why am i so bad at being good?

BRIDGERTON (2020-)

ELOISE BRIDGERTON

I'm sorry this is so funny.

Jurian, literally every time he opens his mouth:

Super quick while we’re on the subject of Vanserra brother eyes, I also did Eris’s

Adella's powder-blue eyes are a well of hate, despite his infuriating tut-tut-tut's that that baleful stare go away. As she hovers over him in his seat, the sweet wisps of her black hair fall into his brow.

And then, a hollow sigh from her tangles what little air is left between them. She rips her hands away.

"I will kill you when this is all over. You know I will."

His  smirk  curves  deeper  when  she  releases  her  grip,  chin  remaining  defiantly  tilted.  It  would  be  unseemly  for  a  future  High  Lord  to  cower  or  flinch  away  like  some  whipped  dog.  His  hand  doesn't  fly  to  soothe  the  tender  skin  at  his  throat;  it's  nothing  he  hasn't  endured  before,  especially  where  Adelaide  is  concerned.

“  Pleasant  as  ever,  Adella,  ”  Eris’  gaze  doesn't  waver,  tracking  her  with  genuine  interest  even  as  she  deliberately  busies  herself  with  one  of  his  prized  inkwells.  The  sound  of  crystal  shattering  against  marble  makes  his  eye  twitch,  but  Mother  above,  if  her  destructive  tendencies  don't  still  send  an  unwelcome  thrill  down  his  spine.  Isn't  that  precisely  why  he'd  once  shared  her  bed?  The  intoxicating  unpredictability  of  a  creature  who  could  kiss  him  breathless  one  moment  and  ask  for  help  disposing  of  a  body  the  next.  Lovers,  adversaries,  co-conspirators  .  .  .  the  lines  have  always  blurred  with  her.

“  Ah,  but  you  didn’t,  did  you?  You  came  to  me, and  you  came  here  yourself.  Impatient  as  ever,  I  might  add. —  Now tell  me,  sweet  Adelaide,  which  of  us  is  truly  missing  whom?  ”  He  takes  a  beat  before  rising from his seat,  smoothing  the  cuffs  at  his  wrists  as  he  takes  on  his  usual  lordly  poise.  “  We  haven’t  seen  each  other  in  what  —  ten years?  A  century?  ”  Eris  cants  his  head,  eyes  tracing  the  dark  strands  of  her  hair.  When  her  claws  had  been  at  his  throat,  he’d  caught  the  scent  of  it  —  rainfall  and  the  sea.  Wild  and  salt-sweet,  a  scent  he’d  once  buried  his  face  in,  and  would  again,  if  only  she  allowed  it.  “  Forgive  me  for  thinking  a  gentleman  should  take  a  lady  to  dinner  first  before  jumping  straight  to  the  main  course.  ”