, a bastardization of The Creation of Adam. You find yourself laughing as he pulls you up and leads you over to the bed.

This night began the start of years of love and strife. A constant battle for secrecy and peace from the prying eyes of society. Several years later, late at night, John asks why you put up with it. You could've had anything you wanted and still you chose him. It was simple you told him, you love him. You could tell this wasn't good enough to sate him so you grab his hand and lead him to the window. 

“We are made of love, John. We are made to love. To love deeply, love passionately. We are made to love so intently it hurts and and love so softly there's no sweeter experience on this Earth. We are created to fall in love John, just a little, with every single person we come across.”

He huffs a bit at that and you smile turning to him as you place a hand on his cheek, “After all, how can one not fall in love with a masterpiece, every one of us handcrafted and designed with the utmost care and patience. We desire love so we make our own gods to devote ourselves to and ask they adore us in return. We seek love in friends and family and strangers.” 

You look back out the window to the stars that fill the sky. “We seek love in the oceans and stars, pleading with them to love us back. Staring at their seemingly infinite vastness, begging them to bare themselves to us the way we do to them. It's the same way with you, John. I would have given anything because I love you.” 

He places a hand against your cheek and turns your head to face him again. He kisses you softly and then pulls you away from the window and back to bed. As you lay back down, he pulls you against him as he kisses the top of your head. “I love you too” He whispers and you smile before drifting off, happy and content in the life you built together.

[Dividers by the-aesthetic-shop and firefly-graphics]

[cutiecusp]

Catching up with Bridgerton while I've been sick, and let me tell you I am INSPIRED.

Halfway through my regency series, and I'm about to write some Captain Price...

@xoxunhinged our man is 🫠🫠🫠

[deconstructthesoup]

Every time I rewatch A Court of Fey and Flowers, my mind comes back to a single question:

[king-of-the-mouseboys]

hmmm feel like being a king’s treasured bard. Showered with gifts of fine jewelry and clothing, treated to fine wines and desserts, all because I’m his beloved little thing, all for his eyes and ears, to share or to keep all to himself.

[anliafail]

JOHNNY LEE MILLER and FRANCES O’ CONNOR as Edmund Bertram and Fanny Price in MANSFIELD PARK (1999) | dir. PATRICIA ROZEMA 

[sailforvalinor]

Who doesn't like Edmund??????? HOW can they not like Edmund?????????? He's the best of the Bertrums!!!!

Well, to be fair, being the best of the Bertrams is not too difficult, lol.

But yes, a LOT of people dislike Edmund, like, probably the majority of the Austen community. I agree!!! It’s so frustrating!!!

Like, Darcy insulted Elizabeth’s family to her face and actively separated her sister from the man she loved, Captain Wentworth ignored Anne’s existence and courted other girls in front of her on purpose, Edward was engaged to another woman while courting Elinor, and we give them passes, but we come down so hard on Edmund for *checks notes* letting Mary ride on Fanny’s horse for too long.

Yes yes, obviously there was more to that incident, but the point still stands—Edmund has committed far less grievous mistakes than most Austen heroes, but he’s the most hated. Why is this??

There’s a couple reasons for this, I think: we never get to see him actually in love with Fanny, and, unlike most Austen heroes, he never gets to perform any sort of grand gesture to make amends for his mistakes. We know that he does fall in love with Fanny and that these amends must have been made (especially seeing how quick he is to apologize to Fanny when he realizes he's been neglecting her in other places in the novel), but Austen deliberately chooses to narrate these events without actually giving them to us directly. Admittedly, this frustrates me, but I understand why: Mansfield Park is not a love story. There is a romance in the story, but that isn't what the narrative is fundamentally concerned with--the narrative is fundamentally concerned with Fanny's development and strength of character independent of (you might even say in spite of) the other characters in the novel. Unlike Pride and Prejudice or Emma, Fanny's character development is not incited by the actions of the hero (which, to be clear, I don't have any issue with--Mansfield Park just has a different narrative formula). Fanny overall is what you might call a static character--not in the sense that she is not fleshed-out or well-developed, but in that she does not go through a lot of character change. Rather, instead of her arc being about changing to become a better person, her arc is about her struggle to remain the good person that she is in spite of outside pressure to change to become more like the rest of the world. (For a really good example of a static character arc, look no further than Captain America!) It's not that Fanny doesn't go through any character growth whatsoever, she definitely does, but this growth overall roots her more deeply into what she believed before, rather than inciting change. The more I think about it, actually, the more it seems like Mansfield Park is a typical "Austen" story told from the perspective of the love interest.

It is actually Edmund who goes through the more dynamic character arc that we associate with most protagonists--which is why I've been thinking for ages that a retelling of Mansfield Park from his perspective could be REALLY interesting. Because told from his perspective, Mansfield Park undoubtedly becomes a love story where it did not hold that status previously. And Edmund would make such a great protagonist!!! There is SO MUCH about his character that I find absolutely fascinating. He of course has a very strong moral compass, which is something I've always admired him for, and despite his attraction to Mary and delusion about her character, is never once even tempted to change his profession from a clergyman to earn Mary's love. We really don't give Edmund enough credit for coming out so well-adjusted and morally upright as he did, coming from a family like the Bertram's. He is also fundamentally very kind, but what's so interesting about him is that he is not, though he certainly tries, always the most attentive. He certainly never neglects Fanny on purpose and is horrified when he finds out that he has, but the fact still remains that he is not the most emotionally perceptive (I'm actually very tempted to draw some parallels between him and Catherine Morland here). Edmund possesses a lot of book-smarts, but is somewhat lacking in social intelligence--or, for lack of a better term, street-smarts. I don't know what textual evidence there is to support this, but I've always had the impression that up until the beginning of the novel, Edmund hadn't had much experience mingling in society, given how as soon as he finished college he was brought straight home to manage Sir Bertram's estate while he was away in Antigua. Regardless of whether or not this is actually the case, it's clear that Edmund is a terrible judge of character despite how morally upright he himself is, which is absolutely fascinating to me. (Again! Catherine parallels!!) Fanny makes a direct contrast to Edmund in this regard--she does not possess the same book knowledge or have the advantage of the education that he had, but she is, though unconsciously, the most emotionally intelligent person in the room and the best judge of character in the entire book.

It is this contrast, but with their shared beliefs about the world and what is right and good, that cements my belief in how well-suited they are for each other. Edmund does not challenge Fanny to change, but Fanny's steadfastness of character does motivate Edmund to change--when he realizes that she perceived what sort of person Henry Crawford was all along and that she was right to refuse him, it exposes to him just how blind he is to the character of others. Edmund basically goes through the same sort of arc that Austen's heroines go through, but this time the roles have been reversed! IT'S JUST SO COOL

Anyway, sorry for rambling. TL;DR, I'm not going to try to convince you that Edmund Bertram is on the same level as Mr. Knightley or Mr. Tilney, but PLEASE examine him critically before you write him off as trash, because he really isn't.

[mimiiis]

Regency!Au — ft. 141 x Fem!Reader

❥ join me, dear reader, in a small and silly au full of stories on how I think it would be like to court the CoD men in the regency era.

❥ each story takes place within their own time, with each passing route you are a completely different woman! Every member of the 141 has their own unique story so do not fret if I have not written your fave yet, it is all planned in a specific order </3

❥ im so excited to be making this series! please be patient with me as I write and get through it all :,) Bridgerton is my all time favorite comfort show and mixing it with a fandom I've wanted to write for a while now is something very fun for me, I have had this idea for over a year and I'm so happy to finally be sharing them! These stories will take heavy inspo from the show and books in terms of tropes and small details, everything i know about the regency is limited so please be patient and kind when or if i make a mistake :,). if you like anything or have thoughts, feel free to leave any notes or something in my inbox ♥︎♥︎

☆☆☆

General John Price - Must be love pt.1

+ more stories to come...

♥︎

[womeninfictionandirl]

Fanny Price by flominowa

[celenawrites]

pride and prejudice but make it task force 141

[ryuzakemo128]

Foul Play

Pairing: Duke!Poly!141 x Pirate Hunter/ Princess Female reader CW: Blood, gruesome and graphic details, death, pirate hunting. Protective female reader. Words: 420 Credit for Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics Masterlist Summary: “WHERE IS HE?!” you yelled out. The halls moving the sound through faster than you assumed it would have.

You stormed through the front doors, kicking them in with your feet, marching into the mansion, covered in pirate blood, “WHERE IS HE?!” you yelled out. The halls moving the sound through faster than you assumed it would have.

Price couldn't believe his eyes when he saw you, the man you were glaring at. He was the one who gave you the contract. Only for him to double-cross you later. Bringing back the head of the pirate, he sent you on a wild goose chase. Now rests in your hand.

You weren’t glaring at Price, much to his relief. Your eyes were on your contractor. Phillip Graves. 

“You have some kind of nerve to be here.” you snarl. “Do you know what this is?” You shoved the severed head, which resembled the description of the pirate he made up. Only vaguely fitting it. 

“Leave, take your foul forked tongue elsewhere. You can take your claws and your lies to somewhere else.” you shoved the severed head further into his chest. Which coincidentally betrayed the four men. “Did you really think sending me away from those four would do you any good?” 

You snapped your fingers in front of his face, grabbing his cheeks to make him look at yours. “Don't look at them. You're not dealing with them. You. are. talking. to. me. And when I say you leave, I mean it."

Phillip Graves. Your former contractor. 

Traitor to the four dukes. The scoundrel who sent you on a wild goose chase after a pirate he claimed was too ‘elusive’. Though, his story always felt too tacked on to be real. When you found out that pirate was indeed fake. You hunted a different pirate and came back with their head instead.

So now there it is. The four of them. They finally saw just how protective you are over the people you loved. You practically dragged that man out of there by yourself. Something Ghost still finds alluring, bewitching, captivating. 

Johnny and Kyle exchanged a knowing look, understanding the bond that had formed between the two of you. Simon remained stoic, his eyes never leaving yours, a hint of admiration flickering in the depths of his gaze.

John said, “We don’t take betrayal lying down.” Sometime afterwards. 

“Good thing you took it standing up.” you quipped.

Ghost let out a low chuckle, his masked face betraying no emotion, his eyes shone with amusement. Soap and Gaz exchanged a look, surprised by your audacity, yet impressed by your fiery spirit.

[vgilantee]

@glossysoap don’t feel bad about the new chapter of RtC taking so long because my most recent and favourite series’ most recent chapter?

you see that? JULY 2022. i have half a chapter drafted but i just. haven’t written…

(also i’m almost certain i found your blog because of RTC so i will wait forever and ever for new chapters idc because it brought me you <3)

[desdasiwrites]

– Jane Austen, Mansfield Park