#the best thing you can be as a woman in the regency era is a widow
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usergrantaire · 6 months ago
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has cressida considered simply poisoning her husband’s tea
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fushitoru · 3 months ago
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chapter 3: the manor a bridgerton!au
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pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader
summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, heir to a dukedom mr. satoru gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?
warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly
chapter summary ⸺ you and gojo have just uncovered your mothers' matchmaking scheme: a plan that sends you both to his extravagant countryside manor in kent, arriving a week earlier than the rest of the ton. the question remains—can you endure gojo's insufferable nature during this secluded stay? (8.3k)
prev. the aftermath | next. the game
general masterlist | series masterlist
a/n krnfeknfkejrn i was so tired writing this chapter but used it to procrastinate on the reports and papers i have to write for internship/reports (wtf is quantum physics anyways). ty as always to @/sinn-clair for being the best beta reader <33333
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Dear readers, 
Apparently, last week, there was an altercation in Lady Itadori’s drawing room involving Lord Gojo, Miss Itadori, and a dog. The dog was the victor. 
Furthermore, If one is to trust the betting books, then Lord Gojo shall be witness to wedding bells before the year is through.
As much as it pains This Author to agree with the betting books (they are written by men, and thus inherently flawed), This Author must concur in the prediction.
Duchess Gojo will soon have her daughter-in-law. But who she will be⸺ah, Gentle Reader, that is still anyone’s guess. 
⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS
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Mary Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights of Woman⸺a work I have long heard whispers about but never fully encountered until now. Her words, as bold as they are revolutionary, have struck a chord deep within me. She speaks of the education and independence of women, of our capacity for reason and our right to be regarded as more than mere adornments to the lives of men. Her arguments are so meticulously crafted, so unwavering in their conviction, that they have compelled me to reflect on my own circumstances.
I confess, there is something intoxicating about the notion that women might be more than what society has so neatly confined us to be. Is it truly so outlandish to consider that we, too, possess minds capable of great thought and spirits yearning for freedom?
I cannot help but wonder if there will ever come a time when these two worlds might reconcile⸺the status quo and that of what the book articulates. When women might be both respected and fre
Before you could finish writing in your diary, you suddenly heard frantic footsteps down the hallway, leading closer and closer to your door. Nobara bursts into the room, and you look up at her in confusion and, partially, dread. Nobara wouldn’t be bursting into your room unless there was someone who absolutely couldn’t see what you were doing in your past time.
Before she could catch her breath, she wheezed out, “Your mother.”
You quickly hopped into action with practiced and routine movements. Lunging for the floorboard that had hollow space beneath it, you moved it so you could place the book and your diary underneath and quickly hide evidence of you reading scandalous and radical works.
Just in time, it seemed, as your mother walked into your room to see you on your bed.
She squinted her eyes in suspicion. “What were you doing?”
You averted her gaze. “Nothing, just daydreaming, Mama.”
Usually, she would prod further into the matter, but it seemed as if she was too excited for that. Clapping her hands, she exclaimed, “I have just got an exclusive invitation for you! One that could secure you a very good match.”
You gave her a quizzical look as she walked closer, sitting at the foot of your bed with an expression of barely contained glee. “We shall be visiting the Gojo estate in Kent!”
At the mention of his name, your left eye twitched, though your mother remained oblivious. “Indeed, Mama? As is every other lady in London, I presume.”
“No, no,” she replied, waving your quip away with a dismissive hand. “We are to arrive at the Gojo estate before the house party.”
Your heart sank, dread pooling in your stomach. Oh, no, no, no, no. A sudden pressure gripped your chest, and you found yourself clutching at the bodice of your dress as if to steady your racing heart. “Before the house party, Mama?” Your voice, despite your best efforts, came out higher-pitched than usual, though you tried to maintain a semblance of composure. “Whatever for?”
“To secure an advantage, of course!” she replied with a bright smile, as though the matter were the simplest thing in the world. “The Gojo family has extended a personal invitation for us to stay with them for a few days prior to the event. It is plain to see⸺he is quite taken with you. Even that dreadful Lady Whistledown has noted as much.” She smiled indulgently, reaching out to gently smooth a stray lock of your hair. “It is your natural grace and charm, my dear, that has made you the season’s diamond.”
As your mother continued to speak, the twisting in your stomach began to intensify, morphing from nausea into something sharper, something more akin to anger. You kept nodding, trying to maintain a slightly pained smile, but the thought of spending time at the Gojo manor, in such close quarters with him, became increasingly unbearable. The memories of your recent encounters⸺his biting remarks, his mocking gaze⸺were still fresh in your mind, and the idea that you were being pushed toward an engagement with him made your skin crawl. But you knew better than to express your true feelings to your mother.
“That is… unexpected,” you managed to say, choosing your words carefully. “Are you certain this is a good idea, Mama? Perhaps we might appear too eager and ward off other potential suitors, lest they mistake me as claimed by Gojo?”
“Nonsense!” she replied with a dismissive laugh. “If all goes well, you’ll be announcing your engagement at the house party itself!”
The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You could hardly breathe as the full weight of what she was saying sank in. An engagement. To Gojo.
You almost felt faint, but as the initial shock wore off, it was replaced by a simmering anger. How dare he? How dare Gojo make a game of this, toying with you as if your future was nothing more than a sport to him? And how could your mother not see that she was playing right into his hands?
You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure, but the anger was bubbling up, threatening to spill over. “But, Mama, what if he does not wish to marry? What if he simply enjoys… toying with people?”
Your mother’s expression softened as she reached out to pat your hand, oblivious to the storm brewing inside you. “My dear, you are overthinking this. Men like Lord Gojo may seem playful and insouciant, but they are ultimately driven by duty. A man in his position knows the importance of finding a suitable wife, and you⸺my darling⸺are just the woman for the role. You are intelligent, accomplished, and beautiful. He would be a fool not to see that.”
Each word only fueled the fire of your anger. Duty? Suitable wife? You bit your lip, feeling the weight of her expectations press down on you like a suffocating blanket. But beneath that weight was a growing resolve, a refusal to be treated like a pawn in some grand game of power and prestige. Gojo might enjoy playing with others' lives, but you would not be his plaything.
You gave her a pained smile. “If you say so, Mama…” you replied, the anger now evident in the tightness of your voice.
“Of course, I do!” she declared, rising from the bed with a self-satisfied smile. “Now, we must begin preparations immediately. There is much to be done before we depart.”
As your mother closed the door, you stormed over to the floorboard, whipped open your diary and prepped your quill to furiously write: 
Lord Gojo is a most intolerable wretch. Though his outward appearance might deceive many, there is an endless well of impurities within his character.
Indeed, God truly blesses the wrong soldiers with features such as his. However, I take pride in being one of His strongest for I possess the fortitude to resist the temptation of ending Gojo’s miserable existence myself.
Were Sukuna here, I daresay he would assist me in disposing of the body with great enthusiasm.
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While the Gojo dinner table was stocked with the finest of meals⸺that deserving of a wealthy dukedom, of course⸺Satoru found himself eyeing one dish of all⸺the scones.
Observing his mother and father, who were engrossed in deep conversation, he realized he could make the move. As discreetly as he could, he stocked his plate with many of the treats. The cook, bless his soul, knew how to make scones exactly right: soft, yet hard around the edges that have Satoru drooling when he takes a bite in to get a burst of flavor. He discreetly tucked a few sweets into his pocket for tonight’s work session on some Gojo business, thinking himself subtle.
Satoru could continue writing endless love poems in his head towards his chef’s scones, But Lady Gojo, ever watchful, noticed his little scheme. She arched an eyebrow, her tone teasing as she remarked, "Satoru, darling, it astonishes me that you remain so fit with such a fondness for sweets."
Without missing a beat, Gojo flashed his usual charming smile and responded, “Perhaps it is because I am kept on my toes constantly by you, Mother.” His parents shared a laugh at this, clearly amused by his playful banter.
The Gojo dining fell into a comfortable lull once again, sounds of forks and knives scratching against porcelain plates. The silence was better, Satoru believed. Because he knew he was not going to be pleased at what his father had to say to him next, judged based on the thoughtful look he adopted while staring at Gojo. 
“And how fares the season, Satoru? Have you made any progress?”
Satoru wanted to groan so bad, but instead, he straightened in his seat, the smile on his face now simply a facade. “I am confident all will proceed as expected, Father,” he replied, though his tone lacked its usual certainty.
Duke Gojo narrowed his eyes slightly, sensing something amiss. “Are you sure about that?” he probed. “You know very well, Satoru, that your inheritance of the title is contingent upon securing a wife and producing an heir. This is not a matter to be taken lightly.”
The weight of his father’s words hung in the air, pressing down on Gojo with the full force of expectation.  Would it be eccentric if I decided to scream to the heavens right now?
Before Gojo could even formulate a response, his mother, ever the one to steer the conversation, interjected with a delighted exclamation. “Oh, it’s all handled, my dear! Did you not hear? The diamond of the season is arriving a week early to our manor in the countryside!”
All thoughts of screaming himself mute vanished as his mother’s words piqued his interest. Now, this was interesting. You? Spending time with him, under his roof, with no escape? The idea alone was enough to spark a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Satoru almost started cackling maniacally at the thought of pestering you until you broke that oh-so-perfect and uptight demeanor of yours, until you were reduced to exactly what you were: an unruly and highly emotional know-it-all.
One could say Satoru was very bitter about the losses he had bore for that horse race.
As a self-assured smirk started to creep up Satoru’s face, Duke Gojo blinked, surprised by the news. “A week early? That’s quite unusual,” he remarked, turning his gaze back to his son.
Satoru offered a sweet smile. “Yes, unusual indeed.” He knew his parents were well aware of the marital implications of such an arrangement, and he could feel their eyes on him, gauging his reaction.
But Duchess Gojo, satisfied with her announcement, continued with a gleeful smile. “I daresay, it’s all coming together perfectly. Even matchmakers could not have planned it better.”
Indeed, Mother! The prospect grew more delightful with each passing second, and the corners of his mouth curled into a sly grin. You were in for quite the week, and he would relish every moment of ruining your composure.
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Yuji leaned in closer, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied your face. “Sister, did you perhaps neglect the chamber pot today?” he asked, his tone teasing but his gaze serious. “Your expression is quite telling.”
 The carriage, though spacious, felt suffocating with the tension hanging in the air. Your mother sat by the window, her eyes sparkling with what could only be described as gleeful scheming regarding your imminent week at the Gojo manor. You, on the other hand, simmered with barely contained fury, with a pinch of nausea, your thoughts consumed with how you would confront Gojo at the ball you were all headed to. Yuji’s scrutiny only added to your irritation, his amused yet concerned face a stark contrast to your stormy mood. Across from you, Choso couldn’t suppress a snicker at Yuji’s comment, clearly enjoying the exchange.
You snapped, unable to contain your frustration any longer. “Yuji, if you do not cease your incessant prying, I shall see to it that you regret ever opening your mouth!”
Yuji flinched, visibly startled by your outburst. His confidence wavered as he stammered, “I⸺I meant no harm, sister.” He quickly extended his elbow to you, his movements almost robotic in their sudden politeness. “Please, allow me to escort you inside.”
You ignored the offer, your focus already elsewhere. The moment the carriage came to a stop, you heaved yourself off, stepping into the entrance. Grand revelry was before you; many suitors and young ladies were present, necks glittering with diamonds and hands adorned with gloves. Roving your gaze around, you saw him.
The world around you seemed to blur as your gaze locked onto Gojo, everything else fading into the background. A sleazy and handsome grin on his face, definitely talking about some useless nonsense. 
Like a bull seeing red, you marched forward with determined fury, your sights set solely on him. He stood there, the picture of nonchalance, completely unaware of the storm heading his way. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your anger propelling you forward with each step. Yuji and Choso exchanged confused glances as they lingered by the entrance, unsure of what had just transpired.
As you closed the distance, Gojo finally noticed you, his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. But there was no time for his usual banter; you were ready to confront him head-on, no matter the consequences.
“What have you done?” you roared, striding towards Gojo. His head turned slowly, an amused and condescending smile creeping across his face. “I know this is⸺”
“Miss Itadori,” a voice hissed, dripping with offense. You turned to see Miss Yuki glaring at you. “Lord Gojo and I were in the midst of a very private conversation.”
You blinked, realizing that in your anger, you had entirely overlooked Miss Yuki’s presence. Though inwardly rolling your eyes, you knew it was best to maintain decorum. You curtsied in apology. “My sincerest apologies, Miss Yuki. I shall leave you both to continue your conversation.”
As you stepped back, giving them respectable space, Miss Yuki side-eyed you with a sharp “hmph!” before turning back to Gojo with a flirtatious smile.
“So, my lord,” Yuki began, her tone coy, “what type of woman would be to your liking?”
Gojo scratched his chin, feigning deep thought as he prepared his response. “Well, Miss Yuki, I would imagine she must be intelligent, accomplished, and⸺” He paused dramatically, taking her hand and kissing the back of it with a slow, deliberate drawl, “⸺and beautiful.”
You suppressed a sigh. Does he never tire of that tiresome gesture? It’s grown exceedingly dull.
Yuki’s pleased grin widened. “And what level of intellect do you find satisfactory, my lord?”
“Well,” Gojo mused, “I would prefer a lady well-versed in calculations. I often find myself making errors in my ledgers late at night, and a wife who could assist would be most valuable. Moreover, I would enjoy engaging in debates on scientific matters.”
Is he seeking a wife or an accountant?
The unusual nature of his request clearly left Yuki taken aback. She blinked, her smile tightening. “Indeed, Lord Gojo, these are rather...uncommon expectations for a wife.” Yuki then hesitated, glancing around as though searching for an escape. “Well, my lord, as intriguing as this conversation has been, I fear I must take my leave. My mother has been awaiting my return, and I would not wish to keep her waiting.”
She curtsied with a strained smile, clearly eager to extricate herself from the awkward situation Gojo’s peculiar standards had created. Without waiting for a reply, she swiftly turned and made her exit, leaving you alone to confront Gojo, who now had an amused look on his face, as if he had purposefully answered that way to ward Miss Yuki off.
You pointed your finger at him, wagging it accusingly as you hissed, “Gojo, I know this was one of your ploys.”
He let out an exaggerated groan, and he dropped all flirtatious pretenses he had adopted when conversing with the other lady. “Ah, yes. Please, by all means, heap more blame upon me for things entirely beyond my control. I derive immense pleasure from being the target of your needless and misdirected fury.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Whatever do you mean by that?”
With a strained smile, he sighed. “It seems our mothers have taken it upon themselves to orchestrate this entire charade.”
Your hands flew up in exasperation. “I cannot believe this! I would sooner perish than marry you, and heaven help me if I were ever to bear your children!”
“Spare me the theatrics,” Gojo replied, shaking his head as if amused by your outburst. He inclined his head slightly, gesturing toward something in the distance. “We are being observed.”
You followed his gaze and saw, across the dance floor, both of your mothers trying—albeit poorly—to appear inconspicuous as they exchanged furtive glances and whispered behind their fans.
You huffed in frustration, turning back to Gojo. “This is absurd.”
He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in closer. “But would it be so terrible to bear my children?” he murmured, his tone teasing yet somehow serious.
Your pulse quickened at his words, but you refused to let it show. You straightened your posture, meeting his gaze with as much poise as you could muster. “I can’t think of far worse fates, my lord,” you replied, a touch of sarcasm lacing your words.
Gojo’s smile widened, clearly undeterred. His hand brushed lightly against your arm, the touch fleeting but enough to send a shiver down your spine.. You felt a slight tremor of awareness course through you, and despite your best efforts, a hint of warmth crept into your cheeks.
He leaned in even closer, his voice a low murmur. “You seem flustered, Miss Itadori,” he said, his breath warm against your skin. “I must admit, the idea of a future with you is… intriguing.”
Flustered and at a loss of witty remarks, you stammered, struggling to find your voice. “I⸺I hardly think that⸺”
Gojo’s smile widened, clearly enjoying your reaction. He gently took your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His eyes had this sultry expression to them, one that you didn’t need to ponder more than one second to know had no good intentions. 
With that, he released your hand, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding and your cheeks aflame.
Gojo ⸺ 1, You ⸺ 1. 
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Choso crossed his arms, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Mother, why are we departing a week earlier than the rest of the ton?”
The carriage rocked gently, the luggage rattling with the motion. You slumped in your seat, weary from the long hours of travel, your thoughts drifting to the comfort of a soft, fluffy bed. Your mother, noticing the beads of sweat forming on your brow, handed you a handkerchief before turning to respond to Choso. “Well, my dear, your sister has caught the eye of Lord Gojo, and his mother has personally invited us to arrive early so that we may become better acquainted.”
Your eldest brother frowned, while Yuji stared vacantly out the carriage window, enraptured by the sheep present on the farm you were passing. “But why should we do so?” Choso pressed, his tone firm. “It is not as though Sister is lacking in suitors. Why should we entertain Lord Gojo’s interest above all others?”
Even in your heat-induced lightheadedness, your attention was drawn to Choso’s defense of you. A flicker of hope ignited in your chest; as the viscount, Choso held considerable authority over your mother, and he could potentially influence the matrimonial decisions made on your behalf.
“Lord Gojo is the most eligible bachelor of the season,” your mother insisted. “We would be foolish not to seize such an opportunity.”
Choso retorted quickly, “And Sister is the most eligible lady of the season. She is the diamond. If Lord Gojo’s eligibility rests on his title, would we not do better to pursue a match with Duke Nanami?”
You silently cheered Choso on, hoping he might sway your mother’s mind away from the ridiculous notion of a match between you and Gojo.
But your mother was not easily deterred. “I am quite set on Lord Gojo, Choso,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “Your sister seems to have formed a rapport with him, and this is about more than just titles. We must also consider her inclinations.”
Both your mother and Choso turned their expectant gazes upon you, awaiting your response. Flustered and unwilling to directly oppose your mother, you swallowed nervously and nodded. “Whatever you think best, Mother.”
The remainder of the ride was marked by the satisfied smile on Lady Itadori’s face and the glowers⸺yet paired with concerned glances⸺from Choso.
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The slowing of the carriage and its turn onto a smooth pathway roused you from the gentle lull of travel. You blinked your eyes open and glanced outside. A magnificent flower bed greeted you, a sea of blues ranging from the palest sky hues to deep indigo. But what truly stole your breath was the manor itself⸺more a castle than a mere country home. Its grandiose structure rivaled Buckingham Palace in regality, with elegant blue spires and stately beige stone walls that seemed to stretch towards the heavens.
The carriage came to a complete halt at the base of a grand staircase, where Duchess Gojo stood waiting, surrounded by footmen and maids all dressed in coordinated baby blue livery. As the carriage door was opened, you, your mother, Choso, and Yuji stepped out into the warm afternoon air.
“Lady Itadori!” Duchess Gojo descended the stairs gracefully, her arms extended in greeting. Your mother met her with an equally warm embrace.
“Your Grace,” your mother replied fondly, her face lighting up with familiarity. The duchess then turned her gaze towards you, her smile gracious and welcoming.
“And this must be our diamond,” Duchess Gojo said warmly, her eyes twinkling.
You offered her a polite smile and curtsied. “Miss Itadori, Your Grace. I am deeply honored by your hospitality.”
She waved off your formality with a flick of her hand. “The pleasure is entirely ours, my dear. We are delighted to have you with us, and I do hope that you and my son will find ample time to get better acquainted before the house party.”
You returned her smile, though unease stirred within you. “Of course, Your Grace.”
Choso and Yuji introduced themselves with the same practiced politeness, and after the formalities were concluded, the duchess clapped her hands together. “Come now, let us take tea. You must be quite fatigued from your journey. I shall have the staff see to your rooms so you may rest after.” She directed the servants to unload the luggage from the carriages and then motioned for you all to follow her into the manor. “To the drawing room!”
As you crossed the threshold into the manor, you were struck by the sheer opulence surrounding you. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate gold and blue detailing, and the walls were lined with endless portraits of the Gojo family. Your gaze was momentarily drawn to a portrait of Lord Gojo himself. The artist had rendered his eyes in a cold, oceanic blue—quite unlike the electric blue intensity they held in person. The painting failed to capture the vitality, and perhaps the insufferable smugness, that characterized his gaze.
You quickly looked away before anyone could notice your lingering stare, hurrying to catch up with your family as you reached a grand set of double doors. Footmen stood at attention as Duchess Gojo led you into a drawing room, elegantly appointed with plush furnishings and laden with trays of sweets.
“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” the duchess urged, gesturing towards the seating. She and your mother settled at a small table near the door, while you and your siblings gravitated toward the couches in the center of the room, where a tempting array of desserts awaited. As you sat down, maids swiftly arranged teacups and began pouring the tea. Yuji and Choso took seats across from you, their expressions reflecting varying degrees of interest—or lack thereof—in the proceedings.
“So, Miss Itadori,” You looked across the room to look at the duchess, who was leaning further to grab at her teacup and take a sip. “How do you find this season?”
“I find the suitors of this season very pleasing and kind, Your Grace,” you sat up fully, placing the scone you were eating down to fully face the duchess. “It has been a very extravagant season; I hope to continue my search to find a suitable match for myself.” Duchess Gojo nodded. “An admirable pursuit, of course. Is a love match what you are searching for?”
Her question hung in the air, and in that instant, you felt the weight of every gaze in the room fall upon you. The most searing of them all, though, was your mother's. You could feel it like a prickling heat against your skin, a silent reminder of the expectations that had been laid out before you long ago.
A love match. The words echoed in your mind, each syllable twisting into a knot of uncertainty. The very idea of love seemed foreign to you—elusive, abstract, something that belonged in novels rather than in the practical world of arranged marriages and alliances. Love was not what you had been taught to seek. No, your upbringing had been grounded in duty, decorum, and the quiet understanding that marriage was a contract, a union of convenience rather than passion.
But how could you say that aloud? How could you tell the duchess—tell anyone—that your dreams did not include the fiery passion of a love match, but rather the comfort of a peaceful arrangement? Your throat tightened, and the words that had once seemed so simple lodged themselves in the back of your mouth, refusing to emerge.
Your mother’s eyes bore into you, filled with unspoken expectations. You knew what she wanted to hear: that you were pursuing love, that you were open to it, that you were the ideal picture of a hopeful young lady seeking her romantic equal. But that wasn’t your truth. Your truth was more complicated, filled with desires for stability, understanding, and a life unburdened by the chaos that love so often seemed to bring.
Your heart pounded in your chest, the beat almost deafening in the sudden silence of the room. What were you supposed to say? How could you balance the delicate line between honesty and propriety?
Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, you swallowed hard, the dryness in your throat making it nearly impossible to find your voice. The tension swirled within you, an unrelenting force that made you wish you could simply disappear. What if they could see through you? What if, with one wrong word, they uncovered the truth of what you really wanted—a marriage that was practical, peaceful, and devoid of the complications that came with love?
But that wasn’t something you could admit. Not here. Not now.
You forced a polite smile, hoping it hid the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind.
Before the weight of the room could settle further, the heavy double doors swung open with a soft yet deliberate creak. Every head turned in unison, and the air seemed to shift as your savior, Satoru Gojo made his entrance.
His attire was impeccable—a finely tailored waistcoat of deep blue, embroidered with silver thread that caught the light just so, paired with polished boots that gleamed as if they had never touched the ground. Yet, despite the formal attire, there was an air of disarming casualness about him, a kind of effortless elegance that made the room's grandeur seem almost insignificant by comparison.
His damp hair, still tousled from what must have been a recent bath, added an edge to his otherwise polished appearance. Droplets of water shimmered at the tips of his white locks, catching the light as he ran a hand through them. The scent of his cologne, rich and intoxicating, seemed to announce his arrival to you even before he spoke.
He strolled in with an air of ease. “It seems that our guests are finally here!” He moved with an easy grace, crossing the room in a few long strides, bowing slightly to the duchess and your mother before turning his attention to you. His gaze lingered on you for just a moment longer than necessary, a playful glint in his eyes as if he could sense the internal battle you had been fighting mere seconds ago.
“Miss Itadori,” he greeted you with a smile that could have melted the iciest of hearts, “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.”
Your mother’s eyes lit up at the sight of him. “Ah, Satoru! Come, sit with us.” She motioned to the spot next to you with enthusiasm. “Why don’t you and Miss Itadori sit together?”
Choso’s sharp gaze followed him with a hint of suspicion, but he made no objection as Gojo accepted the invitation, seating himself beside you with an infuriatingly confident smile. Yuji and Choso remained on the opposite couch, observing the scene with varying degrees of curiosity and caution.
“Well then,” Gojo began, grabbing an obscene amount of scones to heap on his plate, “I was just at the 
archery range earlier today. Quite the exhilarating sport. I find it sharpens the mind as much as the aim.”
Yuji, ever the admirer of feats of physical skill, leaned forward with interest. “Archery, my lord? That sounds remarkable! I must admit, I’ve always found it to be one of the noblest of pursuits.”
Gojo leaned back into the couch, resting one arm casually behind you on the backrest, his posture the very picture of relaxed confidence. He smiled at Yuji’s enthusiasm and continued, “Archery has long been a favored pastime of mine. It requires precision, patience, and an understanding of balance—qualities I find both necessary and rewarding. I've dedicated many years to perfecting my skill with the bow.”
He paused, allowing a slight, reflective smile to touch his lips. “In fact, just last month, I competed in the annual tournament at Her Majesty’s estate and managed to hit the bullseye in every round. Some of the other competitors remarked that it was almost unnatural, but I assure you, it is merely the result of countless hours spent at the range.”
Yuji’s eyes widened with admiration. “Every round? That’s incredible, Lord Gojo! Your dedication must be unparalleled.”
Gojo shrugged with mock humility, though his eyes glinted with pride. “It’s all in the discipline, really. Once you understand the rhythm of the draw and the release, it becomes second nature. Of course, the challenge is in maintaining that focus while under pressure. But I’ve found that to be the most exhilarating part—especially when the crowd is watching.”
Yuji nodded fervently, clearly enthralled. “I would love to see you in action, my lord! Perhaps you could give me a few pointers one day.”
Gojo chuckled, his gaze shifting to you for a moment before returning to Yuji. “Ah, I’m sure you’d take it quite well, Yuji. Perhaps we could all visit the range together during your stay here.”
 The nonchalant arrogance in his voice, paired with the image of him lording his skill over others, irritated you. You couldn’t resist a small quip, your tone light. “Oh, indeed, Lord Gojo. Your accomplishments are so profound that I fear I might believe you are telling tales. Of course, I wonder with all this focus on archery, do you leave any time for pursuits that require a bit more… finesse?”
Gojo’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as they met yours, his gaze sharp with understanding. Yet, rather than take offense, he allowed a playful smirk to curl on his lips, his voice laced with teasing intent. “Ah, Miss Itadori, archery indeed requires finesse, I assure you. But perhaps you’d care to test that claim yourself? I’d be more than happy to provide a demonstration.”
As he leaned in closer, you found yourself all too aware of his presence. The scent of his cologne, a warm and intoxicating blend of vanilla and tobacco, filled the air between you, making it difficult to maintain your composure. His face hovered just near enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke.
“In fact,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone, “I’d wager that with a little practice, you might find yourself hitting the mark with more than just words.”
His proximity made your heart skip a beat, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. Despite your resolve to remain composed, the effect of his closeness and the quiet intensity in his voice left you momentarily at a loss for words.
Choso, sitting across from you, gave Gojo a sharp look. Meanwhile, Yuji was practically beaming at the prospect of an archery lesson from the lord himself.
You inhaled sharply, trying to steady yourself. “Perhaps,” you replied, your voice more controlled than you expected, though there was still a slight quiver in it. “But I’ve found that words can be just as powerful, if not more so.”
Gojo smirked, his gaze lingering on your face as if savoring the moment. The challenge in his eyes was unmistakable, and you could feel the weight of it, pressing against your own resolve. But you wouldn’t allow him to see just how much he affected you—at least, not yet. 
Despite the warmth in your cheeks and the flutter in your chest, you held his gaze, meeting his playful intensity with your own determined calm.
However, your mother’s voice broke through the spell. “Oh, Your Grace, might we have a tour of the manor sometime?”
Duchess Gojo, clearly delighted to show off her home, nodded eagerly. “Of course! There is a pavilion overlooking our garden where we can play pall-mall, and the library is quite extensive.” Your interest piqued at the mention of the library, and you made yourself a mental note to explore where it was.
Then she turned her gaze towards you, her expression growing more conspiratorial. “And as for Miss Itadori, Satoru has promised to give her a personal tour of the grounds tomorrow after she takes rest today.”
You stiffened at the suggestion, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Gojo lean in slightly, his mischievous grin widening as he whispered, “I’ll be sure to make it… thorough.”
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You couldn’t sleep.
Restless thoughts kept you tossing and turning, denying you any hope of finding solace in slumber. The events of the day had left you drained, and after the conversation in the drawing room, you had collapsed into the plush, inviting bed. Sleep had claimed you almost instantly. But now, in the dark silence of the night, you awoke with a start, your mind refusing to quiet. No matter how you tried, you couldn’t escape the whirlwind of thoughts that stirred within you.
The prospect of the coming days loomed over you, a storm of anxiety brewing. Spending time with Gojo, of all people? Your mother’s insistent push for this potential marriage was unbearable. How could you possibly tell her that you despised the man? The mere thought of being bound to him in matrimony was a nightmare⸺marriage itself was daunting enough, but to an arrogant, loquacious, and insufferably self-assured man like him? It would be nothing short of Hell on earth.
With a frustrated sigh, you rose from bed and rubbed your face, trying to dispel the fog of sleeplessness. Perhaps a visit to the manor’s library⸺the one mentioned during tea⸺would offer some distraction. Grabbing a lantern, you slipped out of your room, treading softly down the stairs and into the main hallway. You moved with the caution of a thief; your mother would surely not approve of your nocturnal wanderings. Her voice echoed in your mind, sharp and reprimanding: “Good things never happen in the dead of night!”
As you opened the library’s grand doors, a soothing fragrance enveloped you⸺the scent of aged paper mingled with a hint of vanilla, a fragrance unique to this room. But what truly took your breath away was the sheer size of the library.
Bookshelves lined the walls, rising two stories high, creating a space that could easily have served as a grand ballroom. Cozy nooks beckoned you to sit, while further exploration revealed tables and armchairs tucked away behind towering shelves. It was a bibliophile’s paradise.
Your eyes roved over the multitude of volumes: ancient ledgers, personal family records, scholarly works on politics, astronomy, and the sciences. Though you did not often indulge in scientific pursuits, you found them fascinating whenever the opportunity arose. One book in particular caught your eye:
Observations on the Planet Venus.
Drawn to the back of the library, you found a large window offering a stunning view of the garden and pavilion, bathed in starlight. You couldn’t resist the allure of the table beside it, where you settled in and began to read.
“The planet Venus is an object that has long engaged my particular attention. A series of observations upon it, which I began in April, 1777, has been continued down to the present time…”
Time slipped away as you became engrossed in the text, the lantern’s light flickering softly as you pored over the meticulous observations and calculations. Your hands were soon stained with ink, evidence of the notes you had been feverishly jotting down on scraps of parchment you had found in a supply cabinet. A good hour or two had passed before you finally leaned back, stretching your tired muscles. You rested your head on your arms, intending to close your eyes for just a moment. Soon, you found that your sleepy brain forced you to reflect and muse upon your life, as a mind often does at three.
What a pity it was that you couldn’t bear the thought of marrying Gojo. If only he were different, you might have lived in this manor, with its perfect library, forever. You could imagine it: waking in the mornings in your fluffy bed, sharing the latest discoveries in astronomy and medicine with your handsome husband…
Truly, what a pity. Your sleep-deprived mind began to conjure an image of this imagined husband—tall, nearly Gojo’s height, with kind eyes and lips that would kiss you gently awake each morning (unlike Gojo’s snark). You envisioned banter over breakfast, late-night rendezvous in the library, and tender embraces in bed…
Before you could delve deeper into your fantasy, the sound of footsteps jolted you back to reality. The tread was deliberate, too similar to your mother’s for comfort, and panic flared within you. Your mind, already muddled with exhaustion, conjured the worst possible scenario—your mother finding you here, in the library where you had no business being at this hour.
Memories of her discovering forbidden books in your childhood flashed before your eyes, and your breath quickened in fear. Rising as quietly as you could, you pressed your hands over your mouth to stifle any sound, creeping toward a bookshelf to hide. But the footsteps drew closer, relentless in their pursuit. You felt like prey, cornered and desperate.
Getting out of your chair as quietly as you could, you squeezed your eyes shut and put both of your hands over your mouth so you didn’t start making audible gasps that would let the person know where you were immediately. Softly⸺but panickedly⸺walking towards a bookshelf, you hid as you traced the footsteps getting closer and closer to you. You tried to walk away from the sound, but it seemed like the person was listening intently for your movements. You couldn’t help but think you were like prey, cornered and desperate.
However, it was all for naught; your heart sank as you realized you had ended up in an alley of bookshelves that were up against the wall, essentially creating a dead end for you. The steps got closer and closer, and you drew yourself closer and closer to the wall. Your eyes was still shut, but you could hear the steps around the corner, coming closer and closer. 
The footsteps were merely a few feet away from you, and in a moment of sheer panic, you blurted out, “I am sorry, Mother⸺”
“Excuse me,” came a voice that was decidedly not your mother’s. Your eyes flew open to find none other than Gojo, his blue eyes alight with offense. “Do I resemble your mother in any way?”
You blinked, struggling to process the sight before you. He was holding a quill, ink, and a stack of notebooks that resembled the ledgers you had seen earlier, along with a plate of scones that looked absurdly sugary.
“I—” you stammered, taking a sharp breath to compose yourself and paused, looking at Gojo⸺who was shooting you a petulant frown⸺take a big bite of his scone. “Your tread was uncannily similar.”
He paused, chewing on a scone with a sulky expression, while you averted your gaze in embarrassment.
When he finished chewing, he cleared his throat. “You must possess rather poor hearing to mistake a man of my stature for a lady.”
You shrugged, still flustered. “Perhaps you have an unusually light step.”
An awkward silence settled between you as Gojo took another loud bite of his scone. You hastened to break it. “It is quite late; I must take my leave. Good night, my lord.”
You bowed your head slightly and moved to leave, but before you could slip past him, he blocked your path, suspicion narrowing his gaze. “What business do you have in the Gojo library at this hour?”
“Nothing of import,” you squeaked.
At the not-very-innocuous tone in your voice, his eyes narrowed further. “Your tone suggests otherwise.” He leaned in, his gaze sweeping over you with exaggerated scrutiny. Noticing the ink stains on your hands, he quipped, “Were you tampering with important records?”
Your heart raced, knowing that he wouldn’t be entirely wrong to suspect you⸺what else would a lady be doing in a library at this hour? It was a no-win situation: confess to reading a book and risk your mother’s wrath, or be accused of something far more serious.
It was best to come clean. “I was merely reading a book,” you confessed. “I can show you precisely where I sat and what I was doing.”
Gojo’s expression softened, but he quickly continued his theatrical suspicion and hmmphed. “Of course. I must be certain that no mischief has been afoot.”
You led him back to the table where you had been reading. He sat across from you, depositing his supplies onto the table with a flourish and leaned back, crossing his arms. Ever the investigator, he watched as you retrieved the book. It bore no resemblance to the Gojo ledgers, which had the telltale blue cover and Gojo insignia, which consisted of six eyes. 
Upon seeing this, he nodded in acknowledgment. “You are exonerated.”
At that, you sighed and clutched your chest. For a moment, you contemplated pleading with Gojo to keep your late library visit secret from your mother but you shot the idea down for two reasons. First, you would never lower yourself to plead with Gojo, and second, Gojo⸺ever the insufferable man⸺would definitely make sure to mention it to your mother and further exacerbate the issue. 
As he began arranging his ink bottles and quills, preparing to work on his ledgers, you took a moment to observe him. He was dressed in casual attire, loose-fitting trousers and a white shirt with several buttons undone, revealing a hint of his chest. Slut.
It took you a moment to realize that he was settling in at your table. You frowned. “I beg your pardon, but this is my spot.”
Gojo looked up from his work, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “My dear, this is my library. Thus, it is my spot.”
You opened your mouth to retort, then closed it in frustration. He was right, after all. The entire manor was his. Your silence seemed to amuse him, as he returned to his ledgers with a smug smile.
Now, you didn’t really know what to do⸺should you go back to your room, or should you stay and continue reading the book? In your indecision, you continued to flip through the pages of the book, particularly because you wanted to finish the conclusion section before going to bed. But you soon felt his gaze upon you, the sound of his quill slowing down.
You didn’t look up. “Might I suggest you cease staring at me? It is quite improper.” “What? Why would I do so? To watch you peruse a tedious romance novel?”
“This is a book on the state of the art of astronomy.” 
“Indeed? I confess, I am surprised.”
Your irritation flared and you whipped your head up to glare at Gojo. “Whatever do you mean by that?”
“I was under the impression that young ladies’ interests lie solely in matters of the heart.”
“So, in addition to gossiping, you are also prone to narrow-minded assumptions?”
Gojo scoffed. “Narrow-minded? It is a simple observation. Both men and women often indulge in fanciful notions of love.”
You scoffed. “Ah, so you hold yourself above other men. What are you, God?”
Gojo ignored your remark. “Those who read such frivolities are seldom engaged in serious thought or the appreciation of true art.”
“Romance allows one to experience love and joy. Does the prospect of happiness through art truly horrify you?” You stood, glaring at him. “Unlike you, my lord, ladies such as myself cannot frequent dubious establishments such as brothels to seek out lovers. Our reputations and futures are at stake.” Gojo began to respond, but you cut him off. “To deny women the solace of love is cruel. It is our only refuge in a world that forces us into unwanted marriages!”
When you were done ranting to Gojo, you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in. Truly, this man could bother you like no other; only your siblings have caused this much heat on your face due to anger. The only sounds in the library was your rushed breathing, from anger.
Gojo scoffed. “You truly think too much.”
You offered a sharp scoff. "And you, far too little. Even Sukuna Jr. possesses more emotional intelligence than you."
"Do not compare me to that wretched creature," Gojo retorted.
You gasped in disbelief. "How dare you speak of Kuna in such a manner!"
"Then perhaps you should keep him from fouling the air around me!" he snapped.
A sly smile crept across your lips. "He merely knows whom to guard me against."
At reference of That Night, Gojo sighs exhaustedly. “Do you find trouble with the judgments I made that night? None of that was meant for you.”
“Are you quite serious?” You were in disbelief. Does he truly feel no remorse? Frustrated, you ran a hand over your face. “Your words may not have been intended for me, but they were no less cutting. I cannot abide such arrogance, my lord.”
Gojo leaned back, crossing his arms with an air of indifference. “Arrogance or simply honesty? I merely spoke the truth as I see it.”
“Your so-called truth is nothing more than disdain wrapped in wit,” you snapped, feeling your temper rise again. “You speak as though your opinions are infallible, as if you alone have the right to pass judgment on others.”
“I only say what others are too afraid to voice,” he retorted, his tone cool. “If that makes me arrogant, then so be it. But I will not apologize for it.”
“Of course not,” you said bitterly. “An apology would require some measure of humility, and that is something you clearly lack.”
Gojo’s eyes narrowed, his voice growing more clipped. “I fail to see why my opinions should trouble you so much. Perhaps you are simply too sensitive.”
Your anger flared at his dismissive tone. “Or perhaps you are too blind to see the harm your words cause. You claim to be honest, but what you truly are is cruel.”
“Cruel?” Gojo’s voice was sharp now, his composure slipping. “For speaking the truth? For refusing to coddle those who cannot handle it?”
“For refusing to consider the feelings of others!” you countered, your voice rising in frustration. “Not everything is a game or a joke, my lord. Your words have consequences, whether you acknowledge them or not.”
A tense silence fell between you, each of you locked in a stubborn glare, neither willing to yield. Finally, you shook your head, the weight of your frustration pressing down on you. “I cannot do this,” you muttered, turning away. “You are utterly impossible.”
You began to walk away, but Gojo’s voice cut through the silence. “Running away so soon?” There was a hint of something in his tone⸺something almost like disappointment⸺but you dismissed it.
You paused, glancing back at him with a hardened expression. “There is no point in continuing this conversation. You refuse to see reason, and I refuse to waste any more of my time on you.”
Without waiting for a reply, you turned on your heel and left the library, your heart pounding with irritation and anger. As the door closed behind you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of heaviness in your chest. 
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prev. the aftermath | next. the game
general masterlist | series masterlist
a/n gojo the type to hit ur g spot every ti---WHAT WHO SAID THAT?
anyways yes we r getting (sort of) freaky in the next chapter (gojo busts in his pants seeing reader's ankles /j)
gojo when reader thought he was her mama
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also tysm for all the asks, and comments, and love you guys have shown me. super motivating that you guys are enjoying the story and propels me to write more <3
comment, reblog, and send in an ask to let me know ur thots :3 memes are also appreciated <3
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TAGLIST
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@byhuenii @geniejunn @a-girl-with-thoughts @dazedin2d @chuuqxs
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chenlesfavorite · 2 months ago
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you will never be forgotten, my dearest. park jisung.
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— summary : jisung is an artist who got kicked out by his family due to him not wanting to follow his family and become a doctor. it just wasn’t what he wanted. he wished to tell stories with his paintings, though that changed once he fell in love with you.
— pairing : artist!jisung x fem!reader
— genres : romance, angst
— extra : regency era, death, illness, marriage
— author’s note : one of my friends suggested this artist idea to me and i was like… “yes” (ty maggi) so! here we are! if there’s any mistakes, please lmk so i can fix them!!
— word count : 2.0k
reminder that this is pure fiction and not an actual depiction of how they act.
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“Jisung, you shall never succeed if you continue as an artist. Do you not realize how bad this is? Our great family name of doctors will be ruined, because of you.” Jisung’s mother’s voice was faint as she spoke to her eldest son, her expression carried a worry.
“I’m very aware, mother. But this is the path I wish to choose. It is my passion, to tell many tales with my art.” Jisung replied as he stood in the hall, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he looked at his parents, knowing this would be the last time he would ever see them.
“Very well, Jisung. From now on, you are no longer part of this family. Survive out there in the best way you know how to.” Jisung’s father spoke harsh words, ones without any sorrow in them. No sorrow that he was losing his eldest son. The son he was always proud of growing up, sharing with everyone that he will one day, become a great doctor.
Though, that wasn’t what ended up happening. Jisung fell in love with art, and art is what he desired to do, he would do it until he couldn’t no more, until the end of time. Art was the most beautiful thing to him.
A beauty nobody understood. A complex beauty that only he understood. He wished people could see art the way he saw it. The stories they told— the emotions they were expressing.
Nobody understood.
Until he met you.
One year has passed since he was disowned by his family. However, his passion for art never died, he was praised, admired by others. Even earning the respect of well-established artists whom he has long admired.
He was marking his presence in society, leaving behind a legacy of his artworks. His pieces were already beginning to inspire the younger generation, motivating them to achieve the same greatness as Jisung.
Due to his impact on society, he was invited to a ball, hosted by the L/N family. The L/N family carried a high name, one that was highly respected, people lowered their heads even at the most distant sight of the family. Nobody would dare to turn down an invitation from them or even utter the words no.
Jisung was hesitant to accept the invitation, but alas, he eventually found himself standing at the entrance of the L/N family estate, a grand manor that oozed of an important presence.
As he stepped inside— he was greeted by the grand chandelier above which was casting a soft, golden glow over the room, his footsteps echoed on the smooth marble floor. The air carried a hint of a jasmine smell.
“Welcome to the L/N manor.” A woman’s voice was heard— Jisung stopped his glancing of the entrance and looked to where the source of the voice came from and once his eyes found the voice, he was starstruck.
The only daughter of the L/N family— Y/N.
He was deeply captivated by your beauty. The way you shone in the light and carried yourself with grace charmed him. He felt truly enchanted. From that initial meeting, he knew you as his muse.
Upon the arrival of all the guests, the ball commenced. You were quite a popular pick for dances throughout the evening— you finished one dance with a potential suitor only to return to the ballroom floor with another partner almost instantly.
Jisung, being the wallflower that he is, took notice of your every move. His eyes were unable to stop following you, to him, you were the piece that he was missing. That his art was missing.
The way every step you took was with the utmost elegance, your polite demeanor adding to your grace. Why, Jisung was absolutely mesmerized by you. You were the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. You reminded him of flowers, blooming in the spring. Like beautiful forget-me-nots or azaleas.
As the violinists slowed down their playing and the music began to fade, Jisung knew what to do next. He approached you and extended his hand, asking, "May I have this dance, Lady L/N?"
“Yes, you may.”
Though, you aren’t exactly sure how you and Jisung ended up in the gardens of your manor right after the dance. Perhaps it was the way he led you throughout the dance, his elegant moves, and the way his hand held onto yours. Your hands fit perfectly together as if they were carefully sculpted for the other.
It wasn’t exactly ladylike to lay on the grass while in a ballgown but you’re alone with Jisung, who had no intention of judging you or calling you out for it, as he does not mind it anyway.
You didn’t understand why you felt so connected to him despite you meeting only today. Only hours ago. But he felt so familiar like you’ve known him for years. Perhaps this was the work of fate? Was this a fated meeting? You didn't know but you sure hoped it was because you weren’t able to get him out of your mind.
“You look quite out of it, do you have something on your mind?” Jisung spoke in a soft tone, turning his attention from the stars above to you, letting his gaze fall onto you. “Guess you could say that. You... don’t feel like a stranger to me at all, Jisung, it feels as if I’ve known you for years. Does that make sense?” You replied, turning your head to face him.
Jisung chuckled, placing his hand on your cheek. “Mhm, ‘course it does. I feel the same, Lady L/N.” You giggled, a twinge of blush creeping up on your face. “Please, just call me Y/N.”
“As you wish, Y/N.” He whispered, taking back his hand that was resting on your cheek. The two of you return your attention to the stars above you. You sat up once you noticed a specific alignment of stars— you pointed to that constellation. “Look, Ji! It’s the Lyra constellation. The constellation that tells the story of Orpheus and Eurydice!” You exclaimed, your lips forming into a smile.
As Jisung gazed up at the night sky, he noticed the constellation glimmering above. But, his attention quickly shifted to the bright smile on your face. Your smile had a magical quality that seemed to make his heart skip a beat. “Orpheus and Eurydice? What’s their story, I’m intrigued.” Jisung asked, sitting up.
“Orpheus was the son of the muse Calliope and the god Apollo, he was very skilled in playing the Lyre, he could enchant any wild beasts and even the rocks would soften to the melodies he played. But once his wife, Eurydice died, he was overwhelmed by grief. A grief so strong that he went on a journey to the Underworld, convincing Hades and Persephone to allow Eurydice to return to the world of the living. But they set a challenge for him, Orpheus must not look back at Eurydice until they have both reached the world above. As you can guess, Orpheus surrenders to doubt and casts a backward glance, losing Eurydice forever. It’s rather tragic.” You explained the full story to Jisung, who carefully listened to every single one of your words.
“Ouch, I can’t imagine what Orpheus went through because he lost the love of his life.” Jisung replied, his voice lowered.
From that meeting at the ball, you and Jisung continued to have regular promenades or you’d watch him paint new artworks. You loved it when he explained to you why he painted that or why he added that specific detail to the work. It wasn’t long before Jisung started to court you— he earned the approval of your father rather quickly.
And one day, he showed you an artwork that he worked on for a long time. It was a portrait, of you. You were stunned once he showed you it, your hands slapped to your mouth as you looked at it. He got every single detail of yours down, the art piece looked exactly like you. The work he put into it was astonishing. He captured your beauty perfectly.
“Ji, it’s... wow, I don’t even have the words to explain how beautiful it is.” You said, your eyes getting watery. “This is the most special thing anyone has ever done for me.” You couldn’t hold yourself back as you hugged him tightly and brought your lips up to his, exchanging a short but sweet kiss.
"I have one more gift for you, Y/N," Jisung said with a warm smile, causing you to slowly release the embrace. You were both confused and curious about what more he had planned, to you, that portrait was more than enough.
To your surprise— Jisung got down on one knee, took out a box, and held it up towards you, opening it to reveal a dazzling ring. “My dearest, I truly believe our meeting was fate, that the stars aligned us and we were made for each other. You have made me enjoy my life more than ever, so now I ask of you, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”
That’s when the tears started to roll down your cheeks, but they weren’t tears of sadness, they were tears of happiness. “Yes! A thousand times yes, Jisung!” He got up from the ground and gently took your hand, sliding the ring on your finger.
"I love you, so, so much," Jisung whispered as he gently cupped your cheeks, drawing you closer to him. His lips met yours, and the kiss was filled with nothing more than the pure love the two of you share for one another, your hearts bound together.
But, the wedding never happened.
Just two weeks after you got engaged to Jisung, you caught an illness. Your fate was sealed. Death was at your doorstep.
You were bedridden, unable to do anything. You couldn’t get up and you could barely speak, half of the time you weren’t even conscious but you were asleep. Jisung was by your side the entire time, praying to whatever deity he could to heal his soon-to-be wife.
He knew you could barely speak so he didn’t wish to hurt your voice by making you talk to him, instead, he wrote letters to you. Each one of them described what he did today or how the day was, even asking you questions in the letters— if you’re feeling better, what you dreamed about, etc.
However, one letter specifically made your heart burn. It read,
“Y/N, my dearest. How are you feeling? The doctor said your body is slowly recovering and perhaps there’s hope that you’ll be well again. Hearing those words come from the doctor made me so unbelievably happy, I can’t wait to stargaze with you again, water the flowers with you, and do all the stuff that you like that you haven’t been able to do because of your illness. I sincerely hope you recover before our wedding that’s in just a week! I can’t wait to see you in a beautiful white gown, walking down the aisle, looking stunning. I will never forget that day, believe me. I’m going to cherish every second I have with you. Just imagining that day makes me so excited. Well, I won’t bore you any longer, rest well, my dearest.”
And rest well, you indeed did.
“It’s done.” Jisung says, as he brushes the final stroke of the painting. A sad smile on his face as he admires it. “You’re still painting her?” His friend, Jeno, speaks up, standing behind Jisung with his arms crossed.
“Shouldn’t you move on, Jisung? She’s with the angels up in heaven now, not here anymore.” Jeno carries on, placing a hand on Jisung’s shoulder as he stares at the painting of you. It’s been years since you died, but Jisung’s love for you did not die.
He still captured every single detail of you in his paintings, each one of the paintings including a small hint of a thing you liked. In this painting, he painted you in a beautiful white wedding gown, walking down the aisle with your favorite flowers in your hand— and with your smile that made him fall in love so deeply with you. That bright smile you always carried.
“As long as I’m alive, she’ll never be gone.”
After all, when an artist falls in love with you, you never die.
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cherrycola27 · 5 months ago
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A Favor Among Friends
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Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption, historical inaccuracies. Regency era men and ideals. Eventual Smut. RegencyEra!AU Banner Credit @thedroneranger
Masterlist Previous Part Next Part
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Chapter 2: The Offer
Your heart leaped in your chest when Bradley walked into the room. He brought your daisies, your favorite flower. He brought some lilacs for your mother and a bottle of wine from his travels for your father.
Sitting with him in the drawing room, talking felt so easy, so natural. You knew that he was the one for you. If you had it your way, by the end of the season, you'd be his Viscountess. You were giddy at the thought.
Bradley was just about to leave when your brother and his wife walked in. Eddie immediately asked to speak to Bradley in the study to catch up, you presumed. So, you excused yourself and took your sister-in-law by the hand and led her to the sewing room so you could show her the latest embroidery piece you'd been working on. Once you were married, you'd be able to join her sewing circle.
"Edmund! It's so good to see you!" Bradley exclaimed as he walked into the study. "What are you doing here, Bradshaw?" Your brother asked him harshly. Bradley looked at him puzzled.
"I'm calling on your sister. I intend to court her and take her as my wife." Bradley said as if it was the most obvious thing.
"No." Eddie deadpanned. "No? What do you mean, no?" Bradley asked him. "No, you cannot court, my sister, and you most certainly cannot take her as your wife. I will not allow it!" Edmund state.
"I don't believe that is your choice, Mister Beaumont. I believe the say is your father's, Lord Beaumont. Bradley narrowed his eyes.
"She is my sister! My baby sister! And I am your best friend. You have known her all of her life, and she was like a sister to you! Which is why I don't understand why you would want to court her. And as far as having her marry someone I know, I'd much rather her marry a stranger than my best friend whom I know all about. I know every triste and affair you have had Bradshaw. And my sister deserves an honorable man. Someone who will be faithful to her." Your brother exasperated.
"I have my father's ear. He will listen to me." Eddie bit back. "Why can I not court Ducky? She is a wonderful woman who is well accomplished in many talents and has been a friend to me my whole life! Surely you would rather her marry someone you know than someone you don't?" Bradley asked your brother.
"You think I am not honorable? I am a gentleman, and unlike many men of the Ton, I have no bastard children. And I would be faithful to Ducky." Bradley argues back.
"Bradley," your brother sighs, "you are a rake. You have been since we were six-and-ten, when your mother passed. I am not saying that you are a bad person. But I know that it is not a lifestyle you will be able to give up. I know I am being harsh, but you are not good enough for my sister, and you will only break her heart. So please. As your friend, I am asking you not to call on her again." Eddie finished.
Bradley clenched his jaw. "Fine." He walked to the door and paused. "I'll be taking my leave now. Bid your family a good day for me." He said before storming out.
..............
You were saddened that you didn't get to give Bradley a proper goodbye, but hopefully, you would see him again.
Rainy weather kept everyone inside for a week, but on a fine Wednesday morning, the sun broke through the clouds and brought new life back to the Ton.
That afternoon, your mother insisted that you go to Market Square and promenade with her and your brother and hopefully find a suitor.
You looked and saw that Eddie and your mother had stopped for a refreshment, so you quickly walked over and looped your arm with Bradley's.
You wore a golden yellow dress with fine beadwork, some white lace gloves, and your hair swept up away from your face. You were walking slightly ahead of your brother and mother when you spotted Lord Harrington coming down the path towards you. You curled your nose at the thought of promonading with him and quickly looked around for a way out. Just across the path, you spotted a familiar frame.
He was startled to see you. "Ducky? What are you doing?" He asked you.
"Lord Harrington was about to come ask me to promenade with him, and I would rather jump in the pond. Which is quite the risk because I cannot swim." You giggle.
Bradley laughed at you before escorting you to your family.
"Lady Beaumont, Mister Beaumont," Bradley nodded to them. "I was hoping I could escort Miss Beaumont through Market Square this afternoon. Would that be alright?" He asked.
"Of course!" Your mother cheered and smiled at him. Eddie smiled too, but you couldn't help but notice how pained he looked.
"Thank you." You whisper to Bradley. "Lord Harrington is determined to have me has his third wife and refuse to be it." You say. "You are not someone's third wife. You are someone's first and only wife." Bradley said to you. You smiled and turned away from him, fearing the blush in your cheeks would give away the crush you had on him.
"You know, we have to stop meeting like this, Lord Bradshaw." You chuckle as you curl your arm tighter around his.
"What ever do you mean, Ducky?" He asks you, still using that nickname he gave you all those years ago. You turn slightly to see your mother and brother walking a few feet behind you.
"I mean," you drop your voice to a whisper, "I swept you into to promenading with me through Market Square to avoid a suitor, just like you swept me onto the dance floor at the first ball of the season."
"I didn't hear any complaining from you when I did. However, if you'd like, I could always find someone else." Bradley chuckled and lifted his hand as if he was going to pull away. "No!" You said hastily, clapping your hand down over his. He let out a chuckle and shook his head. He enjoyed spending time with you, truly.
He turned back for a moment to see your brother shooting daggers at him. Bradley shook his head. You were the one who pursued him this time, but your brother didn't know that.
...........
Three months. It had been three months since the first ball of the season, and you had yet to secure a proposal from Bradley. He hadn't called on on you since the first ball, but he'd danced with you and each one since then. Always two dances. One quatrain, one waltz.
Each time was always magical, yet he'd neglected to call in you again. Unfortunately, Lord Harrington had called on you three other times. Each one worse than the prior visit.
However, as you sat at your vanity, you hoped that Bradley's mind had changed. He promised you that he would be at your home this week and your parents had told you to wear something "elegant" because they had news for you this afternoon.
You donned a beautiful emerald green dress with pearl adornments your mother loaned to you. As you descended the stairs, you heard voices and in the drawing room. They seemed to be in high spirits.
You took a deep breath and plastered a huge smile on your face as you walked in the room, only for it to drop at who you saw sitting with your parents.
"Lord Harrington." You grimaced. "Miss Beaumont, wonderful to see you again. Forgive me for not being able to stay longer, but I must leave." He said the moment you walked in.
"It's quite alright." You half smiled as he took his hat and kissed your hand to bid you goodbye.
"Darling, come sit." Your mother said. "We have some news, Y/N." Your father said as you sat down. "Lord Harrington has ask for your hand. He has made quite the offer."
"What? Have you accepted it? You told me I had until the end of the season, and we are only halfway through!" You shouted, smacking your hand on the table.
"Darling," your mother began, "we have not accepted his offer, but it is the only offer we have had all season. And, there is no telling how long it will be available. So, your father and I have decided that if you do not secure a match in two weeks, your betrothal to Lord Harrington will be official."
"No, no! He is old enough to be my father. How could you allow that. He has a lesser statis than we do!" You protested.
"He has a sizable estate and is willing to talk a dowry significantly smaller than your sister's was. The decision is final." Your father said before dismissing you from the room.
Tears stung your eyes as you stormed up the stairs. You couldn't believe this. Your parents were so desperate to get rid of you that they were willing to marry you off to someone twice your age that looked like he was one day away from going in the crypt.
You were so angry. You refused to be sold off like some prized heifer. You'd seen the girls who were placed into marriages like this by their parents. You had to find a way out.
You paced around your room, searching for something, anything to help. Your eyes landed on your globe.
"America, I could go to America." You whispered. There was just one problem. You needed money. Your family had money, but you'd never be able to take the amount you needed to start a new life in America without getting caught. You needed help.
"Marisol!" You called for your lady's maid. "Yes?" She asked you. "Have the stable prepare my horse. I'm going for a ride." You said. She nodded and took off.
An hour later, you had your cloak pulled up around your face as you road your mare through the pastures to your brother's estate. You were disheveled by the time you made it.
"I need your help." You demanded we the two of you were alone in his study. "With what, my dear sister?" He asked you.
"Mother and Father intend to marry me off to Lord Harrington if I do not find another suitor in two weeks. I cannot be his wife, Eddie. I will not." You say.
"So, I'm going to America. Aunt Johanna lives in North Carolina. I can reside with her until I find a more permanent place to live. But I need money to do that. Can you help me?" You beg your brother.
"Y/N, this is a crazy idea." He tells you. "Eddie, I do not care if you think I am making a rash decision. I will not be trapped in a loveless marriage to a man forty years my senior. Will you help me or not?!" You shout at him.
He sighs. "How much do you need?"
"Three thousand pounds. Enough to start over and support myself until I can find work." You say. "I know you must speak to your wife about this, but Eddie, just know, I will find a way there with or without your help."
"Give me a couple of days to get the funds together. And to arrange for me to travel with you. I will not let you make the journey alone. It's far too dangerous." Your brother tells you.
"Thank you, Edmund. Truly." You say as you hug him. "I must leave now, Mother and Father do not know I am here. I will have my things packed and find out how quickly we can leave." You say before bolting out of the room.
"You're not actually going to let her go to America, are you?" Your sister-in-law, Clarissa, spoke as she emerged from behind a bookcase.
"Of course not, I just needed to pacify her for a few days." Eddie spoke as he settled into a chair and rubbed his face. Clarissa settled onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"She said that she had two weeks to find another match. Do you think it's possible. Has anyone else tried to court her?" Clarissa asked him.
"Sir, Mister Edmund Beaumont is here to see you." A valet said to Bradley as he sat in his study looking over his ledgers. "Send him in." He half mumbled.
Your brother sighed before jolting up. "My god, Rissa, you're a genius!" I need the carriage at once. I have an idea!" Your brother exclaimed before running out of the room
................
"Bradley!" Eddie practically shouted as he strode in the room. "What, Eddie?" Bradley rolled his eyes, still annoyed at the conversation from a few months ago.
"I need you to do something for me as a favor among friends." Eddie said seriously. Bradley sat up straighter, noticing his friends tone, and his flushed his face was.
"What do you need, Eddie?" Bradley asked him. "I need you to marry my sister." Edmund stated.
The laugh that Bradley let out was boisterous and echoed off the walls of his study. He subsided after a few minutes and noticed that your brother was still standing there.
"Oh. You were serious, " Bradley said. "Yes, I am!" Eddie shouted. "Didn't you tell me a few months ago that I had to stop courting your sister?" Bradley said as he leaned back in his chair.
"Yes, but things have changed. My parents are going to betroth her to Lord Harrington in two weeks if she doesn't have another suitor by then, and Ducky said she refuses to marry him. So, she's planning on running away to America so she doesn't have to marry him. She came and asked me for money so she could! Do you realize how crazy that is and how dangerous it is?! Bradley! She said she would go with or without my help!" Edmund shouts.
"Eddie, if I go to your parents and ask for her hand, they are going to think I'm crazy. I called on her once!" Bradley shouted.
"Yes, but you promonaded with her at Market Square, and you've danced with her at every ball. It will not seem out of the realm of possibility." Eddie counters.
"Fine. But she already has an offer. Why would they accept mine?" Bradley asks him.
There is a long pause between the two men. Your brother can see that Bradley is weighing his options. After what seems like an eternity, he breaks his silence.
"You are a Viscount. You have a higher rank and a larger estate than Lord Harrington, and if you agree to take a smaller dowry, they will surely accept your offer. But, fear not. I will make up for the lack of dowry from my own purse. I will give you three times that of what my father does. Please, Bradley. We both know how head strong Ducky is. She will run away, and if she does, we will never see her again. I cannot lose my sister. I am sorry for the things I said before. I will never doubt your honor again if you do this for me." Edmund begs him.
"Thank you!" Eddie almost weeps as he moves to hug his friend. "You're welcome, Edmund. I know how much she means to you." Bradley says.
"Alright. I will marry her. I will go in the morning to your parents. But I do not wish for a dowry from you. Knowing that Ducky is safe is more than enough." Bradley finally says.
"She means the world to me." Edmund smiles. "I have one request, though. You must promise me that you will be faithful to her. No affairs, no mistresses." Edmund tells him. "I promise." Bradley assures your brother as he shakes his hand, and escorts him out.
Once he's gone, Bradley walks over to a painting on the wall and removes it, revealing a small safe hidden behind it.
Bradley pulled the key from his pocket and turned the lock. He opened the small door and pulled out a small blue box. Inside what his mother's betrothal ring. A stunning arrangement of sapphires and diamonds set in silver. He placed it on his desk, and tomorrow, he would place it on your hand when he asked you to be his Viscountess.
Bradley wished the situation was different. He'd wished that you were accepting his proposal out of love, not out of need. But he would be a good husband to you. He would take care of you.
..........
Convincing your parents to accept his offer was much easier than Bradley thought. He guessed that the idea of them not having to give a dowry out weighed any other reservations they had.
Your smile almost seemed genuine when he asked you for your hand. You played the part of a dutiful fiancée so well as you gushed over your ring, which was a perfect fit. It was almost as if you actually loved him, but Bradley knew that it wasn't true. And no matter how big the smile on his face was, his heart was broken.
Tagging those who might be interested: @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @desert-fern @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @na-ta-sh-aa @katieshook02 @beyondthesefourwalls @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @horseshoegirl @djs8891 @roosters-girl @rosiahills22 @dempy @callsign-magnolia @gretagerwigsmuse @mshistorylover @seitmai @kmc1989 @bcarolinablr @waywardhunter95 @whatislovevavy @inkandarsenic @dingochef @princess76179 @schoollover @cheyrenee @angelbabyyy99 @bobfloydsbabe @sunlightmurdock @sebsxphia @atarmychick007 @queenlmno @sweetwhispersofchaos @mamaskillerqueen @withahappyrefrain @pwficrecs @blackwidownat2814 @carolineesnell @inky-sun @hrlzy @berrypockets
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blossom-hwa · 3 months ago
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a very fine line, indeed [5] | c.bg
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pairing: Beomgyu x fem!reader genre:  fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, regency era!au, nobility!au warnings:  cursing, period typical misogyny word count: 9k notes:  — updates every M/W/F at 8pm EST until the series finishes — inspiration taken from an amalgamation of different bridgerton stories - let me know what easter eggs you find! — story takes place in the same universe as my duke!yeonjun and earl!taehyun fics - check out the link to the series below for some more easter eggs :) In a society where it only takes a year for a young woman in search of a husband to be considered out of season, it is no wonder that by your third year out, you are desperate to marry. Known as one of the beauties of the ton, such a task should not be difficult for you—but with an absent father, no dowry, and a reputation centered around your inability to keep your mouth shut around one certain Beomgyu Choi, your prospects are more limited than you’d like. While you cannot recover your family or your wealth, however, the one thing you can try to control is your reputation. So when the third season rolls around, you resolve to keep your distance from Beomgyu Choi, your childhood enemy, and the man you hate most in the world. Enter Beomgyu Choi, second son of the Kensington Viscountcy, one of the most eligible bachelors in the ton. His older brother, cousin, and good friend have all recently married, leaving the mamas to salivate at his doorstep for the chance of marrying one of their daughters to him. When Beomgyu walks in on a particularly traumatizing moment between you and one of the most unsavory men in the ton and learns of your desperation to marry, despite your history of enmity, he proposes you a devious deal—to pretend to court you. It seems like a winning situation for both of you—more gentlemen will take notice of you, enhancing your prospects, and he will have the ton’s mamas off his back—and so, despite your misgivings, you agree. With you hell bent on marriage and Beomgyu completely indifferent to the concept, even independent of your hatred for each other, it seems unlikely that any sort of true affection will bloom. But as you begrudgingly put aside your differences to spend more and more time in one another’s company, and as you grow to know each other beyond your ill-conceived preconceptions from childhood, you begin to realize that perhaps you two have more in common than you had once thought. And as your faked acquaintanceship becomes more truth than fiction, a friendship beginning to bloom most unexpectedly— Perhaps you no longer need to convince the ton of the veracity of your courtship, because anyone with eyes can see that it is true.  Part 4 >> Part 5 >> Part 6
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Beomgyu has certainly said this before, but he actually means it this time when he says he would rather be anywhere than where he is now. Even the Smythe-Smith musicale. 
It would be hilarious, the fact that he’d rather have his ears tortured for an hour and a half than be here at an objectively much better performance, except he’s been walking through a fog of annoyance, anger, and misery for three days, and during that time he hasn’t been able to find much humor in anything. 
The worst thing is that it’s all his fault. 
He was the one who suggested ending the courtship, after all. He was the one who said it would be best. And, objectively, it is the logical course of action. You have a suitor—several, in fact—and while beginning this farce might have been what drew them to you, continuing it for too long might actually drive them away. It was logical. Rational. 
Too bad emotions have nothing to do with logic. 
Beomgyu sneaks a glance at you where you sit next to him, eyes fixed on the scene in front of you. You look to be the perfect model of attention, your gaze riveted on the two dancers as they sweep across the floor almost as one entity of eight limbs. You were completely unfazed earlier, too. When you met, you at least had seemed unperturbed by anything that happened during the last promenade. If Beomgyu hadn’t already known you were a superb actor, he’d have been entirely convinced of your performance. 
He wonders if you are truly so engrossed in the ballet now, or if you are acting just as well as before. 
Not that it matters. He pinches himself. The courtship is over, or at least it will be soon. And at that point he won’t see you again—not on purpose, at least. He has no business trying to figure out what your emotions are about this change of events. What reason would you have to be anything other than pleased, anyway? This whole agreement was just for your mutual benefit. Nothing more, nothing less. 
But you didn’t look pleased when he said it. Granted, he wasn’t looking at you for most of the conversation but from the few glances he snuck at you when he was sure you wouldn’t return his gaze, you looked more shocked than anything. Maybe not shocked, but at least surprised, and not in a way that screamed excitement. Though to be fair, your expression didn’t really scream anything then. You seemed mostly blank up until you asked to end the walk early. 
Briefly he entertains the thought that you might also be unreasonably upset by the end of this courtship. Just like every other time he’s done this, he shoves the thought away. It’s no use wondering. You wouldn’t tell him, anyway. 
Sighing quietly, Beomgyu turns his attention back to the performance, where the dancers have since separated to opposite corners of the floor. He watches, momentarily dazzled, as they twist and weave their way back to each other sinuously, sensually, until finger by finger, arm by arm, they find themselves entangled in each other’s embrace once more. A collective gasp rises from the room as they come toward each other so suddenly that Beomgyu almost thinks they will collide—
But they don’t. They stop quietly, foreheads coming to touch, faces so close that if one leaned forward even slightly, they would kiss. 
Tiny whispers permeate the room, and Beomgyu sees more than a few glances being directed at the queen, who sits, stone faced, in the seat of honor. This is perhaps the most sensual performance the ton has ever seen. He thinks it was beautiful, a lovely display of human emotion in its rawest form, but some of the more conservative members of the ton might not think so. The queen leads the social scene in London and her reaction will dictate what the papers say of this—he wonders what she might be thinking behind her usual blank mask. 
The queen’s blank mask reminds him of another and without thinking, he looks over at you. He expects much the same reaction—you are good at keeping most of your emotions off your face, after all. But instead of the politely entertained expression he expected, you look somewhat startled by the scene before you. Surprised. 
Flustered, even. 
Beomgyu turns away to hide a twitch of his lips. He hadn’t thought about how you would react to the blatant sensuality of the piece, but it’s more amusing than he expected. Your eyes wide, your lips slightly parted, your gaze riveted on the scene like you aren’t sure whether to be enraptured or disgusted…
It’s cute, in a way. He might even say adorable. 
Someone begins applauding and you jump. Beomgyu has to hide his smile as his own dutiful claps join those of the crowd. From where he sits he can see the queen stand, a smile coloring her features as she leads the applause, and he breathes a short sigh of relief. The Rosenburys are a good family. He would have hated to see them shunned if the queen disapproved of this performance. 
The crowd begins to disperse after that, filtering off into different rooms for refreshment and chatter. Later there will be some dancing, but for now he leads you towards a table filled with small glasses. They need some time to set up the ballroom floor before he can join you in your perfunctory one dance of the evening. 
…He shouldn’t have thought of that. Now his earlier ugly mood has just returned. He allows himself one grimace before schooling his features back into careful pleasantry. “How did you enjoy the performance?” he asks with practiced neutrality, handing you a glass of water. God, he really hadn’t noticed just how much levity you two could share before he shattered it with just a few words. “I have never seen the like.”
“Neither have I.” You stare at your glass, but to his surprise, Beomgyu doesn’t think you’re purposely trying to avoid his gaze—at least not now. You still look somewhat in awe of what you just saw. “It was…something else, truly. I think I enjoyed it.”
“I think I did too,” Beomgyu replies truthfully. Then he smiles, hiding a little smirk. “You looked rather flustered. I gather you haven’t seen something so romantic before.”
You scowl. Beomgyu welcomes the sight—at least it’s far more familiar than the calm neutrality you showed him earlier in the evening. “I wasn’t—flustered,” you snap. “I just…”
One second passes. Then another. You still seem to be floundering for words so Beomgyu takes the lead—to tease, of course. “You just what?” he asks, unable now to hold back his smirk. 
“Well—in the end, they were about to kiss.” Beomgyu bites his lip to hide a real smile at how flustered you look now. “I mean, I know people kiss—”
“I should certainly hope you did.”
“—but—oh, be quiet—but they don’t do it in public.” You shake your head as you and Beomgyu walk over to a quieter room, leaving the noise of the main hall behind. “You can’t tell me you see people kissing everywhere. Of course I would have been flustered.”
Beomgyu has perhaps seen more of it than he should, but he is a man and you are a lady. He cedes your point. “I tease, my lady,” he says, taking a sip of his own glass. “But beyond the near kiss, I thought the rest of the piece was beautifully done, and honestly quite tasteful.”
“So did I.” The two of you stop by a tall table and place your drinks down for a rest. A few others are in the room, mostly minding their own conversation and business. For a moment, Beomgyu thinks about the fact that no one even bats an eye at the two of you holding civil conversation in the same room anymore. Then his sour mood from earlier threatens to return and he abandons that train of thought completely, because this sort of scene won’t be happening anymore in a few weeks. 
God, what does it say about him that he would rather be arguing with you for the entire ton to hear than be absent of your company from now on and forever?
You’re speaking again, so Beomgyu drags himself out of his thoughts and back to the present in time so that he might actually respond to your words instead of making a massive fool of himself. “Even the near kiss,” you’re saying. “It was all part of the story. I’ve read books and been to the opera, of course, but that was the first time I’d seen anyone express a story with such love without words and just through…the body.” 
You look almost shy when your words are done and over, but Beomgyu can’t find it in himself to tease you this time. Maybe because you were so earnest when you said it, because it is more touching than you realize that you would allow him to hear your thoughts in this moment and he doesn’t want to embarrass you for it. Maybe because he’s just glad that the stilted pleasantry of earlier seems to be gone and you are speaking like normal acquaintances again. “I agree,” he says quietly. “It is rather beautiful to see the different ways people use art to express themselves.”
You glance at him sidelong. “You are a true appreciator of art, then.” It isn’t a question, and he can’t really read the look in your eyes. 
“I’m not really,” Beomgyu admits. “At least I wasn’t before. But the duchess is a connoisseur of the classics and music, Lord Kang’s wife is quite literally a world renowned pianist, and Mr. Huening is an accomplished painter, so between the three of them it is now somewhat difficult to escape the influence of different arts around me. Not that I would truly want to, though.” He pauses. “Art is interesting because it captures the pieces of the world in a perspective unique to the artist. As I grow older, I think I find myself appreciating those new perspectives more and more.”
You look at him, a glint in your eye. “You talk of your age like you are an old man, Mr. Choi.”
He scowls, but relents at the softness on your face hidden behind that glint. “I am no old man,” he sniffs. “But I cannot deny that I age by the day.”
“So you cannot.” You laugh a little. “I jest, Mr. Choi. I agree very much with your perspective.” Your eyes take on a faraway look. “I sometimes wish I could experience such a story in my own lifetime,” you say, almost to yourself. 
Beomgyu peers at you. “Everyone has their own story, Miss L/N. Just because it is not immortalized in some art form does not mean it does not impact the world in some way.”
“Oh, I know.” You wave a hand. “It’s just—watching the dancers, I felt so taken by the scene in a way that I have never felt in real life. I suppose the only times I have felt such deep emotion are when I care for Delia and Henry. Or if I am angry.” You snort a little. “That seems to happen more often than it should. I just wonder what it would be like to love as deeply as the dancers seemed to.”
“You have never been in love before?” Beomgyu asks softly. 
“Well, I have loved.” You shrug. “I love Henry. I love Delia. But romantic love…no. I have not. And I honestly do not know if I will ever have the chance to pursue it.” Your laugh turns self-deprecating. “Likely I will not.”
Beomgyu feels a little sick inside. He’s not really sure why. There’s a measure of guilt, he thinks, for having played a part in your somewhat shattered reputation over the past two seasons, as well as a fair amount of sympathy and anger for your situation at home. But there’s another feeling, something fluttery and sticky all at once in the pit of his stomach that he really does not understand. And he doesn’t have time to sort it through—not that he really wants to—because you’re talking again. 
“It just seems so beautiful, the way other people tell of it. True love, I mean.” You stare deep into your glass and Beomgyu isn’t sure you know that you’re talking to him anymore. “I don’t know if I will ever experience it. I mean, sometimes I wonder if I will ever even be kissed.”
Beomgyu blinks. And blinks again. 
You clearly notice his silence because embarrassment floods your features and you look away. “Apologies, Mr. Choi. I did not mean to say that out loud.”
“No need to apologize,” Beomgyu gets out. “But…Miss L/N, I am sure you will be kissed. You will have a husband. Surely he will kiss you.”
“Maybe.” You shrug, looking somewhat depressed. “I certainly hope so. But I assume that would only happen if my husband loved me enough to do it.”
His head is spinning. “Would your husband not love you?”
“I have no idea,” you snap, voice lowering to a quiet hiss. “Mr. Choi, you of all people know very well that I would marry a man even if he did not love me.”
Right. Evil stepmother, and all that. “Of course. I apologize.” He pauses, trying to sort through everything that you’re talking about and all the thoughts he’s having. “But one does not have to love someone to kiss someone,” is all he points out in the end, because his brain is just not working right now. He can’t even blame it on the alcohol because he hasn’t drunk at all today or this week. 
“Yes, but—” You groan before muttering, “This is so embarrassing.”
“What is embarrassing?”
You groan again. “I don’t want to say it in front of you.”
Beomgyu raises an eyebrow. “If I may, Miss L/N, I’m certain Lady Whistledown has immortalized far more embarrassing things that you have said to me in her gossip column. Besides—” He cuts himself off before he can say more, hoping you won’t notice. 
Unfortunately, you do notice. “Besides what?”
He’s a damn idiot for saying anything at all, because you certainly won’t let him off without getting the answer out of him now. “We aren’t going to be seeing each other in a few weeks,” he says quietly. “So whatever you say now, you wouldn’t have to face it after a month from now.”
A short silence fills the air, along with a vague tension that isn’t as sharp as the one he felt in the park, but still makes him feel somewhat will. You break it first. “Well, when you put it that way…” Your smile looks more like a smirk and there’s something brittle to it that Beomgyu doesn’t quite know what to make of, but you continue before he can try to figure it out. “You aren’t wrong.”
“I’m never wrong,” he says, trying for his usual casual air. It doesn’t quite work but you take the bait with some seeming relief in your eyes. “I could count probably a hundred times you were wrong, and at least half of them are printed in Whistledown,” you snipe. 
“Well, if I’m not wrong this time, then tell me.” Beomgyu gestures to you. “What is so embarrassing that you couldn’t want me to hear it out of your own lips now?”
You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. “Well, if you truly must know…” You sigh again. You won’t quite meet your eyes and against his will, Beomgyu finds your embarrassment somewhat endearing. “It would simply be nice to be kissed by someone who loves me, and whom I love back. It is the stuff of romantic dreams, is it not?”
“…I don’t really know, Miss L/N.”
You scoff. “Of course not. You haven’t a romantic bone in your body.”
Beomgyu narrows his eyes in affront. “Who brought you those gloves, hm?”
You open your mouth to reply. Then you close it. “Point taken,” you finally admit. “But my previous point still stands. I’m sure it is the dream of half the ladies of the ton—or more—to be kissed in a moment as emotional as the performance we saw earlier. Half of the men, too.” 
“…I take your point as well,” Beomgyu says. 
You shrug halfheartedly, embarrassment still coating your every movement. “It’s a stupid dream. Nothing much of it.”
He wants to say something to take the despondence out of your voice, but for a person who prides himself on always having a witty comeback, Beomgyu finds himself at a loss for words now. You don’t seem like you really want help with this, anyway. There isn’t much he could do to help with your plight even if you did. 
“I’m sorry,” he says in the end. “I wish I…” He trails off, then decides to try for some levity. “I wish I could help, though I’m not sure what I could do beyond kissing you.” He expects you to laugh.
You do not laugh. Instead, you look at him with a gaze oddly blank but also full of something he can’t discern, and ask, “Are you offering?”
Dead silence falls between you two. And in that silence, Beomgyu realizes now that you are the only two left in the room. Everyone else has gone. The door is open slightly for propriety’s sake, but this room is somewhat removed from the rest of the party, and—
Why is he even thinking about any of that? It’s not as if this would happen. It’s not as if you are really asking him to kiss you. 
Kiss you. 
All of a sudden Beomgyu can’t look at anything but your lips. Can’t think of anything beyond what it would feel like to have them against his—to hold you by the waist, pressing you closer to him as your arms wrap around his neck, his mouth swallowing any sounds you might make as he pulls you as close to his chest as he can. 
Dear God. Beomgyu feels somewhat faint. This is very dangerous territory. The logical part of his brain is screaming for him to disengage, to laugh it off and get out of the room as soon as possible because if he says the wrong thing (or the right thing? Is there even a right or wrong in this situation?) there will be no going back. But a deeper, more insistent part of him that isn’t lodged just in his brain but also in the beating of his heart urges him to rise to your challenge. To take the chance to have your lips and body against his. 
He's never felt this way before. He’s only been to a brothel once and he left before anything could happen because the idea of having intercourse with someone he barely knew repulsed him more than he ever expected it would. But even beyond that, even with his female friends and acquaintances, he has never felt this way. Never wanted anyone like this. Not once. 
“Do you want me to offer?” he asks quietly, and something in his chest sends a burst of warmth rippling throughout his body. 
You swallow, but your gaze remains steady. “I asked you a question first.”
And so you did. Beomgyu wonders if he should press his own suit, but something in the set of your features tells him he won’t receive a single answer until you’re satisfied with his reply. Warmth burns in his chest. “I cannot offer you the love you seek,” he says frankly. “But, if you would like…”
You hold yourself very still. Even the air seems to await his sentence to finish.
“…I could help you with a kiss.”
Silence drops between you two. You swallow again and Beomgyu follows the movement of your throat with his eyes, trailing it down from your lips as he cocks his head. “So I ask again,” he says quietly, “do you want me to offer, Miss L/N?”
For a long moment, you stay quiet. Long enough for the air to become stifling, long enough for the rational part of Beomgyu’s brain to regain some more control, long enough for him to come back to his damn senses and realize that this is going in a direction he won’t be able to control for long. Or maybe he’s already lost control. Either way, this can’t continue or you’ll both end up doing something you regret. “I apologize. I forgot myself.” He turns away, ready to flee. “I know our courtship is going to be over soon and I should not have suggested such a thing—even on my honor, I should not have—”
“Yes.”
Beomgyu blinks. A very unflattering noise that sounds like “what?” comes out of his mouth but he barely hears it, blurry, like he’s been submerged underwater. 
You swallow hard. “You asked if I wanted you to offer,” you say quietly. Something tremors in your voice but you meet his eyes. “And I said yes.”
He gapes in a way that is likely extremely unflattering, but you don’t seem to notice. “So?” you say, jaw set with what looks like determination, but Beomgyu can see the slight embarrassment tingeing your features the longer he says nothing. He’d tease you if he had the presence of mind to but he doesn’t, so he only extends a hand. 
“Come here.”
You shuffle forward, steps uncertain. “This means nothing,” you say quietly, more to yourself than him. 
He doesn’t understand why that deepens the sick feeling in his stomach. Of course this means nothing. It could never mean anything even if he wanted it to, which he definitely doesn’t. It’s not as if it’ll matter in a month anyway. “This means nothing,” he echoes, ignoring the pit in his gut in favor of taking your hand. 
The first thing he notices is that you are warm. He’s warm, probably too warm with the feeling in his chest, but when your palm touches his it’s as though a spark travels through his skin, up his spine. “Tell me what to do,” you mumble. 
Your words, for some reason, bring a smile to his face. “There’s not much to it,” he says. “It’s just kissing.”
“I know,” you snap, looking adorably embarrassed. “But I don’t know what to do with my hands. Or anything.”
Beomgyu smiles harder. “Put your arms around my neck,” he says. “I’ll take care of the rest.”
You take a breath. Beomgyu wonders for a moment if you’ll do what he said, but then your arms creep up, cautiously looping around his neck. “Like this?” you whisper, not looking at him. 
He can hardly answer around the sensation of your hands at his neck, palms flush against his skin. Warmth creeps up his face and it isn’t just from your hands, but he laughs, at himself and at you, a little bit. “Yes,” he says, curling one arm around your waist. You make a slight noise when your body hits his and Beomgyu might be delirious, but he swears that sound will be burned into his mind forever. 
You’re still not looking at him. Beomgyu chuckles slightly. “Miss L/N,” he says softly, tapping your chin with his free hand. “You’ll have to look at me to make this work.”
It takes an eternity for you to meet his eyes. When you do, though, Beomgyu finds himself mesmerized by them. Frozen in place by the heat of your gaze in the moment. His hand creeps up from your chin to cup your cheek. “Let me know,” he whispers, “if you ever want to stop.” He pauses for you to nod.
And then he kisses you. 
Your lips are soft against his. Warm, and impossibly sweet—not in taste, not exactly, but like candy, the longer he kisses you, the more he wants. He barely stops himself from letting a soft moan leave his lips but then you make a noise, soft and whiny and wanting, and almost reflexively he pulls you even closer than before. Your arms wrap tighter around his neck and you don’t protest. 
The rolling heat in his gut just flares brighter.
Beomgyu kisses you for seconds. He kisses you for hours. He kisses you until the sun sets and the moon rises, and then the moon sets and the sun rises. None of this is true but all of it is because that’s how he feels, kissing you now—like he could kiss you forever and never once tire of your lips. 
One of your hands creeps up into his hair, tugging it slightly, and he groans against your mouth. Nothing exists except you, now. Nothing but you and him. 
Air forces you to break apart in the end. If Beomgyu had his way he would just stop breathing rather than stop kissing you, but his body has other plans and forces him to pull away. His eyes had closed at some point. He doesn’t know when. He opens them now and when he sees your face, eyes wide, features slack, lips kiss-swollen and dark, he nearly crushes you against him again. 
He watches as you blink once, twice. Your expression stills and you seem to come back to earth. He watches your throat bob as you swallow hard, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “So,” you say, voice cracking slightly. “That’s a kiss.”
Beomgyu nods. “That’s a kiss,” he says, words lower than usual. 
Your eyes flicker around the room like you’d rather look anywhere than at him. Beomgyu doesn’t feel too bad about it because he thinks if you looked him in the eyes right now, he might combust. “We should probably go,” you say haltingly. “We’ve been gone for too long.”
He blinks. He’d almost forgotten just where you are and how compromising this position is. Then it really hits him—what he just did. Kissed you. Compromised you. At a party, a public event full of people when your courtship isn’t even real and is in fact supposed to end soon. Granted, no one saw, but someone very easily could have. The door is open, for heaven’s sake—he didn’t even close it—what is wrong with him—
“Yes.” The word comes out breathless, more air than sound. “Yes, we should…we should go.”
Slowly, you unwrap your arms from his neck. His arm slides off of your waist. And as the two of you leave the room, determinedly not looking at each other, Beomgyu can’t feel much else but the absence of your warmth against him. 
He feels a bit cold for the rest of the night.
. . . . .
It is a beautiful day out. The afternoon sun shines brightly through the windows, making the old curtains look almost cheerful, and when you and Sabine go outside to hang the linens to dry, the fresh but cold air stings your cheeks in the best way. Delia is playing in the small garden with Soyoung, and Henry hasn’t had a tantrum all day. In fact, he’s sleeping right now, and your stepmother has gone to call on some of her friends in town. By all definitions, it’s a wonderful day. 
Meanwhile, you are going insane. 
It’s been three days since the performance and ball at the Rosenbury house. It was supposed to be just another night out. You knew Lord Cho wouldn’t be there so even he couldn’t distract you from the specter of Mr. Choi looming over you, the knowledge that your contract courtship would end in just a few weeks. For all you thought about it, you couldn’t understand why you were so upset, and that just made you even more restless when you entered the estate and almost immediately locked eyes with him across the room. 
You remember polite but cool conversation. You remember feeling awful, having to keep a pleasant expression on your face all the while looking at the person you wanted to think about the least. You remember the performance being beautiful and romantic and lovely, so much so that you almost forgot your troubles, and you remember talking with Mr. Choi after and feeling a little better about it. At least, talking about the performance, you could forget about why you felt so wary speaking to him earlier. 
But you got carried away. You started talking about things you had only ever admitted to yourself, in your head—things you never thought you’d speak in front of someone else, much less Mr. Choi. You still don’t know why you said anything. Maybe it was just that once you started, you couldn’t really stop. Maybe it was because you knew you wouldn’t be seeing Mr. Choi in a month anyway, so you threw caution to the wind. You threw it much too far, though. 
You should never have let it get to the kiss. 
The kiss. You squeeze your eyes shut in the middle of tossing a sheet over the drying line. Even now you can’t stop the heat from rushing immediately to your face when you remember Mr. Choi’s eyes looking into yours, his voice low and soft, his arm around your waist and his hand against your cheek as he pressed his lips to yours. You felt so weak, then. But not in a bad way. There was a heat burning in your stomach that turned your legs to jelly and if it weren’t for Mr. Choi supporting you, you’re sure you would have melted into a heap on the floor. 
You couldn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of that day. You can’t stop thinking about it even now. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything—you said that, and so did he. But you’re beginning to realize that just because you might say something, that doesn’t mean it will be true. 
You resist the urge to scream. You really thought the kiss would be a one and done thing. Mr. Choi obviously doesn’t see you romantically and you were sure the same went for you. So why, even now, can you not think badly of the moment? As if it wasn’t enough to be ruined once? If anyone finds out that you two were left alone in a room, much less that you shared a kiss, you’ll be done for. You almost certain no one saw but you’ll have to be incredibly careful now not to let anyone suspect anything happened. In the wake of that moment, you’re not certain you can trust your acting skills to save you as much as you could before. 
God, why do you want him with you now? Why do you want him to kiss you again?
Sabine has gone back inside but you stay outside for a moment longer, sitting on the grass beneath one of the draped sheets. You would love to move and continue on with the day but your mind won’t shut up. The thoughts that you had been carefully keeping locked away in their little boxes in your mind are unraveling and if you don’t try to sort through them right now you’ll be a gibbering mess for the rest of the day—even more so than you already are—so you bury your face in your hands behind the fluttering white sheets and try to think. 
Mr. Choi can be an annoying pest. You have over a decade’s worth of arguments you can pull out immediately to prove this point. Mr. Choi, however, is not only an annoying pest, as unfortunate as that is. He can be very kind. Gentle. He loves children, as you saw with the duchess’s baby and with Delia—who still asks about him sometimes, and delights whenever he calls and she is allowed to see him. No one who adores children so much can be bad all the time. Not even he. And when he is kind, you can truly see the handsomeness for which he is so well known by the ton. It isn’t just an outward beauty, which you could admit even when you hated him. Physical beauty means nothing. But when you saw that Mr. Choi was truly a good person on the inside, too, he became that much more handsome to you. 
Focus. You pinch your wrist hard and the sharp sting clears your mind beyond Mr. Choi’s handsome face. He knows about your situation at home but did not press you to tell—instead, you were the one who felt comfortable with him enough, somehow, that you told him voluntarily. He did not laugh. He did not look upon you with shame or even pity. He only helped you clean your wounds, and then came calling when you didn’t expect it to give you new gloves because he knew then why hiding your hands was so important to you that you’d wear the same pair over and over for years when you couldn’t afford a new one. He even gave you salve for your hands. You weren’t lying when you told him your hands hadn’t felt so soft in years. 
He knows all of this. You were comfortable enough to tell him things you have never told anyone before, not even your closest friends. That scares you, and it brings back an old thought, one you used to view with irony but do now with a healthy dose of trepidation—that perhaps, because you have shown him the worst parts of yourself for so long, you have nothing else you need to hide. That perhaps, even before this season, Mr. Choi knew you better than many others did, even those with whom you are closest.
You trusted him to kiss you and not to take advantage of you. You trusted him not to say anything to anyone about it. You didn’t even think about it then—you were afraid your reputation might be unrecoverable if someone else saw, but never once did the idea that Mr. Choi would spread the news of your unintentional tryst even cross your mind. Because he wouldn’t, you are sure. He wouldn’t. For all the things that confuse you about him, his honor was never in question for you. He would never hold that moment over your head for anything. 
God, do you really like him? It seems like you do. You were unduly upset when he suggested ending the courtship soon, even though you knew it had to have been coming. You never wanted to think about it but maybe you really did feel that Mr. Choi had become more of a friend than you’d ever admit out loud. You pull your knees up to your chest and swallow hard, trying to digest your mental confession. It would explain a lot of things, at least. 
But would a friend think about another this much? All the time? And more importantly, would a friend want to kiss another this badly? Again?
Maybe you want him as something other than a friend. Something closer to a lover. 
Oh God. You scream silently into your knees. No. You’re not in love with Mr. Choi, you are certain of that. Absolutely certain. It wouldn’t happen—besides, it’s too fast. You couldn’t have fallen in love with someone you hated so much just months ago. Months. It doesn’t make any sense. There is no reasonable way that could have happened. 
Love doesn’t make sense, the traitorous part of your mind whispers. 
Against your will you remember the performance, the dancers and their strange, wild, beautiful movements that took them away from and towards each other. It didn’t make sense, but you knew the story was love, all the same. 
It doesn’t matter. You stand up suddenly, barely avoiding the wet end of a sheet about to slap you in the face. None of this matters. Because you are not in love with Mr. Choi, you know that for a fact. You would know if you loved him. You’re certain you would. Right now, you know that you don’t. And that is that. 
God, this is terrible. One temporary lapse of judgement and already you are such a mess. You have other things you need to be thinking about—namely the suitors who might still ask for your hand. Lord Kim called the day after the Rosenbury performance. Mr. Winslow came just yesterday. Lord Cho himself has come to call twice in the past week. Twice. Mr. Choi hasn’t even come once. 
Yet he’s the one your mind won’t shut up about.
Several hours later, as you descend from your carriage in front of the Bridgertons’ grand London townhouse, your mind still won’t shut up about him. If anything, you’re thinking about him even more because he’s also supposed to be in attendance tonight. You don’t really know how you’ll face him. You hope he isn’t here yet. 
You start walking up the front path, trailing slightly behind your stepmother who has already spotted one of her friends and is clearly eager to get away. Your fingers fiddle with your gloves—a bad habit that you’ve only noticed this season, but you can’t stop yourself right now. The gloves are the silk pair Mr. Choi gifted you. You really didn’t want to wear them today, not when your mind is already in shambles, but the Bridgertons are an esteemed family in town and you’re honestly surprised that you received an invite to their ball. This pair of silk gloves with the careful gold stitching is perhaps the only thing grand enough in your wardrobe for this event. Even your gown, which you had been refurbishing during the nights with new embroidery and patterns you’d gotten from older dresses, can’t quite live up to the elegance of the white silk Mr. Choi chose for you. 
You’ve been to the Bridgerton estate only once before, and the sight of the inside nearly takes your breath away. The viscountess has clearly outdone herself with the decorations—so tasteful and elegant, but never understated. You’re not the only one gawking, which makes you feel a little better as the crowd pushes you inside. Taking a deep breath, you allow yourself to be herded toward the ballroom. 
It’s a crush tonight. No one in their right mind would turn down an invitation from the Bridgertons except in an emergency and it shows. You lose your stepmother easily, which isn’t such a bad thing, but what you’re more worried about is the fact that you can’t seem to find anyone that really know. Mr. Choi is supposed to be here. So is Lady Choi and probably her husband, too, but you can’t see any of them yet. You wander the edge of the ballroom as people continue filtering inside, trying to seek out any familiar face, until someone calls your name and you turn around. 
Your initial hope at hearing your name crumbles into dust as you come face to face with someone you usually try to avoid at all costs, even more so than Mr. Choi. “Lady Trombley,” you say flatly, staring right into those narrowed snake eyes. 
“Miss L/N! What a lovely surprise.” She flashes you a bright smile that doesn’t fool you one bit. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
“Nor did I,” you say, curving your lips in the barest imitation of a smile. You hate her and she knows it, so you see no point in hiding your feelings. Honestly you wonder at the Bridgertons for inviting her tonight, but she is a titled member of society. Perhaps they had to for propriety’s sake. “I don’t exactly plan to see you anywhere, Lady Trombley. You just seem to be there.” Your smile turns sharp. “Hovering, you know. Like a fly on the wall. Or a snake.”
Lady Trombley covers her mouth with a hand, all dramatic shock, but your face remains politely neutral. When you promised yourself you’d be married this year, you only swore off arguing with Mr. Choi. Lady Trombley is a completely other story—she is just mean. Nasty. She slithers around society like a little snake, spitting venomous words into everyone’s ears like no one’s business. You may have a personal feud with Mr. Choi, but if you were to choose who you loathed more, it would be Lady Trombley by far. 
“Well, I only wanted to be kind,” she sniffs, and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes. “After all, I truly thought you would have been married by now. You are quite a beautiful lady, Miss L/N…or at least, so society says.”
You raise an eyebrow. “I might say the same for you, Lady Trombley.”
“Is this not your third season?” she continues as though you hadn’t said a word. “Goodness, how time flies. I suppose beauty doesn’t matter much, then—at least, not compared to money.” Her eyes flash with triumph. “Isn’t it so upsetting when a lack of dowry prevents a beautiful lady from finding the match she deserves?”
“Truly,” another voice pipes up. Lord Grimson sidles up to her side, his eyes glinting with the same malice you saw in hers. “After all, it is one thing to bring in a beautiful girl with money. It is another thing entirely to bring in a beautiful girl with no money at all.”
“Your insults lack all imagination.” You huff out a laugh, keeping the fact that their words really do hurt you close to your chest. “Talking to you is like talking to a tree. Actually, a tree might possess slightly more intelligence than you—not to mention, more beauty, too.”
“Oh, I do not insult.” Lady Trombley holds her fan close to her chest as though surprised at your statement. “I only state what I see, Miss L/N. And what I see...hm.” She leans closer to you, her face suddenly appearing right in front of yours. Her voice turns into a hiss. “I see a lady with a pinprick of beauty and nothing else to show for it. No husband. No dowry.” A smile slithers over her lips. “No worth.”
Your smile drops completely. “Be careful, Lady Trombley,” you say evenly. “How many seasons were you out before you found your husband? Two? Three?” You smirk. “Perhaps, my lady, you and I are not so different after all. Though I’d fancy myself at least a pinch wittier than you.”
Her eyes narrow, and you can see her mouth opening to say something back. Not that it matters much to you, because you’re ready to bow out of this conversation without a goodbye, but then her eye catches on something or someone behind you and suddenly her whole face changes. “Mr. Choi!” she exclaims, and you freeze. Her gaze turns simpering, her eyelashes fluttering quickly. If you weren’t frozen at the mention of Mr. Choi’s name, you’d have half a mind to gag. 
You manage to turn just slightly to allow Mr. Choi into the small circle of conversation, but he doesn’t even look at Lady Trombley even when she addresses him directly. “I didn’t know you would be here, Mr. Choi,” she murmurs, voice a pitch higher than before. “Surely—”
“Miss L/N.” Mr. Choi dips his head to you without acknowledging Lady Trombley at all, very deliberately ignoring her and Lord Grimson. You blink once, twice—he’s given them the cut direct!—and only just manage mumble out his name in greeting. 
“I’m glad I was able to find you in this crowd. It is quite a crush tonight, is it not?” His smile, now that his face is no longer directed at Lady Trombley, has turned much softer. Sweeter. And all of a sudden you want to cry a little. You’ve managed to avoid enough direct confrontations with Lady Trombley and her crowd this season that you’d almost forgotten how terrible it feels to be insulted in public, and you know you can defend yourself, but it feels better than it should to have someone in your corner who might help you when you need it. “Might I escort you to the dance floor?”
Lady Trombley’s high voice cuts in before you can answer. “Surely the rumors are not true, Mr. Choi,” she titters. “You cannot possibly be courting Miss L/N!”
“I apologize,” Mr. Choi says, voice hard as he looks her directly in the eye. “Were you included in our conversation?” He offers his arm and you take it dazedly, letting him lead you away. 
A few steps in, you realize he isn’t leading you to the dance floor, but to a less crowded space at the edge of the ballroom. You’re grateful—you don’t really feel like dancing right now. “Thank you,” you mumble.
“Don’t thank me,” he says brusquely. “Lady Trombley is one of the worst kinds of people. I can’t abide her.” He shakes his head. “It was worth it just to knock her down a peg or two, though it seems like you had it handled before I arrived.”
“Well, it’s old news that I have no dowry. You would think they’d have come up with new insults in the meantime.” You shrug halfheartedly, trying to smile. It’s more difficult than you thought it would be. “Unfortunately, calling someone poor triumphs over everything. Even a terrible personality.”
“Your personality isn’t terrible,” Mr. Choi says sharply. 
You raise an eyebrow. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you admit it, Mr. Choi.”
He flushes a little. The sight makes it easier to smile—he looks rather cute. “Well, I’m saying it now,” he finally declares. “And it is—idiotic, to put someone down for a lack of wealth. Especially a dowry.” He snorts. 
You blink. “What do you mean by that?”
Mr. Choi scoffs. “Dowries are idiotic,” he says, loud enough for you to hear but not quite loud enough to carry. “It is incredible that the bride’s family should have to pay the husband’s to accept her, especially if the husband already has enough wealth to spare.” He shakes his head. “A stupid concept.”
You look at him for a long moment, trying to think of what to say. There are a lot of emotions spinning about your head and you’re not sure what to make of them. In the end, you give him a half smile and say, “You know, if we hadn’t hated each other for so long, we might have made a perfect match.”
Mr. Choi looks at you for a long moment, gaze inscrutable. You can’t read his expression but he seems to be looking for something in your eyes, though you’re not really sure what. In the end you don’t know if he finds it or not because he just gives you a little smile, pleasant and natural, and nods. “It’s a shame we got off on the wrong foot so badly,” he says, voice light. He looks away but you gaze at him a moment longer. If you didn’t know better, you’d say you saw a hint of disappointment, or something akin to it, in his eyes. 
But you do know better, so you ignore that thought and paste a smile of your own onto your face. “You said I didn’t need to thank you,” you say quietly, and he turns back. A wave of…something, you’re not sure what, passes over you, but it’s definitely not bad and feels more like gratitude and relief and maybe that earlier urge to cry, so you continue. “But I do. You…you are not the person I thought you were just a few months ago.” 
Mr. Choi stares at you so intently you almost lose your nerve, but you force yourself to say what needs to be said. It isn’t fair, after all, to allow him to keep thinking that you still believe him to be a terrible person all for the sake of your own pride. “Thank you for helping me just now. Thank you for the gloves. Thank you for not pitying me. And…” You take a deep breath. “I would like to apologize for my part in our childhood feud. I should not have thrown dirt at you, as angry as I was.” It’s too hard to look at him right now so you turn your gaze away, but you continue. “If I may, I’d like to really put that part of our childhood behind us. Not just for the sake of the deal, but in reality, too.”
For a long moment, Mr. Choi says nothing. His eyes rove over your face with an intensity you’ve never seen from him before. You remain still, letting him search for whatever it is he wants to find. “Then I must apologize as well,” he says finally, his voice quiet, though something brims in his words that you can’t quite figure out. “I should have apologized when I ruined your shoes. I should not have let it get to the point that you felt you needed to throw dirt at me to get your revenge.” One side of his mouth quirks up in a smile. “And thank you, Miss L/N, for being the first of us to put aside their pride to resolve this years-long feud. You are braver than I am.” He sighs, and it sounds a little like relief. “For what it is worth, you are not the person I thought you were before, either. I should like to move past our old feuds as well, for real this time.”
You feel like crying a little. You’re not sure which emotion is responsible for it—relief, happiness, gratefulness, or some mixture of all three?—but it doesn’t really matter. You can’t hide the smile blooming on your lips and you don’t have much desire to, either. You feel happier right now than you have in days. 
…Right. Now you’re remembering why you felt so moody over the past week. 
You tear your eyes from Mr. Choi’s face, and more importantly, from his lips. Your cheeks feel warm but with luck he won’t notice anything, as long as you keep your voice steady. “Mr. Choi, it is hard for me to admit, but I think…”
“Hm?” He blinks, suddenly looking very alert. You almost lose your confidence but you force yourself to continue. You’ve made it this far and he hasn’t rebuffed you yet.
“I don’t want to stop talking to you after a month,” you say all in a rush. He opens his mouth to speak but you barrel on, embarrassment flaring in your cheeks. “We don’t need to continue this courtship. I agree that we’ve both met our own conditions. But…we could be friends, could we not?” You’re too afraid to look at him for fear of seeing derision in his face, so you stay turned away. “The—the kiss—” you mumble the word so softly you can hardly hear it yourself—“we said it wouldn’t mean anything. It won’t—it doesn’t mean anything. But I would like to be friends. If you agree.”
This silence is even more unbearable than the one before. “Miss L/N,” Mr. Choi says eventually, very quietly. “Will you look at me?”
Slowly, you turn back to him. There is no derision in his eyes. In fact, he is smiling. 
“You are far braver than I,” he says, seemingly more to himself than you. “I should like to be friends. I was…too scared to bring it up on my own.” His smile widens. “Thank you for asking in place of me.”
Bravery. You nearly snort. If only he knew how selfish this desire was—that your desperation to see him again, even after the aforementioned month was over, was what drove you to this madness. Still, relief pools in your chest and you nearly sag as all of your emotions hit you at once. “Thank God,” you mutter. “I was terrified you would laugh at me.”
He looks at you with mock affront. “I would never laugh at you.”
You raise one deadpan eyebrow. “Yes, you would.”
He does laugh, then. And it’s a beautiful sound. You wonder how you never noticed how lovely it was before. “Touché,” he says, eyes twinkling like stars in a dark sky. 
You sniff, barely repressing your own smile. “I’m always right, Mr. Choi.”
“Beomgyu.”
“…What?” Did you hear him right?
“Beomgyu.” For the first time this night, Mr. Choi looks a little uncertain, but he meets your eyes with a steadiness that keeps you rooted to where you stand. “If we are to be friends, you must call me by my name, no?”
You open your mouth. Close it. To allow one to call you by your given name is an honor typically only bestowed upon family and the closest of friends. You know Mr. Choi—Beomgyu—is friendlier than most in the ton, but to you? Now? “Are you certain?” you ask, blinking fast. 
“Of course I am.” He smirks, but it isn’t even infuriating anymore. “I always am.”
“Tch.” You laugh. “In that case, you must call me Y/N. As a fair trade between friends, of course.”
“Well, if you say so…” He holds out a hand, smiling brightly. “Then might I ask you to dance, Y/N? As friends?”
You smile back. “As friends,” you echo, and as he leads you onto the dance floor, you wonder why, despite all of your relief and joy in this moment, you still feel like there is something missing behind your chest.
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Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :)
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bethanydelleman · 2 years ago
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I just watched Persuasion (2022) and I am beyond upset. I watched it with my parents so I had to sit through the entire thing. They don't know much about the Regency Era and they haven't watched any other period dramas so they think that piece of trash is actually a good adaptation.
"He's a ten and I don't trust a ten." WTF?????? Persuasion is my favourite Austen novel and the way they literally ruined Anne is sick.
What was your first reaction to watching it? I wish I could wash all of it away. Any words of comfort that will hopefully cleanse my mind?
I'm so happy you sent this because I've been working up a little rant.
The reason Anne is so wrong, with her near hatred of her own family, rolling her eyes at the camera, the fact that they gave her masculine leaning clothes even, is that Book! Anne Elliot is the poster girl for the unseen, unacknowledged, and underappreciated labour of women.
There is something very fundamental to women's experiences from Austen's time to ours (and I'm sure before) where women do the dirty, mindless, emotional, and unpaid labour that keeps our whole society rolling and get zero credit. And yeah, it's getting better but this problem IS NOT FIXED. Now Anne is upper class so she's not mopping the floor, but this is her experience. Anne plays piano without thanks because without her no one can dance. Anne watches the sick kid so her sister can go to a party. Anne smooths over all the little arguments so that the family can function. She visits sick friends (lifted right out of the movie). She gives and gives and gives of herself and she's "just Anne". Because nothing she does is showy or important in the eyes of the world even though it is vital.
One of the worst scenes in Persuasion 2022 (I mean it's hard to pick there are so many), is how Mary basically manipulates Anne into staying back with little Charles. In the book, Anne clearly has the idea first and offers. In the movie, Mary has the idea and Anne rolls her eyes and groans before offering.
No!
Anne in the book is constantly giving of herself without complaint. Also, she does not want to see Wentworth for the first time! It's going to be painful for her, so she does something selfless but also spares herself from distress.
In that scene in 2022, Anne is a doormat giving in to her ridiculous sister. She also deeply regrets not going to dinner. In that scene in the book, Anne is a compassionate sister who after first attempting to reconcile Mary to her duty, offers to take over. She makes the choice of her own volition and she doesn't regret it.
She knew herself to be of the first utility to the child; and what was it to her if Frederick Wentworth were only half a mile distant, making himself agreeable to others?
It's this complex and emotional scene that was just ruined.
The triumph of Anne Elliot is not just getting Wentworth back, it is that people begin to see and acknowledge her labour and value. The Musgroves are absolutely devoted to her after she helps Louisa. Wentworth sees her worth and declares it in front of everyone. One of the best moments in the book is:
"but if Anne will stay, no one so proper, so capable as Anne."
SHE IS FINALLY SEEN! And valued, and loved! Not romantically (though that too) but because everyone (except Sir Walter and Elizabeth) finally realize how much they need her. The woman who stayed back from a dinner party to nurse a sick child becomes the person they need in a crisis. She goes from the last thought of to the first. In Anne, the necessity of women's labour is finally recognized.
Persuasion 2022 DESTROYED that, and it's infuriating.
Everything else sucks too. To finally give us the scene where Wentworth takes the kid off of Anne but then make him call her stupid? Gah! I was cringing so hard it was painful.
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snalz-artt · 1 year ago
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forgot to post this doodle SAY HELLO to the shittiest bbc ghosts/mcyt au ever conceived, thankyou @/luigra for helping hehe
i have A LOT to say so its going under the cut this is soso silly
basic bbc ghosts plot: A young woman inherits a huge mansion estate in england from a dubious familial connection and moves in with her husband. They plan to renovate the manor and guesthouses to make into a hotel/venue, but when she falls out a window and almost dies, she comes back to life with the ability to See Ghosts. With the house being very historic, there are quite a few interesting characters (the falling out the window thing might be their fault, actually). Hijinks ensue.
———
CLEO: Cleo is the Allison of the story, she inherits the house and falls out the window, now.. undead(?) they can see and interact with the cast of Ghosts they’re now stuck with. Making ZombieCleo one of the Alive characters was too funny, sorry.
SCOTT: Scott is Mike!! Cleo’s best friend/partner/chosen soulmate (like in double life), he Cannot see the ghosts but completely trusts they exist.
They get up to various antics as they try to renovate and market the place, usually while being hindered or helped by the ghosts. I haven’t thought of a good pun on the name Button House yet though..
The ghosts are not all from any specific series, but a selection of ghosts/dead characters from multiple mcyt sources ^^
JOE: Joseph Hills takes the role of Thomas Thorne. He is a dramatic regency era poet who mostly follows Cleo around, trying to impress her with his… unique poetry, that was considered before his time. Their ghost theming comes from Beetlejhost of course.
RANBOO: Ronald Booth is Pat, a 1980’s Scout Leader. To be honest, this is just because Ranboo is very associated with the 80’s aesthetic and can fit the silly yes-man subordinate role, and of course was a ghost on the dsmp (Boo).
BDUBS: Bdubs is Robin!! A caveman who lived on the land well before the house was built. He’s seen it all, which fits Bdubs’ storyteller theme!! This is also just a fun visual choice because instead of wearing animal furs he gets to wear a big mossy coat. He also talks in a quite a unique and funny way which could replace how Robin talks like. Yknow, a Caveman. There was also a tiny bit in.. last life? Where bdubs was a ghost? (We were running out of ghosts at this point.)
SLIME: Charles Slime is Humphrey Bone, a headless tudor nobleman!!! Slime has a pretty constant track record of dying dramatically in mcyt (dsmp, epic smp, slimecicle cinematic universe) hence getting to be a ghost here. He has a lot of comedy that i think fits pretty well with being a ghost and with the visual humour of having your body separate to your head <3
FLIPPA: Juanaflippa as Jemima!!! I had to get one of the Eggs in here, even if i dont know much about qsmp at this point its just too perfect for one of them to be Jemima, since we have Charlie why not have Juanaflippa ^^ This can fit the common bbc ghosts fanon of Humphrey being found family for Jemima, with Charlie and Flippa’s father-daughter relationship. Creepy little singing ghost girl!!!
QUACKITY/MEXICAN DREAM: Yeah ok we were really running out of mcyt ghosts at this point, if you dont know anything about the dsmp you would probably think im making this up- uh, quackity plays him, he died and became a very prominent dsmp ghost. He takes the role of Julian as a 90’s politician character (like quackity/md in el rapids etc) here. I GUESS.
GHOSTBUR: Im pretty sure that while alive Kitty didnt blow up a country or whatever but the innocent and kind character of ghostbur fits the role of Kitty pretty well, with both having poor/inaccurate memories of their lives and being very sweet. A georgian noblewoman! Instead of Kitty he’d be called Willy or something. That way one of the ghosts can still have an innuendo name. Thats important.
JIMMY: Jimmy (James) as Mary. A stuart era peasant who got burned in the witch trials. He could still have the power to make people smell smoke, i think it fits the canary thing a bit. AND SPOILERS FOR BBC GHOSTS, Mary being the First Ghost of the main group to get.. sucked away is just too perfect. While never explicitly being a Ghost, Jimmy has such a connection to death that i think im justified.
PIX: Pixie as Fanny!!! He used to own the house many years ago and is now a ghost that really wants it to be perfectly historically preserved. Pix was a ghost in empires s2 and an archeologist who wanted to preserve history of course, so this fits the really proper and old fashioned personality of Fanny pretty well. Also her love of animals fits pix having the ghost cat and the dodos…
SCHLATT: Schlatt as The Captain, a repressed gay ww2 Captain who never actually saw any combat. He can fit the leader role that the Captain does, especially the fact that he just assumes himself the leader, and the others kind of don't take him seriously. Schlatt was a ghost, Glatt, on the dsmp! He will be a bit less.. nice? Than the bbc ghosts captain, but could still have a good bit of development.
bonus convex as the plague ghosts, vex are kind of ghosty, right?
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free-for-all-fics · 2 years ago
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Either Namor or Attuma fic ideas. Pls tag me if you write or get inspired by any of these. Like always, there are no rules. (Warning: Some of these may possibly have Dark! Fic leanings/potential and will be marked with 🥀. If Dark! Fics aren’t your thing, that’s okay. Just ignore those prompts. Please don’t harass me or others or start arguments in the comments. Thank you.)
1. While scuba diving in an underwater cave system full of beautiful stones and underwater plants, you get lost. Trying to escape, you find a trident. Upon touching this trident, millions of voices ring out, "The Princess/Queen has returned." (up to you if familial or romantic story).
2. The Blue Lagoon AU where you and Attuma/Namor are just humans who get shipwrecked and stranded on an island. You fall in love as you build a home there over the years. Possibly takes place in the Victorian era.
3. You work as a mermaid performer for an aquarium, and on your day off you take your tail out to the beach to play in the ocean. You're soon surprised by a group of Wakandans, who, having mistaken you for an actual mermaid, are begging you to help them rescue their kidnapped princess from Talokan. Wait, what? You’re struggling to process any of what was just said. You can hold your breath for a long time by human standards, but not that long.
4. Ponyo AU where either Namor or Attuma have a very small daughter who’s curious and in love with the surface to the point she slips away from the sea and befriends a human child. Namor or Attuma tries to bring his child back to Talokan, but the girl is like 😠 because she likes this human!! The human is her best friend now!! “Daddy go away can’t you see we’re sailing in a boat, eating ham sandwiches, making sand castles and other fun kid stuff!!”
🥀5. You're a deep sea welder. You've noticed a hatch on the seabed through which a light flickers for a while. One day, you check it out. To your surprise, you see the panicked face of your friend who went missing, through the hatch glass. They’ve been kept prisoner in Talokan all this time and you offer to take their place. Beauty and the Beast AU
6. A woman gives birth to a girl who's been cursed to slowly transform into a “sea monster”. She tries desperately to make her child normal, to the detriment of her daughter. As reader grows into an adult and continues to change, her mother fears the day that she will leave her for the ocean, especially when she goes off to college and meets a man who claims to be from the sea. Sort of Hades/Persephone AU.
7. Ever After “a bird may love a fish, but where would they live?” AU
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8. Period drama AUs. Bridgerton, Jane Austen, victorian AU, regency AU, gimme that good stuff but with Namor or Attuma.
9. After getting shipwrecked on an island you’ve never heard about, you meet a princess who asks you to help her take back her kingdom. She mistook you for a warrior, and misunderstood everything you said. You have never fought a battle in your life. You just wanna go home. You’re far too tired and hungry for this.
10. Creature from the Black Lagoon AU. During an expedition, reader is noticed by Namor or Attuma, who admires her beauty and falls in love with her from afar over the course of however many months. I just want to fall in love with and be carried away bridal style by a fishman to his underwater home, my dudes.
11. Shape of Water AU where Attuma/Namor is held captive in a facility and over time forms a special bond with reader, eventually falling in love with her. They bridge their language barrier and when reader helps him escape, oh fuck turns out he is a god.
12. When you were a child, you had an imaginary friend around your age who lived in the sea. You used to go on adventures with him. The last time you saw him was when you were teenagers, when you shared in a strange personal ceremony where you joined hands. Now, after all these years, a hooded Attuma/Namor arrives on your doorstep claiming to be your betrothed and tells you that you must come to Talokan with him at once. It’s not safe here. (Could take place in a different time period/timeline. Either way, let’s pretend reader and Namor/Attuma were either born around the same time or age at about the same rate/speed so the age gap isn’t weird and we divert the creepy “adult Namor meets reader when she’s a child” thing. Maybe reader isn’t exactly human. Maybe she’s a mutant too. Idk. Don’t think too hard about it.)
🥀13. A scuba diver was in the middle of exploring a shipwreck when they discover a body. It’s the body of a young woman and it looks oddly intact. Like she just fell asleep. But the ship’s been down here for years. The diver is in the middle of contemplating this when the body’s eyes open. The woman is you, and Attuma/Namor is furious that someone dare disturb his love while you were resting. Why are you in this situation? Who knows. Maybe you were dying from an incurable disease, maybe Namor/Attuma was faced with your mortality after a near death experience. The why and the how is up to you. Sort of Sleeping Beauty AU.
14. You kayak every day, and over time some of the dolphins in the bay have started swimming along with you as you kayak. One day, the dolphins are acting oddly. After much chattering, and bumping into your boat, three of them push you and your kayak out to sea, as if commanded to by an unseen presence. Suddenly you’re surrounded by blue skinned people and they all have weapons pointed at you. A man with wings on his ankles hovers above you. Well, damn. This was not in your summer getaway plans.
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15. You are stranded on a gloomy beach after a shipwreck. The only other survivor is your loyal dog after you saved it from the burning ship. The full moon shines on the dark water, where debris of the wreckage are floating. Suddenly, you hear something in the woods. You turn around and see someone walking towards you... (Possibly Little Mermaid AU? Idk. I just love that scene when Eric stays on the burning ship to save his dog, Max.)
16. Pirate AU? You were born with special eyes. The sea is as clear as glass to you. By the time you’re old enough to join a ship’s crew, you’re smart enough not to tell them about everything you’ve seen below the waves.
17. The red string is tied around your finger and lets it lead you to your soulmate, someone who understands you. You’re a navigator and a cartographer, so when your string leads you to an unexplored part of the sea not marked on your maps, you think it must be a mistake. It’s not.
🥀18. You and your parents are labeled eccentric. You’ve all avoided the ocean, yet when they’re killed, you arrange a sea burial for them. As their bodies sink, you watch the rest of your family swim up from the murky depths below to take them home, and some of them pause to wave at you. How is this happening. Is this a vivid nightmare or a haunting reality? Are you in the twilight zone?
19. You're a novice shipwreck treasure hunter. One day you dig up a map that seems very old, all of the continents and islands are correct, but the map ends at places with waterfalls or hidden underwater cave tunnels. You see an X that reads "only way out". Only way out of where? What’s down there?
20. You are riding your boat through a fog. Suddenly, you come upon an island ringed by shipwrecks. On closer inspection, the entire island is an overgrown pile of ships, all from different cultures and eras. As you near the shore, you see a bunch of blue skinned people and a man flying above them. They seem to be burning something. They spot you. Oh no.
21. You’ve just survived a shipwreck and pull yourself onto a small island. From the shade of a palm tree a man steps out and says “Well well well. We meet again. But this time the advantage is mine!” You have no idea who this guy is or what he’s talking about.
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22. You’re a young Aztec woman. Your canoe gets caught in a torrent and you black out and wake up alone on an unknown beach, where you see a golden glow in the distance. Describe the first year of your life in Talokan. Could take place centuries in the past before the canon timeline.
🥀23. You’ve just inherited a mysterious Aztec looking, revolving puzzle box from your late grandfather. In the note that came with it, it states, “this puzzle box will reset every hour, each time to a new sequence, but the prize inside will change your life forever. Good luck.” Sort of Hellraiser inspired.
24. You’re an archaeologist studying the Aztec and you’ve just uncovered an artifact with your newborn child’s name and birthdate on it.
25. You love building sand sculptures on the beach, but recently someone has been changing your sculptures, moving them, or making copies. This time, you are going to hide and watch, to see what is happening.
26. After you finished college, you went on what you thought would be a dream cruise vacation. Instead you were the sole survivor of a sunken ship. Despite many difficulties and challenges, you managed to find some comfort and joy on a deserted island. Fish and crabs seemed to wash up on shore daily, providing you with food and you kept finding useful items you could create clothing or other supplies with. On the tenth anniversary of your life on the island, you find the following words written on the sand on the beach: “I’m a friend. I think It is time we finally meet.”
🥀27. Your dad always said that putting your ear to a conch shell sounded like the ocean. While walking along the beach, you come across one such seashell. You decide to relive childhood memories of listening to the sound of ocean waves, but are frightened by what you hear. “Help me!” A distressed voice calls. “Help me! Please!”
28. Iron Giant inspired AU. The “Hey Dean, watch this!” scene except it’s Reader who’s swimming in the water and being like, “Come in, the water’s great!” While failing miserably at hiding the fact it’s freezing. Meanwhile Namor is sitting smugly in the sand, just trying to relax like “Haha no thanks,” until a HUGE wave crashes over him, leaving him totally soaked and dampening his mood (no pun intended) 😂
OR reader is a single mother and waitress and Namor is an artist who comes into the diner and over time falls in love with reader and bonds with the kid, becoming their dad. Possibly modern AU.
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bellascarousel · 1 year ago
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Okay! So, my writing goals for 2024 (dear fucking Gods, how is it almost 2024 already?) is to get my damn Urban Fantasy revised, and to write and revise at least one of the Romance novels I've got percolating. 2024 is gonna be the year I become a published author, dammit! Anyway... to that end, I'm gonna ask you guys to help my ADHD addled brain pick a writing project to actually fucking stick to. So, first up, some brief rundowns of the stories I have the best handle on and can see myself actually finishing, if I would just stop letting myself get distracted and wander off to start something new:
Married At First Sight - A Regency-era arranged marriage. Andrea Sinclair is a spinster whose father is dying. Worried about what will happen to her when he's gone, he decides she NEEDS to marry this season. And he's willing to take matters into his own hands, if need be. Matthew Beaumont is the second son of a marquess. His father needs him to marry because his older brother's wife is dying without providing an heir, and with Sarah and James having been a love match, odds are against James being willing to remarry. Lord Beaumont and Mr. Sinclair decide to marry off their two problem children to each other. Andrea and Matthew like each other well enough, but there's a problem. Andrea agrees because she WOULD like to have children and she needs a husband for that. Meanwhile, after watching both his mother and his mistress die in childbirth (the mistress was birthing his daughter, so he feels responsible), and his beloved sister-in-law spend years wasting away from some illness that seemed to have been caused by the birth of her daughter, Matthew has taken a personal vow of celibacy because he can't bear the thought of being responsible for another woman's death. Obviously, their main conflict is going to be between Andrea's desire for children and Matthew's utter refusal to risk it. (I am NOT going the Simon and Daphne route with this. Matthew will not become the pull-out king, he's gonna stick to his vow of celibacy - which just causes further issues cause it plays into Andrea's insecurities. And Andrea is not going to try to... ahem... force the issue. I have plans for this that I think will be interesting.) It's going to be the first in a trilogy. I have plans for Matthew's younger sister Kitty, and also to give James a second chance at love.
You're Still The One - a Regency-era second chance romance. Four years ago, Evelyn and Lucas fell in love. But, her stepfather intended to marry her to an associate of his, using her dowry to pay off a gambling debt. Evelyn takes one night for herself and sleeps with Lucas before running away. Four years later, Lucas has a bad riding accident and in his moments of semi-lucidity the only coherent thing he can say is Evelyn's name. So, his older brother tracks her down. When he finds her, he also discovers that she has had Lucas's baby. He drags them both back to London. When Lucas finally actually wakes up and finds out about their child - and about the fact that her stepfather and fiance are still looking for her - he realizes the only way to protect them is to marry her. Of course he kind of hates her for what she did, and never mind her reasons.
His Brother's Wife - a contemporary enemies to lovers romance. Ethan Sullivan hasn't seen his twin brother Connor in almost twenty years - not since they got into a drunken fistfight at their mother's funeral. In that time, Ethan married a friend to give her medical insurance (and some modicum of respectability in her parents' eyes) when her FWB got her pregnant and then left her, he has since been widowed and is raising his stepdaughter alone - though only the two of them know that he's not her father. Meanwhile, Connor had a drunken one night stand that resulted in pregnancy. He married Lydia, also for the insurance. They are raising their daughter together, but have an open marriage. Ethan and Connor are forced back into each others' lives when their father dies, and his will stipulates that in order to inherit anything, his sons have to live together in the family home for a year. So, the five of them all end up living together. Ethan and Lydia slowly fall in love. But, it's all complicated by Heather's biodad coming back into the picture and suddenly wanting custody.
So, I'm putting up a poll. Which of these stories would you most be interested in spending a good chunk of 2024 reading my writing progress updates about?
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thethrobbingmembers · 8 months ago
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THE THROBBING MEMBERS REVIEW: Say Yes to the Marquess by Tessa Dare
This woman owns property and has tenants? She should never marry. -Lily
I'm glad Clio's almond mother died. -Cindy
If you're going to circle so close to naming your protagonist Clit, you might as well just press that button. -Smurf
I liked what I read. -Margo, read 50 pages
I got so bored I started replacing the characters with members of BTS in my head. -Sarah
Dream Cast
Rafe
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Clio
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Theme Song: What the Hell by Avril Lavigne
Summary:
Clio has been engaged to Rafe's brother Piers for years, but he refuses to come home and marry her. She wants to break off the engagement, but Rafe wants her to stay engaged, so that he can continue his life as a renowned prize fighter. The solution? Rafe will plan the wedding of Clio's dreams.
Review:
Tessa Dare, my love, why have you forsaken me in my hour of need?
I was so excited for this book. When a Scot Ties the Knot was so funny! So cute! So unashamedly stupid! I thought this was sure to be another home run.
And yet.
This was SO straight. And not straight in the fun way so many romance novels are, where I can see what goes on in their little minds, but in the dumb boring way where their entire dynamic is that of The Woman and The Man. He is so Strong and Rough and has Such Large Hands!! She is Delicate and Feminine and Soft! She likes to blush! He likes to fight! I am yawning so so much.
Like, whatever, sure, she wants to be a businesswoman. Sure, he's got feelings or something. I don't care! I do not care. Nothing about these people holds my attention for even a second!! The only interesting thing about these characters is how uninteresting they are.
I hope they're happy at the end after solving all their problems and tying them up in a little bow. I hope she never speaks to her terrible middle sister again. I hope he gets so so close to his super important colonizer brother (I lied, I don't hope for that. I hope that man dies of cholera). I hope to get back the time I wasted reading this.
The best thing about the book was the castle. It deserved better.
-Catherine
4/10 stars
Additional Ratings
Historical Accuracy: 0/10
Based on the one mention of Napoleon, we think this was the regency era, but who knows?
Sexy Sex: 5/10
They don't bang in any interesting places even though they had a whole castle.
Trauma Score: 3/10
A major part of this book was Clio's body image issues, even though her body meets the exact beauty standard of the Regency era (if this even WAS the regency era...)
Also her body issues were entirely solved by eating cake. Sure, Tessa.
Nicknames: 0/10
The only nicknames were mean nicknames from Clio's brother-in-law. Boo!
Notes: This book wanted to be a cheesy early 2000s romcom so bad.
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ellynneversweet · 1 year ago
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Aaaaand I’m done.
Okay. I’ll say that I liked this the best out of all the Bridgerton offerings so far: it made a genuine attempt to engage with the absolute nonsense Romancelandia setting rules already established in this universe and turn them into something cohesive. It almost works.
Everyone had real problems (except for Violet, who was just sort of…there) that weren’t things that could just be resolved if they would just talk out a stupid misunderstanding. Charlotte and George’s romance is genuinely unusual and quite touching, especially in its later stages. Lady Danbury as the fantasy version of an unhappily married woman turned wealthy independent widow is delightful. I like that they didn’t (by romance standards) sugarcoat the level of control a woman’s relatives and husband had over her life, or how precarious life without a good protector was. Some of the ways in which this was spelled out to the female characters (and thus, the audience) was a bit clumsy — this is their native culture, after all. They can and certainly should react to it in a variety of ways, but surprise at the degree of legal confinement they’re subject to comes across as stupidity, often.
Some of the costumes were hideous, some were great. Late baroque suits the brocade and ruffles bullshit of the Bridgerton Style Guide much better than the regency does. No one knows what to do with hats, but I really enjoyed the ladies in tricorns we got. (I love a good tricorn.) And there were some beautiful bergeres, which are another fave of mine.
It offers a cohesive explanation for why Charlotte is dressed in styles from twenty years ago, because she’s emotionally arrested in that era. It doesn’t make me forgive the lack of regency court dress in the Bridgerton-family centric seasons, because I desperately want to see that on screen. I actually think it could work. I know everyone hated it and the fashion plates of the era look a bit silly, but the silhouette is not dissimilar to a hanbok, if you squint? It could be done. And I bet those dresses could even be reworked to be regular going out dresses. If the panniers only added width to the sides, all you’d really have to do is re-sew the side seams into straight lines.
Violet should have been cut from this, frankly. George needed more screen time outside of Charlotte and his never ending leeches and ice baths. He’s an interesting character and the actors who played him were both genuinely good. We needed more sane George, because mad George is necessarily shown at an emotional remove from his thoughts and emotions. I’m not sure if having him be unstable so early was decided as a plan to explain away why Prinny isn’t a character in the main series and why Charlotte is so very prominent as the effective regent.
Also, we could have done with less horrible sex scenes between the Danburys. Once or twice, fine, but the rest could be easily telegraphed through Agatha’s post-rape bath and bitch sessions.
Um. I loved Reynolds, as I’ve said, and I’m sorry we didn’t get mature Reynolds in George’s household. I liked the variety of relationships shown. I don’t love how cold mature Charlotte is towards Brimsley — it seems horrible and disconnected from their early friendship. I don’t appreciate the way the narrative role Brimsley and Reynolds played necessarily cut out the existence and importance of ladies in waiting (and courtiers more generally). That annoys me, in a show that so heavily centres the lives of women. Lady Danbury’s relationship with Coral was good, though.
Edit: oh, and the timeline and travel distances involved made absolutely no sense at all. They all have magical tardis carriages. I nearly lost my mind when Reynolds complained about ‘riding all the way here’ when Brimsley had been using that same route as the walk for a small puppy every day. And, of course, the whole invitations for a royal wedding that starts in three hours thing.
Anyway. Scream away at me if you have thoughts.
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triviareads · 11 months ago
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I am intrigued by pride and protest as an adaptation of pride and prejudice because I am a big Austen fan but I rarely see modern versions of Austen done well. They always make it enemies to lovers with a big misunderstanding in the middle (the proposal scene) and think that makes it pride and prejudice.
I can confirm it's a GREAT adaptation and I had a lot of fun reading it. I think the best modern Austen adaptations don't exactly stick to the plot points and progression of the novel— they can't because like, society has changed since the regency era lol, and shouldn't, imo— but they still get the same messages across.
For example, Nikki Payne wrote Pride and Protest with explicit sex in it, but she did NOT wait until the very end to give us sex scenes (if she'd followed the beats of the book exactly, she probably would have waited); she had Liza and Dorsey hook up once during the Rosings arc. And ultimately it works because when Dorsey delivers his "proposal" (not a marriage proposal; more of a live-in girlfriend situation) to Liza, Dorsey is all "I thought what we had means something" just like Darcy did in the og proposal, except he's not just working off of what he saw as Liza being amenable to his proposal (like the og), he's literally had sex with Liza, but that doesn't stop him from disrespecting her family and offering her a proposal she sees as degrading (the vibes were very "you'll be my kept woman" but like.... more classily delivered), just like in the original.
What the book does get right is that there is never any dramatic enemies-to-lovers arc (because remember, P&P is not actually enemies to lovers); Dorsey and Liza are on opposite sides of the gentrification situation occurring in Liza's DC neighborhood but their interpersonal dealings are more nuanced and you still see that thing where Dorsey fundamentally misunderstands the signals Liza is giving (which.... to be fair are a little more mixed here because they do act on their physical attraction beforehand) while Liza is initially uninterested in pursuing anything further with Dorsey until they each set aside their assumptions about each other and get to know the other person better.
The funny thing is, because I'm such a contrarian, I'm always sad when Emma adaptations don't lean into the weirdness (and possible hotness... if done well and if Knightley's character is changed a little bc he comes across as a fusty man in the book lol; or alternatively, just pull a Clueless and give us ex-step-siblings!) of Emma falling for her friend/mentor/father-ish (because god knows how much Mr. Woodhouse actually parented) figure who is approximately 17 years older and has known her since birth. Instead, a lot of Emma-inspired romances I've reviewed of late (Never Met a Duke Like You by Amalie Howard, Match Me If You Can by Swati Hegde) lean solely into the friends-to-lovers aspect of it and make the Knightley of the story the same age as Emma.
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richincolor · 2 years ago
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Hope you're ready to add a bunch of books to your TBR pile! We have seven on our radar for this week. Which ones are you interested in?
Promposal by RaeChell Garrett Little, Brown/Poppy
High school senior Autumn Reeves has been waitlisted at her dream school. Determined to move to the top of the list, she must find a way to stand out. When a promposal she planned for a friend has half the senior class asking for her help, a brilliant business idea that will look great on her application is born: Promposal Queen.
Autumn has no clue how to start a business, so she joins the Young Black Entrepreneurs group and finds herself face-to-face with Mekhi Winston, the boy whose unexpected freshman-year kiss—a kiss that meant everything to her and nothing to him—cost Autumn her best friend. He’s the only person with the experience to help her, but how can she possibly trust him?
With her dreams on the line, Autumn’s willing to risk it. After all, Mekhi could be a good business partner without being a guy she would ever let near her heart again.
But when working with Mekhi jeopardizes her only chance at rekindling a friendship with her ex–best friend and long-buried secrets threaten to ruin Promposal Queen, another broken heart may be the least of her worries—her entire future is on the line. -- Cover image and summary via Goodreads
When You Wish Upon a Star by Elizabeth Lim Disney-Hyperion
“Starlight, star bright, first star I see tonight . . . ” so begins the wish that changes everything—for Geppetto, for the Blue Fairy, and for a little puppet named Pinocchio. The Blue Fairy isn’t supposed to grant wishes in the small village of Pariva, but something about this one awakens some long-buried flicker within. Perhaps it’s the hope she senses beneath the old man’s loneliness.
Or maybe it’s the fact that long ago, before she was the Blue Fairy, she was a young woman named Chiara from this very village, one with a simple wish: to help others find happiness. Her sister Ilaria always teased her for this, for she had big dreams to leave their sleepy village and become a world-renowned opera singer. The two were close, despite their differences. While Ilaria would give anything to have a fairy grant her wish, Chiara didn’t believe in the lore for which their village was famous.
Forty years later, Chiara, now the Blue Fairy, defies the rules of magic to help an old friend. But she’s discovered by the Scarlet Fairy, formerly Ilaria, who, amid a decades-long grudge, holds the transgression against her sister. They decide to settle things through a good old-fashioned bet, with Pinocchio and Geppetto’s fate hanging in the balance. -- Cover image and summary via Goodreads
Queen Bee by Amalie Howard Joy Revolution
A teen girl seeking retribution against her backstabbing former best friend finds her plans slightly derailed once she catches the eye of a familiar, handsome marquess. Bestselling author Amalie Howard delivers a delightful, anti-historical Regency-era romp that’s Bridgerton meets The Count of Monte Cristo!
Lady Ela Dalvi knows the exact moment her life was forever changed—when her best friend, Poppy, betrayed her without qualm over a boy, the son of a duke. She was sent away in disgrace, her reputation ruined.
Nearly three years later, eighteen-year-old Ela is consumed with bitterness and a desire for . . . revenge. Her enemy is quickly joining the crème de la crème of high society while she withers away in the English countryside.
With an audacious plan to get even, Ela disguises herself as a mysterious heiress and infiltrates London’s elite. But when Ela reunites with the only boy she’s ever loved, she begins to question whether vengeance is still her greatest desire. -- Cover image and summary via Goodreads
Blood Debts by Terry J. Benton-Walker Tor Teen
Thirty years ago, a young woman was murdered, a family was lynched, and New Orleans saw the greatest magical massacre in its history. In the days that followed, a throne was stolen from a queen.
On the anniversary of these brutal events, Clement and Cristina Trudeau—the sixteen-year-old twin heirs to the powerful, magical, dethroned family—are mourning their father and caring for their sick mother. Until, by chance, they discover their mother isn’t sick—she’s cursed. Cursed by someone on the very magic council their family used to rule. Someone who will come for them next.
Cristina, once a talented and dedicated practitioner of Generational magic, has given up magic for good. An ancient spell is what killed their father and she was the one who cast it. For Clement, magic is his lifeline. A distraction from his anger and pain. Even better than the random guys he hooks up with.
Cristina and Clement used to be each other’s most trusted confidant and friend, now they barely speak. But if they have any hope of discovering who is coming after their family, they’ll have to find a way to trust each other and their family's magic, all while solving the decades-old murder that sparked the still-rising tensions between the city’s magical and non-magical communities. And if they don't succeed, New Orleans may see another massacre. Or worse.
A Whole Song and Dance by Sarvenaz Tash Disney-Hyperion
A freshman in NYU’s prestigious musical theater program, Nasrin spends her days prepping for auditions, sweating through dance classes, and belting her heart out for the viral streaming show she’s been cast in. But on calls with her maman and baba, she’s their jigar talah, the golden child who put her theater dreams aside to follow in their entrepreneurial footsteps as a business major.
At least her whole life isn’t a lie—she is taking a single business course. Except she’s kind of failing it. Cue jazz hands?
Nasrin needs to bring her grade up fast if she’s going to keep her parents in the dark, so she grudgingly signs up for tutoring with the infuriatingly smug and annoyingly attractive Max. And yet...as the semester rushes by, the sparks of anger that first flew between them start to turn into a very different kind of spark. The kind she definitely does not have time for.
Except when Nasrin’s charming though devious cousin takes an interest in Max too, Nasrin has to figure out exactly what has been an act—and what’s for real. Can Nasrin decide what—and who—is truly worth fighting for, and find a way to step into the spotlight as her full self? -- Cover image and summary via Goodreads
An Appetite for Miracles by Laekan Zea Kemp Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Danna Mendoza Villarreal’s grandfather is slowly losing himself as his memories fade, and Danna’s not sure her plan to help him remember through the foods he once reviewed will be enough to bring him back. Especially when her own love of food makes her complicated relationship with her mother even more difficult.
Raúl Santos has been lost ever since his mother was wrongly incarcerated two years ago. Playing guitar for the elderly has been his only escape, to help them remember and him forget. But when his mom unexpectedly comes back into his life, what is he supposed to do when she isn’t the same person who left?
When Danna and Raúl meet, sparks fly immediately and they embark on a mission to heal her grandfather...and themselves. Because healing is something best done together—even if it doesn’t always look the way we want it to. -- Cover image and summary via Goodreads
Firebird by Sunmi HarperCollins
Caroline Kim is feeling the weight of sophomore year. When she starts tutoring infamous senior Kimberly Park-Ocampo--a charismatic lesbian, friend to rich kids and punks alike--Caroline is flustered . . . but intrigued
Their friendship kindles and before they know it, the two are sneaking out for late-night drives, bonding beneath the stars over music, dreams, and a shared desire of getting away from it all.
A connection begins to smolder . . . but will feelings of guilt and the mounting pressure of life outside of these adventures extinguish their spark before it catches fire? -- Cover image and summary via Goodreads
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veronicaleighauthor · 2 years ago
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“Queen Charlotte”: A Review
::there may be spoilers::
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 Description:
We are one crown. His weight is mine, and mine is his…”
In 1761, on a sunny day in September, a King and Queen met for the very first time. They were married within hours.
Born a German Princess, Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz was beautiful, headstrong, and fiercely intelligent… not precisely the attributes the British Court had been seeking in a spouse for the young King George III. But her fire and independence were exactly what she needed, because George had secrets… secrets with the potential to shake the very foundations of the monarchy.
Thrust into her new role as a royal, Charlotte must learn to navigate the intricate politics of the court… all the while guarding her heart, because she is falling in love with the King, even as he pushes her away. Above all she must learn to rule, and to understand that she has been given the power to remake society. She must fight—for herself, for her husband, and for all her new subjects who look to her for guidance and grace. For she will never be just Charlotte again. She must instead fulfill her destiny… as Queen.
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Author Bio:
#1 New York Times bestselling author JULIA QUINN began writing one month after graduating from college and, aside from a brief stint in medical school, she has been tapping away at her keyboard ever since. Her novels have been translated into 43 languages and are beloved the world over. A graduate of Harvard and Radcliffe Colleges, she lives with her family in the Pacific Northwest. 
Look for BRIDGERTON, based on her popular series of novels about the Bridgerton family, on Netflix.
 My Thoughts:
I recently won a copy of “Queen Charlotte,” from a Goodreads Giveaway, in return I’m giving an honest review. This book is a tv series tie-in; I haven’t watched the series (I haven’t watched any of the Bridgerton Series, though I have read five of the books) so I can’t comment on it. I can only offer my thoughts and feelings on the novel. Another thing I want to point out, and the author pointed this out too, this book is a work of fiction loosely inspired by a true story. Also, the whole Bridgerton Series – books and show – are a kind of fairytale au of the Regency era. The same could probably be said about “Queen Charlotte.”
Now, with all that in mind – the work of fiction inspired by a true story and the fairytale au of the era – I was able to go into it with an open mind. I only knew two things about King George III – that he was the king during the American Revolution and that during his reign, he went mad and his son ruled in place of him. I knew nothing of Queen Charlotte.
We’re introduced to both George and Charlotte on their wedding day; it’s an arranged marriage and they don’t meet until right before ceremony. They have a meet cute, sparks fly, and though there are challenges, you have a feeling of how it’s going to play out. But I was okay with that, the whole story worked for me as a romance. It’s a bodice ripper, so if you prefer clean fiction, or a faithful depiction of King George III and Queen Charlotte’s lives, this might not be for you.
I loved the king and queen’s relationship. They have chemistry, they complemented one another, and they truly lived out the vows they made. In this novel and in the Bridgerton universe, Queen Charlotte is a woman of color. It’s debated whether the historical figure was or not. From the portraits that exist of the queen, she could have been (I personally think she was). History is often whitewashed. King George III’s mental illness is depicted and it is heart wrenching to read how the mentally ill were viewed and treated. The treatments given in that era were basically torture. The novel doesn’t lie – true love doesn’t cure mental illness. The best that could be done in the 18th and 19th centuries is offer unconditional love and understanding. I think that’s what I liked best about “Queen Charlotte.” It doesn’t sugarcoat; it shows how an 18th century couple might cope with an arranged marriage, racism, and mental illness.
If you like the Bridgerton books or the tv series, you’ll probably like “Queen Charlotte.” I, for one, preferred this book to the others I read.
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cathygeha · 2 months ago
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REVIEW
The Wallflower List by Jess Michaels
About an Earl #1
An author that never lets me down ~ Great beginning to the series ~ Can’t wait for book two!
What I liked:
* Lady Marianne: quiet, unassuming, wallflower, crush on Sebastian, good friend, loving sister, caring, good listener, grows a lot in this story
* Sebastian: an earl, a rake, best friend to Marianne’s brother Finn, Marianne’s friend, had a difficult childhood, avoids emotional entanglements, grows a lot in this story
* Claudia: Marianne’s best friend, wallflower, dies too young, has dreams, leaves a life changing gift to Marianne
* Finn: Marianne’s older brother, an earl, kind, protective, good friend, caring, seems to have something on his mind, looking forward to his story in book two of this series
* The strong friendships: Marianne and Claudia, Finn and Sebastian, and Sebastian and Marianne
* The open communication between the characters
* The plot, pacing, setting, and writing
* That Marianne was no wilting flower but a bud waiting to open
* That Sebastian needed a key to unlock his emotions and found it in Marianne
* Claudia’s list and how it impacted both Marianne and Sebastian
* Knowing that Finn’s book is next
* Everything except…
What I didn’t like:
* Both main characters’ parents – it wouldn’t be easy growing up with them
*  Thinking about how women were relegated to wallflower status and what that meant for their futures
Did I like this book? Yes
Would I read more in this series? Definitely!
Thank you to NetGalley and the author for the ARC – This is my honest review.
5 Stars
BLURB
A New Sensual Regency-Era Series from 10-Time USA Today Bestseller Jess Michaels! Lady Marianne has been a wallflower since her disastrous debut, but because since she always had a friend, Claudia, along the wall, she never minded much. But when Claudia dies and leaves her a beautiful jewelry box, and a hidden list of things her friend wanted to do in her life, everything is turned on its head. Marianne begins to question what she knows about herself, her dreams and what could be possible for her future. It all inspires her to try to complete her dear friend’s bucket list. If only she could find someone more experienced to help her… Sebastian, Earl of Ramsbury, has been best friends with Marianne’s brother for almost his entire life, and the two men have seen each other through it all. His friend’s edict never to turn his wicked ways on Marianne has always been easy to follow, she’s the only woman he’s ever considered a true friend and not a conquest. But when she starts acting strangely, asking for his help with the most unexpected and shocking things, he begins to see her in a different light…and want her in ways he never could have thought possible. As Marianne grows closer to completing Claudia’s list, she also continues to spiral toward to a passion with Sebastian that neither of them could ever see coming. But will an old promise to a dear friend stop a growing connection before it can come to fruition? Or will the last item on Marianne’s bucket list be to fall head over heels in love with a wicked rake? The first book in the About An Earl series, but it can be read standalone.
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petalsmooth · 6 months ago
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I understand Portia.
I even think she is probably, in many ways, good representation for the life of a women in her position in regency England. Often you see mothers portrayed as empty headed, uneducated you wonder how they manage a household. Kind of like in Sense and Sensibility. Which I am not saying is untrue representation particularly as written in the era but I don't think all women were like that. They couldn't afford to be. They were few avenues for survival for women in their position and I absolutely can understand a woman like Portia being singularly focused less on their feelings and more on trying to provide them the security she did not have by any means necessary.
It doesn't change that she never even treated Penelope as she did the other two. They completely wrote Penelope off as a prospect. It's not like her two other daughters were amazing prospects themselves. They did not pay any attention to her, obviously. How else would Pen be able to sneak off to the printer's so often? She told her she is basically a fool for hoping for a match. Then when Pen scraps one up that's in wealth and title higher than anything the other two did, only then is she proud of her. Up until he doesn't propose. She's going to say some pretty ugly things when learns of the engagement too and just simply put...she's abusive to Penelope.
She says she's doing it to give her daughters a better life than she had but that is true of two daughters. At best maybe she feels she has done right by her in sense Pen won't starve from lack of food but she's clearly starving for approval, affection, attention...a big reason why she wouldn't want to give up W.D in fact.
Which is another big reason why I am not entirely on board with how they have presented the w.d issue up to this point because it's been so one sided in how people react with assumptions being made about her that just aren't true. And why I still am mad at Eloise because not ONCE has she taken a moment to think her conclusions may not have been accurate as to reasons for the column. She simply does not care to listen to Penelope. But she'll listen to Cressida...Pen's bully.
And even there by ep 4 you can see how alone Eloise actually is because Cressida doesn't listen to her, the way she never listened to Pen. Although to be fair, in upcoming ep Eloise isn't listening to Cressida either so neither are particularly good at listening. When Cressida abandons Eloise mid sentence on one of her rants (one of the few times Eloise looks like her old animated self)...you can feel the absence of where Pen used to be. You can also see still not really aware of anything but her own world, because your new best "friend" is clearly worried will be married to an old lecher and focused on trying to prevent it. Eloise doesn't have that fear because privileged with her family. But also apparently her brother causing a scandal interrupting a courting couple still doesn't make her think...uh...wait...are there romantic feelings here?
I'm sure I'm not going to like everything said in the Pen and Colin argument because I clearly disagree with the writers on their slant of the column, but at least with Colin this is his best friend, fiancé and lover...they have a very intimate relationship, he gave her chances to open up to him and he really hadn't done wrong by her outside of the one time at a ball. He wasn't Eloise running through London unchaperoned with young single men and in my view should consider if Pen really wanted to ruin her would have said that. He also does not have all the details. Eloise had details and decided to take no ownership for her own actions. But however he moves past it, we know won't cut off contact for 6-8 months because she is too important to him to completely walk away.. She's important to Eloise too, but not more than Eloise's pride is important to her.
On one hand I want that friendship repaired because I miss their chemistry onscreen, I hate her with Cressida. I watched the whole show but I mostly fw through their scenes now because there is NO chemistry there. On other hand I don't want them as friends if Eloise remains the same self centered person using Pen as a sounding board but not accepting Pen if she deviates at all from her opinion. I mean Eloise actually said they used to plot to be spinsters together and thought that was what Pen wanted. I know it's taken from the book and I like that detail but it just shows how little attention paid to Pen. Did Pen really talk excitedly about that prospect Eloise, or did she merely go along with it because though no one would ever want her? Because I would guess the latter. Or did she merely not contest the idea with Eloise would suggest and presume Pen was onboard? I could see that too...
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