I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU??? - Tumblr Posts
namjoon x butter mv
Aubrey Plaza as Riley in HAPPIEST SEASON (2020)
oh my fucking god…. i spent the first few hours of my birthday reading this lovely fic and i must say, staying up at 4 in the morning was worth it. this might be my new favorite fic here. i could ramble some more but my eyes are quite heavy from sleep now haha i’ll read this again maybe some time later in the day god i love this so much thank you for writing such a beautiful story slowburn done right ok i’ll really sleep now 💗
if you’ll have me (iv) | c.yj
and we are at the end!!!! hope you enjoyed the ride <3Â
Pairing: Yeonjun x fem!reader
Genre: fluff, angst, regency era!au, nobility!au
Warnings: mentions of past death, suggestive scene (nothing explicit)
Word Count: 10.8k
Yeonjun Choi, Duke of Hastings, is in want of a wife. Boxed in from all directions by the overbearing mamas of the ton, he begins his arduous search this season for not fortune, not love, but merely the perfect woman to succeed his mother’s place. None of the daughters of high society manage to catch his eye, however, or fit his overwhelming list of standards—at least until he meets Miss Y/N L/N, the queen’s diamond of the season, newly arrived in town from abroad and said to be one of the most accomplished women to grace the ton in a generation.
You, the eldest daughter and only child of the L/N family, just want stability. With your father dead and the estate passed to a cousin, leaving only your dowry and a small pittance from the inheritance left intact, you begin your search for a husband with money enough to keep you and your mother afloat. It seems like a miracle when, after being crowned the queen’s diamond, the Duke of Hastings himself asks for your hand—but as you learn of his complete indifference to the concept of love, you begin to doubt yourself. Perhaps money is not enough to keep your hand—maybe you desired a true love match more than you thought.
Trapped in a marriage of convenience that everyone believes is a love story, you and Yeonjun find yourselves forced to reevaluate what you want out of this match. Between balls and promenades, dances and poetry, you begin to view each other beyond the pithy conversations allowed in the courting stages, learning to see one another not just as business partners, but perhaps friends as well. And as you begin to reconcile your needs and wants, your goals and desires, maybe, just maybe—
The ton’s belief that you are a love match can find some truth, too.
Part 3 >> Part 4
TXT Masterlist
The rain clears up later in the afternoon when Yeonjun has gone, leaving a fresh smell in the air when you open the windows of the front room. The sweet scent of green grass and flowers fills your nose, and as you gaze out of the window, you smile.
Here in the country, away from the smoke and smells of town, everything always feels so much better. The depression you felt during the last few months of the season seems far from you, now that you have spoken to your husband and agreed to be friends. Your mother will be returning soon from her vacation, and she won’t be living far away. Best of all, your books of poetry are now accessible just a few miles away.
Your smile widens as you remember Yeonjun’s words earlier. “I only came back for a moment, Your Grace, but I wanted to tell you—I spoke to Lord Kang when I gave him the invitation. About your father’s library.” His smile was blinding, even framed by the gray rain. “He wishes to keep the books on his estate, but he has readily agreed to lend you anything from the library whenever you wish. You need only ask.”
Even now, several hours later, the memory of his words still makes you want to squeal.
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after graduating ive had a lot of free time alone in the house . so ive started talking to my cat in french, both so i dont get rusty with the language, and so i dont lose my mind
Here's a prompt for you: write about a mask someone wears. Can be fiction, nonfiction (about yourself, an experience, people in general), maybe a poem. What kind of mask is it? What does it look like? Why are they wearing it?
“You can stop, you know.”
The villain froze for a moment, smile almost slipping, and set down their lunch tray. The hero leaned against the table next to them, knuckles white.
“In case you haven’t noticed,” they gestured to themself. “I’m reformed. I already stopped.”
The hero waived a hand. “Not that. I know that, I’m the one who helped you do it.”
The villain kept smiling, even as the edges began to crack like fine china.
“Hero,” they said as gently as they could. “Are you alright?”
The hero stared at them for a moment, as if they weren’t sure what was happening, as if the villain’s very existence confused them. They blew an angry breath out of their nose.
“I’m fine,” the hero said pointedly. “You aren’t.”
The villain ignored them at that, sitting down to stir their lunch. It was half cold and entirely unappetizing, but happy people ate the compound rations and were happy about it. And the villain was reformed, and good, and happy. So they ate.
Their bowl disappeared from in front of them, and they studied the plastic of the table for a moment. When they looked up, the hero’s eyes burned into them.
“Stop. It.”
This time, the villain was the one who sighed. “Can I have my lunch back please?”
The hero threw the bowl an unimpressed look. “What, this crap? Nobody likes this, and I can especially tell that you don’t. Your face is exactly the same as the first time you met me, and you tried to stab me directly after that. So. Stop.”
“I don’t know what you want from me,” the villain grit out. “I’m smiling, I’m contributing, I’m doing good things. No more murder, no more crimes. That’s what you wanted, right?”
“I wanted you to want that. I wanted you to have that. I never wanted this.”
“This what, hero.”
The hero gestured to their face.
“That. That smile.”
The villain gave them a dry look, even as their smile faded. “What, I can’t smile?”
The hero regarded them, fingers laced together under their chin, food abandoned. The villain picked at a hangnail and tried to look calm. This was why they had been avoiding the hero—the villain could read them like a book, but the hero could read them just as well.
Someone clattered down the hall, laughing, and then it was just the two of them again.
“You don’t have to be happy,” the hero said quietly, “to be good.”
The fine china, the mask, shattered.
The hero sighed, but it wasn’t triumphant. Relief, maybe. Or sadness.
“Why couldn’t you have left it alone,” the villain’s voice wobbled traitorously. The hero smiled, just slightly. A smile for a smile.
“Because you were drowning in there. And you don’t deserve that.”
“I’m trying to be good,” they murmured. The hero reached out and stilled their hands before they could pick them bloody.
“You are good. But you’re also hurting. You can do both. It’s okay.”
The villain shoulders loosened, as if the hero had stolen some huge burden from them.
“Okay?”
“Okay,” the villain agreed.
The hero smiled, a soft thing.
“Only smile when it doesn’t feel like a burden to do so,” the hero stood, leaning over the villain for a moment.
They left the villain in the lunch room, staring down at their hands.
Months later, when the hero told an awful joke, the villain laughed. They smiled at the hero, and it was warm. So warm.
And the hero smiled too.