#and when he looks at Wind and sees Colin... well

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 12: “I haven’t slept in days, but who’s counting?” (Insomnia)

Amazing how when I write something short, I can finish it sooner. Who would have guessed...

Read on ao3

Warnings: mentions of injuries

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Wind pulled his knees up to his chest as he sat in the grass, drawing aimlessly in the dirt in front of him. A voice sighed, but Wind ignored it, same as he’d been doing for the past ten minutes.

He didn’t want to hear it.

“Sailor please, be reasonable,” Warriors said with a firm bent to his voice.

“I am being reasonable,” Wind replied, adding sails to his dirt drawing. “You’re the one arguing your head off with a thirteen year-old.”

Warriors crossed his arms.

“Look Sailor, you’ve got to sleep. It’s been nearly three days,” he said, voice more pleading than before, but Wind shook his head, crossing his own arms as he looked up at the captain.

“Time hasn’t slept either, and you’re not yelling at him,” he pointed out, and Warriors massaged the bridge of his nose.

“...he won’t listen to me.”

“Well I’m not listening either,” Wind snarked back, and Warriors let out another heavy sigh.

Wind felt a small prickle of guilt, but he shoved it aside, scrunching up his shoulders. He knew he was being obnoxious, and that Warriors didn’t need one more thing to stress about, but he was being so annoying!

“Look, Wind... not sleeping isn’t going to wake Twilight up any faster,” the captain said more softly, and Wind’s shoulders went up even more. “Please come to bed. One of us can wake you if anything changes.”

Wind closed his eyes. “I’m staying here.”

Warriors shifted where he stood like he wanted to continue, but he merely sighed again. Then his footsteps trailed away, and Wind lowered his shoulders.

As glad as he was to finally have gotten him to leave, Wind couldn’t help but feel guilty as he raised his head and watched Warriors walk off. But he shook it off, and looked back over at where Twilight lay in his bedroll, still and silent.

His hair was pushed out of his face, making room for the bandages that wound around his head and covered the gash Wind knew was right above his ear. The bandages were clean still, but there was a considerable bump swelling where Twilight had been hit, and Wind felt another surge of anger and worry all bundled up together crash over him.

Why did you have to take that hit for me, Twi? Wind thought miserably. You only just recovered, and now...

The cloth that they’d used to wipe the blood off of Twilight’s face caught his eye, and Wind swallowed.

I thought we were past this.

He sighed, and pressed his hands to his eyes, trying to alleviate the heavy feeling in them. He did feel tired, was the thing. Really tired. But having everybody constantly tell him he needed to go to bed was mushing with the frustration he was already feeling, and the stubborn part of him refused to do what they wanted.

They never listen to what I say, why should I listen to them?

Footsteps rustled behind him, and Wind growled, words to chase Warriors away again already on his tongue. But when he turned, he realized it was only Time returning from checking on the others.

“Oh. Hi,” he mumbled, and Time nodded in reply, settling himself on the grass next to Twilight again.

The silence stretched between them, and Wind carefully added a tiny head to his boat drawing, turned to talk to the stick figure riding it.

“How are you doing, sailor?” Time asked finally, and Wind shrugged, still poking at the dirt. “...the Captain’s worried about you.”

“I’m not who he should be worried about,” Wind muttered, and the silence came back.

He finished his tiny dirt portrait, the King of Red Lions smiling back at a tiny stick figure of himself. He hadn’t gotten all the details right, but it wasn’t bad really, and if you knew what you were looking at you could tell what it was for sure. Wind stared at it for a second, then scuffed the dirt away, erasing the image.

Then he looked over at Twilight, and swallowed.

“I just wish he would wake up already,” Wind whispered. “I still can’t believe he did that.”

“He didn’t want you to get hurt,” Time replied quietly. Another sigh escaped him. “He saw that club coming when you did not, and made a decision in the heat of battle.”

“I know! But I’m not the one who nearly died a week ago!” Wind suddenly yelled, feeling frustrated tears start to well in his eyes. “Why couldn’t he have just let me take that hit?! I could have taken it!”

He swiped an angry hand across his eyes, and felt Time’s hand gently rest on his shoulder, warming his back.

“Because it’s in his nature to protect those he cares for,” Time said quietly, “and you in particular, Sailor, remind him of his brother. Whom he once failed to save.”

Wind swallowed, and swiped away the tears trying to escape his eyes. He wasn’t going to cry in front of the Hero of Time. He wasn’t.

“You have a younger sister, yes?” Time said after a moment, and Wind nodded, not trusting his voice. “Then you know what it’s like to care for a younger sibling. Twilight... I believe has unconsciously placed you in that role.”

“Well that’s great,” Wind muttered, though a part of him warmed at the thought. “But how do I get him to stop doing things like... this?”

Time actually smiled, just a little. “You can’t.”

“What?!”

Time chuckled, then met Wind’s eyes. “You can’t make him do anything, Sailor. He’s stubborn as a mule. And truth be told, he would have jumped in front of that club if it had been any one of us— you or me, or our Veteran, or even the Captain.”

“So... so it wasn’t because he thinks I can’t handle myself?” Wind asked confusedly.

“...I believe he just has trouble separating you from his brother in his mind,” Time replied, smile fading as he looked back at Twilight again. “I can’t say for sure, of course. But his actions seem to point to it.”

He looked down at Wind again, and squeezed his shoulder.

“I understand it is frustrating to be underestimated. But try to give Twilight some grace. He only wants to keep you safe, just like you would do for your sister. It’s in his nature to protect.”

“I don’t need protecting though,” Wind said quietly, and Time hummed, looking up at the sky.

“Indeed. But Twilight protects regardless of ability. He does it out of love.”

Wind stared at Time for a moment, then looked over at Twilight again, watching his chest go up and down, his eyes remaining closed.

“...I wish he would save some of that love for himself,” Wind murmured.

Time sighed. “As do I.”

They both stayed silent as they watched Twilight breathe, and Wind blinked heavily, his eyes drooping against his will. Time gently steered him so he was resting against his shoulder, and Wind let him, not bothering to fight against it.

“...I’m not tired,” he murmured, biting back a yawn, and Time put an arm around him.

“Whether or not that’s true, you may as well be comfortable while we wait,” Time replied softly.

Wind squinted at him suspiciously, but he didn’t bother to muster up the energy to argue. Time’s shoulder was pretty comfortable after all... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he took a short nap.

He looked back at Twilight, still pale, still unmoving, and felt the lump come back in his throat.

Please wake up, Twilight. Don’t scare us again.

He rested his head on Time’s arm, closing his eyes against the tears that were trying to come back, and let out a shaky sigh.

“Wake me up if anything changes,” Wind whispered, and he felt Time nod, the older hero holding him a little tighter.

“You’ll be the first to know.”

[imthebadguyyy]

the bridgerton blues

pairing : anthony bridgerton x reader

fandom : bridgerton

synopsis : it's the first time after your wedding that anthony sees you sporting the signature bridgerton colour : blue, and it does things to him that he can only express in a much more....physical manner.

warnings : smut, heavy smut and excessive amount of fluff

a/n : i miss my grumpy viscount!!! happy reading :)

anthony huffed impatiently, foot tapping against the marble floor at bridgerton manor.

the season had begun again, and much to his relief, he would only be a spectator this year, having married the love of his life, lady, well, current viscountess y/n, which meant he didn't have to deal with the frills and fancies of the hawk like mama's in the ton, awaiting the right moment to swoop upon him with their daughters.

but by God, you were taking forever to get dressed and come down to leave for lady danbury's ball. beside him, benedict and colin sat, engrossed in a game of chess, while francesca and eloise lounged on the couch in the drawing room, catching up about life.

his mother was with his darling wife, much to his surprise, helping her get ready for a ball. he had been caught off guard when his mother had bustled in, dressed in a powdery blue gown, and had proceeded to shoo him out of the room.

"what exactly is keeping mama and y/n?" colin asked, brow furrowed in concentration as he focused on the chess board.

"if I knew I would tell you brother" anthony mumbled, checking the watch that hung on the golden chain from his waistcoat, smiling as he traced the cover, suddenly hit by a burst of nostalgia, and a surge of fondness for his late father.

he brushed it off when a giggling hyacinth came running down the staircase, leaping into his arms, forcing him to rush to catch her, eyes widening in surprise.

"hyacinth! you must always give me a prior warning or I may not be able to catch you" he chided, tucking a stray curl behind her ear and setting her gently on the ground.

"brother!! wait till you see y/n/n!! she looks like a princess!" his youngest sister exclaimed, almost vibrating with excitement. a shy gregory emerged, blushing a little as he nodded, making the three older bridgerton boys smirk, well aware of his little crush on anthony's wife.

when anthony had first befriended his wife, they had been at a mere age of ten, and anthony had rescued y/n when she had fallen off her horse at a picnic with his family and the cowper's.

ever since then, they had been inseparable, joint at the hip and at the heart.

it was of no surprise to anyone in the ton when finally, ages later, he had announced he was marrying the lady montgomery, or as everyone fondly knew her, "y/n/n"

"why so bashful greg?" benedict jested, watching his youngest brother turn a dark crimson.

"n-nothing" he stuttered out, darting in to see his sisters.

"it's because of y/n! I'm telling you brother, she looks like an absolute angel!" hyacinth chirped in, now bouncing about from step to step, just as the door of Anthony's room creaked open, and the dowager viscountess stepped out.

"she's ready" she smiled warmly at her son's, hurrying in to get her daughters to mark the momentous occasion.

brows furrowed, the eyes of the bridgertons rested upon the long winding staircase, awaiting to see what exactly was this magical outfit that had their mother and sister gushing like birds.

and what anthony saw, made his jaw drop to the very ground.

at the very top, his darling wife came into view, hair in sleek, meticulous curls, perfectly cast up in an intricate updo, adorned with pearls, framing her face with the delicate curls. her makeup was subtle, emphasizing her flowing complexion with a touch of rosy blush and wine coloured lips.

she adorned a pearl necklace and matching earrings, gifted to her by anthony himself, adding a timeless elegance to her stature.

but what really caught everyones attention was the dress that she wore, more specifically, the colour of the dress she wore.

a rich dark blue silk gown, carefully tailored, hugged her frame, showcasing the intricate details that add to its allure. the bodice, adorned with delicate embroidery, depicting subtle butterfly motifs that caught the light as the she moved down the stairs. the neckline gracefully framed her collarbone, delicate lace butterflies attached to the neckline,while the sleeves tapered down to her wrists, showcasing more of the exquisite lacework that adorned her body.

the skirt of the gown was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, flowing generously in layers of silk that rustled with each step. the deep, rich hue of the fabric evoked a sense of opulence, reminiscent of midnight skies. as she walked down, the silk caught the light, casting a mesmerizing play of shadows and highlights.

the dress matched anthony's waistcoat perfectly, and the sight was enough to make the viscount choke over nothing.

as he saw his wife adorned in the resplendent dress for the first time, his eyes widened with genuine admiration.

a hushed gasp escaped his parted lips as he took in the sight before him.

his wife, cloaked in the elegance of the dark blue gown, the bridgerton blues appeared to be like a living portrait of timeless beauty.

a warm smile formed on his lips, expressing both surprise and deep appreciation for the grace and sophistication she was emanating.

"my darling" he murmured as he swept forward, extending his arm to welcome you into them.

smiling sweetly at the bridgerton clan, you floated down, linking your arm with anthony's.

"sister, you look utterly perfect in blue!" benedict exclaimed, pressing a delicate kiss to your hand, as violet fondly caressed your cheek.

"doesn't she look like a princess brother?!" hyacinth squealed, looking excitedly at anthony. "just like one out of the fairytales" he said, looking at you with nothing but admiration and love and fondness.

"you really do look utterly regal" colin said, flashing a warm smile at you. eloise and francesca came upto you, with even eloise admitting that the dress you were wearing was nothing short of a work of art, while francesca gushed over how the silhouette was so perfect for you.

"alright, we must leave if we want to reach lady danbury's ball on time!" violet said, clapping her hands, leading her children out to where the carriages awaited.

"wait behind for just a second my love" anthony whispered into your ear, as he walked up to his valet to whisper something into his ear.

slowly, the other bridgertons departed, after you promised them to join them very soon, ignoring the smirks and nudges colin and benedict sent your way.

anthony pulled you into his study, hand gently caressing your waist, feeling the rich silk in his hands, the other hand gently reaching for your chin, lifting it to look into your eyes.

"you look utterly divine my beloved" he whispered fingers gently fondling your face, eyes absorbing every detail of your face, not that he hadn't already memorised it.

"thank you my dear" you whispered back, hands settling on his broad shoulders, taking in his waistcoat as well, the dark blue velvet clinging to every rippling muscle in his body, brass buttons complementing the coat.

"i always knew you'd look stunning in bridgerton blue but....it seems as though the bridgerton blue was crafted for you" he murmured, tightening his grip on your waist, "so stunning that infact, i do not feel the need to leave for lady danbury's ball, for I'd much rather stay here with my breathtakingly beautiful wife" he murmured again, lips ghosting over your own as his hands squeezed your waist, drawing you flush against his body.

"my lord, we cannot... we must be present at the first ball of the season" you lamely protested, heart hammering against your chest as the intoxicating scent of his musky, woodsy cologne filled your nostrils.

anthony dropped his lips to your neck, lips brushing a feather soft kiss to the sensitive skin, drawing a gasp from you.

"what if we do not go? what if we just stay here and...i worship my wife in the way she deserves? like the goddess she is?" he asked, like gently pressing kisses down to your collarbone, still as light as a feather, just enough to ignite something feral in you, but also enough to keep you wanting more.

"my lord it's the first ball of the season, and we have to-"

you were cut off by anthony's lips pressing against yours.

they were soft and plush against yours, pressing perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle, initiating a warm glow in the pit of your tummy.

as your lips met, the sensation was like a feather's gentle caress — soft, fleeting, and subtly warm. it feels like a delicate dance, a tender exploration that sparked a gentle flutter within you. the touch was akin to the brush of downy feathers, teasing and inviting, as if he was testing the waters of intimacy.

yet, as the moment unfolded, a magnetic pull takes hold, drawing you deeper into the realm of passion. the softness transforms, gradually intensifying into a fiery connection. the initial delicacy gave way to a fervent exchange, each kiss building upon the other with a growing hunger.

your lips, once feather-light, were now engaged in a rhythmic and passionate dance. the subtle warmth amplified into a blazing fire, and what began as a gentle exploration evolved into a fervent expression of desire.

the world around you faded and in that heightened connection, every kiss becomes an electric charge, a testament to the undeniable chemistry between your two souls entwined in the artistry of passion.

anthony's hands ran rampant on your body, clutching every part of your body through the silk dress, yet taking care to not scrunch the silk in anyway.

"you have no idea what you do me darling" he growled against your lips, drawing back for just a moment to watch your chest heave and eyes glaze over, hands clutching his coat and cravat so tight he feared you would rip it off.

"every breath you take, every word you speak, the very sound of your melodious voice and the very beat of your heart, all allure me to you, draw me to you like a moth to a flame" he continued, his own heart hammering against his chest.

his chest rose and fell with every word, eyes ablaze with burning passion. "every second of every day, i crave you, i long for you, i need you, and it drives me feral. but the sight of you in my colour makes me want to rip off that very dress off your body, claiming you as mine in more ways than one" he growled, hands scrunching the material on your behind.

"anthony..i crave you every second of the day as well. i need you" you whispered, a soft whimper slipping past your lips.

"hush my sweet darling" he said, sending you a saccharine sweet smile.

then, much to your chagrin, he took his hands off your waist, fixing the material and fixing his own coat.

"now, we must hasten to lady danbury's" he smirked" and you groaned, a painful throbbing between your legs becoming more prominent.

"but my lord-" you protested, only to be cut off by another searing kiss. he kissed you deep and long, and then drew back, pushing a stray curl on your forehead back behind your ear.

"our family awaits dearest" he smiled, and gently led you out to the hall.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the grand ballroom at lady danbury's unfolded into a dazzling spectacle as it embraced the opulence of a gold and maroon theme. golden hues enveloped the space, casting a warm, regal glow. glittering chandeliers, adorned with intricate gold details, hung from the ceiling, their crystals refracting light in a dance of elegance.

luxurious maroon fabrics draped the walls, creating a sumptuous backdrop that added depth to the golden ambiance. tables adorned with golden tablecloths and maroon accents contributed to the harmonious blend of colors. golden candle holders flickered with the soft glow of candles, casting a gentle radiance on the rich maroon floral centerpieces.

the women's dresses shimmered with embellishments, and the men's attire featured accents, creating a visual symphony of sophistication, into which you walked with anthony, arms interlaced, as you bowed before queen charlotte, who had taken quite a liking to you.

"it's lovely to see the bridgertons led by a couple as magnanimous as you" she bestowed a rare compliment, bringing a hot flush to your cheeks and even to anthony's pale visage. "but now we anxiously await the news of a young bridgerton" she said pointedly, and you kept your eyes low, trying to ignore the heat blooming in your cheek.

around you, guests were engaged in a dance, the dance floor became a stage for a waltz of colors, with the many colours and tones reflecting in the mirrored walls. the orchestra, bathed in the warm ambiance, played melodies that echoed the richness of the color palette.

you noticed simon and daphne dancing, looking fondly at each other, and saw colin sharing a dance with young penelope featherington, which made you smile, always having harbored a soft spot for the girl.

you spotted eloise by the food table, with francesca, both enjoying the strawberries that were being served. benedict seemed engrossed in exploring the rich collection of paintings in the hall, and was surrounded by a group of friends.

anthony led you over to his sisters, a soft kiss to your wrist a promise to be back in a moment lingering on his lips, as he was dragged off by countless lords for a drink and a conversation about the next round of a hunt they were engaging in.

as eloise began to speak about the many cruelties of lady featherington, you spotted cressida cowper scowling over at the two of you, dressed in a pink so bright you felt momentarily blinded. she shot a contemptuous look at you, scoffing at your gown and sharing a laugh with lady cowper, that had your eyebrow creasing with insecurity.

much to your horror, she began to march over to you, along with her mother and lady featherington, much to your dismay. you searched desperately for your mother-in-law, but found her engrossed in conversation with the queen.

"my my, if it isn't the happy bridgertons" cressida sniped, flashing you a tight lipped smile. "hello miss cowper" you smiled, ignoring the anxiety bubbling in your tummy.

"cressida" eloise said coldly, linking her arm with yours. she was well aware of the contemptuous rumours she had spread about you when you had begun courting anthony and had made it her mission to protect you from her.

"what a rather unusual colour for you dear" lady cowper commented, eyes trailing down your body in disdain.

"it gives you the impression of being a little washed out" she stated, opening her fan to hide her smirk.

you ignored the tear that sprang to your eyes as she continued to comment, on the fall of the dress, the shape of the silhouette and the way your jewellery was far too showy.

you could feel eloise glowering beside you but silently begged her to keep calm, not wanting to lose her calm in front of everyone.

to your surprise, a familiar baritone cut in, a nd a strong arm wrapped around your midriff and waist.

your husband appeared beside you, a smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"i see why you might think that, lady cowper, for all you can pull off is that rather obnoxious shade of viscous pink, and while i understand your envy at my wife's ability to outshine everyone else here in any colour she chooses, i must remind you are speaking to the viscountess bridgerton, and hence must adhere to the degree respect she commands" he stated coolly, hand gripping your waist so tight you were sure it would leave marks.

stunned speechless, the cowper's backed away, egos more than bruised and enraged , subject to sniggers and chuckles from the other lords and ladies in the room. your brother walked to anthony from across the hall, patting him on the back and whispering a "good man" to him as he hugged you, and eloise drew anthony into a hug as well.

anthony led the two of you over to his mama, who couldn't hide a smile herself at the love her son had for his wife, so reminiscent of the way their father had loved her.

"I am sorry if I caused humiliation to your name mama, but I cannot and will not let anyone talk to my wife that way" he said firmly, only to be cut off by his mother.

"I believe everyone here has been waiting to say that to miss cowper since the beginning of time, my darling, so take your wife and go home. you have done your job and proved your love and passion and told everyone that your relationship rhymes true" she said, drawing you into a warm hug and bidding you goodbye.

the carriage ride home was silent as your held anthony's hand tight, his thumb tracing patterns over the gloves you were donning, a pearly white to match your jewels.

"thank you my love" you whispered to him, eyes glimmering with unshed tears.

"my darling, i love you, all of you. please do not ever belittle yourself, because your beauty is awe worthy" he said, eyes contorted as if he was in pain at the thought of you being in pain.

"I'll try my best not to" you whispered against, leaning forward to press your foreheads together. and you stayed like that till bridgerton manor came into view.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

frenzied kisses were pressed against your lips as anthony lifted you into his arms, earning a singular gasp from your lips. his hands, one wrapped tightly under your bottom and the other around your back was strong, as you wrapped your legs around his waist and he led you upstairs, ignoring the scurrying valet and maids and your ladies in waiting as he made it to your shared bedroom.

he dropped you gently on the bed, towering above you, hands shoving the material of your dress up. his hands crept along your thighs stealthily, finding the hooks of your stockings to your thigh garter, slowly dragging it down, exposing your bare skin to him, suppressing a groan at the soft skin.

to his surprise you reached up and grabbed him by the cravat, untying it and pulling him down to meet your lips. you kissed him roughly, a frenzied battle, with teeth and tongue clashing as he shrugged off his waist coat and began to unbutton his shirt, watching as you removed your jewellery and kept in on the table beside his bed.

his hands reached for your dress, carefully untying the many laces and unbuttoning the many buttons on your dress, watching as your bosom heaved in the corset wore.

deft fingers unhooked the corset without a struggle, and you moaned when the cold air hit your nipples, making them harden, as you pushed your chest out towards him.

anthony growled, the sound reverberating in his throat as he reached down to unbutton his tan pants, leaving him in just his underwear. his lips attacked your neck, biting into the delicate flesh and pressing kiss after kiss, sucking deep marks and hickies that were sure to stay for days after.

you raked your nails up and down his neck, stroking the skin there and raking your hands upto his hair, gently scratching his scalp as he trailed kisses down to your breasts.

his mouth enveloped your nipple in his mouth, tongue flicking and swirling around the sensitive nub.

he continued his ministrations, taking only a moment to move his mouth to your other breast and leaving lovebites on the skin.

he settled in between your thoughts, hips gently grinding into yours, as he licked and sucked to his heart’s desire, attempting to alleviate the growing tent in his pants.

you were beginning to pant, and he continued to pinch and stroke your nipple. his tongue wreaked havoc on one while his fingers gently tugged on the other. anthony could not wait any longer, the pain of the straining in his pants making him more loopy than he would admit, and he pulled away from your breast, a string of saliva from his lips to your breast.

he came back up to your mouth, kissing you with desperation. "i adore you" he painted above you, before kissing down your tummy to your thighs.

he stopped at the junction between your thighs, inhaling the musk of your scent.  

he reached for the cotton underwear you had on, gently pulling it down, and pushing your thighs apart, and a wave of cold air floated across your inner thighs, so open and exposed now.

anthony began to press hot, open mouthed kisses to the bare expanse of your thighs, stopping just below your pussy lips each time.

mere moments later, you felt an entirely new sensation— anthony's wet, warm tongue sliding through your folds. a cry of pleasure ripped from your throat, as you looked down at anthony, who had crawled between your legs with his tongue buried at the apex of your thighs.

your slick dripped down your pussy lips, costing them in your honey, and anthony licked it all up as if it was nectar and ambrosia, lowering his face to lick a long strip through your entire slit, before tilting his face even deeper into your pussy, swirling around up to your engorged clit and licking all around it and on the top of it.

the action had your hips jolting as he sucked on the nub, causing flashes of white to flash before your eyes.

"you taste more delightful than i could ever have imagined" he breathed licking the sour-sweet liquid off his lips. "my own precious honey pot" he cooed, making you flush again and your body heated up.

he sucked harder on your clit, fingers slipping into your slit to slide up and down, each stroking made your hips flail wildly.

“you taste so sweet” he murmurs, and the brush of his breath sears against your skin. the low rumbling of his voice, so characteristic of him, are dripped in hunger and arousal, the heat spreading under your skin and threatening to explode like a supernova.

"i have longed to have you squirming on my tongue my love. i will have you screaming my name until your lips know no other" he promised.

with a ravenous look at your heaving form, anthony lowered his mouth to your throbbing center again and licked a bold stripe up your clit, the sensitive bud jolting in shock and you scream in pleasure,

the ever composed lord bridgerton moans against your cunt when you tug his hair, hands holding down your hips as he watches you squirm. then anthony rolls your clit with his teeth and you come apart with a scream, hands gripping onto his hair for dear life.

you come, cunt clenching down, spasming around his tongue where he has you stretched open. everything else disappears for a moment, your body weightless with pure unadulterated bliss.

anthony shifts so he is in between your legs again, watching the fluttering of your pussy as you clench around nothing. your eyes are trained on his hips and he feels a surge of pride.

his cock was one not only of great size but of greater girth and greater skill, and he adored nothing more than watching your eyes become as large as saucers as you looked at his poor cock straining again as it had been ever since he saw you in his signature colour.

trained hands guided his cock to your entrance, tapping against it for a few seconds before he dragged the tip through your slick, making your body shudder at the stimulation. and then, he pressed a kiss to your neck, hips slamming against yours.

the first thrust was deep and claiming,and you cried out at the perfect stretch of him in your pussy.

you could barely think straight, hands digging into his back and nails sinking into his skin.

"so fucking perfect,” he murmured into your ear, rasped and breathless as he nipped on your ear. "'feel so good wrapped around my cock. so wet and warm for me my sweet sweet beloved. fuck, you're so tight right now. squeezing me so well, you love my cock, do you not my angel?"

"yes yes i love you and your cock" you changed as a prayer, eyes bashful at the use of the dirty word. "look at how your cunt clenches around me" he groaned, head dipping into the crook of your neck as his hips slammed into yours repeatedly.

you could hear the headboard banging against the wall as the pace of anthony's thrusts had your body sliding against the silken sheets.

and then he stopped

he stayed there, buried inside you to the hilt, and his cock twitched excitedly inside you. you watched the way he gripped the bedsheets tightly with his fingers until they went hite. it sent heat and pleasure into the pit of your stomach and you were sure you are going to burn. it was far too good, far too much, brimming on the edge of being overwhelming. 

there’s no warning as he pulled out, leaving his pulsing tip in, and then he thrusted all the way back inside, in one long and slick stroke back inside you, deep and rough. his cock slammed into a spot in you that has you screaming, something absolutely fucking delicious and it steals away your breath and makes you cry out. 

and then he grabs your legs, pushing them up towards your legs as he almost folded you in half, pushing your legs so far apart they almost touched your head, as he moved to his knees for a better angle.

his hips thrusted wildly as he kept fucking you, hand rubbing furiously at your sensitive clit, as you whined and moaned and screamed. he watched as your cunt, pink and perfect fluttered and twitched, and his ears revelled at the sound of the filthy, wet squelching that echoed in the room from your dripping cunt.

he landed a harsh smack to the back of your thigh that had you screaming as he then pressed his tongue to it, sucking a hickey on the spot.

sweat dripped down his forehead and yours, as you began to thrust your hips up to meet his perfect strokes, while feeling like his cock was going to split you apart.

"i want nothing more than to fill you with my seed" he growled, over the sound of your skin slapping together over and over again.

"fill me with your seed my lord. let me have carry your kin" you murmured, and you watched as anthony groaned, hand wrapping around your throat.

"such a minx" he grinned, squeezing and watching your eyes roll back.

without a warning, he flipped you over so you were on top, and his deft hands steadied you at the waist.

then he began to slowly pick your hips up, working you up and down on his cock, slamming you up and down on his cock, until you got the hang of it.

anthony felt himself drooling as he took in the way your tits bounced and you bounced on his cock as you ride him, nails now scratching down his chest as he laid a harsh spank to your ass that had you clenching on his cock harder.

he watched your body desperately ride him for all he was worth, thighs jiggling as they clapped against his own, and he pinched the fat around your waist and belly, teeth nipping at your nipple to increase the stimulation.

"m-my lord! I am going to cum!" you moaned loudly, only to turn to a wail as anthony's fingers unleashed a furious assault on your clit, as he rubbed it up and down and side to side and everywhere, covering his fingers in your slick.

with a scream of his name, you came all over his dick and his tummy, your juices spilling out of you like a fountain, watching as he scooped it up with his fingers to lick it clean.

he slammed your hips down on his even harder as you whined, and you felt his stomach tense and breathing stutter as he came, shooting his load inside you, and finally sinking into the pillow, limp.

panting, you rolled off of him, mind cockdrunk and unable to move. anthony peppered kisses to your skin and kissed the spots where he'd been rough.

"you were phenomenal, my love" he whispered, and to your intrigue, his fingers trialed down to your cunt.

you watched as he gently slid a finger in to your hole, shushing and kissing you as he blocked it with his fingers.

"i cannot have a single drop of me spilling out of you" he murmured and you moaned.

"i adore you", he mumbled, "my dear wife" he concluded.

"and i adore you, my dear husband" you smiled, meeting his lips in a sugar sweet kiss.

who would've known that wearing the bridgerton blue was all it would take for you and anthony to announce to the ton in the next three months that you were expecting the first bridgerton heir?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n : I've missed writing for bridgerton so much!! i really hope you enjoy this, and as always likes reblogs comments opinions etc are appreciated!! sending u all love and happiness and remember, my inbox is always open and i love making new friends!! happy reading ☺️♥️

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[alloftheimaginesblog]

following in our footsteps {benedict bridgerton}

plot: as the wife of benedict bridgerton, you're always fixing his clothes and readjusting his collar and as your husband, he's always smoothing your dress down when you get out of the carriage... you don't realise but these traits get passed onto your children.

requested by anon

"Remember," you said as you took Benedict's hand as he helped you out of the carriage, "it's Colin's birthday, not yours, so please... let him enjoy his day without you and Anthony winding him up."

Benedict smiled at you widely, "Me? Annoy Colin? Well, I never." You rolled your eyes. Your husband, being the wonderfully kind man he was, then proceeded to circle you, smoothing your dress down if it had hitched up or gotten a little crumpled. Once finished, he stood in front of you and you straightened his lapel and his collar.

This had been a ritual for the two of you since your courting days. It started when Benedict had came to you with a bunch of flowers when he was calling on you one morning and you brushed off some petals from his shoulder and then in that same morning, he had wiped the tiniest speck of jam from your dress. Since then, the two of you had a routine in place of helping the other sort themselves out.

"Beautiful," Benedict smiled before placing a soft kiss on your knuckles where your wedding ring sat, "Right," he straightened and clapped, "come along children!"

One by one, your four children clamber out of the carriage. Charles comes first, holding his hand to help his sister Alexandra, then waits for William and lastly, the three help Violet as she was the youngest and also the clumsiest.

As the children are climbing out, you and Benedict find yourself in conversation about something else entirely and it is only when you hear the words, "Oh, honestly, Violet! You always seem to get yourself into such a muddle!" that you turn your attention to your children.

Your face stretches into a wide smile, "Ben, look."

William and Charles stood facing each other, straightening their collars, "Is that good?" They each nod before they look to Alexandra. Charles smooths down an unruly wisp of hair, tucking it behind her ear, while William smooths down the ruffles on her shoulder. Lastly, they all help their youngest sister, Violet. Charles wipes crumbs from her cheeks, Alexandra readjusts the hairband in her hair and William brushes her dress so it sits nicely.

They turn back to their parents who are... crying?

"Mama," Charles frowns, "are you well?"

You sniff, wiping your eyes with Benedict's handkerchief he handed you, "All is well, my love," you smiled, "It is just so nice to see you all looking out for each other."

"You fight like cat and dog but like your mother said, it is spectacular watching you look out for each other," Benedict smiles, clapping Charles on the shoulder.

The children don't understand the big deal, they glance at one another before Charles shrugs, "It is what we see you and Mama do each and every day. You make sure that you are both presentable and attractive, it is nice to look out for each other, is it not?"

You nod quickly, giving each of your children a kiss on the forehead, "Mama," William groans, "now we all have lipstick on our foreheads!" You laugh and hand Charles Benedict's handkerchief and one by one, they each wipe the lipstick off of each other's foreheads.

"Oh, we did good, did we not?" You ask quietly, melting into your husband's embrace.

"We certainly did." He presses a kiss to your forehead, "We really did."

[pricegouge]

Humor Me (Even When it's Ruining Me)

part two

masterlist | taglist: pricegouged

babysitter!reader x single dad!price

cw: fem reader. implied age gap. nothing specific beyond reader being legal. alcohol. reader is a brat and john's having a lot of fun with it. inappropriate work flirting lmao. also i beefed john up cause i could. daddy kink. MDNI

Banner by @/cafekitsune

Chapter two

Three weeks later and you don't quite know what's happened, or who you even are anymore. You're waspish and short, run ragged between classes and the two families you've somehow managed to become employed for. They're nice enough to coordinate between themselves, most nights - Kate reaching out with a schedule the two of them have agreed on that lets you manage both kids at once. That doesn't mean they can always get their kids under the same roof for you, their schedules always too full to manage the drive across town. As if yours is any better.

The tentative routine you've fallen into is easy enough on paper, attending morning class before heading over to the Laswell's and doing most of your classwork there, even attending an online lesson once a week because Colin is a little angel who can remain calm as long as you are, but it all goes pretty much to shit the second you embark to pick up Emily from preschool around midafternoon, loading Colin into the carseat the Laswells very generously bought for you. 

(Between the fact that it stays belted into your car twentyfour seven now because you don't trust yourself to reinstall it properly without the weirdly mechanical tests John used to ensure its safety when he set it up the first time and the fact that Colin can occasionally be heard cooing in the background of your more interactive lessons, there's definitely a rumor going around campus that you have a baby. You're not sure how you feel about it, but it does tend to keep the more annoying boys at arm's length so you haven't really gone out of your way to correct it quite yet. Emily's booster gets stored in your trunk, though. You don't quite want to know what kind of leper you'd become if your classmates thought you'd been on Sixteen and Pregnant.) 

The girl is… tougher. Well behaved but boisterous, moody at times. Her rambunctiousness is infectious, gets Colin worked up from the confines of his seat in a way he doesn't usually wind down from for hours while Emily prattles on about her day and waves glittery crafts at you, leaving your car looking like a bad drag hangover, still-tacky finger paints smearing like lipstick stains on your upholstery. 

(This is why Emily's booster stays in the trunk, there's already enough misleading evidence all over your car.)

(This is why John doesn't pick up his own daughter, you're fairly sure, and you've half a mind to install a glitter bomb in his glove box as revenge.)

You don't always have to watch the girl, John's evening schedule an unfixed thing, but Emily always seems excited to see you pulling up, as if she knows that her father works even when he's home. It's why you try to stay patient with her when her boundless energy riles the baby up, or when her incessant need for attention prevents you from finishing papers on time. It's not her fault, but it is slowly driving you insane.

Gina helps out when she can, usually bringing dinner for everyone when she stops by the Price's to pick up her kid in the early evening. Sometimes she even stays for a bit, helps keep Emily entertained while you streamline the bedtime routine with hopes of finishing up homework after she tucks in for the night. It's a valiant effort made by all, but the girl doesn't often play along, much too busy antagonizing you to bother showering in a timely manner. There are nights you think of her more like a little sister than a client, the way she picks on you. You feed it right back in your darker hours, when having every minute of your day planned out and consumed weighs on you, giving you teeth. You'd made her cry once by mistake, your tone more than your words themselves needling under her skin until she burst into tears, hid in her room until her father came home. There'd been an odd sense of relief to it, balancing out the panic of a bad review. Sure, you'd be fired and no one would want to hire you ever again if John used that one app where you got most of your odd jobs, but at least the Laswells wouldn't give you up and you could return to your regular schedule. But when Mr. Price got home that evening, he'd only listened to his whiny daughter with a soft smile, kissing her on the forehead before telling you both that he 'Wished his girls would get along.'

You can see where Emily gets it from, her ability to drive you insane, but where the girl is loud and prickly or candy-sweet by turns, a constant one man crew of Guess Who, her father is a steady, low stream abrading you, the funnel where he slips through your cells eroding until he's a constant bubbling under your skin. He's incorrigible, insidious, shameless. 

Escalating, lock step with you.

You still haven't returned his shirt. Well, technically you had - once. Worn it that Wednesday, the first time he'd asked you back. You'd done it with every intention of teasing him a little, noting you'd need a replacement if he wanted it back now, and changing out of it before leaving for the night. He'd turned it on your head with a simple 'You could always just take it off,' before you'd even been able to reveal your plan to give it back to him. 

He should have expected you to retaliate after that, returning home with it once more. It's remained safe in your dresser ever since, one less avenue for him to come barrelling down the center of, catching you in his headlights like a deer too scared to run. And if keeping it means you get to wear it to bed sometimes, so be it. That's his fault, too, always texting you so late to 'make sure you got back okay.' It's possible he's being gentlemanly, but that would be a first so you refuse to believe it, assume instead that he wants to make you think of him when you're climbing into bed each night. Like you need the help, like you haven't already worn the scent off his shirt. Sometimes you think about weaseling another one from him, or wonder how long it would take him to notice if you outright stole one. You know which room is his, have caught glimpses through the cracked door sometimes when following Emily up to her room. He never shuts it, too trusting. You probably would've already gotten yourself off on his pillow like a bitch in heat if he hadn't let slip early on that Emily sometimes likes to sleep in his bed when he's away. 'Think she misses me sometimes,' his voice was sad but the leer he gave you as he continued was anything but. 'She's allowed, if she wants.'

The next day he mentioned Emily falls asleep quickest when someone lies down with her to read her story. Your papers continue going unwritten, the girl wandering out of her bedroom late into the night because you refuse to start the habit when you know how it will end.

It's unsustainable, feels like you're circling the drain. But the money is great. 

While the Laswells had never been stingy, John pays you like a dental surgeon each time he needs you. That same exorbitant rate from the first night, now with a prepaid gas card he seems very uninterested in monitoring the spending of. You'd be tempted to test your theory if you had time, take a road trip out to your parents or something just to see if it ever got declined. Sometimes you fantasize about it at night, texting him an SOS and a picture of your gas gauge on E. It's embarrassing how often he shows up to save the day in your daydreams now, racing to your side in his gleaming Lexus to refuel your car with a suggestive smile, working the nozzle past your intake valve like he's slipping into a wet cunt. 

You should probably get laid, but who has the time? Especially given your… situation. 

(Your situation being there is no situation. Never has been one. Virginal as the day you were born save for some over-the-pants heavy petting in high school and a rotation of cheap drug store vibes you usually end up abandoning for your own fingers because dear god, you'd think you'd have learned after the first wasted investment but up until now, with John's much needed help, you haven't really been in a position to just spend on sex toys all willy nilly and while yeah, sure, you are now, every time you go to spend his money on an imitation cock you can't help thinking might look like his, you suddenly remember you're only here because you can't put your big girl panties on and -.)

It takes time, is the problem. You don't need the whole blanket under the stars treatment, but you at least want some evidence that you're not going to get jackhammered into the mattress by some selfish, overeager boy who wouldn't know how to get you off if you gave him a manual. But evidence takes time to gather, takes meetups in frat parties you have no interest in attending, and makeout sessions smelly couches just to see if your partner knows how to use their tongue. And for all his provisions, John (John.) has made well and truly certain that the one thing you don't have, is in fact time.

>Need you tonight.

The vibration of your phone against the library desk is loud as a gunshot, the message itself ringing in your ears just as bad. You placed your phone back on the table and sent your deskmate, a handsome senior named Paul who'd been your unofficial Saturday morning library pal for the last two semesters, an apologetic glance.

Paul just waved his hand at you dismissively, a small smile tugging at his lips. With his head bowed into his fourth edition of a rather intimidating neuroscience textbook that gave you anxiety just looking at it, the only way you could tell he wasn't annoyed by your antics at all was the dimpling of his cheeks. It distracted you momentarily, the urge to nibble at the fat there sudden and overwhelming, then your phone vibrated again because you'd been too distracted to silence it and you snatched it back up with an annoyed huff, ready to tell your employer off about disturbing your Sacred Saturday, your one day off a week. 

(Again.)

> I know what day it is but it's an emergency.

> I'll make it up to you.

< how so?

You chew your lip waiting for a response, the bubbling typing indicator roiling like your stomach. It's always like this, texting with John - every response teetering on too much. It's why you usually prefer to coordinate with the Laswells as much as possible, minimizing your discussions with Mr. Price to those late night 'Did you make it home okay?' messages. 

(And sending him a photo evidence that his shirt was still safe and in your care once.

If you'd been wearing it at the time, snuggled up in bed and haloed in warm fairy lights with the hem riding a little high, that was his fault for asking after it so late.)

Tap, tap, tap.

Across from you, Paul drums his pen off the spiral notebook that sits between you, a custom since your third week sitting together. It's blank aside from your brief, handwritten conversations as far as you can tell, an accessory Paul seems to carry around for this express purpose, evidently preferable to just asking for your number so you can text each other to get around the strict no talking policy in the quietest lounge of the library. In the year or so since you've met him, you've never heard Paul talk, all of your correspondences reduced to the notebook which he draws your attention to now, his tidy scrawl asking a simple but damning question: 'Who's the guy?'

You shake your head, instinctual - automatic. Paul crooks an unimpressed brow at you and underlines his original question. 

'Just some guy I work for, why?'

Paul smirks when he reads it but turns serious in response, waving at your overall demeanor as if that answers everything.

In your palm, your phone gives a muted buzz and you have to physically swallow back the urge to check it immediately. You roll your eyes at Paul instead. A poor excuse for the frustration you want to unleash, but opening the valve even a hair was better than just letting it build.

His scrawl is neat when Paul responds. Unaffected, calm. 'You've got a crush.' And then below that, its own paragraph: 'Should I be worried?'

It takes a moment for the words to register, the moment dragging out too long before your eyes dart up to your deskmate. Paul winks, scheming and sly, and your jaw hinges open in shock.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

"Shit," you hiss, scrambling out of your seat as your phone continues to vibrate with an incoming call. John's contact lights the screen, the stupid money bag emoji you'd used for him mocking you. You wait until you make it to the stairwell to answer to avoid the worst of the librarian's wrath, though she still shoots you a disapproving glare as you stalk past her post. You've half a mind to let the stairwell door slam behind you, but it would echo louder than your anger and you want John to hear every word when you accept the call.

"I am at the library," you hiss by way of greeting, as if that perfectly illustrates why you're so annoyed with him.

John just grunts, uninterested. "Are you available or not tonight? I need an answer ASAP so I can make plans if you're -."

"I'm off on Saturdays."

A beat passes as John recollects, evidently unused to being interrupted. "Right. Which is why I offered to pay you double your regular rate."

Confused, you check your texts to read the one you'd missed, too busy being chatted up by a cute boy much more appropriately aged. In it, John pleads desperately with you: offers twice your pay, dinner, anything you want.

You think of Paul's cute dimples, the way he's known you for a year without asking for your number. You think of John covered in shaving cream, his first words to you a joke about how desperate you looked - how desperate you both looked.

Hand pressed to your forehead, you shut your eyes and ask what time John needs you.

"Oh, thank you so much, sweetheart. A real lifesaver. I promise I'll make it up to you, just tell me how, okay? And as for tonight, no later than seventeen hundred, please - though honestly you can come by anytime, I'm sure Emily will be happy to see you."

Emily. Right. "Well I'm at the library for a reason, so -."

"You can use my study, of course. The munchkin knows better than to bug me when I'm in there."

Unbidden, you imagine pestering John yourself when he's lounged in some fancy modern desk chair, leather and broad. You bet his study smells like tobacco, that there's a bar cart in the corner. You imagine him using your mouth like a tumbler of whiskey, punishment for running it too much. He'd drink from your lips whenever he -.

"But I suppose I don't have all those useful resources like textbooks… well, consider it a standing offer."

"S-sure, Mr. Price. Thanks."

"Of course. I'll see you later, then?"

"Yes, sir."

On the other end of the line, John's breath stutters. His voice is low when he signs off, blunt and direct. Doesn't wait to hear your response. "Be good, sweetheart."

***

You're not entirely sure what being good constitutes, but you're fairly sure using John's emergency credit card Emily located for you in the freezer to Instacart approximately one day's minimum wage worth of junk food because Emily had been sad and despondent all day wasn't it. Nor was letting her dance her sugar rush off to less than appropriate music, probably, but it was worth it to see her smiling again after the fit she'd thrown when her father had left for the evening. You're both sweaty and breathless now, collapsing onto the couch between songs to shovel more M&Ms into your mouths and make fun of each other's dance moves. Emily says you use too much arm movements, but she's only four and thinks hopscotch skips are the new craze so you ask what she knows anyway and laugh at the way she rolls her eyes at you.

John's talkative too, apparently, the unexpected clients he'd been urgently called in to entertain evidently not holding his attention. He's never exactly radio silent when you've got his kid in your charge, but he usually lets you take the lead (pepper him with stupid questions you already know the answer to just to find an excuse to distract him because maybe you kinda like how short he gets) on those nights.

(Despite this standard, you don't feel the need to tell him you'd managed to read his credit card number through the brick of crystalline ice he'd cleverly hidden it in. You hope he's really short when he figures that stunt out.)

Tonight, however, it's John peppering you with questions. They start out innocent enough, asking after his daughter because he felt bad leaving her on a night that he'd promised to be home and he could see how much it upset her. Those questions peter out when you send him a picture of her all giggly and wound up, her hair freshly braided in a style she said he's too clumsy to accomplish for her. With confirmation that his daughter was feeling better, John's texts turn rapidly back to you.

> And how about you, sweetheart? Are you doing better?

< wym, better?

> What do you mean, wym?

< har har

> I mean you were rather short with me earlier. Are you still upset with me?

> I promise I also don't want to be working on a Saturday, for what it's worth.

< not mad

< just seems like you're not really needed with how much you're blowing up my phone

> Honestly, no. This is a waste of both our time.

> Have you decided how I can make it up to you, at least?

Actually, you hadn't even thought of it, figuring he was just being exaggerative - that he'd pay you your exorbitant rate and be done with it, send you on your way with your thoughts all twisted after some more growled insinuations and a pat on your ass, probably. He seemed like he was maybe two visits away from trying his luck, anyway.

Maybe you could ask for it sooner. Clear the air, finally feel his hands on you. You tell him you don't want anything, clarify nothing he can give you when he calls that out for being a lie.

> Sure about that? I can help with most things.

And the thing is, he's right. There are a lot of things you want. You want to get a better grade on your next econ assignment, you want a full night's sleep. You want to have free time, pick up a hobby. You have a growing desire to learn how to make the perfect pasta after seeing her scarf so many lackluster take out spaghetti bolognaise dishes. The solution was obvious, though one you knew he wouldn't want to hear.

< okay. i want more free time

> So quit with the Laswells.

It draws you up short, Emily bouncing around you unawares. It's one thing to suspect John's - your - end game, but another thing to see it batted around so casually. It makes you feel taken advantage of, guided in a way you don't necessarily appreciate. The Laswells were your first real, well-paying gig, your ticket to independence. You didn't relish the thought of abandoning them and you certainly didn't like to be coerced into the decision. 

But John did pay very well.

< just like that?

John's answer is far too quick, the status changing directly from read to answered with a speed that suggested he may have had a response drafted already which he simply copy/pasted. 

> It would make the most sense. I can pay well enough to make up for the lost income, plus my schedule works better with your classes. 

> Honestly, I'm surprised you even lasted as long as you did with them.

< i wouldn't want to let them down…

> Nonsense, I'm sure they'd understand. You're a busy girl with a full schedule, afterall.

So were they - the whole reason you'd been working for them so long. 

< i don't think i could quit on them. kate scares me.

> I'll take care of Kate, okay? No need to worry. I owe you one anyway, remember?

>Just let Daddy handle it.

It takes you a minute, the words somehow too natural to trip you up. Before you, Emily screeches happily about some cartoon that's maybe a touch too old for her and you think to yourself that she's going to sleep good tonight, all tuckered out as you know she's going to be and then you nearly drop your phone in your rush to chastise him, or run your mouth like you always do, or maybe double down on your request.

But the words don't come. Every time you manage to string two whole thoughts together it peters out, the textual manifestation of the gaping anime gasp he's managed to draw from you as you imagine him watching your typing bubbles appear and fizzle over and over again. If he's watching, of course, but he's a busy man so maybe -.

This time when your phone buzzes, there's no threat of a scolding librarian to keep your yelp suppressed. Just the odd look Emily shoots you before being distracted by her brightly colored show again, turning away from you disinterestedly as you excuse yourself to the kitchen.

"Mr. Price?"

"Do I make you uncomfortable?"

"S- sorry?"

His voice is calmer when he repeats himself, the same tone he uses on his daughter when she's too fidgety to listen. "Do I make you uncomfortable?"

And that answer is easy because the flutter in your tummy you get whenever his words grow a little too overt is not discomfort, so the answer comes easily, if quietly. "No."

"Do you want me to stop?"

Through the fog of your fluster, you remember Paul and his glacial pace, the cat calls from boys you've never met before and have no interest in. This is different. This is good. "No."

The breath John lets out doesn't sound like he's been holding it, more a pleased sigh than anything, accompanied by a low hum. "Good girl. Appreciate you telling me. Is this something you want?"

"I just said -?"

"Not wanting me to stop and wanting something to follow through to its logical conclusion are not the same things. Is this something you want?"

The question grates - the notion that he would think of this all as a waste of time if you didn't know you wanted him, maybe. "Hadn't thought about it. You only just -," You counter vehemently, but John just laughs, a heavy burst of breath through his nose. It catches in his mustache - wind cutting through the grass.

"If I were to come home tonight to find you sleeping on my couch and decided to wake you up all sweetly and softly, would that be alright?"

You picture yourself sleep-soft and pliant, heavy hands soothing over your flank as John's rough voice coaxes you awake. "Yes," you breathe.

He hums approvingly. "And if I were to wake you with my tongue in your cunt, would that be too much?"

"John -!" you hiss, scandalized.

"Try again."

A beat passes where you try to smother the pit of nerves in your stomach. "Mr. Price."

"Better. Answer the question, sweetheart."

"Mr. Price, I -." You huff a breath, take advantage of the fact he can't see you to visibly straighten your spine, steel yourself. "Mr. Price, what do you want?"

He doesn't miss a beat. "Easy. I've wanted to bend you over every available surface since you first barged into my bathroom and hinged yourself over that sink."

"I didn't."

"I want to keep that clever little mouth of yours quiet by stuffing it full of my cock. But I also want to hear you complain about what a brat my daughter's been all night because you're cute when you're mad. I want to come home and know what the two of you grabbed for dinner by licking it off your teeth." He pauses to give you an opening, notes your silence, and continues in a much softer voice. "And I want you to be able to focus on school a little better."

You can't manage anything better than a soft oh, and John's responding laugh is a low rumble, voice deceptively soft when he continues - the same voice he uses on Emily when she's too tired to behave properly. You wonder if his colleagues can hear him again, wonder if that's just how he's going to speak to you regardless.

"The question, sweetheart."

"I would like that, Mr. Price."

John's silent in the beat that passes, a hinge creaking open spilling ambient chatter in the background. He'd been sequestered, which means that last tone was only meant for you. "I'll see you tonight, kiddo. Behave for Daddy, yeah?"

[espinosaurusrexex]

Colin has a wet dream about you

a/n: I love Polin, but I am also obsessed with the Bridgerton men and you gotta let a girl dream... or rather her fictional crush 😏

word count: ~600

warnings: smut (wet dream - not super graphic), pining, Colin missing you :(

･ﾟ✫* 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ｡✭･ﾟ

“Oh,” you gasp, “Colin!”

The white duvet crumbles beneath your writhing body, every curve and divot of your skin brands itself into Colin’s mind like a well rehearsed poem, or the tune of a song that just cannot seem to leave his head. 

“I love you,” he whispers your name into your neck, the sweat coating his brow as if he were sparing with his brothers. Though he is doing quite the opposite indeed. 

His hips push forward in gentle passion as he falls deeper in the all-encompassing pleasure that is covering his every being in warmth and shivers. 

“I love you,” Colin promises once more, his lips grazing upon every surface of you he can reach until your hand tangles in his hair, holding him in place just as your mouth touches his.

“Say it back, my love.” Another thrust ruts through the both of you, and your damp breath travels past his face. “I am entirely yours.”

“I- ah! Colin, oh my-“ He is fighting the urge to roll you on top of him, to see your breasts bounce with every thrust, to weigh them in his hands and feel how perfect they are… especially when he runs his fingers over the pebbled flesh which makes your sounds pique. No, he needs his body pressed against yours, needs every inch of him to touch you in fear of it all being his wicked imagination. There is no risking your fading away. 

“I beg you, love.” He is close to losing his mind if you don’t answer him soon, the urge of your confession growing greater than his need for release. But his body won’t stop moving. You are drawing him in deeper and deeper until your other hand scratches down his back. 

You are a moaning mess beneath him, and he wouldn’t have it any other way… well, except for the fact that you have yet to pronounce your undying love for him so that you can both live happily ever after together. 

Though, for some reason, that sentence never comes. Instead, the knot in his belly grows tighter and tighter until his eyes are skewed shut. One more thrust and he will tumble over into the warm and floaty feeling only you have ever brought him. 

“Colin, look at me.” You stroke over his hair and stare at him adoringly. He can feel it now, the words on the tip of your tongue as you kiss him once more, and the warm tightness spreading throughout him when you finally say them. 

“I love-“

A loud crash sounds from outside his room and Colin shoots up in his bed. 

It takes him a second to come to again. The room he is in is sparely lit through the heavy dark blue curtains drawn before his windows. 

He is hot, and bothered, he notices after dragging his hand across his dampened face, staring down at the prominent evidence in his lap. But the worst part of it all is… that he is alone. 

“Are you alright?!” 

“I am fine, Mr. Bridgerton! Please excuse the disturbance!”

“Do not worry!”

Colin falls back into his pillow with a heavy sigh and closes his eyes once more. The memory of your silhouette still lingers in his mind. The way the Greek coastal winds blew on your dress, your hair, making him fall in love with the slight dishevel, he would always connect to you. 

There is nothing he misses more from his travels than your presence. And he mourns every day he has to spend without you now. 

With a heavy heart, and a silent tear springing from them, he presses his face into the silk sheets, wishing, hoping, praying, to see you once more. 

Wanna be added to the Taglist?

[nikkisheep]

To Be Alone With You (Part Six)

Anthony Bridgerton x female!Sharma!sister reader

Benedict Bridgerton x female!Sharma!sister reader

Warnings: improper alone time (Ben & reader), sexual tension, me as a writer questioning if I want Ben or Anthony to be the end ship, kissing, male nudity, reader fences Benedict (I know nothing about fencing so I'm sorry if this is bad), semi-smut, handjob, hair pulling

*One of the longer chapters

Summary: You spend more time with a certain Bridgerton brother and start to question whether you could be happy with Benedict rather than Anthony.

Playlist:

Labyrinth by Taylor Swift

If Only by Dove Cameron

Back to the Start by Somo

Dark Paradise by Lana Del Rey (Maybe not a good choice, just depends)

Tag List: @shealuna , @m-rae23 , @littlepeanut03 , @aellabridgerton @sydney-m, @faatxma , @wildthoughtnananna @uraesthete, @themadhattersqueen, @theroyalmanatee, @urfavnoirette, @budugu, @helen06dreamer, @galactict3a, @imagineme2you. @sabii5, @anehkael, @aesthetic0cherryblossom, @lxovesgy, @lemonwithstupidity, @luvwithau, @stvrdustalexx, @jess4rush, @tallrock35, @msrawog

Not many nights had passed since the ball and you were being invited to the Bridgerton house by Daphne, or at least you thought. The days following the ball had been crazy as you were having numerous suitors calling on you because they thought the viscount had forgotten your sister and set his mind on you. Not that it was completely wrong, but you were not talking to Anthony and would not do so until the wedding which was to be in about a month. Not that you were keeping up for when you would have to walk down the aisle, not in a white dress.

Upon your arrival to the Bridgerton home, you were wandering around the house trying to find something interesting. You wandered to the garden and sat under a tree. The refreshing wind cooled you as the tree limbs were shading you away from the harsh sun. You close your eyes and listen to the sounds of nature. Soon, rushed footsteps and shouts had called your attention and you decided to follow it.

---

Benedict and Colin were fencing, and it looked like Colin was winning this match. Benedict was sweating in his fencing uniform and a bead of sweat slowly drips down the side of his face and disappears under his collar.

"Are you going to just stand there and stare or are you going to come over?" Benedict called out, snapping you out of the trance-like state you were in.

"How long have you boys been fencing?" You ask, shielding your eyes from the sun.

"About an hour," Colin smirked, watching you watch Benedict. "I actually have grown quiet tired."

"Would you like me to take over, Mr. Bridgerton?" You asked, hands folded together in front of your waist.

"Do they teach you girls how to fence during your lessons?"

"No, but I have seen my cousins do it."

"You are quiet aware that fencing is a man's sport, Miss Sharma," Benedict said, pushing you. He knew that you would see it as a challenge and it was, the results were exactly what he wanted.

"Rule number one, Mr. Bridgerton, do not underestimate a woman."

Colin mentions your clothing and you realized that it would be harder to move in your dress. You press your lips into a thin line before deciding to walk to the shed. Once inside, you look through the wardrobe inside, finding a pair of fencing clothes. You pull at the buttons of your dress, slipping out of the many layers, including your corset. Putting on the trousers felt odd but they were quite comfortable, more so than your corset.

Coming out of the shed, you walk to the boys again, pushing the leftover shirt into the trousers. You gave them a twirl and beamed brightly.

"Well, don't they fit lovely?" You smiled.

"Yes...yes they do," Benedict looked at the sky, not trying to hide that he couldn't look at you. Your shirt wasn't completely buttoned and Benedict was struggling not to look.

"Are you all right, brother?" Colin asked, a teasing grin creeping onto his face.

"I am quite well, you need not to worry about me brother."

You move closer to him and press you hand against his forehead and felt his temperature. Your breathes mixed in front of you, your chest was practically pressed against his. Benedict's first instinct was to lean in for a kiss, you were intoxicating to him, but as soon as he went to slightly move, he pulled away.

"Shall we return to fencing?" He spoke into the silent garden.

All while Colin was just sitting on the bench, watching the interaction between his brother and the love of his other brother's life.

---

Colin eventually leaves the garden because the heat nearly made him pass out. As you were fencing Benedict, he kept talking as a distraction, and it was working.

"Darling, are you prepared for the art lesson that I have planned for us?" He asked.

"Can't make it, Mr. Bridgerton," You said. "I have a tea party with Daphne. She sent me an invitation letter."

"That was me," He said, tapping you on your left side.

"Benedict, did you invite me here to teach me art or something else?"

The two of you stepped closer, leaving the fencing weapons on the ground. His hands came to rest on your hips, looking around the garden quickly before turning back to you.

"Did you or did you not come here for an art lesson and nothing more?" He asked, dipping his mouth to the underside of your jaw.

"I came here thinking that I would be having tea with your sister," You gasp when his teeth graze your skin. "Benedict, someone will see."

"Let them see," He said. "You should be mine."

Your head tips backwards as his mouth continues the assault on your neck. You let out a moan and he pulls away, placing his index finger over your mouth, making a shhh-ing sound.

"Quiet darling, do you want me to stop?"

You shook you head.

"Words or I will stop."

"I don't want you to stop, Mr. Bridgerton."

His mouth pressed against yours in a searing kiss, lips moving in sync and his hand moves down to your bottom. He walks you over to the bench that Colin had been sitting and he sat you down, bending down to kiss you, never wanting your lips to leave his. You pull back, pressing your hand against his chest and try to catch your breath.

"Stop...stop, we shouldn't do this," You whisper as his mouth chases yours. He is in a kneeling position and his hand is on your hips, covered by your trousers.

"We shouldn't, but we want to and who are we to deny our desires?" He pants.

"Benedict."

---

Making it to his art studio, you laugh at his rain soaked clothes. You were still in your fencing clothes and your dress was in Benedict's hands. You brace yourself against a table, smiling as your hair clung to your face and neck. You were breathtaking in Benedict's mind. How Anthony did not see how truly beautiful you were was beyond him.

"Shall we get to drawing?" He asked, breaking the silence in the cooler room.

"Yes," You said. "I was wondering if I could draw you?"

He nodded and moved to the couch. You shook your head, motioning him to come over to you.

"How do you want me?" He asked, smirking at the fact that you were watching him with such attentive eyes.

"I want you...right here," You moved him to the center of the room, right in front of the window that was lit up by the thunder and lightening from outside.

You moved to the couch to start sketching him, frowning because you could not get his figure right. You walked to him and looked up at him, your noses nearly touching.

"Does sketching me include you being so close to me?"

"I need your shirt off. I need you naked."

"Why?" He asked.

"So I can get a better view of how your body is shaped."

He slowly starts to unbutton his shirt and shrugged it off. Smirking when he noticed your hand instantly reached out to touch his toned chest. He grabbed your sketchbook out of your hands, placing it on the nearest table, and placed them on his warm body. Your mouth opened slightly at the feeling of him. He felt warm, sturdy, and perfect.

His hand was still on yours and he slowly moved it down his chest to his abs to his trousers. You gasped when he moved your hand lower.

"Do you feel what you have done to me?" He asks. "How crazy you have me feeling?"

You nod. Too dumbfounded to say anything.

He moves your hand back up and then completely off him. He takes the button of his trousers into his fingers and pops it out of the hole. He then slowly moves them down his strong, long legs. He then pulls down his underwear. His cock springs up and hits his stomach. He was big. You could tell that the genes in this family were extremely strong. You shook your head and grabbed your sketchbook, instantly drawing what you saw.

"Is this what you wanted?" He asked, his wet hair sticking to his skin. Water droplets were still falling from his head and dripping down his body. The lightening from outside lit up his entire body, making him look like a literal angel.

"This is exactly what I needed." You walked over to him once again, pressing your lips against his. His mouth opened to allow your tongue entrance, swallowing his moans of pleasure. You were doing that to him. You were making him needy for you. You were making him want you, he needed you.

You grip his leaking cock, slowly moving up and down, feeling the silky skin. He threw his head back in pleasure as your hand stroked him.

"Oh my..." He gasped.

"Is this what you need, Mr. Bridgerton?" You look up at him before grabbing his hair to pull him down to your level. "Is this what you need?"

"Y-Yes," He stutters as he tries to hold in his moans.

"Let me hear you, baby." Your hand starts to get more slick with his pre-cum as he gets closer and closer to his end. He starts to shake in your hands as you speed up your hand. He starts to curse and moans started to spill from his mouth.

"Oh fuck, darling," He moans out as he cums on your hand.

You kept pumping him as he shakes from his orgasm. You slowly come to a stop and look him straight in the eyes as you lick his cum off your hand and moan at the taste, eyes rolling back.

"Oh fuck..." He pants, hair sticking to his forehead.

"I love you," He whispers, you don't hear it and he quickly gathers himself up.

"How was your drawing?" He asked, once dressed. His hands were resting on your hips as he presses a quick kiss to your neck.

"I think I will need to finish it a different day."

[margowritesthings]

The French Are Glad To Die For Love

A Bridgerton x Moulin Rouge crossover

pairing: Colin Bridgerton x ? word count: 2.1k words warnings: 18+ minors DNI, un-beta'd, mentions of sex, spitting, lots of debauchery authors note: surpriiise! i have been sitting on this since part 1, so to celebrate part 2 tomorrow here's my new mini-series! i have never written for Colin before, so i'm nervous, but i loved writing this.

i also need your help! i cannot decide if this mini series should be Colin x reader or a Polin fic, where Penelope is Satine. I have created a poll here for you to vote, so please let me know!

and as always, enjoy! it's been a hot minute since I last published, so thank you if you're still here.

Bridgerton Masterlist

The stars sparkle especially brightly tonight, the crimson lanterns guiding Parisians and tourists alike through the winding streets, and Colin Bridgerton stands in awe of it all. 

He’d read stories, heard tales of this place during long nights at Whites, but nothing could have quite prepared him for what lay ahead of him, a long string of lights hanging in the sky leading the way to his destination. 

The Moulin Rouge. 

A house of debauchery and sin, of freedom and truth, filled to the brim with bohemians and artists and beautiful women unlike anything or anyone he’s ever seen before. Even now, 30 feet away from the illuminated windmill, he can hear the music and the joy spilling out from the building. His senses are filled with the perfume of hundreds of women passing him by the minute, all with real, toothy grins he rarely has the pleasure of seeing back home. It is far too impolite to be so happy in London society. 

Colin steps forwards, his boots crunching against the gravel and his coattails flying in the breeze. His shoulders brush more wonderfully merry, positively inebriated partygoers on his way in, catching odd fragments of conversations that would have scandalised him and his whole family were he elsewhere. 

But he wasn’t elsewhere. He was here, in the city of love, away from anybody who had ever known the name Bridgerton. His clean slate clutched close to his chest, waiting to find out what will be written on it next, Colin feels the fresh air on his face for the last time before his life is changed forever.

The heat hits him first, a symptom he knew all too well of too many people packed into a small space. But unlike every ball he’s been to, this doesn’t feel claustrophobic or fusty. It feels alive. 

There is a feast for the eye wherever one looks. Burlesque dancers showing off stockings and garters by kicking their legs up, toes pointing towards the aerial hoops holding acrobats hanging from the ceiling. Gentlemen, if you can call them that in this state, wearing top hats, arm in arm with their glasses raised high, spilling their contents all over the wooden floor. 

The music blasts loud from each instrument the band masterfully pluck or blow or bang, but laughter and conversation buzzes amongst the melodies. It is a near overwhelming amount of joy, one Colin certainly could use a drink to wash it down with. 

If he could just find the bar…

Bodies fill his view, so entangled in each other it is difficult to tell where one starts and another ends. Frilly skirts flow over the knees of suits as ladies dangle from the necks of patrons, sharing cigars and passing around bottles of an unknown green liquid. Rosy cheeks as far as the eye can see, wether from too much of that green stuff or the exertion of all that dancing, Colin can’t be sure. Between them all, in tiny empty spaces, he can just about make out rows of bottles and glasses. 

Weaving through the crowd is like treading through water, but their energy and joy seems to rub off on him. There isn’t a dance card in sight, women choosing their partners themselves whenever they like with a freedom Colin isn’t sure he’s ever seen before. Is this truly what people are designed to be when they are free?

Eventually, his hands find the sticky wood of the bar, quickly lifting themselves back off it on instinct at the sensation. When Colin looks to his left, he sees a woman pouring a shot of liquor between her breasts, a man knelt below her waiting to lick it back up, and he quickly realises why the bar feels so tacky- every surface here seems to be host to someone’s revelry. 

“Welcome to the Moulin Rouge, monsieur. Can I get you a drink?”

Colin’s attention is quickly pulled by the welcome, his gaze snapping to a tall French woman dripping with red jewels that compliment her rich brown skin perfectly. She is captivating to be sure, deep hazel eyes commanding Colin’s attention, competing with the most incredible curls of hair he has ever seen. Ladies of the ton are welcome no matter their race back home, but Colin has never seen a lady allowed to wear her hair so beautifully natural before. The Afro framing her face has more tiny rubies that sparkle under the cabaret lights, and Colin is speechless. 

“I…uh, pardon me, Miss, I-“ he sighs, giving up entirely at his failed attempt at decorum, “Is it so obvious I have never been here before?” 

She laughs, gems twinkling as her head shakes with mirth. 

“Not at all, but most gentlemen who have been here before know to wear a top hat. And there’s that look in your eye…” 

As she speaks, she pours out one finger of the green liquor Colin has spotted a few times already, sliding it along the wood towards him. 

“Wonder. Drink this. It will help with the nerves.” 

Colin looks down, finding himself fascinated with a drink that seems to glow of its own volition. He has smoked blends and meditated with world weary travellers from across the globe, drank tea containing unknown substances that left him staring at blades of grass as if they held the worlds secrets, and yet this… whatever it is, seems to terrify him.

The barmaid laughs again, that melodic sound with the real joy Colin very much enjoys. 

“It’s only absinthe, monsieur. Loosens the inhibitions, relaxes the body…” she explains, pouring a second out for herself and lifting it to him as if to prove her credibility. 

“Santé.” He toasts to health.

“Amour.” She toasts to something far greater.

It leaves no room for argument, and all Colin can do is lift his own glass and tap it against hers. 

It burns his tongue, leaving a fiery trail down his throat as he swallows and tries not to cough and splutter. A bitter yet herby anise flavour fights with his taste buds and seems to seep straight into his mind, teasing at those tense knots that held him back from fully immersing himself here. 

When his eyes eventually reopen, he finds the barmaid beaming at him, unphased by her own potion. Rather used to it, if she shares a glass with every newcomer, he should think.

“Be careful, though, monsieur. Many a man has spent a night with the stuff and swears he fell in love with a fairy dressed all in green. Ruined him for any other woman for the rest of his life…” She speaks words that belong in fairytale, with a tone containing such severity Colin is inclined to take every single one of them as gospel. 

“I dare say I should be careful, then. I do not think this green fairy would want to join the rest of my travels when she can instead entice all of Paris’ men to sin…” 

The residue of the liquor smells just as strong as the full measure, which Colin tries to blink out of his senses when he puts the glass back on the bar.

Almost as if society itself had cleared its throat at him, Colin remembers himself, remembers just where he is. Undoubtedly the most unique establishment he had ever set foot in, but an establishment all the same. 

“I beg your pardon, miss, I seem to forget myself. How much do I owe you for the drink?”

She considers him.

“Hm,  the absinthe I think… for you, a kiss.” 

Colin, already pulling coins from his breast pocket, pauses, a little grin tugging at the corner of his lip. The francs clink together when they fall back to the bottom of his pocket, a long forgotten currency of the past. It’s a perfect reminder of just how different things are here, how easily walls crumble between strangers and connection is offered so freely. He has never kissed a woman he has not paid for back home, so afraid of getting too close to another in case they ruin each other. Here, a beautiful woman leans over the bar, offering her flushed cheek for him to softly press his lips against. 

And he does. 

And it is lovely. 

“If any more handsome men capture the eye of Mademoiselle Belle, I will surely be out of business!” A loud, hearty voice pulls Colin from one blissful moment back into the party.

He regards a rather large man, clad in a red tailcoat and stunning golden waistcoat. His top hat, near the same to all the other gentlemen in the room but somehow grander, tops wild orange curls that match a fantastic handlebar moustache. A true ring leader to this wonderful circus of debauchery Colin has found himself in. 

“Harold Zidler, at your service. Welcome to the Moulin Rouge.” 

“Colin Bridgerton.” He replies, offering a hand that Harold seems bemused at. Unsurprising, considering what passes for currency around here. Nonetheless, Harold shakes the offered hand. 

”I must say, your establishment is rather…” he hesitates, unable to find a word in any language he has picked up along his travels that quite captures the Moulin Rouge. Perhaps he could blame the absinthe, or the intoxicating hedonism he feels rooting its way through his mind, hidden in the brass notes from the band and thrown with each cancan kick of one of the dancers that surrounds him. 

Luckily, Harold seems well used to this phenomenon. 

“Isn’t it? And you have seen nothing yet! I assume you are not from around here?”

”It is rather obvious, I have been told.” Colin adds a glance to Miss Belle, who’s skirt frills bounce in the lights while she shakes up a cocktail. He adds, “London.” 

”Well, Monsieur Bridgerton, I promise you that what we have here in the Moulin Rouge is unlike anything you have back home in London.” 

Colin’s eye is caught again across the room, as a beautiful woman with blonde tumbling waves spits a drink into a man’s mouth. 

“I am inclined to agree with you there.” 

It truly is unlike anything back home. Colin has travelled across Europe and back again, seen incredible sights and met wonderful people. He has felt that ease that distance from London society and its unwritten laws and social rules that bind him back home can bring. He’s seen beauty and felt freedom and thought he might have found truth somewhere along the way, but it pales to whatever is contained within these four walls. 

In truth, it couldn’t be farther from London society.

”Just wait until you see my Diamond, Monsieur.”

… Perhaps not. 

Intrigue hits Colin as Harold pulls out a pocket watch on a brilliant gold chain. 

“Your diamond?”

”My Sparkling Diamond. The main attraction of the Moulin Rouge, my most sought after little chickee.” He speaks proudly, with a mist in his eye Colin normally finds on ambitious Mamas at grand balls, secretly trying to auction their daughters off to the highest rank. 

“I do not believe she is booked yet for tonight…” Harold adds, that mist darkening, disappearing, leaving a shiver stuck between Colin’s shoulder blades.

Not because this Diamond is a courtesan. Colin is hardly a stranger to the profession, and he bears no judgement. In truth, he admires the women he has been known to spend the night with, finding the courage of living outside society so freely quite brave indeed. No, that shiver came from Harold entirely, Colin just cannot figure out why. 

Harold excuses himself, though makes sure Colin knows to stay for the show, and Colin orders a whiskey on the rocks, insisting on paying in cash this time. Though singular in person, he has never felt less alone in his life. Looking around, there isn’t an empty chair in the house. If there were, there wouldn’t be room to put it down for all the dancers and patrons enjoying every ounce of the world they can. Music played straight from the soul ringing in his ears, Colin could make out every instrument. The lights dazzled in his eyes and the spot caught him every so often, lighting his drink up in his hand like golden ambrosia. 

And then, darkness. Silence. 

A single spot, though the mirrors scattered around catch the light and illuminate the faces of the people around him. Everybody is looking upwards, as if they all know she is coming. 

Even if he did know, Colin could never have prepared himself for what he saw when he looked up.

Who he saw.

The Sparkling Diamond, shimmering high on a swing hanging from the ceiling. 

The most beautiful, breathtaking, person he has ever seen. In any city, on any continent in the world. 

Crimson lips part as each and every person hangs on the breath she takes.

”The French are glad to die for love…”

don't forget to vote in the poll for your fmc!

[theregencywriter]

Omg omg omg wait wait wait idk if anyone ever done this before but imagine meeting Colin on his travels and he thinks he'll never see you again so like yall might have shared a kiss 🤭 and then when Colin goes back him for the season and sees you his brain just short circuits and he's just shocked and his family have no idea why lol

Idk I would just love to see that lmao I love seeing Colin in distress when it comes to the women he loves

Over the sandy dunes - Colin Bridgerton X Reader

A/n : I love this request!!!! I saw it pop up in my inbox and I just HAD to write it ASAP, thank you so much for the request <3

When Colin Bridgerton left London to escape all of the recent turbulent events, he felt he could breathe again. With no Lady Whistledown looking over his shoulder or a hundred debutantes wishing for a dance, he could simply relax. It was in his sixth week abroad when he took rest along the shores of a beach in Greece. He had woken up early to catch the morning sun rise and be alone with his thoughts. He liked the guides he had, but to find true solitude with no one around was a rarity even in the smallest of towns. Laying on his back he stared up at the sky as the stars retreated upwards into the deep blue, and as the first rays of light pricked his noses and ran into his eyes he sat up to gaze upon the marvel.

His view, however, was obstructed. Up ahead was a woman on the beach, standing close to the thrashing sea and wearing a light dress with a lilac shawl that was tussling with the burgeoning winds. Normally he would have hated this interruption as he had woken up early specifically to be alone, but when looking at her form and how she seemed to sway ever so delicately he couldn't help but advance.

“Lovely day, isnt it?” As he uttered these words she quickly spun around in shock, making him realise he was probably far too close for comfort ad taking a step back. As she assessed the moment and relaxed  she spoke. “Yes, it is beautiful. I’m sorry, I thought I was alone here.” Colin chuckled. “Did you not see me laying down mere metres behind you?” She joined him in a laugh. “I have been walking along the shore for quite a while now. I fear my gaze was fixed on the horizon, nothing could break me from it.” 

A moment of silence fell between them. “Colin Bridgerton” he reached out his hand. “I am unsure if I can give you my familial name, but please, call me Y/n.” She gave him her hand and he planted a soft kiss onto it. “You speak with a similar accent, are you from London?” He enquired. “Not quite. I do have relatives in the city, but I live further North, close to Lincoln.”

Colin broke a smile. “Ah, well then, that explains it.” She looked at him, puzzled yet entertained. “Explains what?”

“Well I was unsure of how I could have never seen a face as beautiful as yours during a ball.” She looked down, and bit her lips. “If I may be honest, I was meant to debut this year, but I find the whole event to be pure drabble.” They shared a laugh. “In truth, I much prefer this to a ball. Endless exploration available at my very fingertips. It’s a wonder, is it not?” She looked at him, then towards the sunset, and she was returning his gaze once more he took her in, kissing her as she cupped his face.

This lasted for only a second before he pulled away. “I apologise, that was improper.” “Mr Bridgerton it was-” Another voice called down towards them from Colins residence. “Mr Bridgerton, there is a matter you must attend to!” Despite looking at his forlorn beau, he ran up the sandy dunes and over the hill, leaving Y/n alone.

Hours later, after sitting with the incident and realising he hadn’t allowed her to speak he ordered a carriage. According to his guided there was only one possible place anyone of her status could stay close by, but when he arrived he was informed that the family had left earlier on in the day, whilst refusing to give them their whereabouts. Upon his return to England he attempted to find her. Asking around if her name was known but without her last name, his efforts turned up nothing.

—

Colin fidgeted with his cuff, it had been slightly wrinkled earlier on yet he had no time to change it. He was never really a fan of these events, but knowing that Y/n detested them as well made it worse. The one event they conversed about, yet the subject was how she did not intend to be in attendance. His stomach churned thinking about it. How could he have left? No no, not just left, run up the dunes to get away from her. He had to take a breath and stop himself. It had been a year, he thought, he must move on. As he calmed and took a moment the doors swung open to announce another guest.

“Lady L/n and her daughter, Miss Y/n L/n”

His gaze was transfixed on her. As she came down the stairs her hand grasped by Colin, already a couple of steps up from his eagerness. “Miss Y/n, I believe I owe you a dance” He proclaimed, stroking her finger as he did and wondering about her ring size.

[rubysunnday]

Would I run off the world someday?

summary: the urge to run away sometimes becomes utterly unavoidable

It was a quiet, cloudy afternoon in the Kent countryside. The wisteria clinging to the outside walls of Aubrey Hall occasionally danced as the wind swept over it. After the chaotic first few weeks of the season, a sense of calm had finally arrived as the endless invites slowed down. There was always an inevitable lull a few weeks into the season - the ton tended to forget how exhausting attending ball after ball was. 

And, for the first time in a while, there was harmony in the drawing room of Aubrey Hall. Benedict and Colin sat on a sofa, both drawing into their sketchbooks. Colin was finishing up a sketch he’d started out in Greece, one that depicted the ruins of the former temples, whilst Benedict swept the page with his charcoal, trying to draw Y/N as she sat on the sofa opposite, embroidering a bunch of honeysuckle. Daphne sat next to her, quietly embroidering the Basset family crest.

Anthony was sitting at his table, completely engrossed in that morning’s newspaper. Gregory sat opposite him, concentrating on his latin, carefully writing down each word with his quill. Eloise and Hyacinth sat at the other table, both quietly munching on the tray of cakes the cook had sent up whilst reading the latest edition of Lady Whistledown. Francesca was sitting at the piano, scribbling away at her sheet music with a pencil.

A comfortable silence had settled over the siblings as they all went about their own business. 

“Now, Y/N, darling, I’ve invited the Earl of Shaftesbury to dine with us on Friday when we return to London,” Violet announced, walking into the drawing room. She was holding several letters, all with different crests stamped into their wax seals. 

Y/N looked up, holding her needle between two fingers. “Who?”

Violet paused and looked down at her. “The Earl of Shaftesbury,” she repeated, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “You danced with him just last week at the Cowper Ball.”

Y/N turned her head and looked at Daphne. “I did?” She whispered, leaning over to her sister.

Daphne leant in. “Third dance of the night. He was wearing a dark blue coat and introduced himself as Francis.”

“Oh, the earl,” Y/N said, sitting up right and nodding. “Did you invite anyone else? Perhaps Elisabeth Jordan might like to join us as well - she’s been to Greece too, Colin.”

“No, just the earl,” Violet replied, smiling. She was clearly up to something, Y/N knew that. “I thought it might be good for the two of you to get to know one another better.”

There it was.

Y/N said nothing, turning back to her embroidery with a sigh. It was her mother’s mission to see each one of her children happily married and expecting a child of their own within a year of that marriage. She struggled to accept the fact that some people just weren’t meant to be married. Or that some people may not want children. It was perfectly reasonable - there would be rumours swirling around about why but they would fade soon enough.

“Oh, Y/N, dear, don’t give me that look,” Violet said, turning to face her daughter. “I’m doing this for you!”

“I danced with him once, mama.”

“He’s an excellent match! He’s intelligent, kind and would be advantageous for you!” Violet folded the letters back up again. “I expect you to be there and I expect you to sit next to him and make polite conversation.”

“Mama -”

“No, Y/N. I’ve given you plenty of time to make the first move yourself. We’re four weeks into the season and you have had endless callers but you have not followed up with a single one.”

Y/N set aside her embroidery hoop and turned to face her mother. She wasn’t in the mood to be berated. “Has it ever occurred to you, mother, that perhaps I don’t want to get married yet? That, maybe, I don’t want to have children either?”

Everyone in the room froze. No one dared to raise their heads or even make eye contact with one another. Anthony risked a glance up and over at his sister, silently proud of her for making a stand, whilst also knowing the conversation was inevitably about to get nasty. 

Violet blinked. She blinked again. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean,” Y/N sat up, sitting on the edge of the sofa, “what if I am quite content to simply… entertain myself for the foreseeable future? I do not understand why my future has to depend on my making an advantageous match. I am perfectly happy as I am right now.”

“That may be so, dear, but you cannot expect to be that way forever!” Violet laughed but there was no humour in it.. “Eventually, like all of us, you will move out to live with your husband.”

“But what if I do not want to get married?”

“You do not have a choice, Y/N,” Violet grounded out. “It is what is expected of you.”

“Yet, it isn’t expected of the men,” Eloise chimed in, keeping her eyes focused on Whistledown.

“There are rules for men and rules for women and whilst I agree that it is unfair, that is the hand we have been dealt,” Violet continued, barely sparing Eloise a glance. 

Y/N looked at her mother. “I understand that. But why do I have to get married this season?” She sighed. “I just want a year to adjust to everything because, despite the preparation, there is a lot I was not prepared for.”

“The longer you wait, the harder it becomes,” Violet continued, refusing to back down. “Besides, if you get married this year, next year you can enjoy the season with your children.”

“And if I don’t want children?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N, of course you want children.”

“I don’t want children,” Eloise called.

“Eloise,” Violet warned, glaring at her. She looked back at Y/N. “Children are a part of life, dearest. The joy of building your own family is second to none.”

“But what if I don’t want to,” Y/N tried again. “I have no interest in having any of my own, mama. I have no need to!”

“Your husband would disagree,” Violet said firmly, clearly indicating that the conversation was over. “I will hear no more of this. The earl is coming next week and you will try your hardest to win him over.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows and huffed a sigh out. She stood up and brushed past her mother, pulling open the drawing room door and disappearing out of it without a word.

Anthony sighed, folding his newspaper shut. “I’ll go,” he grumbled, following after his sister.

Y/N almost ran down the stairs, as desperate to get away as she was. She took a corner sharply and bumped into a maid, nearly knocking her into a nearby table. 

As she stormed into the stables, the stable hand looked a little alarmed but said nothing, hurrying out of her way. Y/N’s horse was already saddled up. Before her mother had ruined her afternoon, she had been planning on going out for a ride with her brothers.

She was still going to do that - just a little faster and with less care about how she looked afterwards. 

Y/N swung up onto her horse and gathered the reins into her hands, squeezing with her knees to urge her horse onwards. She tightened the reins and as they emerged out of the stables and past the back door, they were almost at a canter.

Anthony stepped out the back door as Y/N rode past, her horse clearly responding to its riders' need to run away and fast. He swore softly and ran down to the stables, snatching his horse's reins from the stablehand and swinging his leg up and over.

He urged his horse on and soon he too was cantering out the stables and down the path that led into the woods. Y/N was just too far ahead of him which made it difficult to catch up, especially when she was clearly encouraging her horse to ride flat out.

Y/N was oblivious to her frantic older brother chasing after her. The adrenaline rushing through her veins drowned at any and all thoughts she had of her future - the uncertainty around her life and who she would end up with. It drowned out the all consuming feeling of knowing you had no control over anything and instead, all she could hear was the wind rushing through her ears and her horses grunts as he pulled at the reins, wanting to go even faster. 

She obliged, letting the reins go a little bit more. It was too fast, Y/N knew that. But her desperation to run and keep on running was overwhelming - it was blinding her, rendering her numb. 

Her horse gradually began to slow down as he ran out of energy. Y/N didn’t fight it. Anthony managed to catch up with them, reaching over and snatching the reins from Y/N’s hands and bringing them both to a controlled stop, just metres away from the edge of the lake. 

Y/N looked ahead, panting hard, sweat beading on her brow. The wind had torn her hair from its pins and tendrils stuck to her face, knotted together. Mud splattered up the hem of her pale blue dress and her arms were speckled with goosebumps. 

Anthony looked at her. He raised an eyebrow. “Feel better?”

Y/N swallowed, her mouth dry. “Do you ever feel like you're suffocating?”

Anthony turned his horse to face Y/N. He sat up, straightening his back and sighed. “Every day.”

“I never used to.” Y/N breathed heavily, brushing her hair back from her face with a shaking hand. “Not until this year. Now it’s all balls and suitors and marriage - and I have no control over any of it. It’s like my life is no longer my own.”

“That’s exactly how I felt after father died. I was suddenly thrust into a role I hadn’t been properly prepared for and no one asked me how I felt. I went from Anthony to Viscount in a matter of moments and I had no control over any of it.”

Anthony rarely opened up like this - was rarely vulnerable like this. He shielded himself from his family and never let them see more than he wanted them to. Whether it was out of fear of judgement of lack of understanding, Y/N didn’t know. Anthony was the one thing that held the Bridgerton’s together and perhaps he thought that if he broke, then so would everyone else. 

Y/N didn’t remember much of her father’s death and the days that followed. Benedict had told her how Anthony had shoved his own grief to the side and had taken control - had become the viscount. It helped her mind to know that Anthony too felt like he was suffocating. 

“I feel like I’m running down a hill and I can’t stop,” Y/N said, her words still a little spaced out as she caught her breath. “There’s a giant rock chasing me and if I stop, even for a second, I’ll be hit.” Anthony kept quiet, letting his sister run through her thoughts. “I have only been out in society for a month and yet, I am expected to have fallen in love already - to have decided on marriage and who the father of my children will be. I barely know what my favourite colour is, Anthony. How am I meant to make such a significant decision at barely eight and ten years of age?”

Anthony shrugged. His horse snorted, tossing his head back. “Society seems to think you are old enough.”

“Fuck society.”

Anthony snorted. He couldn’t help it. His sister rarely swore - it wasn’t proper - but when she did, it always made him laugh. His snort elicited a smile from Y/N and Anthony matched it. 

“I can talk to mother,” Anthony said, “and tell her to take a step back.”

Y/N closed her eyes, the wind blowing around them. “Do you think it would help?”

Anthony paused. “I don’t know. It would give you time to get your head straight.”

“But all the eligible men might be gone.”

Anthony nodded. “There is that element to it.”

“Then I appear to have no choice.” Y/N sighed, looking defeated. 

“Meet with the Earl of Shaftesbury next week,” Anthony said. “See how the dinner goes, how he is around you and take it from there. If he is not the right person then we will try again. You may not be able to avoid marriage and children for as long as you’d like, but we can take our time with finding the right husband for you.”

Y/N nodded, pressing her lips together. “That would help. But if I don’t find a match this season -”

“Then we try again next season,” Anthony replied simply. “Besides, do you honestly think Eloise will be getting married this season?”

“I don’t think Eloise will be getting married full stop, Anthony,” Y/N muttered, guiding her horse to turn around. She urged it forward and Anthony followed, the two siblings slowly walking back to the house. “It’s a miracle she’s agreed to attend any balls at all.”

“Bribery works miracles,” Anthony said, smiling to himself. “I just really hope Francesca is more compliant - I only have so much money spare each month.”

Y/N laughed. She looked over at her brother and smiled at him. “Thank you for listening. It helps to know I’m not alone.”

Anthony tilted his head to the side in acknowledgement. “I will always listen, Y/N and I will always have your back.”

[tmagpposting]

Alice’s Attitude

and why I don’t think it’s going to save her.

I haven’t seen a lot of people talking about the implication of Alice's attitude towards the incidents and horror elements so far, so I’m going to. Someone else may have already made a post about this, but I haven’t found anything yet, and I couldn’t find a way to get this out of my mind without writing it down. Naturally, I’m also going to inflict this long-winded and potentially needless analysis on all of you, since I spent 2 hours typing it out (sorry in advance). TW for blatant overuse of parentheticals and politics towards the end. This draws on content from TMAGP episodes 1-3 and TMA overall, particularly the series finale.

I feel like a lot of us going into TMAGP and having listened to TMA already were probably pleasantly surprised by Alice’s attitude of “The Horrors? Just say no!” since a lot of TMA revolved around the idea that curiosity and investigation of the fears usually doomed people to be consumed by one of them, as we saw with a lot of the Archive staff, particularly Jon. I certainly was. Though her ideas about how to deal with the incident reports are definitely somewhat callous, in the context of TMA, they feel very pragmatic, and I found myself thinking, “finally, a character who knows what genre she’s in and refuses to surrender to it.” I’ve been seeing a couple people agree with this, and say that her approach might even help her stay afloat when things start to escalate as the conflicts of TMAGP develop in the coming episodes. I thought that too, at least for a while. 

After thinking about it for several days, I don’t think this is the case. Given TMA’s themes and propensity for tragedy, and Jonny’s approach to tackling social issues, I don’t think Alice’s apathy is going to save her. In fact, I think it’s potentially going to be the character flaw that will doom her in the first place.

1. Alice already cares (not about the horrors, but about people)

To start with, I’d like to point out that Alice will only be able to maintain her apathy to a limited extent, and when people she cares about start being harmed, she is going to get involved. In fact, we can already see this happening. Ep 3 notably starts and ends with Alice making a plan to get Central IT involved in looking into their computers, when she tries to mention them to Colin in the first scene, and when she asks Sam to call them on her behalf in the final scene. I’d argue that the issue comes up because she’s concerned about Colin more than fixing the OIAR’s computers. She tells Sam it’s because Colin may not be able to handle FR3-D1 as well as he thinks he can since he’s been working on it forever with very little positive progress, but given the additional context of the starting scene, I think it’s reasonable to assume she also wants to meddle for Colin’s sake. In the first scene of ep 3, she seemingly talks more softly/slowly than usual (to me, it sounds like she’s trying to be soothing when compared to how she normally talks, even outside of the times she’s actually soothing FR3-D1), she doesn’t make too many digs at Colin as he sounds increasingly stressed, and she asks gently and subtly about calling Central IT for help when she is generally pretty direct when she seriously wants something (like all the times she repeatedly shuts down Sam’s questions because she wants him to stay out of danger). It sounds like she’s trying to slip it in as a half-joke, but Colin treats it as a genuine suggestion when he usually either brushes off her jokes or plays into them instead, so I think it was her actual intent to involve Central IT even at that point. Furthermore, Gwen tells Sam something along the lines of “Alice is the only one [Colin] tolerates” in a previous episode, they have good banter throughout so far, and Colin’s explosive reaction to Sam mentioning the app completely deflates when he learns it was Alice’s idea. All of this seemingly demonstrates a bond that goes pretty far beyond what I’d think of as a basic work relationship with no actual friendship involved. Colin is already pretty deep into investigating FR3-D1 to the point that it’s probably going to be detrimental for him based on him threatening/ranting at the computers in the first episode, and Alice is already trying to intervene on his behalf. Simply put, she is doing a pretty bad job of pretending not to care and staying out of it so far, and we’re only 3 episodes in.

With that in mind, I don’t even think Colin will be the primary reason she’ll get involved as the series goes on, and I actually think Sam is being set up to be the one to draw her into much of the conflict. She cares enough about Sam to find him a job when he’s having a rough time, based on their conversation in the bar, and she tells him not to care about the incidents precisely because she cares about him, and doesn’t want him to get sucked in and hurt by them. With Sam’s propensity for curiosity established and likely being set up to be one of his fatal flaws, Alice will probably get drawn into the conflict whether she likes it or not if/when Sam goes digging and actually stumbles on something dangerous later on. As a side note, I really do think Sam’s curiosity is being set up to be something big here, since he repeatedly wants to look into the Magnus Institute and says it’s a “blast from the past,” he wonders about how the code system works and how it could be improved, and he’s generally shown to ask a lot of questions about the OIAR, Gwen’s backstory, etc. He asks about things more often than I think he would if his questions were purely an expositional device for the audience and not actual characterization (I could make a post just about this, but I think other people have definitely already done that). Finally, our very first introduction to Alice as a character in TMAGP shows her trying and failing to be glib and uncaring about Teddy leaving, where she jokes with him casually before admitting, sincerely and somewhat hesitantly, “I’m gonna miss you.” If her failing to not care about something in the opening scene of the entire series isn’t going to turn out to be important, if not Jonny Sims style foreshadowing of some kind, I’ll eat my hat.

2. Apathy kind of sucks, actually (thematically and otherwise)

Alice being saved by her refusal to care, assuming she manages to maintain it, feels too much like an easy out for the kinds of stories TMA was trying to tell, and clashes with its sensibilities in my opinion. A lot of people fall into the trap of nihilistic apathy when thinking about the state of the world right now, and TMA even acknowledged this in the series with the Extinction beginning to emerge as a new entity/fear. Between worsening climate change, the gradual rise of bigotry and the increasing trend toward fascism in the western world (especially america, it sucks here), escalating international conflict, poverty and the worsening cost/standard of living, like the fact that a majority of people my age will probably never own a house and our college debt is going to eat us alive, etc., it feels like we’re all circling the drain and no one with the power to help is interested in doing anything other than making it worse to make themselves money. A lot of people think the only way to cope with that is to decide to not give a shit, which is a pretty natural response to being constantly confronted with worse and worse news every year that shows no sign of stopping. This has also naturally inspired a lot of doomerism and a rise in insincerity/irony poisoning and cynicism in popular culture that’s really hard to escape even if you avoid the news entirely.

However, the idea that not giving a shit about the problems in the world can somehow spare you from them is a) ludicrous, since they won’t go away if you decide to ignore them (a majority of the TMA statement givers didn’t previously know or care about the fears, and they got screwed over regardless), and b) definitely not supported by TMA’s cannon or themes. Surrendering to the idea of your own helplessness is precisely what TMA ends by specifically not doing. Jon sunk into a hopeless state of mind throughout S5, with the culmination of this process being his proposal to let the world end and allow the End to consume everything, including the rest of the fears. It wasn’t necessarily that Jon didn’t care or was apathetic, especially since one of his primary motivation was to avoid inflicting the fears on another universe, rather, he didn’t think anything could be done to stop the fears from destroying his world or whatever world they ended up in, which is the same deterministic mindset that Alice’s style of apathy stems from (“I can’t change or fix it, so I don’t care”). The other characters refusing this course of action and banishing the fears is what ultimately spares TMA’s universe from the sort of extinction it would’ve had if they’d accepted that it was hopeless and Jon had gone through with what he wanted. TMA ends with the central takeaway that you can’t give in to the idea you won’t be able to fix things because then you won’t try, and shows the characters subverting their helplessness and actually solving the problem of the fears by getting rid of it at the source (the ethics of sending the fears somewhere else are definitely debatable, but that’s a totally different post). The idea that Alice could be saved from the consequences of the problems in TMAGP’s world by choosing not to care flies in the face of the conclusion to the previous series. Alice’s refusal to care won’t save her from whatever TMAGP has in store, and judging by the events of TMA, fatalism and apathy might even seal her fate. 

Some of these points of evidence might be a little bit basic “water is wet” types of statements and I probably could’ve explained this in half the time, but I really do think that Alice’s apathy isn’t going to turn out to be very useful to her and I wanted to include everything I could think of that led me to believe that.

TLDR, Alice is just as screwed as the rest of the cast, if not more so, and her attitude is not going to get her out of it.

[swallowedbyfandom]

Had Anthony known the hell his dumbest brother and sister were about to unleash upon themselves he would never have invited Miss Featherington over for tea. In his defense he and mother had only wanted to speak with her regarding the announcement of her acceptance of Lord Samadani's courtship. Unfortunately Colin and Eloise decided to crash the meeting.

Really he should have expected it, neither of his problem siblings have ever handled Penelope turning her attentions from them well. He should have remembered how aggressive and short tempered they were getting. Most of all he should have made sure they were not in the house when he invited her over. Perhaps then he

would not want to consume his family's entire stock of spirits. He could have sailed off with Kate for their third honeymoon blissfully ignorant of the mess his family had become.

They had all barely settled in with their tea when Colin and Eloise stormed into his study to confront Miss Featherington. Miss Featherington and mother both seemed to be unsurprised by their actions. Mother had quickly risen to lock the doors behind them, while Miss Featherington had calmly set her teacup down.

Colin began to rant almost instantly.

"Tell me it is not true? Tell me you have not been deceiving me all these years. Tell me you are not Lady Whistledown! My god, I asked you to marry me! I courted you! You have made a fool of me! I will never forgive you this! Do you even care about the lives you have ruined?

Mother Anthony noticed did not appear surprised.

Miss Featherington did not cower away from his brother's temper to his great surprise. She simply looked Colin in his face and responded defiantly.

"I am Lady Whistledown. What great deception have I committed against you? What rights do you believe you hold over me that would make you entitled to my secrets? I shall remind you that you are not my brother, father, or my husband! I did not owe you my secrets. I shall also remind you that I turned your proposals. Had you taken the time to court me properly, there would have come a time I would have told you about Whistledown. I would not call your abysmal attempts at shallow conversations and floral arrangements courtship. That is the bare minimum for a gentleman caller."

"The question you should ask yourself Colin, is why you did not see I was Lady Whistledown? I have never hidden my distain for the hypocrisy of society from you. Nor have I hidden my wits or barbs from you.

We have exchanged corresponded at least half a hundred times! No one should be more familiar with my writing style than you! How am I to blame for your refusal to acknowledge that I am no longer the small child you first met."

Eloise scoffs in disgust, while beginning her no doubt long winded rant. "You ruined me! You ruined me for profit and spite! You ruined your family for profit . You ruined Marina out of jealousy. You tried to ruin Daphne out of jealousy. I will not let you take advantage of my family any longer. I have freed us from your poison quill."

It is remarkable to Anthony, watching the wrath that takes over Miss Featherington's demeanor. Were he not so startled by the change he may have moved to gain control of the situation. Instead he watches wide eyed as Miss Featherington stands and drops a gentle kiss on the crown of his mother's head.

"I apologize for everything you shall learn here tonight, Lady Bridgerton."She whispers sadly to his mother.

Then she turns to Eloise with the coldest stare he has ever seen.

Her tone while composed is so full of condemnation he cannot help but brace himself for what revelations she would reveal.

"I did not ruin you. You ruined yourself, eagerly in the hopes of what? What Eloise? Recognition? Adventure?an attempt to free yourself from boredom? You want to speak of lies, of poison? Let us be frank then. While you were painting me the villain in your sad little tale, did you tell your family that you were a day away from committing treason? Did you tell your family how you were hours away from getting their titles, lands and wealth stripped from them? Did you tell your family that your desire to uncover my identity had you cavorting about unchaperoned with a common boy? Did you mention by chance that your meetings with said boy, was what lead the Queen to believe you to be Lady Whistledown?"

"No I imagine you left all that information conveniently out of your story. My publication was the only thing that kept you out of the gallows. You can scoff at me all you want, you ridiculous child! I saved you and your family and all it took was exposing your most minor offenses. Offenses you committed of your own free will. Actions I warned you against. I was not the poison that almost ended nine generations of the Bridgerton legacy. You were, Eloise!

Eloise released a cry of outrage but she was quickly cut off by Miss Featherington.

"No. You will be silent, now! I am not done speaking! You have laid your accusations, I will answer them. Not because I owe you anything, but because I tired of your incessant belief that you have any moral high ground here."

"You speak of profit as if you have any understanding of what that word even means. As if you have ever had to do more than hold your hand out to Anthony and simply ask. All while complaining about how the brother whom funds your lifestyle expects you to comport yourself in an appropriate manner in public. As if that is an unreasonable request in exchange for having your every whim fulfilled. As if behaving as a lady is some grand hardship to endure in exchange for safety and the well being of your family. You have everything in the world and all you do is complain about it."

"Do you have any idea the financial hardships you have created for those paperboys whom had to quit working because of the attention you brought down upon them? 10 families now go with out the security of the increased wages I negotiated for them! All because you had to meddle in affairs beyond your understanding."

Anthony was shocked by her unexpected defense of him. Mother he can see watches Penelope with such sorrow and pride. He knows mother has always counted Penelope as one of her daughters. Penelope he can see now is lost to their family forevermore. It is a wound he does not believe his mother will ever truly overcome.

It is only his years of exercising control that allows him to remain quiet. His rage is an inferno as he thinks about how close Eloise came to destroying their family. He cannot allow himself to think on it just yet for he will lash out. He will have her shipped off to Australia if he acts right now. She should prepare for the reckoning he plans to rain down on her. Before he can descend into madness Penelope continues to speak.

"Lady Whistledown is not some hobby I created to buy myself pretty babbles. Lady Whistledown is the Featherington family's primary source of income. It is the livelihood that has allowed me since the age of seventeen to pay off my papa's debts. It is the sole reason my family did not end up losing our estate. It has clothed and fed my family and staff for three years. It has generated the dowries for both my sisters. I did that and I cannot even lay claim to it because I am a woman! You will not shame me for keeping secrets necessary to ensure the safety of that income."

Anthony had not thought it was possible for a voice or a stare to contain so much vitriol, but little Miss Penelope was expanding his knowledge on the hidden rage a lady can conceal. God lord, had Penelope shown him this fire before he met Kate he likely would have ended up with a much different Viscountess. Even now as a married man he was stirred by her intellect and passion. He quickly made to cross his legs before his problem became evident.

"Since you are so concerned for poor innocent Marina allow me to set the record straight. She came to us already ruined and proud of it. Her courtship with George Crane was a prolonged affair. They courted over time. He was not some feckless fool, he was honorable. He offered to marry her before he left off to the battlefield. She did not want a rushed affair at Greta Green, so she denied him. She wanted to wait to have a grand wedding. Still that didn't stop her from engaging in marital relations. 5 days later he went off to war."

"Before I knew she was with child I tried to help her avoid her more persistent suitors. I helped her send and receive her letters from George. I thought it wildly romantic. That she was waiting for her solider rather than allow her Papa to sell her off to fill his coffers. She took advantage of my naivety. I can see that now. I did not see it then."

"Once it was discovered that she was with child my mama tried to send her back to her family. She locked Marina away and forbid my sisters and I from speaking with her. I do not know what blackmail Mr. Thompson had over my papa but he would not send her away. It mattered not how my mama pled or cried. It mattered not that our reputations would be destroyed by housing her, my father would not be moved. He said he had to marry her off to a titled family or else. My parents made quiet and quick arrangements for several older lords whom were in need of heirs and willing to ask no questions to meet with Marina. She refused them all, rudely."

"Still I tried to help her. I send off her letter to George. I tried to convince her to contact the Crane family, so they could hurry things along. She refused. I could not understand why she would not just contact the Crane family. She carried the heir of their heir under her heart. Surely they would come for her? Then a letter came from George denouncing her. She finally agreed to marry for the safety of her children."

"Do you know why she picked you, Colin? I do. You see she confessed her grand plan to me later that night, after you cut in and saved her from Lord Rutledge."

His brother released a growl like sound.

"Pen, please. Do not."

"No you are still so quick to believe the best of her, all while being so happy to believe the worst of me. You hold on to this fantasy version of her, where she is just some helpless maiden. Marina was many things good and bad. She was not helpless or simple minded. She made her choices, for good or ill."

"You have accused me. I will tell you the whole truth. The details I withheld to spare your already shattered confidence. She said you were so eager, it would be easy to get you to propose. That you did not know how to play the games that most men play. She was so excited. She did not understand why I did not share her excitement."

"Did you know my mama actually tried to stop her from going after you and your family? Of course you don't, you believe my mama the mastermind that forced Marina into it. I tried to stop her. I pled with her, not to involve your family in her mess. I pointed her to several young wealthy men whom would quite enjoy a lavender marriage. She was already too far along by that point. She told me she needed the Bridgerton name to protect her child. When I would not feed her information about your family, she stopped playing at kindness."

"Marina became cruel in a way I had not thought ladies could be. I do not know if she was always cruel or if desperation made her cruel but the result was the same. She took pleasure in holding our reputations hostage. She took pleasure in blackmailing Madame Delacroix to conceal her pregnancy. She took pleasure in besting me every time I pointed out her lies to you and you brushed it off. Maybe she was just lashing out I did not know and by then I did not care."

Anthony watches helplessly as Penelope cried silent delicate tears. He can tell this is something she needs to reveal to finally move on from it. It breaks something in him to hear her talk about it. Mother moves to take her hand.

Penelope releases a shuddering breath before continuing hoarsely.

"Mama was so nervous and panicked, all the time. It frightened me to see her drink and lose sleep. I overheard her and Marina fighting. She gave Marina a deadline. One week to get a proposal or she would force her to marry one of old Lords still willing to take her. Marina agreed, she told mama she was going to seduce you, so you would be honor bound to marry. Then she could past the child off as yours. My mother thought her foolish. She claimed Marina was 6 months away from child birth 7 if she were lucky. The next day you walked happily into her trap. You proposed, publicly."

He can hear his brother throw a glass at the wall. Penelope still does not stop talking.

"I tried to tell you about Marina at the engagement dinner, once again you brushed me off. Do remember that, Colin? Almost a decade of trust built between us and you would not hear me. You just kept cutting me off. I found out that night that mama and Varley forged the letter from George Crane."

"I went to Marina with proof that George never denounced her only to find that you were both to elope the next morning. I will not get into the cruelties Marina spewed against me. However she made it clear she cared not for you, she cared not for the ruin my family would face, and that once you realized the child could not be yours it would be too late. She was confident you were too gentle and besotted to ever turn her out on the streets."

"She was right, you are too kind. Anthony however is not. I knew if Marina succeeded in marrying you only to deliver a child 5 months later your family would be ruined. Your sister's marriage prospects would have been ruined. Anthony as Viscount Bridgerton would have been forced to disown you to protect your sisters and your family's position in society. God Colin, neither of your brothers had heirs. My family would never have survived his rage if he had to do such a thing."

"Everything I know about sacrifice, about ruthlessness, and about tactics, I learned at Anthony's knee. Why on earth would I ever allow some distance cousin to come in and pit my family against him? I am loyal. You may like the shape that loyalty has taken but I stand by my decision."

"So you see, I exposed Marina and I would do it again. I did it to protect my family. I did it to protect your family. It was an impossible situation, Lady Whistledown felt like the best way to control the fallout for both our families. I knew that my family would be tarnished by the scandal that was unavoidable. She lived in our home. I knew my mama would take the blame but I knew my mama would happily take the fall to protect my sisters and I. I believed that we could recover from it, with time. I did not believe my family could ever recover from Anthony."

She locks eyes with him then and asks,

"Would you have believed me if I had come to you? If I spoke as Penelope Featherington? Knowing I did not know how a Lady comes to be with child?"

Anthony ponders her question for a second before answering her honestly.

"No. I would have thought you too innocent to understand such matters. However I have always known you to be sensible. I would have had the matter investigated. It may have been too late by then."

She deserves more than his siblings have given her. He gentled his tone before continuing.

"You are also correct in your belief that your family would not have survived my ire.You made the right call Miss Featherington."

She gives him a small sad smile.

"Thank you for your honesty, My Lord."

"I did not try to ruin Daphne. I have never held any ill will toward her. She is all things lovely,kind and most importantly cunning. Every jab I took at her was light and meant to provoke her. Daphne was drowning under the pressure to play docile debutant. I wanted her angry enough to find her fire again. There was no way to avoid writing about Daphne without raising suspicions as too many people were gossiping about her. I printed the kindest of the talk and helped your mama run Berbrooke out of town so Daphne could be safe."

"You both may believe yourselves above reproach, but neither one of you have the experience necessary to scold me, to question me, or to judge me for the sacrifices I have made to keep my family safe. While I have been harsh on my family in the society papers, I rather the Ton laugh at us than have them prey upon us because we are without the protection of a Lord. Until either of you are responsible for more than your own entertainments I will not hear you try to deride my choices."

He cuts in then because his siblings appear to be gathering their second wind.

"Eloise you will remain quiet."

"Colin if you can collect yourself mother will remain here with you and Miss Featherington, so you may speak. I should not need to say that everything that has been discussed tonight is to never be spoken of outside this room."

He drops kisses on the crown of his mother and Penelope's head before dragging Eloise out of the study.

Colin wishes he had taken the time to control his temper before speaking but all rational thought had left him once El had spilled Pen's identity. He can see now that Eloise's motivations were spite driven. He cannot however make his peace with this version of Pen. She was not supposed to join the ranks of people whom overshadow him.

He loves her. Or at least he loves the version he thought he knew. His sweet girl. His dearest friend. Has she ever really been his? Was any of it real? He had thought himself her white knight. Was she just humoring him this entire time? What need did she have for him? He must appear so childish in her eyes.

He cannot bring himself to speak with her. He is too angry. He is too confused. He cannot bring himself to make it real. If he opens his mouth now, he will say more things he will regret later. So instead he closes his eyes and shakes his head.

He hears the sound of ruffled skirts, vague whispers, and light footsteps before he hears the door open and shut once more. He hears his mother return to her seat.

"Do you wish for tea, dearest?"

He finally opens his eyes to stare incredulously at his mother. There she is serenely pouring herself tea. As if Penelope had not been revealed to be a liar! As if Pen has not been putting herself in danger for years!

"How can you be so calm about this?" He asked.

She gives him a small smile. While pouring him a cup of tea.

"Oh, Colin. I know all my children. Penelope has never hidden who she is. Not truly, not with us. I have long suspected Penelope was Lady Whistledown. I chose not to ask questions because discretion is her best protection. After her and Eloise stopped talking it was obvious to me they must have fought over the article. I trusted that if Penelope exposed Eloise, then it was necessary. Was I happy about it? Of course not. However, I know Penelope's heart. She is not one to act without due consideration. Her position in life does not afford her the option to be reckless."

"I know you are hurt dearest. You will unfortunately always carry this hurt with you. If you are ever to heal and move on from this you have to be honest with yourself. Penelope has made mistakes but so have you, my love. Allow yourself to grow from your mistakes."

He cannot tolerate her sad eyes any longer. He nods at her before heading to his room. He needs to be alone.

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 31: Emptiness, (“I thought that I was getting better”)

Last one finally! ...a day late, but hey, at least I’m close, right..? This may be a bit rambly and headcanony, but it’s something. It’s done. I finished it.

Thank you everyone for supporting me this year! I appreciate you all more then words can say <3

Read on ao3

Warnings: pretty light, discussion of death and grief, mild mention of blood.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rusl was familiar to Wind.

Well, okay not exactly, he wasn’t one of those people that popped up no matter what era they were in or anything (like Beedle, seriously what was up with that?), but he was familiar in a different way.

One that made Wind’s chest feel weird whenever he looked at him.

The sailor swallowed, and looked down at his full plate of food, the others chattering loudly around him.

They’d finally ended up at Twilight’s home village, and the rancher was ecstatic, showing the Links all around Ordon, and introducing them to his family. It was late in the day when they’d arrived, and after showing them all around, Rusl and Uli had invited them all for dinner, insisting despite the large number of them.

They’d all piled in their house, the space a bit tight with eight extra people, but they managed, and set out a big meal for everyone.

It was chaos, everyone talking, passing food, holding Twilight’s baby sister, but despite everything going on, Wind found his gaze drawn continually towards Rusl, and Twilight and Colin as well. They were all sitting next to each other, and kept smiling, and laughing, and despite the delicious-smelling food in front of him, Wind had lost his appetite.

Twilight said something Wind didn’t catch over the din, but Rusl laughed at whatever it was he’d said, squeezing Twilight’s shoulder with a fond look on his face.

Wind felt the weird pit in his stomach suddenly grow, and he quietly slid off his seat, slipping out the door without barely a sound. Nobody seemed to notice him leave, and he stepped out into the night, closing the door and blocking most of the noise from inside. Cool air met him, and he breathed in deeply, shaking himself as he lingered on the doorstep.

The image of Rusl and Twilight together flashed suddenly in his mind, and Wind crossed his arms, kicking at a pebble on the ground.

Why was he feeling so weird about this? Twilight was finally home and able to visit his family, Wind should be feeling happy for him, right? He got to be with his whole village, and his little brother, and baby sister, and his parents...

Something stung in his chest again, and Wind swallowed.

Was that really what it was?

This... that was stupid, he wasn’t jealous of Twilight’s family! He had Grandma and Aryll! That was more than most of the other heroes had at all, some of them didn’t have any family, so why—

Why did seeing Rusl ruffle Twilight and Colin’s hair make a pit open in his stomach?

Happy laughter came from inside, and Wind felt the pit get deeper, something cold rising in his chest.

He suddenly couldn’t stand the idea of going back inside. Wind turned from the house and stalked away through the village, the moon shining too calmly for his mood. He circled the village a few times, then eventually found a secluded spot behind a house by the stream, throwing off his shoes and dunking his feet in.

The water was a little cold, chilly from the coming autumn, but Wind didn’t care, swishing his feet around.

A distant trill of music floated on the wind, and Wind hunched over himself as the tune changed to a different one in his head. He remembered his parents dancing to songs like that, and eavesdropping from his bed at night so he could hear them sing.

There was less music after Aryll was born, but it could still be found, and Wind still remembered his father quietly singing up at the lookout tower, Aryll asleep in his arms as Wind tried to fill in the missing harmony.

And even after that, Wind and Aryll still sang, to the seagulls outside, and with their grandmother when they helped her make soup. Sometimes Wind still sang Aryll to sleep when he was home, and they’d curl up together and he’d hum lullabies he’d learned on his travels.

“...Wind?”

Wind startled, and turned to see that Sky had walked up behind him without him noticing.

“We were wondering where you’d slipped off to, Uli was about to serve dessert,” he said warmly. Then his smile dimmed a little as he looked at Wind’s face, and he hesitated. “...is everything okay?”

Wind swallowed, then turned back to the water, not sure what to say.

Was everything fine? He’d thought it was, but the empty hole in his stomach spoke otherwise. He should probably tell Sky to just go back and eat dessert with everyone else, but for some reason those words didn’t come out.

“...Do you remember your parents?” Wind asked shakily, and Sky let out a quiet oh, moving to sit down next to him.

He looked out at the water for a moment, then took off his boots as well, dipping his toes in next to Wind’s.

“I do somewhat,” Sky replied, his voice soft. “My father and mother were both knights, though my father took it much more seriously. He was always patrolling, and practiced with the sword whenever he could, he helped train people to use it actually. My mother was more laidback like me, and mostly preferred just flying with her loftwing though. Apparently she was the best rider Skyloft had seen in a long time, she saved a lot of people.”

His smile dipped, and he breathed out.

“They both died when I was about seven.”

“I’m sorry,” Wind said quietly, and Sky gave him a small smile.

“It’s okay, it was a long time ago. I still miss them of course, but... in more of a good way, if that makes any sense.”

Wind crinkled his eyebrows, but he didn’t really have time to think that through, since Sky then gave him a searching look. Wind squirmed a little under the scrutiny, and looked back out at the water.

“Do you remember yours?” Sky asked softly, and Wind swallowed.

“Kind of,” he whispered, his mind falling back to one of his earliest memories. “My... mom died when Aryll was born. I don’t remember a lot about her, but I remember that night. There... there was a lot of blood.”

He paused and glanced at Sky, seeing that the Skyloftian was watching him with a gently sympathetic look on his face.

“My dad didn’t die until Aryll was three,” Wind continued, clearing his throat. “I remember more about him, he... he loved the ocean. Loved the waves and wind, and sailing. He went out on his boat a lot, but he’d never be gone too long, and he’d always throw me up in the air and catch me when he got back,” he finished with a smile, old laughs ringing in his ears.

Then they faded, and he felt his smile slip away.

“Sailing is hazardous, though. A storm blew up after he left to trade at Windfall once, and... nobody’s seen him since.”

Sky set his hand on his shoulder, and Wind swallowed again.

“I’m sorry Wind,” Sky said gently, and Wind gave him a small shrug.

“At least I have some memories of them. Aryll doesn’t remember Mom at all, and she barely remembers Dad. A-and at least I know who they were, I mean Wild doesn’t know anything about his family, and Four barely remembers his mother, and I don’t even know if Legend ever had parents and—”

“Sailor,” Sky interrupted carefully, and Wind looked at him, his throat tight. “...Where’s all of this coming from?”

“I...”

Wind clenched his fists, feeling that huge empty feeling in his stomach again.

“How come Twilight has a whole family?!” he burst out, feeling his lip tremble. “He’s got two whole siblings and parents that love him and are still alive and he gets to be around them and love them and I’m happy for him, I am but how come he’s the only one of us? Why doesn’t Time get to have parents? Or Warriors? Why did b-both of our parents have to die, it’s not fair Sky!”

Sky pulled an arm around Wind’s shoulder, and to his horror he realized he was crying, tears dripping into the water they were still dipping their feet in.

“I-it’s not fair,” he choked out, and Sky didn’t reply, gently rubbing his shoulder.

Wind let out a thick sniffle, mopping his sleeve over his face, and Sky held him a little tighter, a sigh escaping his lips.

“...I wish I had a good answer for you Wind,” he said finally, voice quiet. “Other then me just agreeing with you that you’re right, life isn’t fair. I... I don’t know why most of us lost our families. Maybe it’s due to us being heroes, maybe it’s just a big coincidence, I truly don’t know.”

Something deeply grieved flickered over Sky’s face, but it was gone as soon as it appeared.

“...I know it hurts, Sailor. It’ll probably hurt the rest of our lives,” Sky said as he closed his eyes, the moonlight somehow softening his features. “And we can’t bring our parents back, no matter how badly we’d like to. But... for me at least... I’ve had so many people in my life who’ve filled that role in their absence.”

Wind looked at him again, and Sky gave him a small, grieved smile.

“Zelda’s father, all the teachers at the knight academy... everyone on Skyloft, really. They’ve cared for me like my parents did, and while they’ll never replace them, they’re also my family. It’s a lot like that for Twilight too.”

“What do you mean?” Wind asked, and Sky looked at the water again.

“I guess you hadn’t joined us yet when we had that conversation... Rusl and Uli adopted Twilight, they’re not his birth parents,” Sky explained, and Wind’s eyes widened. “All of Ordon helped raise him, like Skyloft did for me, but he says he just ended up here one day. He has no idea what happened to his birth parents.”

“...Really?” Wind asked, and Sky nodded.

“Really.”

The weird hole in Wind’s stomach shifted again, and he felt even more miserable, staring down at his feet. For some reason the information only made him feel worse, and he felt Sky’s arm give him a little squeeze.

“Wind... you lost your parents a lot more recently then I did,” Sky said after a moment’s silence, and ran a gentle hand through Wind’s hair. “It’s okay to miss them.”

Wind swallowed back the sudden lump in his throat.

“I... I guess I thought I’d gotten over it,” Wind said thickly, voice shaking. “And then I saw R-Rusl and I just...”

A loud hiccup escaped him, and Sky gave him a squeeze.

“Even with Grandma, and Aryll, and L-Linebeck and Tetra and everyone I just... I miss them,” he finished in an embarrassing squeak. “And Rusl j-just... he looks like my dad.”

Sky didn’t say anything, just let him cry into his shoulder, and Wind shut his eyes and leaned against him a little more.

He didn’t know how long Sky sat with him, holding him while he cried, but it was long enough that his feet had started to feel numb in the water they were dipped in.

Wind shivered a little as his tears had finally slowed, the pit in his stomach feeling a little less empty as he wiped his face again. Then he looked up at Sky, the Skyloftian’s eyes looking a little red themselves.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and Sky let out a wet chuckle, wiping his own eyes.

“Yeah. I’m alright. You ready to head back?” he asked gently, and Wind hesitated a moment, then nodded, pulling his feet out of the water.

“Yeah, I... I think I’m... okay,” he said, and was a little surprised to find that he meant it. “Thanks Sky. Sorry for all the...”

Sky gave his shoulder a squeeze before he could continue.

“No problem, Sailor,” he smiled. “A good cry never hurt anyone. Now... let’s go see if somehow the others didn’t devour all the pie.”

Wind grinned. “Well if they did, I bet we can guilt Wild into making us more. I could sniffle and everything.”

Sky laughed, and Wind joined him as the two headed back across the village, the moon gently lighting their path.

[eww-y-tho]

Debby Downer here, but I only have one true complaint for S3.

I WANTED TO SEE HOW THEY FIRST MET.

(idk how the books went with their first meeting, but I personally would enjoy it like this. this is essentially my fanfic of how I wanted it to be used lol.)

This is really where the 'show, don't tell' rule rears its head. I understand it would be hard to do, you would need permission for child actors to play the part of Penelope's head covering smacking Colin and him falling to the ground. But you could easily do a quick cut from the head covering flying off from the wind kicking up to some impact sound effect and then a closeup of a hand or foot falling on the ground without actually making the kid fall off the horse. make the covering land somewhere close by so that what happened can be easily interpreted.

It could be really seen as a transparent film tactic to work around the problems with child actors, but it would still at least give us a reference point to their closeness. They mention it twice and go in excessive detail. We needed something to get us to really feel the sweetness of their first meeting and just how special they were to each other since the beginning.

I would shave off the market scene to be like "Do you remember when we first met?" "Obviously, especially the part where I apologized. Why are you bringing this up now? I thought you would have forgiven me at this point." (<- in a sweet/humourous tone) "W-Well- you were teasing me so mercilessly, that it's still fresh in my mind. And do you know why? You were so very charming about it" so on, and so forth.

Then, instead of the frankly stupid balloon scene, I would have Pen wear a similar head-covering during the same event, and Pen wouldn't notice while it flies off in the scene where Pen is trying to win Debling with Cressida and Eloise. Colin would be closer to them and it would smack him in the chest, he would smile, and walk up to return it. Colin wouldn't say anything and Pen would flash her heart eyes at Colin before they would return to their conversations, and Debling would look at her with his "I'm catching the sus vibes" eyes.

Now, personally, do you know where I would put the flashback?

Right at the scene where Colin remembers Pen at his writing desk before going to go to the ball to get Pen from Debling. We would have swelling music (with no other audio) going from the scene where Pen grabs Colin's hand in ep2, to Colin grabbing her hand in s2 in the "come with me" scene, to the back-and-forth shot from when Colin comes back in s2, to Colin grabbing Pen's hand in s1 when she's trying to convince Colin about Marina, to their stare at the "what a barb!" scene, to Colin grabbing her hand to dance in ep1, and then we would have their first meeting.

Have the scene have abruptly no music and a hazy filter like the flackbacks from previous seasons. Start with Colin riding his horse, and then do the two shots, like I said, but have Pen laughing really loud once he falls before covering her mouth and being like "Sorry!" and then he laughs really loud and they both cackle for a bit before Pen quiets down and starts ribbing him about his perceived bad horse riding skills. Colin just keeps laughing until there's a closeup of Pen's face as she looks at Colin. While he gets up she blurts out that her name is Penelope and then he says his name is Colin and then that's where it would end. Colin gets up from his desk, yada yada.

The bad horseriding comment would make Colin's engagement party speech so much cuter, and paired with Pen laughing and then everyone staring at her and being confused about the inside joke would really hammer that part of the scene down as foundational to their relationship.

OH OH OH AND THEN have a continuation when Colin opens the first letter to a cut where, after the whole thing happens, Colin looks at Pen with some awkward silence and he smiles as Pen hesitantly walks away and Eloise approaches her (this is really starting to sound like a fanfic now lol). Smash cut to "Yours Truly, Penelope" and then adult Colin smiling at the letter and the scene is now like 10x more emotional.

Also, you know the scene in ep8 when Colin is staring at the wall while brooding before Pen tells him about the Cressida blackmail? In another flashback, where Edmund died and the news hit everybody, Colin is locked up in his room and Pen goes from comforting a crying Eloise to knocking on Colin's door.

He would get up and open it, looking miserable. Pen would jump to hug him and There would be back-and-forth shots of them both crying silently. Bam, another cut to Colin almost crying as he stares at the wall before Eloise comes into the scene. That would just add a little bit more oomph to Polin's relationship and would make the impact of LW hit harder, IMO.

I'm still happy with the season, but I think that's the one fault that I am still not enjoying about it. I think it was just a bad choice to not carve out some money from promotional stuff for these flashbacks, and I think the romance suffers from not being able to see that. Idk, maybe I'm tripping.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

From the Shadows (pre-LU whump)

@nancyheart11

Summary: Twilight encounters a black blooded beast for the first time. It doesn't go well.

(AO3 link)

It was a bitterly cold evening. The coming of winter brought winds from the northwest, and though it probably wasn't excessively frigid, Rusl was still accustomed to the warm summer. The home carried a damp chill, and the blacksmith found himself huddling by the fire after a hard day's work. Hana sat on his lap, babbling happily while playing with her toys, while Colin helped his mother cook dinner. The dull light that could pierce through the clouds was steadily fading as the hidden sun slowly set beneath the horizon.

Rusl hummed absentmindedly, though he couldn't quite maintain a tune, but his daughter didn't seem to mind. His mind drifted passively from thought to thought, settling on wondering what Uli might be whipping up in the kitchen, when there was some sort of ruckus outside. Cuccoos were squawking, a horse was whinnying very loudly - what was going on?

Rising, Rusl told Hana to go to her mother just as he and Colin headed for the door together. The cold slammed their faces as Colin got there first, and Rusl felt his blood freeze with it.

Epona was running amok in the village, panicked. She was fully saddled and bridled as if Link had been out riding, but now there was no Link to be found while his steed was in a frenzy.

Ilia, who had also come out due to the commotion, rushed to the horse first. Many of the villagers peered out through cracked doors, anxious and curious. Colin got to Epona next while Rusl looked around for any sign of his ward.

"Sshh, it's okay," Ilia hushed gently, petting Epona's head while she stomped in place nervously.

"Where's Link?" Colin asked worriedly.

"I... I don't know," Ilia answered. "I didn't even know he'd left the village."

Rusl eyed the steed sharply, looking for clues while worry curled in his gut and clenched at his heart. It wasn't a promising sign for Link's horse to be in such a state. The animal was unharmed, but he saw traces of clues: a small branch caught in the saddle, a half open satchel of supplies partially used.

Link had been exploring, or fighting, and something had gone wrong.

The resistance member reentered the house, brushing by a worried Uli and grabbing his sword and shield. He layered up clothes and some armor while Uli approached him.

"Rusl?" she didn't have to ask what was wrong. Her tone and eyes asked everything she needed to.

"I don't know what happened," Rusl answered. "But something's wrong with Link. I'm going to find him."

Uli swallowed, hands wringing anxiously as she looked back outside. "Please, be careful."

Rusl paused, watching his wife a moment. She never argued his choices to leave for missions or operations, but he knew how much it weighed on her. She wanted to make sure Link was well too, but he could sense her fear at the sudden shift in mood, at the hasty decision to drop everything and enter an unknown peril. He cupped her cheek, guiding her eyes to his. "I will be. I promise."

Uli smiled a little, leaning into his touch, before stepping away so he could finish. Rusl headed outside to see Colin armed with a sword and a cloak.

"Colin," he started, but his son cut him off.

"I've been training," Colin immediately argued. "I'm coming too."

Rusl bit back a sigh. His boy had always been eager to help ever since the Twilight incident, and adolescence had only added defiance to eagerness, making it all the harder to keep him safe. There was little time to argue, and... the boy wasn't wrong. His sword skills were quite good.

It didn't make his father feel much better about the situation. He already had one son in danger. He wasn't keen on putting another one in the same circumstances.

"Colin--"

"Every minute we spend arguing, Link could be dying!" Colin interrupted.

The teenager wasn't wrong, but Rusl still felt uneasy. "Fine. But you ride Epona, and the second I tell you to get out, you listen. Understood?"

Colin swallowed, paused, and then nodded. Rusl felt a little at ease with that - his boy was honest, and thankfully had inherited a bit more of his mother's reason than his father's stubbornness. Although he had certainly done some foolish, harebrained things, he would listen to his father.

Rusl grabbed his own horse and the pair headed towards Faron Woods with well wishes at their backs from the villagers. He reached out, letting his hand rest gently on Epona's head. "You'll have to guide us, girl."

Colin pat Epona's neck, urging her forward. At first the steed was obedient, but the farther into the woods they went, the more nervous and hesitant she became. That meant whatever had caused the initial scare had to be close. Despite already being on alert, he tensed even more, eyes searching for clues.

He didn't have to search for long. The earth was scarred, claw marks and chunks of dirt thrown like lacerations in the skin of the land itself. The birds were silent. Epona nickered, taking a step back. The oncoming darkness of night gave the trees sinister silhouettes. Rusl and Colin's warm breaths hovered in the chilly air, the only apparent sign of life around them.

"I've never seen the forest so still," Colin commented quietly, a slight tremor to his tone. He reached hesitantly for his sword.

Rusl's own mount began to grow nervous, ears peeling back, hooves playing uneasily with the earth. The air felt distinctly colder. The swordsman drew his blade, and his son followed suit.

"Let's keep moving," he said, guiding his steed forward with a tap of his heels.

Eventually it grew so dark that Rusl was squinting to see anything, and he brought out his lantern. It seemed to be of little help, creating ominous shadows that seemed to creep ever closer as they moved. Epona nickered again, and then she picked up her pace. Rusl followed closely, eyes alert for danger. His eyes picked up on silky strands that glowed in the lantern light, and his insides started to crawl.

Colin gasped ahead of him. "Link!"

Rusl's gaze snapped straight ahead, his horse breaking into a canter to get to the front, and then he leapt off as he took in the sight before him.

Link was on the his back, splayed out across smooth stone, pale and shivering, blood staining his green tunic as his hand clutched his upper abdomen. His eyes were half open, already noticing Rusl and Colin's approach.

"Pa," he whispered as Rusl fell to his knees beside him.

"What happened?" Rusl asked, looking the young man over. The worst of it from what he could tell was a bad gash on the boy's head and whatever wound he was trying to hold pressure against on his abdomen. Rusl quickly pulled out a bandage from the first aid bag he'd grabbed and gently tried to guide Link's hand from the injury.

"They're... strong..." his boy tried to explain, coughing. "P-Pa..."

Rusl hushed him gently, hand wrapping around Link's wrist. "It's going to be okay, Link, but you have to let me see the wound."

"I'm... glad you're... I didn't..."

Rusl grew more worried as Link didn't seem to listen. He again tried to move the young man's hand, watching blood stream from beneath.

"Pa...?" Colin called hesitantly, and Rusl looked up, gasping and nearly falling backwards.

Eight eyes watched him, beady and black as coal, two incisors chattering excitedly beneath them. Rusl immediately grabbed his sword and shield in time to block a quick strike from the large skulltula. The force of the attack sent him on his backside, and Colin leapt forward, jabbing at the beast with his blade. The giant monster hissed, taking a few steps back before pressing the attack again. Colin yelped, dodging a blow, and Rusl quickly leapt to his feet to stab and cut one of its legs. He saw that one had already been chopped off entirely, and he recognized multiple sword slashes in the beast's body. How was this thing still standing?!

"Colin, protect Link!" Rusl advised, trying to press the offense and push the beast farther away from his boys. Colin grabbed his lantern and set it beside Link, lighting the area better so Rusl could see his opponent.

Link watched the fight with exhausted worry, eyebrows pinched but too weak to do anything. He turned his attention towards Colin as his little brother stood over him defensively. "Colin."

The blonde teenager jumped, startled, and looked down at Link. "It's okay, Link! Pa and I will sort this out."

"It's too... strong," Link advised, shaking his head slowly. "E-Epona..."

"Link, it's going to be okay!" Colin insisted, gripping his sword more tightly.

Rusl emphasized the point when he managed to land a stab right at the joint where one of the beast's legs met its thorax. That should cripple it nicely. The skulltula hissed and screamed, the leg in question giving out, before another swept across the ground, slamming Rusl in the ribs and sending him flying.

Colin called out, rising and ready to run to his father, and Rusl waved him off, blinking stars out of his vision. Link's hand finally left his wound to wrap around Colin's ankle, catching the boy off guard.

"Epona..." he tried again. "Bag... potion... Pa can't... fight it alone..."

Colin looked frantically between his brother and father. Rusl was still down, trying to catch his breath as the skulltula advanced quickly. Making a decision, the teenager rushed back to Epona while yelling to get his father's attention and warn him.

Rusl felt his head spinning, but he could hear the hasty footsteps of the beast, and he readied his shield in time to avoid getting bitten by its massive fangs. The onslaught was constant now, though, one bite after another, legs moving to position him more easily for the kill. He rolled away, grimacing through the damage to his ribs, but he eventually hit a tree and had nowhere else to go without getting up.

Gritting his teeth, Rusl let out a yell of defiance and pain as he rose, only to get smacked down again by one of the beast's uninjured legs. His world was beginning to spin, and he'd ventured too far from the lantern light to see properly anymore. His veins filled with ice as his mind registered this was getting out of control. He rose again, shaky, and jabbed blindly with his sword to create some distance. The skulltula retreated a hair as intended, and he could barely make out its silhouette in the darkness.

A snarl filled the air, something dark and fast rushed into view, slamming the skulltula to the ground. It crumpled with a shriek, legs sprawled and flailing. Light illuminated the area as Colin ran into the clearing, lantern in one hand, sword in the other. He stabbed at the beast's thorax once, twice, thrice, and it still wailed and wiggled, trying to right itself and continue the fight.

The dark, snarling thing that slammed into the beast stumbled into view, and Rusl could make out claws and paws and matted fur before the light around it was snuffed into nothingness. The light reformed with a hiss, and Link was crouching in their midst, trembling and bloodied but up and moving.

"Give me the lantern," Link hissed, grabbing it and smashing it over the beast, flames licking at the monster as it screamed. Link brought his blade down and cut the creature's thorax clean into sections, and the skulltula finally grew silent and still.

Everyone blew out a collective sigh of relief.

Colin broke the silence first, running to his father. "Pa, are you okay?"

Rusl watched Link turn to look at him, his own face cast in shadow, exhausted and filthy and wounded. The Ordonian took a shuddering breath, feeling his own chest scream in protest, and his world finally stopped spinning. He placed a shaky hand on Colin's shoulder, looking hisboy over and seeing that he was unscathed.

"I'm okay," he finally said. He would be better if he could get his racing heart under control. He'd never had such trouble fighting a single beast. He... was about to die if Link hadn't stepped in. His mind was caught in a spiral between concern for his boys and fear at his own mortality having been thrust in his face so unexpectedly. He'd faced death a fair amount, but not when the stakes were so high, not when his sons were right there.

Spirits above. They could have all died just now.

One of them was still hurt. He needed to help Link.

Rusl got to his feet, his body trembling, and he squeezed Colin's shoulder reassuringly. The flames on the skulltula were feasting happily, but they would soon extinguish so long as the Ordonians moved the dead leaves away from the corpse.

"We should go," Link advised quietly. "I'll guide the way. My wolf eyes can see in the dark."

Rusl stumbled somewhat unsteadily towards the young man, not acknowledging his words for a second. Both his hands went to Link's face, holding him steady with his gaze as he looked him over. How the young hero was suddenly standing when he'd been barely able to slew words together before was disconcerting and confusing. He was still wounded, wasn't he? The blood indicated as such.

"I had a potion, Pa," Link explained, putting an equally unsteady hand on the man's chest. Rusl saw the hand was stained, but the blood... why was it black?

He had far more questions than answers, but Link was right. They needed to go. They couldn't handle another fight like that. Rusl felt his heart skip a beat at the thought that something so dangerous had been anywhere near Ordon Village.

Link stepped away before Rusl had a chance to speak, crouching to the ground as shadows encased him. A wolf exited the darkness, shaking himself off a little with a small whine. Link couldn't hide his emotions or his wounds as well in this form, and it was clear he was in pain.

Reality snapped into place around Rusl, and he quickly kicked the leaves away from the skulltula's body, advising Colin to do the same. The last thing they needed was to burn down the forest. Link dug little trenches around the massive body. After a few minutes of work, the three were satisfied enough to leave the body burning, fire lazily crawling across and consuming as it went.

Epona nickered and ran forward to greet them when they made their way back to the original clearing. Rusl saw his horse waiting anxiously in the background. Epona and Link touched noses briefly, the wolf's tail wagging slowly.

"She got us," Colin explained. "She ran back to the village."

Link let out a small noise, licking tentatively at Epona's muzzle, and the horse nuzzled the wolf's face briefly.

"We need to go," Rusl finally said, mounting his own horse with a grunt of pain. He wanted nothing more than to let Link ride with him, but the boy wasn't wrong in that they needed a guide out. It was now night, and the crescent moon did little to guide their way, particularly with the cloud coverage. Colin got on Epona's saddle, and Link slowly began to limp through the forest.

As they moved, it gave Rusl more time to think and worry. How much blood had Link lost before he'd had a potion? Where had this beast come from, and how was it so powerful? Skulltulas were unpleasant, but they'd never been more than a nuisance unless in groups. Perhaps there had been more? Rusl hadn't seen any others, alive or dead.

Dead. Dead. He could have died, and worst of all, it would have left his boys at that beast's mercy. Rusl took a steadying breath, wincing again at his ribs.

He was getting too old for this. Facing his mortality hadn't been this terrifying since the first time it had happened. Then again, it didn't happen all that often. The last time he'd felt such fear clutch at his throat was when the Twilight invasion had started. He'd been nearly beaten senseless, and though he had been afraid for his own life, he had been far more terrified for his children.

But his children hadn't been present for that fight. Here they would have died if he'd failed, and he'd nearly failed.

He needed to contact the others about this. He'd never encountered such a beast, and he couldn't fight another alone. Link hadn't been able to fight it alone!

The sound of Ordon Spring soothed his worries a little, reminding him that they were somewhere safe now. He pulled back on the reigns to stop his horse, and the movement caught his boys' attention.

"Change back," Rusl ordered as he dismounted.

Link watched him a moment, intelligent blue eyes practically glowing in the dark, and then he complied. The young man shuddered, already crouching on the ground, and toppled over to his hands and knees. Rusl knelt down to hold him steady, helping him readjust to sit on the ground instead. Colin was at his other side in an instant.

"Did the potion not help?" Colin asked worriedly, not quite accustomed to the effects of such magical draughts.

"I'm okay," Link assured his little brother tiredly.

"We'll be sure of that when we get home," Rusl added, wrapping an arm around him. "You're riding the rest of the way, Link."

His eldest looked like he was going to argue, but a squeeze around his shoulders silenced him. Instead, he sighed, rising alongside Rusl. There was still some fight left in him, though. "It's not a long walk, Pa."

"Then I'm walking with you," Rusl countered, equally as stubborn as his boy.

"Me too!" Colin insisted.

"This is dumb," Link whined. "The horses--"

"Will follow," Rusl interrupted. "You want to walk, let's walk."

The farther into the village they went, the more at ease everyone became. Ordon held a peace to it that couldn't be easily described, except that the place radiated safety and peace and home. The symphony of crickets and gentle trickle of water eased Rusl's worries about any beasts following, allowing him to focus all his attention instead on ensuring his boy was alright.

Uli was waiting for them when they came home, medical supplies already at the ready alongside some milk. Her face was pinched in worry, but it relaxed a little at seeing everyone at least on their feet. Her eyes scanned the three quickly, and Rusl felt a twinge of guilt and gratitude mixing uneasily at the realization that she was well accustomed to searching for injuries by this point.

Colin escaped the fussing for the most part, aside from just the fact that he was the youngest. He insisted at least three times that he was unharmed, even lifting his tunic to prove it, and was sent to the blanket pile awaiting him in front of the hearth, a cup of milk in hand anyway. Link was next, immediately swept to the couch and told to lay down and take his shirt off. His unsteady gait had both his parents on high alert, and though it was evident that the potion had indeed done the trick (goddesses above, those had been puncture wounds, that beast had actually managed to bite into his boy), it was also evident he'd lost a faira mount of blood and possibly smacked his head. He was tentatively fed some milk and warm broth before Uli began to fuss over cleaning him up. Rusl helped her get Link out of his clothes and chainmail. As his wife wiped blood and grime with a warm, wet rag, Rusl examined the mail, looking at the breaks and resolving to repair it.

The warm water and soothing touch from his mother soothed Link into a half asleep state. Though Rusl knew Uli would prefer just outright giving Link a bath, the simple cleaning was more than enough for the chilly night, and Link's pride would only allow for so much fussing. Eventually the young man was snoring softly on the couch, dressed in Rusl's spare clothes and swaddled in more blankets than Rusl could count.

Rusl sighed in relief, the last tension finally draining out of him, and he dragged his feet to the table. His gaze moved between his sons, both of whom had fallen asleep. Colin was too big for Uli to carry anymore, so he tiredly resigned himself to the task, wincing as he rose.

"You're hurt," Uli said, and Rusl felt like it was possibly a death sentence in itself.

"Uli--"

"You're hurt," she emphasized, tears starting to shimmer in her eyes.

Spirits above, he couldn't make her cry. Rusl went to her, holding her reassuringly, and insisted he was fine. To prove his point, he moved to pick up Colin, trying to hide the pain from his face.

Uli was always a patient and gentle woman. She rarely expressed negative emotions outwardly - instead, it usually came up in her silence, in her melancholy and lack of energy. However, there were still times where it came forth, and she always expressed it in the worst ways possible.

His wife was hardly ever angry, but she would get disappointed.

"Don't," she said, her body stiff, breath short and choppy. "Don't pick him up. You'll set a bad example. They'll think it's okay to ignore injuries."

"Uli, I--"

"Do you want them to get hurt like this more? To hide it and make it worse?" And oh, if it wasn't the disappointment, it was the guilt and tears. Rusl felt exasperated and penitent all at once. He sighed, putting his pride aside and slowly sitting back down.

Uli burst into tears. Rusl immediately rose to go to her, and she pushed him back down.

"I'm sorry, I just--I get so worried," Uli sniffled, muffling her already soft sobs in a handkerchief.

"I know," Rusl said quietly, guilt eating away at him. "I'm sorry too."

Uli pushed a bottle of milk towards him wordlessly, fighting to regain her composure, and Rusl drank it without argument. The couple took in the silence and each other's company, and Uli settled beside him at the table as they watched their children sleep.

"We almost died out there," Rusl said suddenly. He cursed himself and was thankful that the words spilled out all at the same time; he didn't want to worry Uli, but he needed to say it. "That beast... I've never... it makes no sense. It was far more powerful than any skulltula I've ever seen, and it bled black blood."

"Black blood?" Uli repeated. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know," Rusl answered honestly, his gaze settling on Link. The milk he'd had warmed him from the inside out, mending and soothing the ache in his chest. Finally able to take a deep breath, he pulled Uli close as she rested her head on his shoulder. "But we'll figure it out together."

The pair sat there, taking comfort in each other, and a gentle silence hung in the air, holding the oncoming cold at bay.

[minas-linkverse]

Gentle Linkverse scenarios cause its been a rough day

Twilight and Colin sometimes find clay in the waters around Ordon Village. They make little trinkets and attempts at useful things like trinket holders. The other kids like to join sometimes, but their parents dont always let them due to how messy they get.

One of Colin's favourite things was the little goat family he and Link made and ended up coming up with a whole storyline for.

They're all displayed with pride, and Link said he'll bring paint from castle town soon. They shall be a beautiful and colourful family. 💛

_

The coat Wind has wrapped around his waist is Linebeck's old coat. It's seen far better days and it doesnt actually do much as a coat. Linebeck doesn't really get why Link insisted on taking it instead of letting him throw it out.

He's give the excuse that he wants to practise sewing, and shown off the various patches he's added as proof. Linebeck isn't so sure that's true however.

Trying to figure it out, he fumbled about asking about it in various round about ways. Comedically fell on his butt a few times and got hit by a sign. Yet no answers from Link...

Finally, while nursing the wound on his nose, Tetra walked in and said she'll tell him why Link wanted the coat, in exchange for him to take outhouse duty that week. At first he refused, saying he doesn't care about this THAT much... But as Tetra turned to leave he accepted the deal.

Linebeck struggled to believe what Tetra said as the truth, but couldn't deny it either. She said Link would miss the coat because it reminded him of Linebeck...

Silly kid, he was right here! Who needs an old rag of a coat for that.

He is now secretly working on getting a new excellent quality coat, not for himself but for Link. Why? Er, he just doesnt want to see the kid run around with that thing anymore... Yeah, that's all. Mhm. Tetra why are you smirking. Stop.

_

Groose, inspired by Pippit's delicious pastries, picked up a book on candy making from skyloft. He's made a few batches of some fairly okay-ish treats, which he showed off to Zelda and Link. He is a bit too nervous to show the others yet... Er, well not nervous! He just... He just wants to make the best batch possible!

He asked for input on what flavours he should try next, and Zelda suggested various fruits they'd found on the surface. Link meanwhile took a moment to ponder things, before offering with that usual smile of his: "Fish?"

After baffled questioning he did admit he knew it wasn't an usual flavour for sweets, but he'd always been curious of the idea...

Groose decided then and there— against Zelda's wishes— That he would commit his candy training on figuring out the perfect fish candy! Don't worry Link, I wont let you down!

Link told him it's really not that important, but Groose had already set his mind to it.

So far? No luck. It tastes awful. Zelda suggested he make them a normal flavour but in the shape of a fish. Groose is now attenpting to make fish flavoured candy in the shape of a fish.

The next few tries did not look like fish. What they looked liked shall not be spoken of, in fact.

He continues to practise, though! And although this goal seems to be doomed to fail, all the trial and error has really made his normal candy making skills improve and FAST. Perhaps when he realises how good he's gotten, he'll finally feel satisfied.

[blackroseguzzi]

Please continue the FATE series with Colin Zabel

pls pls pls 😭

FATE:

PART 5

SUMMERY: You first night as an informant for Mare. After spending time with Colin he finally decides he deserves the answers you never gave him.

Colin brought back two bottles of beer from the kitchen, and handed one to me with a small polite smile. He still drank miller Lite- I internally cringed at the memory of how he used to drink them all night up at the lake house. He would get super sappy after 3 or 4 and beg me to slow dance with him to music playing over the old record player that came with the place. Because of those memories, you constantly had to change the station any time ‘Love me tender’ by Elvis came on. 

“Shall we dive in?” He asked, pulling me out of my head.

“Let’s,” I nodded back, thanking him for the beverage. 

The two of us worked in the living room. I took of my jacket, trying to see if the heat boiling from my body was from my layers or from Colin’s mother’s glare from the dining room. She had made herself comfortable watching us as she pretended to read the paper. 

We were professional, not breaking character of our respected roles as we worked, Sargent Sheehan had given me a load of information to slip into Colin's ear and in return I was given the task to relay whatever he gives me back to her.

I couldn’t help but stare at his hands as they grabbed pieces of paper from the files on the coffee table. Those hands had explored my body like a road map. They were gentle and strong all at the same time. Colin knew just about every place I liked to be touched, and he had always handled me like he needed all of me desperately, yet so careful not to be too hard as to break me.

I felt a lump forming in my throat. I had never realized what I was going to miss until it was no longer mine. I chased happiness, but I soon realized it wasn’t real because I had nobody to share it with. Yes, I loved my career but at the expense of what I lost it sometimes felt silly to lie to myself that it was worth it.

“Well, I think we can wrap this up tonight “y/n.”

My eyes snapped up to match Colin’s glare, pulling me from those depressive thoughts that seem to always be haunting me. 

“Yeah I ah, I think you have a good start on things, thank you for giving me more to write about,” I smiled as I got up from the couch I had sat on so many times before. 

The familiarity of Judy’s home was both comforting and chilling. Judy was a picture perfect mother in law- and I was forever going to be jealous of the girl that got to bake pies with her in the kitchen, go along with her shopping at Bloomingdale’s for sales, and who Judy would show those sweet baby pictures of Colin when he was a little boy- both of them imagining what their future children would look like. 

As I stood, my eyes wandered to Judy who had a small smile on her face. She waved politely before returning back to her papers. She was probably pleased to see me leave.

Colin cleaned his throat after picking up all the scattered papers on the table. “I’ll walk you out?” 

I turned to him and nodded shyly, a flash of pink had to have brushed my cheeks. I had become a stranger in a home that felt like my own at one point in time. 

The cold night air felt nice on my skin after they had burned while being in the Zabel home. My feet felt like they were dragging as we walked quietly to my car parked out front. 

I turned, ready to say my goodbyes, but Colin’s hand shot up to stop me. 

“Please spare me, y/n. Please don’t say goodnight and leave like you don’t have that brutal feeling in your gut like I do.” 

I could feel my face fall as the act of acting ‘normal’ finally crumbled inside of me. 

“It’s like… like I swallowed a shit ton of rocks from lunch,” I replied quietly, digging my hands in my pockets as a small gust of wind whipped by us. 

“I can’t have you showing up at my mom’s, y/n.” 

I sighed, looking down at our feet. He had on casual shoes as opposed to his shiny work ones. They looked like the Nike’s I had gifted him our last Christmas together- the same day he gave me a ring I gave him a pair of shoes. In retrospect, I was the one who could have used the running shoes when I bolted from our engagement. 

“I’m so sorry, I thought we could just….” I failed to find words that would accurately match my feelings. 

“What? You thought we could pretend that you didn’t tell me you didn’t love me two weeks before you became my WIFE?” Colin cringed as he dragged out that word. 

I felt the tear roll down my cheek before I knew that I was crying. He was right, we couldn’t pretend that I didn’t do such a horrible thing. I was learning that I had not done him the favor I thought I did. 

“I had to leave Colin, and I'm forever going to regret how I did it.”

His eyes locked mine and I watched him bite the inside of his lip like he does when he was in deep thought. 

“I need to know why you didn’t  just have me come with you?” His words finally came out as a whisper, but resinated deep in my soul like he was screaming at me. 

I wiped another stray tear from my eye to fix my blurry vision. 

“You are the kindest man in the world, Colin Zabel. You would have come with me just to make me happy. I know you love your job and you wanted to stay and live close to your mom and our families for the rest of forever. I knew you would go with me even if you wanted to stay. I couldn’t ask you to do that after everything you ever did for me, but I needed that job. Writing is the therapy I never knew I always needed. You would have supported me at the cost of your own happiness and I didn’t want that resentment between us.”

“You’re projecting.” He stated flatly as he shook his head at me. I scrunched my face in confused. 

“You were the one who had resentment. YOU felt like you put me first and took that shitty writing gig and YOU didn’t like it. I would have compromised on just about anything if It would mean I came home at night to you. Nothing, not even my job, or my family, made me happier than coming home to YOU. So you were right, I would have gone wherever you wanted me to because you were it for me. If moving, getting a new job and not seeing family as often meant I would still have you then I would have dropped everything and packed my bags happily!” 

I stood there silently, every word hitting me to the core. I had never intended for him to blame himself, I had hoped it would wash away any feelings for me so he could start fresh with someone else who was content in every aspect of their lives. 

He ran his hands down his face and I wanted so badly to open my mouth to say anything but nothing I could say would make the pit in my stomach go away. 

“I guess… I just…” he drew in a deep breath before our eyes locked again. They were glassy, like tears would soon burst from the floodgates. “I always wanted to know what I did wrong... I just didn’t realize it was because I clearly didn’t show you how much I loved you.” 

The sob came from my throat and took me by surprise. Then the tears ran freely off my cheek and onto the pavement between us. Nothing would ever fill the hole that was open in my heart, I knew that for certain now. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” I felt Colin step closer to me, and looking up I wasn’t expecting to be pushed into his chest while he hugged me. He was actually hugging me. 

“I don’t deserve that,” I replied, lightly pushing him away. He didn’t need to be hugging me during this epic meltdown. “I hurt you- you shouldn’t be comforting me.” I sniffed, wiping my nose with the back of my jacket sleeve. 

“I didn’t want to make you cry, y/n,” His words were gentle- and your gut felt punched again. 

“It’s fine.” I let out a slow breath before trying to compose myself. “I deserve it after everything- Fuck, I didn’t even say goodbye when I left….” I scoffed, now trying to avoid eye contact as words tumbled from my mouth. “I think not saying it gave me hope that our book wasn’t closed, that maybe our story was still unfinished.” I spoke softly, and the tenseness that hung on Colin’s shoulders began to lift. 

Colin stared down at me, his hand slipping from my shoulder. I was already regretting pushing away from that hug because his touch was so warm. 

Moments between us felt like a lifetime as the night air became more brisk, and I could hear cars on the busier road that was a street over. 

“I’m so sorry Colin, I'm just going to go back home early, I think I’m doing more damage than good being here.”  I went for my keys in my purse but Colin grabbed my arm, stopping me.

He cleared his throat, and I watched the wheels in his head turning. 

“No, Erin should get the coverage she deserves. Nobody would write her justice as well as you.” I could see the small curl of his lip and I suddenly felt the heat creep up my cheeks.

“Thank you, Colin. But don’t want to”- 

“You think tomorrow I can take you up on that dinner invite from this mornin?” Colin’s words cut mine like a knife. I felt my eyebrows raise as I tried to process what he had said to me. sliding his hand from my shoulder and rubbing the back of his neck, I could tell he was nervously waiting for my reply.  I blinked a few times, my eyes drying from all the tears that had come out of me. “For work stuff- you know? Probably better than having my mom watching us like a Russian spy. I swear she read the same page of that paper the whole time we were in there.” He finished. I couldn’t help but laugh a little at his words, and you nodded quickly. Maybe this trip was turning into a plot twist in our story after all. 

“I think that's a good idea, yes.”

“Let’s just try not to open anymore wounds okay?” 

I nodded again before finally reaching into my purse to grab the rental car keys.

“Thank you, Zabel,” I replied quietly, the feeling of my tail between my legs would probably linger there for a while. 

He opened his mouth, closed it and nodded. “See you later, y/l/n,” he gave one last small waved before turned around to walk slowly back up to his childhood home. I fumbled with my keys before walking to the driver’s side to get him. My phone started vibrating in my pocket as soon as I started my vehicle. I fumbled around my pockets before grabbing ahold of the buzzing piece of technology. 

“Sheehan” scrolled across the screen and you quickly answered it.

I didn’t even get to say hello before her voice filled my ear “Fill me in.” 

Mare was the one helping me get closer to Zabel all while covering this case, but I knew that if he found out I was giving her the information he was presenting to me that his ass was on the line. I just couldn’t stop the urge to be around him, so I let out a sigh before giving her every last detail.