#even bridgerton couldn't compare

[imbouttasue]

The English slangs is not something I expected from the story.

[venus-haze]

God's Got a Sick Sense of Humor (Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader)

Summary: Your decision to dress up as a slutty nun for Halloween has unexpected consequences when you make the acquaintance of an equally attractive and disturbed priest. (AO3 link)

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. Not entirely spoiler-free, but if you’ve watched up to episode 6, you should be good! Also I couldn't find what the parish name was, so I made one up. The gif doesn't really have anything to do with the fic, I just like it🤭 Please look at the warnings before deciding whether to read this fic.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Non-con involving degradation, rough oral sex (m. receiving); ambiguous ending.

You knew early on in the night you had made a mistake in costume choice. The vinyl skirt started pinching your waist after less than an hour of wearing it, the nipple pasties were slowly peeling off despite your best effort, and the platform heels weren’t forgiving after several shots of tequila. The vinyl habit stayed in place with the bobby pins you used, but after a while, it felt like it was cooking your head.

Your friends found your plight funnier as the night went on, cracking jokes about how it was God punishing you for wearing the costume in the first place. Lisa had little trouble with her Tinkerbell costume, a green mini-dress and sparkly heels she pulled from her closet and a cheap set of fairy wings from the same Spirit Halloween you got your costume from. Julie’s Bridgerton-inspired costume seemed a bit out of place compared to you and Lisa, but she got a lot of compliments on the details.

For the limited the fun your little desert town had to offer, something was definitely missing from the night out.

“Why did Merritt say she couldn’t make it, again?” Lisa asked, the three of you walking down the street to the next bar you’d inevitably terrorize. All the usual haunts, where the bartenders knew your order and half the patrons were people you’d gone to high school with and definitely didn’t want to see again.

You shrugged. “I texted her earlier, and she said she couldn’t make it, something came up.”

“It sucks she doesn’t hang out anymore,” Julie said. “Did we do something?”

“I mean, her dad’s in a coma, and her mom’s working all the time with those gross murders going on,” Lisa said. “She’s probably the only one keeping things together at home.”

The three of you had known Merritt for years, your friend group becoming tight-knit as time went on. Getting carted to and from soccer games turned into sleepovers and late nights getting fast food. You got to know the Tryons pretty well over the years. Her dad was nice enough, and you always found her mom funny, if not a bit overprotective, but Lois always remembered your birthday.

“I’m gonna stop by sometime this week. It’s been way too long since any of us have seen her,” you resolved.

Lisa and Julie agreed, though you weren’t sure Merritt would appreciate all of you showing up unannounced at her house. You figured you’d be better off going yourself and seeing what the deal was with Merritt.

Stumbling over your platforms, you struggled to keep up with Lisa and Julie until you tripped and nearly wiped out on the sidewalk. You caught yourself on a nearby telephone pole, the lights from the nearby buildings blurring the more you tried to focus.

“Fuck,” you groaned. “I’m gonna call it a night.”

“Are you sure?” Lisa asked.

“Yeah, I’m gonna find a convenience store and then get an Uber home.”

“We can go with you,” Julie said.

You shook your head. “Don’t end your night early because of me.”

“Alright, text us when you get home.”

When the world finally appeared upright again, you looked at the nearby street sign, recognizing where you were, at least. Not far to the nearest shop that you were certain would be open late. You checked your phone for the time and felt especially lame. It wasn’t even midnight yet.

With a sigh, you turned down the street, opening your messages to your most recent text to Merritt. Your FaceTime request went unanswered, so you opted for an audio message instead.

“Hey Mer, it’s me. We missed you tonight!” You paused awkwardly, wishing you could actually talk to her. “Look, there’s a Halloween party tomorrow night, something out in the desert. It’s not too late to get a costume. We could go to the Spirit Halloween in the old Bed, Bath and Beyond—“ A catcall interrupted your rambling. “Look, just call me or something, at least let me know you’re alright? Bye, babe.”

The fluorescent lights in the store were almost headache-inducing, but you powered through for a bottle of Gatorade and a protein bar that you hoped would mitigate the hangover you’d inevitably have in the morning. 

Gatorade in hand, you felt almost dizzy staring at the array of protein bars in front of you, wondering how there could even be so many and if they were really any different. A man walked down the aisle, standing a few feet away from you, though you didn’t pay him much mind until you grabbed a protein bar and noticed he was dressed as a priest.

“Hey, nice costume,” you told him.

“Oh, this isn’t a costume.”

You laughed. “Right.” Your inhibitions lowered, you gave him a once over, your gaze lingering on his handsome face, his muscular arms. “You know it’s a shame we didn’t run into each other earlier tonight, we probably could’ve won a couples contest or something.”

He smiled, though something flickered in his brown eyes that made your guts churn. Except, it likely wasn’t him, as you shoved what you were holding onto the shelf next to you and rushed out of the store.

You wretched, the contents of your stomach emptied onto the blacktop. Tears burned your eyes, your throat scratchy and raw by the time you were done. You felt a hand on your upper back, could barely hear the sound of a man asking if you were okay over the sound of blood pounding in your ears.

Glancing up, you were mortified to see the priest looking at you with concern, though disgust was nowhere in his expression.

He handed you the Gatorade you’d been holding in the store, apparently going ahead and buying it for you. Taking a swig, you swished some around in your mouth before spitting it on the ground. He gave you a handful of crumpled napkins as well, and you tried maintaining what was left of your dignity while getting yourself together in front of him.

You managed a mousy thanks, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Don’t tell me you plan on driving home,” he said.

You shook your head. “I came out here with my friends."

"And they just left you like this? Alone?"

"I told them I'd get an Uber.”

“They'll charge you double tonight," he said. "I can drive you.”

Accepting a ride home from a stranger certainly wasn’t the smartest choice to make, but he actually seemed to give a shit about your well-being. You agreed, if not for the fact that you were curious about him, and the horny part of your brain hadn't shut up since you saw him.

He kept his hand on your back as he walked you over to his car. Almost felt like his fingers were twitching against your skin. 

Getting into his car, you noticed the rosary hanging from the rearview mirror, a saint card clipped to his visor. 

“Oh my god, are you actually a priest?” you asked from the passenger seat as he turned the car on.

“I told you it wasn’t a costume.”

“Shit.”

“Father Charlie Mayhew, from Our Lady of Sorrows, if you don’t believe me.” He smiled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “What’s your address?”

After giving him your address along with your name, realizing you hadn’t told him yet, you rolled the window down about halfway, finding the fragrant odor of incense and cologne a bit overwhelming for your queasy stomach. The cool night air gave you instant relief, and you laid back on the headrest, keeping your eyes closed for a few minutes. 

Father Charlie filled the quiet with a true crime podcast. Not a particularly odd choice, except that he was a priest, but Catholicism always lent itself to morbidity—his was more modern, you supposed.

“Have you heard about those murders around town?” you asked over the sound of a young woman giving the background of a triple homicide.

“Yes, our parish’s publication has been reporting on it,” he said. “I'm the editor, but one of our nuns is working closely with the lead detective on the case.”

You opened your eyes to look at him in disbelief. “Lois is working with a nun?”

“You know detective Tryon?”

“She’s my best friend’s mom,” you said. “I went to her house all the time growing up.”

“You must know her pretty well, then.”

“Yeah, Lois is one hell of a detective,” you said. “Still, I can’t imagine…whoever’s behind it must be depraved. What he’s doing—it’s not even human, it’s animal.”

“He?”

“I don’t think anyone but a man could be capable of that kind of barbarism, Father.”

“You might be right about that,” he said solemnly.

You drank more Gatorade, hoping to settle your stomach and ease your discomfort with the direction the conversation had taken. But you were the one who brought up the murders in the first place. All had some kind of religious connotation. No wonder the Catholic paper was eating that shit up. 

Catholicism was always predisposed to an especially grotesque morbidity. Open wounds considered blessings. Bones of the holy displayed with reverence. Even bread and wine transformed into the body and blood of Christ himself. Whoever was behind the recent murders was either observant or well-read.

Father Charlie pulled up to your building about ten minutes later, and you internally sighed in relief when he turned the podcast off. You couldn’t wait to get out of the damn costume and into bed.

“Thanks, Father Charlie,” you said. “I owe you one.”

“Actually, mind if I use your bathroom?” he asked.

You shook your head. “‘Course not. Come on up.”

Acutely aware of the costume you were wearing again, it was far too tempting not to show off on the way up to your apartment, swinging your hips a bit more than was warranted, knowing he was right behind you, the tight skirt giving him a full view of your ass. You privately bemoaned the fact that he was actually a priest. What a fucking waste. A guy who looked like him had no business giving himself to Jesus and denying the rest of the world the pleasure.

You took a selfie by your front door, a tired smile and a thumbs up that you sent to Julie and Lisa.

“Just letting my friends know I got home safe,” you explained, noticing Father Charlie staring at you.

You could barely hide your self-satisfied smile when you unlocked the front door. “The bathroom’s through the kitchen, first door on the right.”

“Thank you.”

Making a beeline for your bedroom, the first thing you did was take your heels off. Your feet were still sore, with a mean blister that made you walk funny when you brought the heels over to your shoe rack. You could hear the toilet flush and the water from the sink run in the bathroom. Chewing on your lip, you were almost tempted to ask Father Charlie if he wanted to stick around. If you could just brush your teeth and reapply some makeup real quick, you'd be good as new.

You never got a chance to.

“So, why this costume?” he asked, startling you.

You gasped, turning around to see him leaning against the door frame. “Oh, um—I thought it was funny.”

“What’s funny about it?”

“Well, nuns aren’t supposed to have sex, and this costume is—”

“Pornographic," he said. "I mean, it’s something you get fucked in.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, shocked at his bluntness.

“Chastity. The sacred vow to God that all women of the cloth take, and you—” he scoffed to himself, stepping into your bedroom so he was only a few feet away from you, “you mock it.”

You knew you should’ve picked the sexy nurse costume instead. “I’m so sorry, Father.”

“You will be. Get on your knees.”

“Ex-excuse me?”

“Don’t be crude. This is about repentance.”

The searing venom in his voice made your muscles contort to his will, and you found yourself on your knees. You should have been fighting back, screaming for him to get out, but in your heart you knew it was useless. Back in the convenience store, you noticed his fit physique, and you could hardly count on your neighbors to give a shit if you were in any kind of trouble.

"Do you even know how to make a sign of the cross?" he asked mockingly.

You shakily did so, bringing your left hand to your forehead, then your chest, then to each shoulder. He scoffed, apparently you messed something up, but he didn't elaborate, instead ordering you to repeat after him. The prayer came jumbled from your mouth, 'through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault' over and over until his voice was ringing in your ears like a broken church bell.

The bulge in his pants was impossible to ignore. You kept your eyes focused on his face, even when you heard the sound of his zipper and clothes shifting. But you couldn't help it, not when he was pumping his cock right in front of your face. Your repetition dipped with a slight whimper when you glanced at the size of him, foolishly hoping it was just proximity making his length appear so intimidating and angry, as if it wanted to hurt you just like he did.

“Simply praying won’t do someone like you any good," he said abruptly. "You need another form of penance, something more tangible."

Shoving his cock in your open mouth, you choked at the intrusion, attempted to shift backward and finally make a run for it, but he caught you by the habit you so stupidly kept in place with bobby pins and hit the back of your throat.

"Why don't you give me ten Hail Marys?" he mocked, his looming silhouette appearing outright demonic through your tear-filled gaze.

You didn't know the damn prayer. Couldn't even try to fake it when all you could manage was muffled pleas for him to slow down, go easy on you, have mercy. Your jaw ached, throat burned at the force he used to make you take as much of his cock as you possibly could.

He didn't show any signs of fatigue, save for the beads of sweat that rolled from his face and onto your own. He grinned at that, at you, the position you were in. The church was full of sickos, and he was certainly no exception.

Making one feeble attempt to fight back, your teeth grazed his cock, and just as you tried to work up the courage to bite down, he jerked his hips, cursing under his breath.

"Take it," his voice a low growl as he came in your mouth, ignoring your choking, spit and snot and cum leaking down your face and onto your vinyl costume and exposed breasts, "take your penance, slut."

Father Charlie hardly gave you a chance to catch your breath when he pulled his spent cock out of your mouth. You practically collapsed on your bedroom floor, each gasp of air painful against the back of your abused throat. Grabbing you by the habit again, he hauled you over to your bed, bending you over the edge of it.

He shoved his fingers between your legs and scoffed at the wetness that coated your thighs, your thong doing little to contain your subconscious reaction to the way he treated you. "Oh, that's just shameful," he drawled. "You're not repentant at all, are you? Leading a man of the cloth astray, causing me to sin…why else would you have put this costume on tonight?"

Straddling you from behind like a dog, his body was heavy on yours. With one hand squeezing your neck, the other pressed something against your throat. You reached for whatever he was holding, freezing in panic when you realized it was the hair scissors you kept in your bathroom. He must have swiped it while he was in there. They weren't even that sharp, but the extra effort he'd have to put in to mortally injure you with them would mean it would be all the more painful for you.

“Depraved, animal, barbaric,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Is that what you think of me?”

You whimpered, feeling his cruel laughter rumble in his chest against your back. “No—no, you can’t be—”

“I was going to do something about that costume anyway, but having that mutual friend in common,” he mused, “I just can’t pass up the opportunity to leave Detective Tryon a personal message. Call it divine will.”

“I’m sorry,” you choked out.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You can tell God yourself how sorry you are,” he whispered.

“No—Father, please don’t—”

[weirdmorefics]

Can we get a Bridgerton sister reader who is over looked most of the time only noticed when they see the reader has a close relationship with queen weather they see notice her absents or lady Whistledown writes about it your choice

The Forgotten Twin

Bridgerton sister reader

A/n- I hope you like it I am still unsure if I do LOL

Angst

Pronouns- She/her

Word Count- 989

Summary- The reader is Daphne's twin often overshadowed and forgotten until a shocking announcement by Lady Whistledown.

Y/n was used to being overshadowed by her twin, it's been like this since they were born. Daphne seemed to always be one step in front of Y/n. She crawled first, walked first, and talked first, Y/n was used to it now at age twenty-one. However, she had been dreading this age since she had learned about coming out into society. She knew from the instant she heard about it that Daphne would outshine her. Though Y/n had given up caring that Daphne did everything before her and that her mother favored her because Y/n excelled in something Daphne never did, and that was her intelligence. She was quick-witted and had a sharp tongue due to being compared to Daphne her whole life. Her mother, of course, did not see this as a good quality to have as it is not a preferred trait by suitors. This is the main reason she has been dreading this event she knew it would just be another thing about her that disappoints her mother.

Even though Y/n's Mother and her brothers did not find her qualities preferable her sister Eloise loved them. Eloise was Y/n's twin personality wise but in appearance and age she was destined to be Daphne's twin in turn she was always destined to be compared to her. Y/n was losing her confidant, Eloise to Lady Whistledown and she was feeling more alone than ever.

Y/n spent her days getting fitted for coming-out gowns, practicing piano, and reading in her spare time. All of these activities were solitary minus the seamstress and maids.

When the day finally came for the ball it was really not a shock to anyone that Daphne was declared the diamond of the season. Y/n tried to blend into the wall, balls and dancing never being her scene and that would not start now. That was until the next ball when Lady Whistledown made a report about this year's diamond severely lacking any suitors and being outshined by the Fetherington's cousin.

One of the Queen's servants came to retrieve Y/n for a meeting with her Highness during the second ball of the season. At first, she couldn't breathe she was encapsulated by her worry that she must have done something truly horrid to offend the Queen what other reason would she have with her.

Y/n followed the servants in silence, worried they could hear her heart beating loudly. She stood before the Queen and summoned her best curtsey she could manage.

The Queen lowered her Galilean binoculars and looked into Y/n's eyes, "You are an interesting young lady, Y/n."

Y/n considers this to be a dream because there is no way this could be a reality it seems like a fantasy book she would have read.

"Now you may lack the social skills of your dear sister, but there is something about you." A small mischievous smile appears on the Queen's face.

After this encounter, Y/n would spend many days sneaking into the Queen's quarters without her family's knowledge. She didn't like not telling her family about the Queen's plan and their frequent meetings but the Queen saw something no one else saw in Y/N, potential.

Dearest Reader,

It would seem that our diamond of the season had a diamond in the rough in their very own family waiting for their moment to shine. The great jewelers say it takes just the right amount of pressure to make a rock a diamond and we all know our dear Y/n Bridgerton has been under pressure her whole to live up to Daphne. The Queen has certainly taken notice of Y/n's diamond potential and has now been having secret weekly meetings with the eldest Bridgerton daughter.

Y/n was completely unaware of the new announcement by Lady Whistledown. She just so happened to be getting ready for one of these aforementioned meetings with the Queen. As Y/n was on her way out the door she heard several pairs of heavy footsteps down the large staircase in their home.

"Y/n Bridgerton!" Shouted her mother.

Y/n quickly whipped around to face her mother with fear as she knew those fiery eyes well.

"How could you do this to your sister," she shouts holding up today's crumpled Lady Whistledown.

Daphne looked disappointed standing next to their Mama, "Daph... I am sorry. I didn't mean for you to find out this way." Y/n frowns figuring out instantly Daphne knew about her betrayal from her eyes.

"What did you think would happen? That no one would ever notice you sneaking in and out of the Queen's quarter with her hundreds of servants," Daphne judged Y/n.

Eloise interrupted the argument, "How odd you don't even seem to notice Y/n's presence until she does something you disapprove of," Eloise glared which made Y/n smile she wasn't used to being stood up for.

Eloise puts a finger to her chin, "I also find it odd that Y/n is getting all the blame when Daphne wouldn't be suitorless if it wasn't for Anthony's constant meddling in her affairs."

Benedict and Colin held back their chuckles at Eloise's bluntness and Y/n smiled widely. It felt like they were seeing her even though the cause was bad her siblings were still being there for her.

Y/n ran up and hugged Eloise and she responded with a triumphant smile.

Daphne sighed, "I am sorry Y/n... the season has been rough on us all. Mother and I shouldn't have come down on you so hard. We should be there for each other, not always competing."

Y/n had to blink away tears, these are words she has always wanted to hear from Daphne. All she could respond was thank you and hope Daphne understood how much Y/n meant it.

[myfairstarlight]

I've started to see takes saying Colin deserves better than Penelope, and claiming she "got away with everything", and to that I must say:

Whistledown was never created out of jealousy or anger. It was born from a lonely girl who wished to be part of a society that rejected her, so she wrote about it.

Penelope never pursued Colin. This wasn't some nefarious plan of hers like that take makes it sound like. He's the one who did all the chasing. Penelope was very much planning on distancing herself from him and the Bridgertons after last season. He's the one who couldn't let her go

She literally offers the annulment knowing there might still be people angry at her for Whistledown. That's her taking accountability and absolving the Bridgertons from dealing with her mess. Guess what he does again? He refuses, fully accepting the challenges ahead. Now that's marriage. And standing by his cancelled wife.

She decides to come clean in front of the whole Ton despite everyone around her trying to find an out for her. She could have taken the easy way out, lie to get the rest of the blackmail money needed, but she refused to drag the rest of the Bridgertons into this.

"Penelope faced no consequences" she is wracked with guilt for half the season, her closest loved ones turned away from her, and she got blackmailed. This is also a romance show the queen was NOT going to behead her as punishment, actually, go watch Game of Thrones instead

She was already changing the column to be more uplifting towards women and less confrontational with the Queen (even as the other debutantes talked shit about her, and the Queen threatened her). She was aware that her previous tone in her writing may have led to more problems. She is atoning for her past mistakes already.

Really looking back the only real mistakes she made was with Marina and Eloise. These were exceptions to what she usually writes as she exposed their secrets, not gossip. That's an important distinction to make. One the show itself does not make, actually.

You can add what she wrote about Colin too as an exception, since she was being petty and angry, and she regrets it immediately

She confessed everything to Violet. Granted, we do not see the letter, but she did come clean to the head of the family (since Anthony already left, otherwise I bet she would have told him too)

The one thing I agree with is that we had no closure for the Marina situation, despite her being mentioned several times.

But overall, she was remorseful, and she tried to fix things. She reached out to Eloise several times before they reconcile, she changed her column, and she now wishes to use her column to give a voice to the voiceless, the same way Whistledown helped her find a voice.

And Colin, well, he's only ever wanted Penelope, even after the reveal. Because Penelope remains the only one who truly understood him and supported him for being himself. Meanwhile Penelope is trying to be better. That's the key word, she wants to do better, so no she does not "get away with everything" because there was never malicious intent from her in the first place, but for the damage she did do, she wants to make up for them. And yeah, she's a goddamn mess, but as he said, she is his mess.

However, Colin did deserve better, but in terms of writing and screen time especially in part 2. We were told, more than shown, about his struggles, which is a bit of a shame when compared to Penelope's (and yet people still misunderstand her character, so).

[darklinaforever]

It kills me how many people think that the gender of a fictional character doesn't matter.

We are in fiction, where the characters have arcs, or they embody themes. Obviously for some characters gender matters.

Michael is literally named the new heir and freaks out about becoming a new John /basically taking everything he had.

Michaela can't really have this arc... Unless we strangely learn that the laws in Scotland are extremely different from England located in the Bridgerton universe (and I speak for the universe of the series, where we have no idea if they will stick to reality where women in Scotland could inherit), and I doubt it for the moment.

So no, Michaela couldn't necessarily have the same arc as Michael.

I'm not even sure she could be a Merry Rake. Can a woman be called Rake in show Bridgerton universe ?

The fact is that Michaela will necessarily differ at certain times from Michael.

Already there are always drastic differences between the show and the book, this time I think it will be even more emphasized. (I even doubt that we will have as many nods to the book as season 3 dedicated to Polin's story did)

In any case, the very basis of Francesca's story is that despite the loss of true love you can always have a second chance, which is a clear originality compared to the other romances in this series of books ; well, is already changed with the way the end of season 3 happened.

It seems that the marriage to John was a mistake, that the physical aspect of their relationship will not prove pleasant in view of the Fran's reaction to their kiss, and worse, that Fran doesn't feel true love for John.

True love in Bridgerton often results in great passion and similarities to the story of Edmund and Violet, and Francesca literally matches Violet's reaction when she first met Edmund, but this time when she meets Michaela.

Whereas Fran is never supposed to have this kind of reaction around Michael / Michaela as long as John is alive. Because she normaly truly loves him.

So how could the story be the same after such a change to the very heart of the story ?

It's not just the gender change from Michael to Michaela that makes the adaptation of When he was Wicked complicated and uncertain for some viewers, including me too, it is above all a whole.

But for some obscure reason people refuse to accept it.

Beyond that, I repeat, Michael Stirling is a fictional male character who has been around for years.

That people are disappointed, including me, not to see this character, as he is basically on paper, be adapted to the screen is not necessarily homophobic, assumed or internalized.

Yes, some are, but not everyone. Some of us are part of the LGBTQ+ community and no, we do not all suffer from internalized homophobia so as not to 100% validate such a change !

We're talking about an attachment to an image that we have formed in our mind about a FICTITIOUS character for fucking years !

Besides, I didn't even say that I was fundamentally against it, because I have already explained several times that a part of me was happy to see a main romance between two women on screen in the television universe for Bridgerton (and the actresses are magnificent and on top of that, I'm sure, will have very good chemistry). Once again, representation is always cool, but, is this really the right place to do it ? I'm not so sure.

And contrary to what some say, I'm not saying that LGBTQ+ relationships should systematically be secondary in fiction. No way. I'm simply saying that transforming one of the main canon ships of the books without which the Netflix adaptation would not exist is perhaps not the right thing to do, since there is already a community attached behind these characters...

And seriously, if the creators really wanted a main LGBTQ+ romance dealing with the Bridgerton universe, they could easily make a spin off dealing specifically with this part of society and how they live.

I'm sure many, including me, will watch such a spin-off ! And damn I would love for something like that to happen !

You see, the opportunity to have an LGBTQ+ romance at the forefront without changing the kind of characters mostly beloved by an audience that already exists. Not very complicated though.

Do you realize how inappropriate it is to insult someone homophobic for that things ?! I don't know what kind of fucking bubble these people live in...

And it's scary to say that you can be insulted by a community of which you are a part, simply for not conforming to everything that is judged 100% morally correct for them.

If you have the misfortune of delay, sometimes there are those who unleash themselves on you to insult you for things that you don't have, simply for a fictional character...

"You don't 100% validate that a fictional male character who has existed for years and whom you have loved for years, with a fairly precise image in mind as a result, becomes a woman in his adaptation ? Well obviously, it's is that you are, at worst, a homophobe, or at least worse an internalized homophobe, and in any case that is not tolerable and you are not a true ally and you are problematic who deserves to be hated."

I don't know if you realize how STUNNING this is ! There really are people on this app who need to get fucking treatment...

And anyway why am I racking my brains ?

There will always be stupid people to come and tell me that what I say is always homophobic because if I have a problem with the change of gender of a fictional character through an adaptation well I'm the real problem.

As they say, you can't change idiots.

So stay stupid if you want, but at least leave me alone.

[footballfanficwriter]

Hi!!!! I love ur work!!!! So watching bridgerton has inspired me a lot!! So imagine Jude and reader in regency era!! Like them maybe meeting at a ball at first, then they slowly start to court each other, fall in love etc! u can add ur own twist and spice and work ur magic!!!!!

Love's Redemption

A/n: I wanted to release this the day after of Season 3 pt2 and It's quite long, longer than my others but I hope you enjoy, pls comment at the end

The grand ballroom of Hartfield Hall sparkled with opulence. Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the assembled guests, their jewels glittering in the soft light. Ladies in resplendent gowns of silk and satin whispered behind their fans, and gentlemen in finely tailored tailcoats stood in small clusters, discussing the latest gossip or political intrigue.

Among these elite, Jude Bellingham, a young and dashing duke, stood out with his broad shoulders and an air of confidence that turned heads wherever he went. Despite his high status, his demeanor was approachable, his smile disarming, and his dark eyes keenly observant.

On the opposite side of the ballroom, I stood with my family, feeling slightly out of place amidst the grandeur. My dress, though beautiful, was simpler than most, a testament to my family's modest means compared to the aristocracy surrounding us. However, I held myself with a quiet dignity that I hoped would draw admiration from those who took the time to observe.

As the evening progressed, the time came for the first dance, and the Master of Ceremonies called for partners.  The Duke of Ross's eyes scanned the room, finally settling on me. There was a spark of curiosity and recognition in his gaze but I quickly averted my eyes.

With a determined stride, The Duke made his way across the room, bowing slightly as he reached me t'was not until he was right in front that I noticed his presence as I was conversing with my Brother "May I have the honor of this dance?" he asked, his voice smooth and inviting.

I felt a flutter in my chest but managed a composed smile as I accepted his hand. "It would be my pleasure, Your Grace."

The two of us moved gracefully onto the dance floor, and as the music swelled, we began to waltz. The world seemed to fade away, and for those few minutes, it felt as though the duke and I were the only two people in the room. His touch was gentle, his movements confident, and I found myself drawn to him in a way I couldn't quite explain.

After the dance, he led me to the refreshment table, where we engaged in conversation. We spoke of our interests, our families, and our dreams, and he listened intently. The evening passed in a whirlwind of dances and conversations, and by the end of the night, I knew I wanted to see him again.

The next day I break my fast in the drawing room with a copy of Lady Wistledown

"Ladies and gentlemen of the ton it seems as though we have a new arrival in town the young Duke of Ross Jude Victor William Bellingham has come to take over  his estate and claim his inheritance, he  made his first appearance last night at Lady Danbury's first ball of the season, which was exquisite to say the least

The young Duke immediately caught the eyes of the Young ladies and their Mammas as they fought over his attention but it seemed he already had his eye on another, young Lady Y/n Berth, who was conversing with her brother at the time, did not seem to notice the Duke when he approached 

As he asked for a dance she gracefully accepted and they took to the dance floor staring intently into each other's eyes as if they had been longing to find one another  for a long time

The whole Ton had their eyes on them as they danced and  Waltz on the dance floor so elegantly

Could this be the couple of the season or is it far to early to tell, one things is definitely for certain, they make a beautiful couple"

I smile at the paper remember and thinking about the events of the previous night how he held me, how softly he spoke when adressing me, when he refused to let my hand go after I tried to pull away, his grip gently tightening on my hand, as a silent plead to not let go, how he was so polite and kind towards me, the way we spoke about many things that we related to and how easy it was for the both of us to converse about many things

"Good morning My Darling, are you well?"

"Oh mamma, I am far from well I am splendid" I say smiling

"Am I correct to assume that you feel this way because of a certain Handsome Duke"

"Well mother your assumptions are quite correct, I cannot get him out of my mind, he is all I think about"

"Be careful now dear, you have only just met the Duke, get to know the person he is first before making any confessions"

"Of course Mamma"

Over the following weeks, Jude made every effort to court me. He sent me flowers, invited me for walks in the gardens of his estate, and attended every social event where he knew I would be present. With each meeting, I found myself falling for him a little more, charmed by his sincerity and kindness.

One sunny afternoon, as we strolled through the blooming rose garden at Hartfield Hall, Jude paused and turned to me, taking my hands in his. "I know we have not known each other for long, but I feel as though I have known you forever," he said, his voice filled with earnest emotion and  got down on one knee. "You have captured my heart completely, and I cannot imagine my life without you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

I nodded, unable to find the words to express my happiness. "Yes, Jude. Yes, I will."

Lady whistledown

Dearest reader as it seems that as of this Afternoon the Duke of Ross has taken a bride, During the early hours of the Afternoon The Duke of Ross  proposed to Miss Y/n Berth and she has accepted, the two were having an afternoon stroll when the Duke suddenly  stopped walking and got down on one knee I would assume that he spoke a heart felt of words as it was a happy moment for the two, we congratulate the happy couple and wish them all the best

The wedding was a grand affair, attended by all of high society, hosted by Lady Danbury as she insisted that she wanted to be the one to host it, and who were we to decline such a gift, Jude and I were happy throughout the day and we could not take our eyes of each other amidst the splendor and celebration, the most important thing was the love between Jude and I.

The first few months of our marriage were blissful. We traveled, hosted dinners, and enjoyed the admiration of our peers. However, as time passed, whispers began to reach my ears. Gossip of Jude's past indiscretions and rumors of a former lover began to circulate.

One evening, at a particularly opulent ball, I noticed a strikingly beautiful woman across the room. Her eyes were fixed on Jude, and there was a familiarity in her gaze that sent a shiver down my spine. I approached Jude, intending to ask him about her, but before I could speak, she made her way over to us.

"Jude," she said, her voice dripping with confidence and a hint of malice. "It has been too long."

Jude's eyes grew bigger , and he took a step back. "Lady Laura" he said, his voice strained. "What are you doing here?"

Lady Laura smiled, a predator's smile. "I simply had to see the woman who captured your heart so completely."

I stood there, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach. "Jude, who is she?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Jude hesitated, his eyes filled with guilt. "She is... an old acquaintance," he said, but I could tell there was more to the story.

As the weeks went by, the tension between Jude and I grew. The whispers of scandal became louder, and I felt the weight of society's judgment. I confronted Jude one evening in the privacy of our home.

"Jude, you must tell me the truth about Lady Laura," I demanded, my voice trembling with frustration.

He sighed, rubbing his face with both his hands. "She was... she was my lover before I met you," he admitted. "I ended things with her when I realized I loved you, but she has not taken it well."

I felt a pang of betrayal. "Why did you not tell me?"

"I wanted to protect you from the scandal," he said, his eyes pleading. "I did not want our love to be tainted by my past mistakes."

Despite his words, the doubt lingered in my heart. The rumors continued to swirl, and Lady Laura's presence became a constant reminder of Jude's past. It was not long before a particularly vicious piece of gossip reached my ears: a letter, supposedly from Jude to Laura professing his undying love and regret over their separation.

I confronted Jude with the letter, my heart aching. Walking to our shared chambers and enter the room

"Jude is this tru-"

Rather then seeing my husband reading in bed like he usually is I find him on my vanity with Laura, shirtless and Laura half dressed in nothing but her under garments

They quickly jump and let go of eachother

"I should have listened to mother" I say and walk out and pack my things in a haste

"Darling, please listen"

"Leave me"

"Just listen"

"I cannot stand the sight of you right now"

I leave in the carriage and go to my mother's house

When I arrive I tell my mother everything that happened, Laura's arrival, the letter and what I saw them doing and her face hardens and she tells me that I can stay for as long as I wish

3 days later

I'm sitting in my room reading a copy of Lady whistledown

"I am here to see my wife" I hear just outside the window

It's him, I slightly peak my head just enough to see him

His hair is a mess, he's in nothing but an untied shirt that slightly shows his chest and trousers

"Apologies your grace but we have been given strict orders not to let you through" I hear one of the guards say

"By who?"

"Miss Y/n Berth"

"That is not her name, her name is y/n Bellingham the Duchess of Ross and she is my wife"

He fights his way past the guards and makes it through into the house

"Where is she"

"Where is my wife"

I slightly walk down the stairs just to see the encounter but making sure I am not seen

"What is the meaning of this" my mother asks as she approaches Jude

"I need to see her"

"She needs time" she replies firmly

"I have given her time, I have given her 3 days"

"Give her more then"

"Please I need to see her"

My mother pulls out a portrait of me from her pocket and shows it to Jude

"There you have seen her, now take your leave"

"I refuse to leave without seeing her, I want her to tell me as she looks at me that she does not wish to see me, then and only then will I take my leave" he says with tears in his eyes

"My goodness"mother says

I walk further down the stairs

"Tis alright mother I shall converse with him" I say

"Very well but I will still be in the room as a chaperone"

"She is my wife, I do not need a chaperone when I am with her"

mother is about to protest when I reasure her

"Mamma I will handle this"

She leaves the room and for a moment I feel sorry for Jude

"My love, oh how I have missed you"  he says walking towards me but I step back and that stops him from walking

As Jude's silent  plea echoed through the room, I stood there, my heart torn between love and betrayal. His disheveled appearance, the anguish in his eyes—it was almost enough to make me reconsider. But then I remembered the letter, the damning evidence of his infidelity, and my resolve hardened once more.

"What is it that you want?" I asked, my voice cold and distant, betraying none of the turmoil raging within me.

Jude took a step towards me, his expression pleading. "I want to explain, to make things right between the both of us," he said, his voice trembling with emotion.

I held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. "Explain what, Jude?" I demanded, my voice tinged with bitterness. "That you were caught with Laura in our chambers, half-dressed and shameless? That you wrote her a letter professing your undying love, while your own wife lay in bed, oblivious to your deceit?"

Jude's eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly as he searched for words. But before he could respond, I continued, my voice growing stronger with each passing moment.

"I trusted you, Jude," I said, my voice trembling with anger. "I believed in our love, in the promises we made to each other. But you betrayed that trust, in the most hurtful way possible."

Tears welled up in Jude's eyes, his hands reaching out to me, but I stepped back, out of his reach. "I cannot forgive you, Jude," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Not now, not ever."

As Jude's tear-filled eyes pleaded with me for understanding, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy. But sympathy could not erase the hurt, the betrayal that had cut me to the core.

"What of the both of us?" Jude whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "What of our life together?"

I met his gaze with a steely resolve, my heart hardening against the pain. "There is no 'both of us" anylonger" I replied, my voice cold and distant. "Not after what you have  done."

Jude's shoulders slumped, his heart breaking before my eyes. "But where will you go?" he asked, desperation creeping into his voice. "What will people say if they are to find that my wife is living with her mother?"

I sighed, knowing that there was no easy answer to his question. "I will return home in two days time," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "And when I arrive, you will not refer to me as your wife. The only time we will play the role of husband and wife is when we are in public. Behind closed doors, we are merely people who stay together, nothing more you shall not disturb my peace and I shall do the same, you are free to seek solace in anyone in the ton, you have already been unfaithful, you might as well continue the streak."

Jude's eyes widened in shock, his heart breaking all over again. "But what about children?" he asked, his voice trembling with uncertainty. "Who will bear the children, make the heir?"

I met his gaze head-on, my resolve unwavering. "Take a second wife" I said, my voice cold and distant. "Someone who is willing to bear your children, to fulfill the duties of a wife. I have no desire to bear your children, to be tied to you in such a way."

Jude's face fell, his dreams of a family shattered beyond repair. "But what about your dream?" he asked, his voice filled with desperation. "To be a mother, to care for our children, to love them wholeheartedly?"

I shook my head, a bitter smile playing on my lips. "That dream will never be fulfilled" I said, my voice hollow with grief. "I have come to terms with that fact."

Jude's eyes filled with tears, his heart breaking at my words. "But would you treat my children badly, with hatred?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

I met his gaze with a steely resolve. "No, Jude," I replied, my voice cold and distant. "I cannot punish innocent children for the decisions their parents made."

With that, Jude wiped his red eyes and turned away, his heart heavy with regret. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible as he made his way to the door.

The minute he closed the door behind him, leaving me alone with my shattered dreams and broken heart, my facade crumbled, and I collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down my cheeks as I mourned the loss of the life I had once known.

2 days later

Two days later, as I returned home, the air was thick with tension, the weight of our fractured relationship hanging heavy in the air. Jude awaited me in the grand foyer, his posture stiff and formal as he greeted me with a curt nod.

"Your Grace," he said, his voice cold and distant, the warmth that had once filled his words replaced by an icy reserve.

"Your Grace," I replied, my own voice tinged with bitterness as I returned his greeting with equal formality.

For a moment, we stood there, two strangers in the grand expanse of our once-happy home, the silence stretching between us like a chasm too vast to bridge. I could see the longing in Jude's eyes, the desire to reach out to me, to hold me close and make everything right again. But he held himself back, the weight of our past mistakes too heavy to bear.

With a sigh, I turned away, making my way up the grand staircase and down the hallway towards my chambers. But before I could disappear behind closed doors, Jude's voice cut through the silence like a knife.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.

I paused, turning to face him with a cold stare. "To my chambers," I replied, my voice laced with bitterness.

Jude frowned, confusion clouding his features. "But your chambers are this way," he said, gesturing towards the hallway that led to our shared bedroom.

I shook my head, a bitter smile playing on my lips. "No, Jude," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your chambers are that way. Mine are this way."

Jude's eyes widened in realization, the truth of my words hitting him like a blow to the chest. "You did not think I would go back there," I continued, my voice filled with venom, "after the events that took place in those chambers."

With that, I turned and walked away, leaving Jude standing there in the hallway, his heart heavy with regret. And though I knew that our relationship was beyond repair, a part of me couldn't help but wonder what might have been if things had been different. But as I disappeared behind closed doors, the weight of my decision settling over me like a shroud, I knew that there was no going back, no undoing the damage that had been done.

The following day I received an invitation from Lady Laura for tea, after receiving the invitation from Laura, I hesitated for a moment, feeling a knot of unease tighten in my stomach. The thought of facing her again, of enduring her taunts and jibes, filled me with dread. But curiosity, and perhaps a hint of defiance, won out in the end, and I found myself making the journey to her estate.

As the carriage got in front fo the grand mansion, my apprehension grew. The imposing gates swung open with a creak, and I stepped out of the carriage, steeling myself for what lay ahead. The servants greeted me with forced smiles as they ushered me inside, but their eyes betrayed a sense of apprehension, as though they knew what awaited me within those walls.

Laura was waiting for me in the drawing-room, a triumphant smile playing on her lips as she greeted me with false warmth. "Ah, Duchess, how lovely of you to join me," she purred, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do come in and make yourself comfortable."

I forced a polite smile, though every fiber of my being longed to turn and flee. "Thank you, Lady Laura," I replied, my tone carefully neutral as I took a seat opposite her.

As the servants brought in tea and refreshments, Laura wasted no time in getting to the point. "I'm sure you're wondering why I invited you here today," she began, her eyes glittering with malice.

I arched an eyebrow, though inwardly I braced myself for whatever barb she was about to unleash. "I must admit, the thought had crossed my mind," I replied coolly.

Laura's smile widened, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "You see, Duchess, I believe in honesty above all else," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "So I will not mince words. I invited you here today to gloat, to revel in the knowledge that I have won."

I felt a surge of anger rise within me, but I forced myself to remain composed. "Won what, exactly?" I asked, though I already had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Laura leaned forward, her eyes locked on mine with a chilling intensity. "I heard your footsteps approaching the chambers that day, Duchess," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "I had known you were coming, and I saw an opportunity to secure my place by Jude's side once and for all."

I felt my eyes grow bigger as her words sank in. "You... you threw yourself at him?" I whispered, unable to conceal the horror in my voice.

Laura's smile turned into a smirk, devoid of any remorse. "Oh, please, Duchess, spare me your shock and indignation," she said dismissively. "You may have had his heart once, but now it belongs to me. And there's nothing you can do to change that."

Her words were like a dagger to my heart, each one twisting deeper than the last. But amidst the pain and betrayal, a fire ignited within me—a determination to fight for the man I loved, no matter the cost. With a steely resolve, I met Laura's gaze head-on, refusing to let her see the depth of my pain.

"Is that so, Lady Laura?" I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside me. "Well, forgive me if I refuse to accept defeat so easily. Love is not a game to be won or lost—it is a bond that transcends time and circumstance. And mark my words, I will fight for Jude with every breath in my body, until the day I draw my last."

With that, I rose from my seat, every inch the proud Duchess, and made my exit, leaving Laura to stew in her own malice. Though the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and heartache, I knew one thing for certain: I would not rest until Jude was mine once again, body and soul.

As I raced home to find Jude, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling of uncertainty gnawing at my soul. Every step felt like an eternity as I hurried through the grand halls of our estate, my mind consumed with thoughts of what awaited me at the end of my journey.

"Where is my husband?" I demanded, my voice tinged with panic, as I interrogated servants and guards alike in search of any sign of Jude's whereabouts.

But no one had seen him, and my anxiety only grew with each passing moment. It wasn't until a guard reluctantly approached me, his expression grim, that I finally received the news I had been dreading.

"Your Grace," he began, his voice hesitant, "Lord Bellingham has left the estate. He... he said he would return in a week's time."

My heart sank like a stone, the weight of his absence crushing me with its finality. But amidst the despair, a flicker of determination burned within me—a resolve to find Jude and make things right, no matter the cost.

With a steadying breath, I turned on my heel and made my way to my chambers, my mind racing with thoughts of how to reach him, how to let him know that I forgave him, that I still loved him despite everything that had transpired between us.

As I sank into a chair, my hands trembling with emotion, I couldn't help but feel a sense of urgency coursing through my veins. I needed to find Jude, to make him understand that I was willing to start anew, to rebuild what we had lost.

But as the days stretched on without any sign of his return, the weight of his absence bore down on me like a heavy burden. And though I longed to reach out to him, to let him know that I forgave him, that I wanted to begin again, I knew that time was running out.

With a heavy heart, I penned a letter to Jude, pouring out my thoughts and feelings in words that I hoped would reach him wherever he was. I begged him to come back to me, to give our love a second chance, to believe in the power of redemption.

But as the days went , and still there was no sign of him, I couldn't help but wonder if our love was truly strong enough to withstand the trials that fate had thrown our way. And though a part of me clung to the hope that Jude would return to me, I couldn't shake the nagging fear that our love had been lost to the winds of time.

A week later, the anticipation of Jude's return had me on edge. I had rehearsed my words countless times, determined to convey my forgiveness and my willingness to start anew. When the door to the drawing room opened, and Jude walked in, my heart leaped with a mix of hope and trepidation.

"Jude!" I exclaimed, standing up quickly, a genuine smile spreading across my face. "I have something to tell you—"

But his demeanor was somber, his eyes avoiding mine. His lack of enthusiasm made my heart sink.

"Your Grace," he interrupted quietly, his voice laden with resignation, "I have something to tell you as well."

I paused, my smile faltering as I searched his face for any sign of the man I had fallen in love with, the man I hoped to rekindle a life with.

"I will be  taking Lady Laura as my second wife," he continued, each word like a dagger to my heart. "She will be the mother of my children."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis as his words sank in. I felt a cold wave of shock wash over me, my smile fading into an expression of disbelief.

At that moment, Laura entered the room, her smug smile widening as she took in the scene. The sight of her, with her triumphant air, made my blood boil, but I forced myself to remain composed.

"Oh, how lovely that will be for the both of you," I said, my voice strained but controlled. I managed a brittle smile, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing my pain.

With that, I returned to my seat and picked up my sketchbook, my fingers trembling slightly as I resumed my drawing. The lines I had been so carefully crafting now seemed meaningless, the vibrant colors now dull and lifeless.

As I focused on my work, I felt Jude's eyes on me, but I refused to meet his gaze. The silence between us was heavy, fraught with unspoken words and lingering regrets. Laura's presence only intensified the tension, her smug smile a constant reminder of the betrayal that had shattered my world.

Yet, despite the turmoil raging within me, I forced myself to maintain my composure. I would not let Laura see the depth of my pain, nor would I let Jude see the cracks in my facade. In this new reality, I had to find strength in my resolve, even if it meant burying my true feelings deep within.

The weight of the silence in the drawing room was oppressive, the air thick with unresolved tension and unspoken words. Just as I resumed my drawing, the quiet was broken by the arrival of a servant, holding a fresh edition of Lady Whistledown’s society papers. He handed it to me with a respectful bow before quickly retreating from the room.

Curiosity piqued, I unfolded the paper, my eyes scanning the familiar, elegantly penned words:

Lady whistledown

"Dearest Readers, it appears that the Duke of Ross has been seen entering his estate with Lady Laura, raising many an eyebrow among the ton. This unexpected development has left society abuzz with speculation. Is the once enviable union between the Duke and Duchess of Ross in jeopardy? Lady Laura’s presence at the Duke’s side has led to whispers of a potential shift in the household’s dynamics. What could this mean for the Duchess, a woman known for her grace and poise amidst adversity?

Rumors suggest that Lady Laura has been remarkably bold in her pursuits, capitalizing on the Duchess’s recent absence. Could it be that the Duke, faced with mounting pressures to secure his lineage, has found solace in Lady Laura’s calculated charms? Or is this simply a ploy to stir the pot

One thing is certain: this scandal will be the talk of every salon and drawing-room from here to Grosvenor Square. And, as always, I shall be here to document every delicious detail for your reading pleasure. Stay tuned, dear readers, for the drama is only just beginning."

The words stung, each sentence a bitter reminder of my current predicament. I glanced up to see Jude’s reaction, but his face was inscrutable, a mask of controlled emotion. Laura, however, seemed to relish the attention, her smile growing even more smug.

"Well, it appears Lady Whistledown has taken quite an interest in our affairs," Laura said, her tone dripping with mock concern. "It must be difficult, Duchess, to see your private matters aired so publicly."

I met her gaze evenly, refusing to be baited. "It is indeed unfortunate, Lady Laura. But I have always believed that one’s actions speak louder than any words written on a page."

Laura's eyes flashed with irritation, but she quickly composed herself, a saccharine smile plastered on her face. "Of course, Duchess. And I’m sure your actions will be watched very closely by everyone in the ton."

I forced a smile in return. "As will yours, Lady Laura."

With that, I turned back to my sketchbook, determined to ignore her presence. Yet, I couldn't help but notice Jude watching me, a mixture of regret and longing in his eyes. His gaze lingered, but I refused to acknowledge it, focusing instead on the lines and colors before me.

The minutes dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity. Finally, Laura stood, her voice cutting through the tension. "If you’ll excuse me, I believe I shall take a tour of the gardens."

She left the room, her exit as dramatic as her entrance. I remained seated, my heart heavy with the weight of our fractured relationship. The reality of our situation had never felt more painfully clear.

"Your Grace," Jude said quietly, breaking the silence. "I—"

"There's nothing more to say, Jude," I interrupted, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "You've made your decision, and I must live with it."

He looked as if he wanted to say more, but I turned my attention back to my drawing, signaling the end of our conversation. The silence returned, thicker and more oppressive than before.

As the afternoon light waned, casting long shadows across the room, I knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and heartache. But I also knew that I would face it with dignity and strength, determined to reclaim my happiness, even if it meant forging a new path alone.

As the days passed, Laura's presence in the house became increasingly unbearable. Her taunts and jabs seemed endless, each one more cutting than the last. One afternoon, as I sat in the drawing room, trying to lose myself in a book, Laura sauntered in, her smug smile firmly in place.

"Ah, Duchess," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Still lost in your books, I see. How quaint."

I didn't look up, determined not to let her get under my skin. "Yes, Lady Laura, I find solace in literature. Something you might consider."

She ignored my comment, seating herself on a nearby chaise lounge, her eyes never leaving me. "You know," she began, her tone casual, "I've been thinking a lot about the future. About the Bellingham legacy."

I stiffened but refused to give her the satisfaction of a response.

"It's quite exciting, really," she continued, undeterred. "Jude and I have talked at length about it. The children we will have, the heirs to the Ross estate. I can already picture myself with a little one in my arms, the next Duke or Duchess of Ross."

Her words were a knife to my heart, but I kept my expression neutral, my eyes fixed on the pages of my book. "How lovely for you," I said flatly, turning a page with deliberate slowness.

Laura's smile widened, sensing my discomfort. "Indeed. It’s a great honor to bear the next Bellingham heir. I imagine it must be difficult for you, knowing that your own dreams of motherhood will never come to fruition."

I clenched my jaw, my grip tightening on the book. "My dreams are none of your concern, Lady Laura."

"Oh, but they are," she said, her eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "You see, I will be fulfilling the role you failed to. Jude deserves an heir, and I am more than capable of giving him one. It’s only a matter of time before the entire ton knows of our joyous news."

She placed a hand on her stomach, as if already envisioning herself with child. "Can you imagine? The entire town celebrating the announcement of our firstborn. Such a wonderful occasion it will be."

I forced myself to remain calm, though my heart was pounding in my chest. "Congratulations, Lady Laura. I wish you all the best."

Laura's smile faltered for a moment, as if my lack of visible reaction had disappointed her. "You’re very gracious, Duchess. But I can’t help but wonder how you truly feel, knowing that another woman will bear your husband’s children."

I finally looked up, meeting her gaze with cold detachment. "I feel nothing, Lady Laura. Your provocations are wasted on me."

She laughed, a brittle sound that echoed through the room. "We shall see, Duchess. We shall see."

Unable to endure any more of her taunts, I rose from my seat and made my way to the door. "If you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to."

As I walked down the hallway, the weight of Laura’s words pressed heavily on my heart. I didn't notice Jude until I nearly collided with him, his strong arms catching me just in time to prevent a fall. The proximity was startling; I could feel his breath against my skin, his eyes searching mine with a mixture of concern and longing.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice soft and earnest.

For a moment, the world seemed to pause, and the anger and hurt between us faded into the background. It would have been so easy to close the distance, to let myself fall into his arms and forget everything else. But the reality of our situation came crashing back, and I stepped away, breaking the spell.

"I’m fine," I said, my voice colder than I intended. "Please excuse me, Your Grace."

He looked as if he wanted to say more, but I turned and walked away, leaving him standing in the hallway, a silent witness to our fractured relationship.

A few days later:

In the bustling halls of Ross House, tensions simmered beneath the surface as Lady Laura's shrill voice echoed down the corridor. I followed the sound, my curiosity piqued, only to find her berating one of the maids for a trivial mishap.

"You imbecile!" Laura screeched, her face contorted with rage as she loomed over the trembling maid. "How dare you break my favorite vase? Do you have any idea how much it cost?"

Before I could intervene, the dutiful maid stammered out an apology, her eyes brimming with tears. "I-I'm sorry, my lady. It was an accident, I swear!"

But Laura was relentless, her tirade growing more vicious by the second. "You're nothing but a clumsy oaf! If it were up to me, I'd have you thrown out on the streets where you belong!"

Unable to stand by any longer, I stepped forward, my voice calm but firm. "That's enough, Lady Laura. It was just a vase. There's no need for such cruelty."

Laura's eyes flashed with fury as she turned her venomous gaze on me. "And who are you to speak to me like that? You're nothing but a lowly duchess, barely fit to lick the dirt from my shoes!"

Her words stung, but I refused to back down. "I may be a duchess, but I will not stand idly by while you mistreat those beneath you. Everyone deserves to be treated with dignity and respect, regardless of their station."

Before Laura could launch into another tirade, Jude's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "What's going on here?" he demanded, his brow furrowed with concern as he entered the room.

The dutiful maid seized the opportunity to explain, her voice trembling as she recounted the events leading up to Laura's outburst. Jude listened intently, his expression darkening with each passing moment.

When the maid had finished, Jude turned to me, his eyes filled with a mixture of disbelief and disappointment. "Is this true, Y/N? Did Lady Laura really behave in such a manner?"

I nodded, my heart heavy with sadness. "Yes, Jude. I'm afraid so. She was shouting at the maid for accidentally breaking her vase, and when I tried to intervene, she insulted me."

Jude's jaw clenched with barely contained fury, and he turned to Laura, his voice cold and unyielding. "Lady Laura, this behavior is unacceptable. You owe the maid an apology, and you will show the duchess the respect she deserves."

But Laura's face twisted into a mask of defiance, her eyes blazing with rage. "I owe them nothing!" she spat, her voice filled with contempt. "They're both beneath me, just like everyone else in this wretched house!"

Jude's expression darkened at my words, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. "That's enough, Laura," he admonished, his voice firm and commanding. "You will not mistreat our servants, and you will certainly not speak to my wife in such a manner."

Lady Laura's eyes narrowed, her defiance evident as she retorted, "She is not your wife, I am. She is merely a woman who resides in our house."

Jude's jaw clenched at her words, his resolve unyielding. "She is not just a woman, Laura. She is my wife," he asserted firmly.

With a huff of indignation, Lady Laura stormed out of the room, leaving Jude and me in an awkward silence. The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over our exchange.

Before Jude could break the silence, I turned on my heel and left the room, the tension too thick to bear. As I made my escape, I could feel Jude's eyes on me, a silent plea lingering in the air.

But I couldn't face him, not now. Not when the wounds inflicted by Lady Laura's taunts were still raw and stinging. So I retreated to the solace of my chambers, seeking refuge from the storm that raged within me.

After the tense encounter with Lady Laura and the incident with the maid, an awkward silence settled between Jude and me. I found myself unable to look him in the eye, the weight of his betrayal heavy on my heart.

In the days that followed, I made a conscious effort to avoid him at all costs. I broke my fast outside in the tranquility of nature, seeking solace in the gentle rustle of leaves and the soothing chirp of birdsong. But when Jude approached, his footsteps echoing softly on the path, I couldn't bear to stay.

Certainly! Here's the extended scene with more excuses:

"I... I forgot something in the house," I stammered, hastily rising from my seat and fleeing before he could utter a word.

In the halls of Ross House, I found myself turning the other way whenever I caught sight of him, my steps quickening as I tried to put as much distance between us as possible. I knew he wanted to talk, to explain, but I couldn't bring myself to listen, not when the wounds were still so fresh.

At mealtimes, I either took my food outside, where the open sky provided a welcome distraction, or retreated to the solitude of my room. I couldn't bear the thought of sitting across from him, the weight of his betrayal hanging heavy in the air.

And when Jude dared to approach me in the library or the drawing room, I made excuse after excuse to escape his company.

"I just remembered an urgent letter I need to write," I would say, hastily gathering my belongings and making a hasty exit.

Or, "I left my favorite book upstairs. I must retrieve it at once."

Each excuse felt flimsier than the last, but I clung to them desperately, unwilling to confront the truth of our fractured relationship.

"I... I must check on the flowers in the garden," I would mumble, casting a quick glance towards the nearest window before hurrying away.

Or, "I think I left the kettle on in the kitchen. It wouldn't do to let it boil dry."

"I'm feeling quite fatigued. I believe I shall retire early tonight," I would murmur, pretending to yawn and covering my mouth with my hand.

Or, "Oh, look, I seem to have dropped my handkerchief. I must go back and retrieve it."

But no matter how hard I tried to avoid him, Jude was always there, a constant presence in my thoughts and my heart. And as much as I tried to push him away, a part of me still longed for the day when we could mend the rift between us and find our way back to each other once more.

The soft rustle of pages turning and the faint scent of aged parchment enveloped me as I lost myself in the world of my book. The Library provided a sanctuary of solitude, a refuge from the tumultuous emotions that swirled within me.

Lost in the narrative, I didn't hear Jude's quiet footsteps as he entered the room. It was only when he stood before me, his presence demanding attention, that I reluctantly tore my gaze away from the page.

"Y/N," Jude's voice cut through the silence, his tone firm yet tinged with a hint of desperation. "I require a moment of your time."

I blinked, taken aback by the sudden interruption. "Jude, I... I was just..."

But he didn't let me finish. With a determined stride, he reached out and gently closed the book in my hands, his eyes locking onto mine with unwavering intensity.

"Y/N, I implore you," he said, his voice softening slightly. "You've been avoiding me at every turn, and I cannot endure it any longer. We must converse."

I opened my mouth to protest, to make another feeble excuse and flee the room, but before I could utter a word, Jude's hand closed around my wrist, holding me in place.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and steady. "I shan't release you until you have heard my words."

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest as I reluctantly met his gaze. There was a raw vulnerability in his eyes, a silent plea for understanding that tugged at my heartstrings.

With a resigned sigh, I allowed myself to be led to a nearby chair, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts and emotions. But as Jude began to speak, his words filled with sincerity and remorse, I found myself slowly letting down my guard.

He sat in front of me and taking my hands in his. His touch was warm and firm, yet trembling with emotion. "I simply cannot stand Laura, nor the distance that has grown between us. It's tearing me apart," he began, his voice filled with raw honesty.

I met his gaze, my heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. "Jude..."

"Every morning, I wake up hoping to see your face, to see your smile." he continued, his voice trembling. "But all I find is an empty space beside me, a reminder of what I have lost. I miss you, Y/N, more than words can express. I miss the way you know exactly what I need, sometimes even before I do. The way you would bring me a cup of tea just the way I like it when I'm buried in work, or the way you'd remind me to take a break when I'm pushing myself too hard and you taking over my work even though you had your own duties that needed to be taken care of

I listened to his heartfelt confession. His words cut through the wall I had built around my heart, each one resonating deeply within me.

"Do you know how much I hope every day that you will change your mind, that you will forgive me and come back to me?" Jude's voice broke, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. "I sometimes stare at you when you're not looking, hoping that one day you'll see the love in my eyes and decide to give us another chance."

He paused, his eyes searching mine for any sign of forgiveness. "I want you to be the mother of my children, Y/N. Not Laura. I want our children to grow up in a home filled with love and warmth, not the coldness and spite that Laura brings. She is not the kind of person I want raising my children. I want you. I needed you and I grew desperate to get you back on my side, Laura was simply a ploy of attempt to have you be my wife again,I had thought if you saw what Laura was taking from you, you would wake up and fight for our love."

His grip on my hands tightened, his eyes filled with tears. "Y/N, you are the light of my life, the reason I wake up every morning. Without you, I am nothing. I am lost. I know I have made mistakes, that I have hurt you in ways I can never take back, but I swear to you, with every fiber of my being, that I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, proving to you how much you mean to me. Please, Y/N, give me another chance. I cannot bear the thought of losing you forever."

His words hung in the air, filled with a raw, desperate sincerity that took my breath away. For a moment, there was only the sound of our breathing, the tension between us crackling like electricity.

Gathering my courage, I looked up and met his eyes. "Jude, I found out something... something that changes everything. Laura threw herself on you because she heard my footsteps approaching that day in our chambers making it the perfect set up to make it look like the both of you were in a compromising position."

His eyes widened in shock and anger. "What? She... she planned it?"

I nodded, my voice trembling. "Yes. She had told me when she invited me for tea the day I arrived. She practically gloated about it."

Jude's hands clenched into fists,  "I was oblivious to her game," he said through gritted teeth. "I thought I was doing what was right, protecting our honor... but all the while, she was manipulating me, us."

I reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "Jude, I wanted to tell you the day I had come to realise, to let you know I forgave you and that I wanted to fix our relationship. But you had been gone for a week, and when you returned, you brought Laura, presenting her as your second wife. I thought you had fallen for her."

He shook his head vehemently, tears forming in his eyes. "No, Y/N. I have  never loved her. It was always you. I was blind and foolish, but my heart has only ever belonged to you and will always belong to you."

the weight of our misunderstandings and lost time pressing heavily upon me. "Jude, you must understand how much it hurt, seeing you with her, thinking you had chosen her over me."

Jude's expression softened, his voice breaking with emotion. "I am so sorry, my love. I know I can't undo the past, but I swear I will make it right. Laura will be gone, and I will spend every day proving my love to you."

The atmosphere in Ross House was tense as Jude and I waited in the drawing room for Laura's arrival. The soft glow of candlelight cast eerie shadows on the walls, adding to the solemnity of the moment. I stood by Jude's side, my hands clasped tightly together, feeling a mixture of apprehension and determination.

When Laura entered the room, her expression was one of smug confidence, as if she believed she held all the cards. But the steely resolve in Jude's eyes made it clear that he was not to be trifled with.

"Jude, darling, what is this about?" Laura asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

Jude's jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin. "Laura, we need to talk," he said, his voice firm and authoritative.

Laura's facade of innocence faltered for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "Of course, darling. What is it?" she asked, her eyes darting between Jude and me.

Jude took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving Laura's. "I know the truth about what happened that day in the chambers," he began, his voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath the surface. "I know you threw yourself at me because you heard Y/N's footsteps approaching."

Laura's eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly masked it with a scoff. "Oh, Jude, whatever are you talking about? I would never—"

Jude cut her off, his patience wearing thin. "Enough, Laura. I know what you did, and I will not tolerate it any longer. You have caused nothing but pain and suffering in this house, and I will not allow it to continue."

Laura's mask of indifference cracked, her eyes narrowing with anger. "You can't just throw me out. I am your wife."

Jude's expression hardened, his resolve unwavering. "No, Laura, you are not my wife. You never were, and you never will be.You are nothing but a liar and a manipulator. I want you out of this house. Now."

Laura's face contorted with rage, but before she could protest further, Jude spoke again, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

"You have caused nothing but pain and suffering to my one and true wife, the woman who will bear my children," he declared, his words laced with a raw intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

Laura's eyes widened in shock at the harshness of his words, but Jude was not finished.

"Every moment you've spent in this house has been a torment for her, a relentless onslaught of manipulation and deceit. You have tried to tear us apart, to poison the love we share, but you will not succeed. Not anymore."

As Laura stood before us, her arrogance slowly giving way to defiance, Jude's patience wore thin. He stood tall, his eyes ablaze with a fierce determination to rid our home of her toxic presence once and for all.

Jude's voice was like steel, cutting through the tense silence of the room. "You have caused enough damage. It's time for you to leave."

Laura's expression hardened, her eyes narrowing as she squared her shoulders in defiance. "And if I refuse?" she retorted, her tone dripping with contempt.

Jude's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "You have no choice," he growled, his voice low and menacing.

For a moment, Laura hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. But then, with a defiant sneer, she straightened her spine and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not going anywhere," she spat, her voice laced with venom.

The air in the room grew thick with tension as Jude's anger simmered just beneath the surface. I could see the muscles in his jaw twitching with restraint, his eyes darkening with a dangerous intensity.

"Leave, Laura," Jude's voice was a low rumble, barely contained rage simmering beneath the surface. "Before I make you leave."

But Laura remained unmoved, her gaze defiant as she stood her ground. "You wouldn't dare, leave m for such a thing,?" she taunted, a cruel smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

Jude's temper flared, his control slipping away like sand through his fingers. In that moment, his anger was palpable, a living, breathing force that seemed to fill the room with its sheer intensity. Even I, standing by his side, felt a chill run down my spine at the raw power emanating from him.

"You have no right to speak to her like that," Jude's voice was a thunderous roar, echoing through the room like a gunshot. "She is my wife, and you will show her the respect she deserves."

Laura's smirk faltered, her confidence wavering in the face of Jude's unrelenting fury. But before she could respond, Jude continued, his words dripping with contempt.

"You are nothing but a manipulative, conniving woman who has brought nothing but pain and suffering to both of us, especially to my wife," he spat, his voice filled with venom. "You treated her as if she was nothing, as if her feelings didn't matter. You used her, Laura, and I will not stand for it any longer."

The room seemed to tremble with the force of Jude's rage, the air thick with the weight of his words. For a moment, Laura looked as though she might argue, but then, with a defeated sigh, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

As the door slammed shut behind her, Jude's shoulders heaved with the effort to control his temper, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. I reached out to him, my hand trembling as I gently touched his arm.

"Jude," I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper. "Are you okay?"

As the echoes of Laura's departure faded into the distance, leaving behind an eerie silence, Jude stood in the center of the room, his chest heaving with the remnants of his anger. I approached him cautiously, reaching out to place a gentle hand on his arm, a silent gesture of support.

"Jude," I murmured softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Are you alright?"

His shoulders tensed at my touch, but slowly, almost imperceptibly, he began to relax. He turned to me, his eyes still burning with the fire of his fury, but there was a hint of something else there too - a vulnerability, a rawness that made my heart ache.

"I'm fine, Y/N," he replied, his voice tight with emotion. "But she had no right to speak to you like that. No right at all."

I nodded, my heart swelling with gratitude for his unwavering protectiveness. "I know, Jude. But she's gone now. We do not have to worry about her anymore."

Jude's expression softened slightly at my words, and he reached out to gently cup my face in his hands. "I'm sorry my love" he murmured, his voice filled with regret. "I did not mean to scare you."

I placed my hand over his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "tis alright, Jude," I whispered, my voice filled with tenderness. "I know you were only just attempting to defend me. And I appreciate it more than you know."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Jude's lips, and he pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly against his chest. "I love you, Y/N," he murmured, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

I nestled into his embrace, feeling the tension slowly melting away as the warmth of his love surrounded me. In that moment, as we stood there, united in our victory over Laura's tyranny, I knew that together, we could face whatever challenges lay ahead. And as Jude pressed a tender kiss to my forehead, I felt a sense of peace and safety wash over me, knowing that he would always be there to protect me, no matter what.

Months passed, and as the seasons changed, so too did our lives. The echoes of Laura's departure faded into distant memory, replaced by the joyful anticipation of a new life entering the world.

In the quiet stillness of our home, Jude and I eagerly awaited the arrival of our little one. The nursery had been lovingly prepared, filled with soft blankets and tiny clothes, each piece a testament to the love that had blossomed between us.

And then, one crisp autumn morning, our prayers were answered as our baby made their grand entrance into the world. The sound of their first cry filled the room, a symphony of new life and boundless joy.

Jude's eyes brimmed with tears as he cradled our precious bundle in his arms, his heart overflowing with love and wonder. I watched him, my own eyes misting over with emotion, as he pressed a tender kiss to our baby's forehead, his voice trembling with awe.

"Welcome to the world, little one," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. "You are the most precious gift we could ever ask for."

And as I nestled into Jude's embrace, our baby nestled snugly between us, I knew that our journey was only just beginning. Together, we would navigate the ups and downs of parenthood, cherishing each moment as if it were our last.

In that moment, as the soft glow of dawn bathed our little family in its warm embrace, I felt a sense of peace wash over me, knowing that no matter what trials lay ahead, we would face them together, bound by a love that was stronger than any storm.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Fragments Pt. 3/3

Homelander / GN! Reader

Summary: Before he'd be able to meet you again, Homelander has a realization.

Warnings: None.

A/N: Let's be fr he would not fucking say that, but let's pretend he's self-aware. Not proofread and pretty messy.

“I care not for his sanity. I care for his happiness. I care for his soul. Let him be mad if mad is what he needs.” - Queen Charlotte (Bridgerton)

Homelander fit seamlessly into his old life - or rather role.

There wasn't any time to process what had happened, since a throughoutly investigation was quickly followed by bland boring routine again.

Vought almost immediately released a statement concerning Homelanders abscence, something about a secret mission that required him to be undercover. They're even planning to make a movie about this fake bullshit already, unbelievable.

The physical examination that followed was the worst part, at least if you asked him. He loathed hospitals for obvious reasons, their bright white enterior reminding him just a tad bit too much of the Bad Room. Yet in the end they were unable to find any residue of the drug, poison or whatever depowered him in his system.

And while yes, the threat of an unknown enemy having the basis to one day potentially render all supes human again sure was concerning - but the fact that the short time Homelander spent without his powers was the happiest he's ever been left a bitter aftertaste.

You on the other hand had been released after a brief interrogation and background-check. Even now they still worried you might leak top-secret information to the public, but they feared Homelander's fury even more - and he made it absolutely clear that anyone daring to lay just a finger on you would meet a terrifying end.

Both of you had never spoken a word about what else happened between you back in the arctic, but that was none of their business either way.

After all, you were no one.

Your whole existence was insignificant compared to his greatness, there's no way you could ever become a threat to him. Simply live your measly little life and stay out of his one...

...easier said than done when you've practically ingrained yourself into his heart, still consuming his every waking moment.

For the people at Vought somehow a quiet Homelander was even more unsettling than his usual, duplicitous benignity.

They are used to randomly fall victim to his whims, constantly being on edge around him. Basically anything could happen at any time, to anyone and without even so much as a warning.

But as of late...

"Homelander?" Maeve was the only one bold enough to wave in front of his face, making him break the reminiscing. "You there?"

"Hmm?" The man looked around, seeing all eyes on him - business as usual. Ashley was standing in front of the Seven, yet whatever she was babbling about went on deaf ears with her superior.

It was like this ever since his return, this nagging feeling as if he was only physically present. He heard people talk and go about their day but everything was so far away...most of the time he just dozed off into the distance, eyes staring right through until he lost focus of his surroundings.

One corner of his mouth begins to twitch, feeling even more irritated by those oppressing trifles than ever before. He takes a moment to collect himself, hands folded neatly on the table. "Do what you want, I couldn't care less" was his firm answer, even though he didn't know the question - or if he was even asked one. "Excuse me."

"The fuck is his deal lately?" A-Train dared adressing the elephant in the room, albeit still being in super-hearing range, pointing over his shoulder to the door their leader had just rushed out of.

The Deep shrugged, tension leaving his shoulders now that Homelander's overwhelming presence was gone. "Beats me. Let's just hope it stays this way for a while."

He would make a quick getaway, his firm, aggravated steps audible before the man itself came into one's field of view. Anyone who had the misfortune to run into him in this state lowered their heads in hope they wouldn't meet an untimely end just for him to let off some steam.

There's a stench of fear lingering in the air, in every corner of this damn building.

"Vermin" he clenched his jaw as he turned around the corner, slamming the door to his penthouse with so much force that the frame breaks. "Every single one of them."

Ordinary humans were so pathetic-fucking weak, and yet they dictated simply everything. It shouldn't be this way! They should worship the ground he walked - or floated - on, build monuments in his name, but instead what?!

The masses idolized him of course, but that fact came at the extend of his own dignity. He had to perform in order to put on this perfect disguise, always smile and say his lines like a damn puppet...with Vought pulling all of the strings.

Was that really the only thing he was good for? So many abilities, all this potential and yet there he was, doing nothing substantial.

Right now he had everything: The greatest power in the world, wealth he could never fully spent even if he tried and influence beyond one's imagination - and yet he felt as empty as never before.

What a fucking joke.

Employees at Vought knew about his true wicked nature, so he had to rely on fear to control them. It was all he ever knew and felt comfortable with, after all...

...until you came along and willingly chose him. You had peeked into a part of himself he swore to never let anyone too close to - and embraced it. Saw him at his lowest, hell, even got hurt in the process and chose to stay at his side nevertheless.

Even though you missed the whole picture among fragments of himself, he was sure you'd be the only one worthy to know his story.

What he had with you may have been make-believe, but still way realer than anything about his corrupted existence.

Was his heart really nothing but a bottomless pit that could never stop aching?

Homelander's suit had always been like a metaphorical armor - functioning against inconsensual touches of fans as well as sort of a disguise, so people would always only see the hero and never the broken shell of a man beneath it.

But now it felt as if the fabric was burning into his skin, eating away what's left of him. Feeling as if suffocating, he curses beneath heavy breaths as he tossed it away.

It wasn't even the same suit you had repaired for him back then - and right now he painfully regretted having Ashley get rid of it.

There was still the oversized shirt he had worn when he left you, though your scent was only faintly lingering now, even to his keen nose. Well hidden under his pillow to lull him to sleep, he now puts it on as he feverishly tried to imagine the sensation of your warm embrace encoating him like a safety west.

That night, he was woken by an eerie realistic dream. No nightmare for a change, no - and yet it was leaving him just as exasperated.

A memory, about that one time you had convinced him to travel to that small village near your ecological research station. Apparently a bunch of savages were holding a festival to celebrate the returning of daylight, and opposite to his expectations it was actually quite enjoyable - mostly thanks to your presence, of course.

He could still hear echoes of your laughter spinning in his head, goosebumps rising where you had touched him as you danced in the cold streets. Snowflakes were entangled in your hair, making it shimmer ever so slightly as you took his hands, trying to steady yourself on the ice. Your breath was visible as white mist, holding onto him for dear life.

Just when he had mustered up the courage to bend down to your height, maybe steal a kiss or two, even if it was only at the crown of your head, both of you lost balance and fell right on your asses.

Homelander heard his own boisterous laughter mixing with yours, remembered how absolutely flabbergasted he was when you suddenly tackle hugged and started kissing him senseless.

"Shit. Shit!"

"Yeah, sure is." Oh for fuck's sake, not this again. But the voices kept returning, it's not like he had a say in the matter of his own mental illness. He never really has a say in anything, not even regarding his own life. "What are you so upset about?"

Well, it's not like he'd be able to fall back asleep anytime soon either way, so he followed the sound of his own voice back to the great mirror across the room.

"You're new" he states the obvious, seeing a reflection that doesn't resemble his current state at all. The man in the mirror was unkempt, with a scruffy beard and greyed strands standing out from his blonde scalp...

...and yet he seemed as happy as Homelander could only hope to one day comprehend. "Did we really look this shitty back in the Arctic?"

"Well, there's not exactly a stylist in the middle of nowhere" his counterpart shrugged, smugly adding "And Y/N liked it."

Homelander exaggeratedly rolled with his eyes, but the verbal jab had hit his weak spot. "You're just a farce, a cheap excuse of me, the real deal!"

"Nope" his amnesic alter ego scoffed at the insult, his smile never faltering. "I'm everything you always wished to be! What you could still become" he adds, his remark yet another fatal blow to Homelander's fragile ego. "You've got all the means to find her, so what's holding you back?"

"Because this is beneath me!" he roars so loudly, it's good that his apartment is big enough that no one could eavesdrop. "Why the fuck would I miss playing house with some nobody?"

However John is not accepting this bullshit for an answer, waving a scolding index finger. "Nah-ah, the real reason. Say. It."

With more force than necessary, Homelander scatters the mirror - would be too easy if that'd make them shut up, though.

"You know we don't just disappear." Several copies of himself are now talking, a medley of misery from each shard, reopening gaping wounds that never had the chance to heal.

"You think Y/N was just nice out of basic human decency. You think the kiss and everything else only happened because of the isolation before you came to that doorstep."

"You're afraid you won't live up to the John Y/N met. The ideal version of yourself that doesn't exist."

"That Y/N will find out what a freak you really are and runs away scared and disgusted, just like they all do eventually."

"You'll get bored of this at some point. Why bother?"

"Y/N will break under the pressure of this burden. It'd be selfish to do this. You can't expect this from anybody."

"Maybe you're even afraid of her coming in harms way because you know exactly what you're capable of."

"You already managed to destroy her life even without being your true self, just imagine what could happen. Stay away, at least for Y/N's sake."

"This whole farce just weakened you, and will continue to do so. We should just get rid of-"

"Shut. Up!" Homelander warns the last one, menacingly calm. "Don't you dare implying I could ever hurt Y/N. I-I'd rather fly myself into the fucking sun!"

"Oh boo-hoo. Someone gives you breadcrumbs of affection and you wag your tail like a dog in heat" the more depraved materialization of himself mocks, "Fucking pathetic, as always. Did you forget that people only exist for our fickle amusement?!"

"Don't listen to them, John." The only shard still attached to the wall was what he'd like to believe is his good aspects. "Listen to me: This is the one and only chance to get what you've always craved for - a real, loving home. Try it, at least. Remember Y/N's words - you deserve happiness."

There was no use in trying to catch up with sleeping. In fact it took all of his patience to wait the few hours until sunrise to wait for this confrontation...

...not with you, however.

Of course Madelyn would come to work this early. Typical. But Homelander was already expecting her - not waiting in front of her door to avoid seeming desperate, but a safe distance away, his glare seeping through the walls.

As soon as she appeared at the tower, he let himself into her office like so many times before. She was pouring herself a cup of coffee, and at the sight of him adds some liquor to it. Hard to believe she was bothered because of something important. "This early? Seriously?"

"You know what's funny?" he didn't really acknowledge her question as he jumped onto the sofa, picking up a decorative snow globe to fidget with. "I thought the enemy had somehow deactivated my transponder...but a quick visit at the tech department later, I found out it worked just fine. This whole time."

Madelyn quirked a brow at the hero, tentatively leaning forwards over her desk. Showing some cleavage usually never failed to soothe his nerves, but not today. "If you want to imply that we're the ones behind all this, I can assure you tha-"

"No" he raised a warning hand, softly shaking the snow globe before putting it down again. "Nonono, I'm sure if you had the means to threaten me, you would've long since done it by now."

Homelander then leapt to his feet, strolling through the room filled with countless photographs of himself - but right now, it was like looking at a person he doesn't recognize anymore.

"Here's another interesting thing I found out: Not even a full week after my disappearance, you made the pathetic attempt to replace me with Black Noir. It wasn't until the public and your sponsors demanded answers to my whereabouts that you gave in and started actively searching for me. Isn't that correct?"

Checkpoint.

"Hey, I've been gone so long, I need to make up for all our missed conversations, don't I?" he huffed bitterly, viewing a snapshot of him and her without being able to feel anything but nauseous. "I've lived among...inferior people for the first time in my life. No fans, no people of Vought, just...Y/N and I. Living the life I only ever knew from textbooks or scripts. And it made me have a realization, wanna hear?"

The vice president closed her eyes in negative anticipation, taking in a deep breath but not being able to bring out a single word before being interjected again. Homelander knew her ways of manipulation and the effect he could have on her if he let her talk too much.

This time it was his turn, and he'd be heard.

The woman in front of of him crosses her arms in defense, giving an approving hum as she knew denying him was never an option.

"Let me tell you my theory first, you're gonna love this: So a boy of sixteen years is finally released from the laboratory he was raised in. Despite all the horrible things he had to endure there, he wanted to use his powers for good, so no one has to suffer like he did. He knows nothing about the real world, let alone care about profit or any of that bullshit. And then he meets this aspiring woman who sees her chance to be influental through him. Can you follow me until now?"

She nods and nothing more, her expression unreadable. "Good, very good. So the boy is now kept around the most rotten, selfish and greedy people on the planet. He was never inheritly evil, he simply adapted to his environment, as clueless as he was thinking this is how the world operates. And at the time any of you realized you had created a monster it was too late. You regretted it - but not out of moral concerns, no. Simply because you knew you couldn't possibly control him forever."

The silence was so loud that it was deafening, automatically answering everything.

"Even if that person was your most valuable asset, your figurehead, you'd be damned if you didn't use the lucky coincidence of him disappearing, no questions asked. Right? Right?!"

Madelyn Stillwell was a lot, but not a liar - at least not in the easy definition. She knew how to twist words, to withheld information just enough to get through with whatever she wanted. But she'd never lie so openly, so blatantly. Especially if it served no purpose, like right now that there was no use anyway. "We'd be damned if we didn't."

"So then why do you keep acting like any of this is right?" He looks deep into her, quite literally for his abilities wouldn't tolerate deceit. "Look, we've located you and the dot was moving. We knew you were alive. I do care about you, Jo-"

"Don't call me by that name. You don't deserve it." His jaw tightens into an almost-snarl, slapping Stillwell's hand away at her disgusting attempt to distract him through seduction. "Don't you dare touching me, and don't fucking lie to me again! Ive been lied to all my life...I'm so, so sick of this shit!"

Homelander's eyes turned from cold coal into glistening embers, threatening to destroy everything in their path shall the answer not be to his satisfaction. "Say. It!" he orders, his hands slamming on the table punctuating every word.

"Goddamnit, I'm afraid of you!"

"...what?" His voice was barely audible, laced with a hurt that surprised him - since deep down he knew the truth for a long time already.

"I'm afraid of you" she repeats, voice shaky at first but then practically yelling as if she knew it could be her last words. "I am fucking afraid of you, John! We all are! Everyone was relieved when you were finally gone, because no money is worth being subjected to you!"

"You- Vought...destroyed me for fucking nothing" he practically whines, his face running through various expressions at once as the last remains of his sanity crumbled. "I was robbed of any chance at normalcry and then tossed away like a broken weapon, and you seriously expected me to not return for a vengeance?!"

Countless possibilities rushed through his brain, one atrocious act more vile than the other - about how he could make the responsible pay the price for their wrongdoings, with Madelyn being the first one...

...but all his fury vanished when for the fraction of a second, his mind wandered back to you, who was still out there somewhere.

Maybe it was not too late for him after all.

All his life Homelander was comfortable trapping himself in a cage that was never locked, fearing whatever awaited outside could be even worse - but you, without even trying, had given him the hope to set himself free.

"Thanks for finally being honest with me." John shakes his head as if to cast all his violent impulses off, musing "I allowed you to use me because I never knew anything else...but that stops right now."

He breaks one of the windows with ease, grossed out by past memories when she dares taking ahold of his wrist. "Wha- where do you think you're going?" She looks sickishly pale, dreading that this would be the day he would go on a murderous rampage all those decades of madness had inevitably caused.

"I'm the Homelander, and I can do whatever the fuck I want." He rose into the air, not biding her another last look. "If anyone of Vought even tries to come near me again, I swear to god I'll end every single one of you."

___

Being in the US for the first time since your childhood made you realize: Damn, you didn't miss this shit a bit. Nostalgia is a real phenomenom, as it seems.

And even in this small town your...is it right to call him 'ex'? Anyways, his face is plastered on every square centimeter you'd fix your eyes on. Posters, screens, even goddamn groceries!

Hard to heal from something you couldn't even label, especially when basically everything reminds you of the love your heart still holds for John - or rather an illusion of a man that never actually existed.

You currently sat in front of your laptop, several tabs opened that made you feel pathetically nosy - but hey, there was hope that harvesting information about the real Homelander would help you overcome those silly, irrational emotions.

Then it should be good for you that everything you found out about him was freaking disappointing.

Vought...you were sure you had heard that name before. Typical monopolist corporate with a finger in every pie, unethical practices and too much influence on politics. It was as obvious as it was enraging, and yet no one cared enough to act against them - not that you were any better. To their defense, supes can be pretty scary so you get the sentiment of not wanting any beef with their bosses...especially after seeing John go apeshit in the past.

But as they all did, Vought still cared about their public image, and so they did a lot of charity to appear ethical. Not that it actually helped to cover any of their crimes up - this was more like an unofficial etiquette, a rule to behave like they're actually the good guys.

A few years ago you had applied for sponsoring your cause, and of course they denied the request. Vought couldn't give two shits about the environment, and if you didn't know any better they'd even go so far as destroying it themselves if the cause - profit, in this case - justifies the means.

Interesting enough, shortly after your return to society an official letter of the company magically appeared at your new address: A pledge of secrecy in return for money, summed up.

No thank you, metaphorically selling your soul to the devil wasn't your kind of thing.

A walking incarnate product, you thought as you closed the interview. No civil life, always performing. And that fabricated all-american backstory...ugh.

And about Homelander...

All videos you sporadically saw of him were kind of unsettling. His eyes were just as empty as his words, movements robotic and fake as if he had only learned to mimick normal behavior. Seeing him like this made you wonder if he even had a soul, or if Vought had sucked all humanity out of him decades ago.

How comes no one seems to notice...or do people simply don't want to acknowledge the truth about their heroes and the ones that lead them?

You sound like a dang conspiracy-theorist for someone that just got dumped by a supe in the most humiliating way possible. It's possibly just a coping mechanism to cover up the hurt caused by the indeniable truth: Someone like you was inadequate to the infamous Homelander in every single way.

The display of your old laptop almost snapped as you closed it in sadness and frustration, turning your attention to building that stubborn IKEA shelf again.

Wanting to regain an objective view on the situation at hand, you remind yourself that the two of you led fundamentally different lives that could never work out together. You hate modern civilization, you hate being the center of attention, you hate events and big cities...

...but you don't hate him. And maybe with him, for him, you could have endured.

Funny, isn't it? You've been alone ever since the death of your parents, keeping to yourself even while pursuing your education. Never able to form any close bonds, even if you tried. Ironically, you were exactly as lonely as him - not made to be among others just the same.

"Still a horrible taste for furniture, I see."

That familiar voice made your blood run cold, collecting yourself impossible as the blue-reddish silhouette belonging to it came into your field of view just seconds after.

All questions and accusations died on your tongue when you reminded yourself just who was standing in your living room right now. Homelander could find you no matter where, and literally tear away the roof of your house without anyone ever daring to object.

"You look great" he cannot help but notice, but you grimace as you see your own reflection in the window: grey sweatpants, a messy bun and an old T-shirt of his. Sure.

"Well, in case you forgot: I'm still in tremendous debt, so I'm not exactly drowning in luxury" you scoff, face fixated on the clash of wood and screws. John narrows his eyes in confusion, stating "Vought was supposed to recompensate you."

"Financially? Well, not without a catch." For a moment he thinks loudly, talking about 'ripping Ashley's head off', which made you finally turn to look at him. "Metaphorically" he added, raising his hands in a placating manner.

"Oh, yeah...Ashley." The name only forcedly escaped your throat, which did not go unnoticed by Homelander. "Your girlfriend and I had a long talk back then. She explained your outburst was caused by PTSD. So no worries."

"My wha-" John made a dramatical gagging sound, crinkling his nose at you. His fists were on his hips, expression grim ike always when he was about to rant about something, making your lips twitch as you resisted smiling at the adorable sight. "Gosh, no. Ew. She's everything but that."

You had almost forgotten how cute he could be when one pushed his buttons - good to know it's still this way. "So, what brings you here all of a sudden?"

"Well, I-" He opened and closed his mouth several times in an attempt to come up with something, anything, but it sure took him a while. "Y-You didn't publish anything."

"I searched for your article. You've been talking about it nonstop back then." He dared stepping closer, making himself as small as humanly possible. "Actually I hoped to be mentioned and showered in praise as your assistant."

"Huh?" You narrow your eyes at him, and his tension is barely veiled. Great, just great Mr. Charming.

Okay, that one made you laugh. You had almost forgotten how refreshing those little exchanges were. "Well well well...I had to start from scratch after a certain someone wrecked my laboratory." He nervously rubs the back of his head, unintelligibly chuckling "Right...sorry about that."

"It's alright" you dismiss the guilt in his voice with a cheerful remark, "I'm teaching at a university temporarily, until I got enough money for another try." He knew. All this time he never lost track of you, craving to walk this path together with you but too cowardly to ask for your permission to join. "Seriously, Homel-"

"John" he corrects you, showing no ill intend. "Please, just call me John." Oh, how he missed the way his name sounded in your voice: Neither shallow, nor demanding or afraid - just John, no strings attached.

"Oh. Oh. Okay, John. But..." you intertwine your fingers to keep them from trembling, biting the inside of your cheek. "Really, you don't owe me anythi-"

"I owe you every-fucking-thing!" John blurts out, his insistance showing as he softly grabbed your shoulders. "Y/N, you helped me despite gaining nothing from it. If that isn't heroic, I don't know what is. I mean, without you I'd be a fucking icicle right now."

How often did he say this corny trademark quote 'You are the real hero(es)' before? This is the first time that it felt genuine - after all, you had saved him in more ways than just one.

You cackle shortly, more out of attachment to the man than his joke actually being funny. But the longer his hands remained stubbornly on your body, the harder it became to act like acquaintances merely sharing a crazy story that's long in the past.

"But you can't give me what I want..." You don't know what moved you to speak from the heart, but after all that had happened you deserved to drown in some self-pity. John's forehead wrinkled in an attempt to make sense out of you, insisting "C'mon, let me indulge you a little. For old time's sake."

Nothing to lose after already having everything taken away from you, right?

"It's my fault, honestly" you try to keep it together, but you knew there was no hiding your choked sobs from his senses either way. "I fell for something fake. And I know, I know it's stupid, but-"

"Not everything was fake" you rudely got interrupted again, but the content of his rambling made you forgive him easily. "My feelings weren't."

It took you a while to have John's confession actually dawn on you, releasing a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. "Your...what?"

"Took me long enough to realize" he snickered as he pulled you into a long-due hug, pressing a wet kiss into your hair out of habit. "I've tried to continue my old life, I really did. But fuck it...this whole time all my thoughts revolved around you."

He could barely hear over the sound of his own fastened heartbeat, but clearly your pulse was racing as well - not out of fear, that much he could tell.

And yet as much as the shared sentiment partially relieved you, there was something else laying heavy on your chest.

"I- don't know what to say, John" you try to wring yourself out of his embrace, but he stubbornly narrows the space between you, making you gasp in surprise.

Homelander was not someone taking no for an answer, used to always get what he wants no matter how. And people not acting like he anticipated was like hitting the bulls eye of his fragile psyche.

He'd be damned to just accept his loss after everything he put at risk.

"Hey big guy...look at me."

Your voice alone made him snap out of a downward-spiral that usually was an unstoppable force, always ending in tragedy. As he met your eyes he detected the plea in them, a vulnerability he had yet to allow himself.

"I have very strong feelings for you, John." Good. Then where's the fucking problem?! "But I've spent a lot of time thinking about" you pause, awkwardly gesticulating between the two of you. "This. You and me, us...John, you were talking in your sleep a lot back then. If you were not busy screaming your lungs out, I mean. About burning, drowning or being cut up alive..."

Your eyes begin to water at the memory, clawing a fistful of blue fabric from his suit. "Just...tell me the truth, and not that fancy propaganda bullshit. If we continue this, then I want to know you inside and out."

"What if..." John's voice cracks, only notices he'd been crying as he feelsbthe salt of his own tears prickle on his lips. He fucking hates this weakness, this sickness of his, especially if he cannot hide behind a facade. "What if the truth if so much more horribe than you could ever imagine?" His hands squeeze yours now, as if he fears you'd disappear if he let go off of this emotional anchor you had become.

John was about to pull back, bracing himself for the rejection. His only solace was the thought that it's probably the best for you.

If you'd know this relationship would eventually turn you into the moral support of a malignant narcissist and subsequent homicidal maniac, there was no way on earth you'd still voluntarily be a part of his life.

"Then I guess we've got to figure it out."

Whatever the extend of his pain, you are aware it's going to put a huge toll onto you as well. He most likely can't live normally, let alone love.

You cradle his face in your hands and he subconsciously leans into the touch, whining at his own neediness. "I can't say that my love is going to erase your hurt, but I can promise to be at your side through all of it."

"That's about the best fucking thing someone has ever said to me" he half-cries, half-laughs when you finally pull the man on his collar down to your height, sealing your promise with a kiss.

"And now get out of that costume" you tease, pinching one of the pads on his chest. "Looks even more hilarious now that I know you're not all that muscular underneath."

"Well, to my defense, other clothes aren't really fit for breaking sonic speed." He twirls you around skillfully, embracing you from behind as close as humanly possible. "And besides, that makes me the perfect candidate for a long-distance relationship, don't you think? You stay in this boring chaff, hell even the end of the world if you want to, and I could still visit you everyday. Or I'll just kidnap you to wherever you want."

Seems like he had already planned it all out. Not the most concerning action of his, though. Almost sweet, if you want to see it this way.

Won't be the last time, surely.

"But what do you want?" The question was so simple, so downright basic that not knowing the answer left him empty inside. His wishes? Does he even have any dreams or aspirations?

There was never a 'John' - the boy with this name died in that lab so Homelander could rise. For so long he had existed for the sole purpose of others that he completely forgot he was in charge of his own fate...

He leans to kiss you again, more tender this time as he savours the way your tears mix with his."I want to enjoy this until I can give you a proper answer one day."

...until you opened his eyes, through sheer kindness and willpower.

Maybe humans aren't so weak after all.

Finally, he smiles. It's the kind of smile that reaches up to his ears, making his whole face crinkly. One that matches with his eyes, genuine and radiant just like back when you first met.

"There you are...welcome home, John."

[mandaplease10]

A Polin Take Nobody Asked For #6

Show Polin Vs. Book Polin Part 1

I have seen a lot of fans upset over the way the showrunner/writers handled Polin's story in comparison to the book version. Of course, we're always going to compare because it's a given. However, I'm a little shocked on how so many are complaining about it when their story was never really true to the books to begin with.

The biggest differences are their ages and time frame & their relationship prior to getting together.

In the book, both Pen and Colin are like a decade older than their characters in the show & they didn't really have a friendship before getting together either. The book is very much a best friend's brother's trope.

In the show, they're teenagers and have an established friendship meaning it's a true friends to lovers trope.

Let's take a deep dive and compare their stories and why the show handled it differently.

Show Polin: Ages

So, obviously the fact that they are teenagers/early 20's in the show means that they would not have the same level headedness as an adult. Both Pen and Colin are trying to find themselves and their purpose in life.

Colin very much feels like he has to be like Anthony & Benedict in order for them to take him seriously. They have always seen him as the little brother who tries to hard and doesn't think. He feels like he has to be someone he isn't because most people don't care about him truly being himself because every time he does he is talked down to and treated like he's too young to know what he wants. No one cares about his travels and no one even bothers to respond to his letters, which then makes him wonder if he's even wanted by his family.

Pen is tired of being the laughingstock of the Ton and in her own family. The only minuscule of happiest she gets is her time with Eloise and the Bridgertons & when she is writing her column. After her sisters are married and she's faced with living with her mother as a spinster, she is determined to get out of the house and get married, even if it isn't to the one person she wants. She still has the self esteem of a young naive girl, so she must learn how to grow her confidence into the clever, beautiful woman she is.

Book Polin: Their Ages

Colin has spent the majority of his teens and twenties traveling and being away from home. He has seen the world and has lived a well experienced life. We really don't get much of how he's feeling in regards to his life or how he felt over the years.

Pen has lived with her mother this whole time and as given up on the marriage mart. She's happy with living as a spinster and has created an empire with Lady Whistledown. She is super close with her younger sister and Eloise and doesn't seem to have the same initial longing as show Pen when it comes to marriage.

Show Polin: Friends to Lovers

In seasons 1 & 2, we see Pen and Colin's friendship blossom and grow into a very close relationship. I would even say that their friendship was closer than Pen and Eloise just because they both seemed to really listen to the other and offer support. We see the way that Colin is there for Pen when Cressida teases her and with Featherington Scheme in season 2. We also know that their letters to each other are meaningful and Colin started viewing her in a different light when he came back in season 2. Being with each other means they both can talk about anything that they couldn't with others because no one else bothered to take the time to listen.

Book Polin: Best Friend's Brother

We don't really see a relationship with Pen and Colin in the books other than Pen being Eloise's friend and a close friend to the family. It's mentioned that there were times Pen and Colin danced at Balls together, but it was purely at the request of Mama Bridgerton. There were no letters exchanged between them.

**

This is going to be multiple parts because it's gonna be a long one.

Stay tuned for part 2

Falling in Love

Lady Whistledown Reveal

Wedding & Aftermath

Part 3

Cressida's Blackmail

Love Confession

Epilogue

Part 4

How all of these changes affected the way the show storyline was written versus the book version.

Also, let me know if there are any other comparisons you want that I haven't thought to include.

[sadcoresushi]

I just cried a river. Bridgerton Season 3 is really a win. I hope people realize it sooner. I thoroughly enjoyed the first part, and I could sense that my anticipation would be worth the wait. It is so delicately crafted, even though there are many criticisms regarding Polin's chemistry and the lack of steamy scenes this season. But I have to say, if you couldn't enjoy the show for those reasons, then I'm sorry—you literally missed the best part of the show, which is Lady Whistledown herself. This season was always going to be about her, and I'm so delighted to watch her rule this season.

I couldn't care less about the fast-paced sequences or that it is unrealistic. In the beginning, even I thought it was a bit cliché, but everything made sense by the end. We get a good pair of lovebirds. Compared to the other two pairs of main lead couples, I think Polin had the most realistic and pure bond—a beautiful friendship that turned into love over time, unlike the other two, which were mostly led by lust.

The other characters are so well-developed, and overall, it made me so happy I couldn't help but be overwhelmed with emotions. In the end, Lady Whistledown conquers. And nothing is more fulfilling and empowering for a woman than that. No romance on screen will ever match that feeling. She is power.

[goldeunoias]

Hi I just wanted to share this video! But the caption?!

blame bridgerton for this....(also ain't proofread srry but also also i guess let me know how we feel about different AU's for the members!)

*********************************** The wealthy must always be righteous

The wealthy must always be proper.

The wealthy must always be a pillar of excellence.

And finally,

The wealthy mustn't be scandalous.

"For a girl who's trained to be the emblem of purity you have rather lewd moans princess," Heeseung whispered into your ear, massaging your chest through your nightgown.

"I could get you executed for laying hands on me," you rasped out, breath hitching when you felt the heat of his tongue lick your neck.

"They'd have to catch me first," he smirked, letting the white cloth fall to the ground as he pushed you on all fours onto your bed.

You'd learned your lesson last time and didn't turn around as you heard him get undressed down to his pants, a small whimper leaving you when you felt his weight on your back.

"There's no way you're just this wet from kissing princess and a little foreplay," he mused in your ear, warm hands gathering slick from your slit. "Did you prep yourself before I showed up?"

You buried your face in your pillows and nodded, too embarrassed to answer him forwardly. You heard him chuckle and lift your head up so you could see his hand compared to yours as he held them up in front of your face, delicate palms against rough callouses.

"These tiny little things? I bet if I slid two fingers inside you'd still be too tight..." he remarked, proving his point by forcing two digits inside. You buried your face in the silk pillows to dampen a moan, your legs struggling underneath his form at the sinful stretch you felt.

"See, I was right. I'd have to force my way inside your walls to get it past the tip," he tsked, using his digits to scissor your core.

"H-heeseung," you choked out into your silk pillows, gasping for air when Heeseung gently lifted your head from your pillow.

"What's wrong? Don't tell me you're gonna cum already," he tsked, speeding up his digits until your legs gave out from underneath you, Heeseung raising your hips in the air to keep his view.

He only smiled coyly when you let out a shaky "mhmm" pulling his fingers out last minute so you couldn't experience your high. Before you could even whine you were turned onto your back with Heeseung's member propped in front of your lips, getting some extra pillows so his princess wouldn't have to strain her neck.

"Why don't you help me out a little bit yeah?" Heeseung cooed as he stroked your cheek, humming in content as you took the tip between your lips. You started off by suckling softly just as he had taught you so many nights ago, sticking your tongue out on the underside so run along the prominent vein.

"Good girl~ you learn so well~ As expected of a noble," he groaned, resting his head against the wall behind your bedpost as he reveled in the warmth of your mouth and tongue, growing a bit bigger when he saw just how disheveled you were; you had drool dripping down onto your expensive nightgown and you were constantly rubbing your legs together in an effort to feel something.

Heeseung couldn't help but smile, pulling out of your mouth and situating himself so his tip was pressing against the swollen bud of your clit.

You rolled your hips into the sensation and Heeseung covered your mouth as he pushed himself in, knowing how loud your whines could get when you felt his length.

Your back arched slightly as you felt the dull ache between your legs, your nails digging into Heeseung's sculpted back.

"Princess, do you have dance classes tomorrow?" Heeseung cooed softly, chuckling when you shook your head quickly.

"Good. Your legs may be out of commission for the next day after tonight..."

[sea-owl]

You know I was reading up on inheritance laws for different parts of the world back in older times and this thought kinda got into my head.

So we know the whole "boy moms" things and sons being heavily favored even in more progressive countries to this day. A part of me wonders if that is some sort of leftover survival instinct. (Bad word for it but it's the closest I can think of at this moment) It wasn't that long ago that a women couldn't really do anything or even have a bank account without her husband okaying. And even farther back, when it was extremely difficult for a woman to inheirt anything, if she could at all, they had pray for the mercy of their sons to take care of them after death of their husbands.

Jane Austen wrote about this issue in several of her works. In Sense and Sensibility Henry Dashwood made his son John Dashwood promise to take care of his sisters and stepmother after his death. John does promise this but then easily let's his wife Mrs. Dashwood talk him out of it and basically give his sisters the very bare minimum. The Dashwood sisters actually had to rely on a distant relative because their brother broke his promise. Now Mrs. Dashwood frames it to her husband like hey why would you take this money away from your son. A part of me wonders though if she was also trying to secure herself too for if she outlives her husband.

This issue also comes up again in Pride and Prejudice with Mrs. Bennett worrying for her daughters because Mr. Bennett has greatly shown he does not really care about the future after he's gone, hell he hasnt even bithered to look to who his estate will go to when he passes. He has of age daughters that he should he taking to London or higher populated areas to give them better odds of marrying and marrying well. But he doesn't like the city so they stay in the country and thankfully they got lucky that Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy ended up rolling into town. I also don't remember exactly how this went but Mr. Bennett also was not really setting anything aside for his daughters dowieries and instead was relying on Mrs. Bennett's dowery for that. Mrs. Bennett's dowery wasn't much either when divided among all the girls especially considering she married up when she married Mr. Bennett. Compared to Mr. Darcy who is properly taking care of his female relatives and even Lizzie's. Mr. Darcy did more for the search for Lydia then Mr. Bennett, Lydia's father!

Another example is in Bridgerton. Lord and Lady Featherington are in my opinion Mr and Mrs. Bennett coded except now we are seeing what happens when Mr. Bennett/Lord Featherington dies and have done nothing to help his daughters. The whole Featherington family was stressed about the new lord because they had no idea of what he would do to them. He very easily could have kicked them out onto the street and left them with nothing. Then he turns out to be a scam artist who only cares for himself. I don't blame Portia for getting those fake documents, but back to the son thing even in those documents it is spefically stated that the firstborn grandson would become the new lord. Still putting the Featherington sisters and Portia herself at the mercy of a male relative. Because while women could inheirt, although a difficult process and often if she was married it would fall into her husband's hands until 1870, estates that were tied to a title had to be inherited by a male relative.

So that's kinda why I'm wondering if this is why the whole boy preference still exists because women's survival not too long ago very much relyed on the mercy of their male relatives.

[sirkusdyretbooks]

The last week these two books have hardly been out of my hands, I've been reading on the bus, in a park, on the bus stop, on a flight of stairs, co-reading with a friend, and whenever the opportunity arose. You see I watched the Netflix show right after handing in my Bachelor and thus got quite curious about the books written by Julia Quinn, and yes I couldn't wait to see the conclusion of Season 3. However, I was fairly surprised, as the books are extremely different from the Netflix show. So, here's my rambling about the two books, because I do love to ramble.

I do think most of the Bridgerton books can be read in any order as you deem fit, but continuing over to book 5 from book 4 naturally seems the best choice as they happen so close to one another. In fact book 5 overlapping with book 4's timeline in it's end, which however also does not do book 5 justice due to inconsistencies between the stories. I am just going to come out with it, as it actually bothered me quite a bit, as book 4 ends on the sentence "And no one saw them for several days" (before the epilogue). Yet, in book 5 Colin leaves Penelope to the country with his three brothers only 2-3 days after the end of the 4th book. 2-3 days is not "several days", at least not to me, and you would think at least Colin might have brought Penelope with him up to the country due to how book 4 ended. It just bothers me greatly.

Adding: Eloise NEVER finds out about her best friend Penelope being Lady Whistledown in any of these books.

Bridgerton Book 4: Romancing Mr Bridgerton

First of all, the three Featherington sisters have a younger sister, Felicity Featherington who has started her season upon the start of "Romancing Mr Bridgerton". Second, it's been over ten years since Daphne's and Simon's story, (which is the book I am currently reading), and Hyacinth is also out for her first season.

I really enjoy that time has passed. Penelope being almost 28, and she's basically a spinster at this point, together with Eloise whom has contracted her own little hobby to Colins dismay. Colin even think his sister is Lady Whistledown, and of course, we do not even get to know who Lady Whistledown actually is until Colin is the one to figure it out on accident.- Colin being too pre-occupied paying attention to Penelope, who is used to no one paying attention to her.

The carriage ride in season 3 actually is the carriage ride after Penelope was caught and they had a huge fight where Colin is upset about her putting herself in danger, going to such "shady parts of London" by herself, in which turns into quite the scandalous make-out session of course. In which at the end of the carriage ride Colin ask Penelope to be his wife. (Adding as I just watched episode six: They DID adapt it, but not of course the same way, here I enjoy the books version more).

I do have to comment, I absolutely love seeing more of Colins point of view, he is much more of a person in the book, as inner monologues do sadly not transfer well into tv. One parts of his human sides that I love and hate at the same time, is his love for food, he's always eating.

Here I will stop comparing it to the netflix show (and I shall enjoy the rest of the show when I do watch it).

The drama unfolding after is of course quite a thing, because it is of course not just Lady Whistledowns possible exposure by Cressida Twombley, who wishes to extort Penelope from all her Whistledown money, but also Colins jealousy towards his brothers and also fiancé for "having purpose", finding trust and support in his author-wife for his journals, which is absolutely lovely.

I really loved this book quite much.

Bridgerton Book 5: To Sir Phillip with Love

From the shock of Eloise's spinster friend Penelope marrying her brother Colin, thus no longer being a fellow-spinster she finds herself in a desperate need to maybe find something for herself as well.

Thus taking the recently widowed Sir Phillip Crane's invitation to heart, months even after it arrived, but just having to get away from her family, disappearing from the ball hosted by the Duke and Dunchess of Hastings, the very night Lady Whistledown was exposed, in which Eloise never found out of course. Showing up at Sir Phillip's door the morning after.

Sir Phillip wishes to find a new wife due to his dear Marina sadly passing away the year prior, due to being "melancholy". Especially, due to his twin children needing a mother. In which he hopes to find in Eloise. Eloise however, never was told of these two eight-year olds in the letters between them, but growing up with seven siblings, where three of them have had more than two children each, she is quite used to children at this point, which makes it not the worst match. However, the children are quite unruly, and are known for being absolute demons.

Having basically ran away from home, of course four Bridgerton men soon show up at Sir Phillips's door, demanding an explanation (Why Colin wouldn't bring Penelope is beyond me). Having been "alone" with a man for two days, Eloise is now of course un-marriageable, even if the only thing that happened was an eccentric kiss, and Anthony Bridgerton demands a marriage between them. In which Eloise wouldn't mind...had it not been for her brother's meddling hands. Sir Phillip is quite happy, Eloise will of course be a splendid mother to his twins. While Eloise wonders if this could at some point, maybe eventually be a marriage with love.

Another thing that bothered me in this book, was how Eloise wishes to speak to her sisters, especially Daphne for advice, but does not even mention Penelope. It almost seems like she has forgotten about her best friend, until the end of the book, where she gives birth to her first child, in which she names Penelope, after her best friend. Being the stubborn Bridgerton-woman she is and not naming her children in alphabetical order.

I was less of a fan of book 5 than book 4, but it was for sure enjoyable, and I do plan on reading the entire series, because why not? Everyone needs some British housewife porn in their lives.

[cupcakefoggy]

Ok, this drives me nuts.

I love Bridgerton. And I don't love all things Regency, so before you write me off as a romance-loving Austenite (which is ALSO a perfectly valid thing to be, thankyouverymuch) just hear me out on why this take is so damn annoying.

Ok. Cool. Now, you're entitled to your opinion that Bridgerton is too fluffy, too girly, and needs more "texture" (which, according to the article, should come in the form of labor, hardship, threatened financial ruin, the usual good stuff) but I want to impress upon you, firmly but politely, that if you're in the market for something gritty, you probably should turn off Bridgerton.

She compares Bridgerton to every prominent period show in this article, and consistently complains that it doesn't measure up. "Well it's not Downton Abbey!" No, no it isn't, and that's what we like about it. We aren't watching it to Learn Something. We're watching it because, for an hour or three at a time, it's really nice to forget that there's so much awful crap going on in the world, and just focus in on Penelope's up-and-down courtship with Colin or how damn cute Kate and Anthony are together.

But that isn't even the thing that bothers me the most about this article.

Why, in the year of our lord 2024, are we still perpetuating this "fluffy girly things are BRAIN CANDY" nonsense? Has Jane Austen truly taught us nothing? At the age of 12, back in the early aughts, my dad gave me a hard time for reading the Sweet Valley Twins books. He wanted me to read Pride and Prejudice, and aggressively shoved it under my nose until I finally agreed to take a look at it. I found it incomprehensible, looked it up online, and found to my immense pleasure that Jane Austen's literature was considered "popular" and "feminine" in its day -- not at all serious literature. I took my findings to my dad, who just about exploded and told me "that's not the point, it's a classic NOW, so shut up and read it."

Guys, I don't care if it was written in the 1600s or last week, pop culture is pop culture. It reflects its time. And more importantly, it shapes its time.

In the 1990s, Seinfeld aired the now-famous episode wherein the boys and Julia Louis-Dreyfus' character, Elaine, have a contest to see how long they can all go without masturbating. One of the men is out before the contest begins; of the remaining contestants, Elaine cracks first. This is now considered a bold statement, because in the 90s, women actually ENJOYING orgasms was taboo -- a concept they make sure to acknowledge within the episode itself, as the men insist women don't masturbate.

Julia Louis-Dreyfus later said of her time on Seinfeld, "We weren't trying to change the world, we were just trying to make something really funny. And that's really hard to do. And if you can do it, you CAN change the world a little bit."

Now, I don't watch Seinfeld. I hate it. I tried to watch a bit of it for Julia, bc I loved her so much in New Adventures of Old Christine, but I just couldn't get into it. but I saw the episode she's talking about, and it IS funny. Because they aren't up on a soapbox, they're just having fun, and she's a damn good comedic actress. So why am I bringing up Seinfeld in a conversation about Bridgerton? Because they're both fluff. No one is watching Seinfeld in an effort to solve the mysteries of the human condition or reflect on the nature of good and evil. It's just for fun. And so is Bridgerton.

And even if there was absolutely no value to Bridgerton besides being fun, it would still be "okay" to watch it. Because sometimes we just need fluff. But I don't think we really spend enough time thinking about just how much impact that "fluff" has on our culture.

I've seen people argue that Bridgerton DOES tackle occasional "serious" topics, and that's why it has value. I disagree. Bridgerton's value comes from the fact that it is FUN. It's easy to get into, it's easy to watch, no one is FORCING it on you, like my dad tried to do with P&P. And because it's fun, people -- YOUNG people -- are willingly watching it…

And they're seeing elderly women, women of color, and plus-size women being depicted as beautiful and desirable.

They're seeing a young, newly-married woman force herself on her husband and realizing that women also need to be taught about consent, and that a lack of sex education leads to damaged relationships.

They're seeing depictions of mental illness in the Queen Charlotte spinoff. They're seeing a man with a mental illness bare his soul to a woman he loves, and hearing her say, in no uncertain terms, that as damaged as he thinks he is, she loves him too. Unconditionally.

They're seeing queer representation in the Queen Charlotte spinoff, too. They're seeing racism and politics and medical abuse. They're seeing storylines that they'd never seek out on their own, and intentionally or not, they're learning from those stories.

Maybe it's optimistic to a fault, but I just can't stop wondering, how many young girls talked to each other about Daphne and Simon? How many plus-size women saw Penelope and Colin's sex scene and felt beautiful, felt seen, for the first time? How many people with mental illness saw Charlotte love King George and realized that they too are worthy of love? How many people heard Violet shyly tell Agatha that she misses having sex with her husband, and felt validated that, no, you don't turn 40 and stop being horny?

I sobbed my eyes out watching S3 the other night, because they captured the feeling of being unpopular and overweight so damn well. I saw my high school years reflected in Penelope's story and it broke my heart and gave me hope all at the same time. I love that they dress Violet and Agatha and Charlotte as richly as they do the younger, "hotter" leads. I love that Anthony Bridgerton goes down on Kate every fucking chance he gets. I love Bridgerton's message, however unintentional, that you don't have to be the classic Pretty Skinny Caucasian Starlet - you can be fat, old, BIPOC, disabled, outcast, anything, and still deserve and GET your happily-ever-after.

Shondaland is not trying to change the world. They're just trying to be fluffy and horny. And if they can do it, they can change the world just a little bit.

[redheadspark]

hiii 😊 May i request the prompt Person A stealing person B’s sweater/clothes. With benedict bridgerton please 💜

A/N - What a great request for Benedict! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Eureka!

Summary - Benedict never thought he would lend his crush his sweatshirt.

Warnings - Just some fluffiness

Benedict had to stop his painting to look at his work. Something didn't feel right, leaving him to stand with his hands on his hips and his head cocked to the side. It felt off, unlike the other pieces he would paint and sell. This one didn't feel right to him, maybe it was the shade of colors he used or the way he stroked the brush. But his heart wasn't in the right spot with what he wanted, and he was interrupted abruptly by the tapping at the front door.

It sounded urgent.

"Who would be here at this hour?" Another asked from his spot on the couch, placing his newspaper down and walking over to the door. Benedict paused in his work too, placing the brush down and looking across from his art corner in the living room. Was it the landlord? It couldn't be since Anothy was usually on time in turning in the rent. Nor could it be any of their brothers or sisters, it was even late for them and they would call ahead of time.

What he wasn't expecting was you, drenched from the rain and shaking like a leaf with your arms tight around yourself to stay warm.

"Jesus! What happened? Come in!" Anthony said as he ushered you inside. Benedict was shocked to see you, no matter you being his crush for some time after meeting you through Anhony. You were good friends with Kate, Anthony's girlfriend and soon-to-be fiance. Kate could see how Benedict was instantly smitten with you when you commented on modern art as the new frontier in marketing and high society compared to older art. Kate saw it immediately and teased Benedict endlessly when you left to return to your apartment, Benedict blushing red and trying to play it off. But how to he deny it? You were spunky, exceptionally great with your art history, and your smile was enough to make his heart stutter a bit.

But to see you drenched like a wet cat in his home? He never saw that coming.

"I'm so s-s-sorry for coming to your p-p-place," You stuttered as Anthony ushered you into the apartment and closed the door behind you, "My c-car broke down a mile d-down the road and my phone d-died. I n-need to call K-K-Kate and a tow--"

"Take it easy and come sit, please," Anthony said with ease as Benedict went over to get a kettle ready for some tea, "Let me text Kate and have her come over to take you back to your apartment, okay? And we can call a tow truck first thing in the morning to take care of your car,"

"Oh, I don't wanna w-wait for my car until t-tomorrow--" You tried to reason with Anthony, but Benedtic finally spoke up as he walked over to you.

"It's not worth it in the rain, no tow trucks will come. Just wait until tomorrow when the rain stops, we know a guy who works at the auto shop down the street and I can call about your car," He explained, you giving him a genuine smile. He loved that smile, reminding you of springtime and fresh flowers in a vase, filled with joy and serenity.

"Thank you, you're far too kind," You thanked him, Benedict slightly blushing, "I don't mean to interrupt your night,"

"Our night was boring, nothing to apologize for," Benedict told you as he gestured to the spare bathroom, "Go take a shower and I'll get you some clothes to change into while we wait for Kate,"

You thanked him again and waddled to the spare bathroom, closing the door gently behind you and locking it. Once it was Anthony and Benedict again, Anthony eyed his younger brother with a smirk.

"Smooth, Benny. Real smooth," He teased, Benedict glaring at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," He replied with a shrug, walking away to his bedroom to grab some clothes. Anthony chuckled and followed behind Benedict, pulling out his phone to text Kate as he spoke to his brother.

"Kate told me about your little crush on her," Anthony said casually, Benedict whirling around and hushing him. Anthony laughed, "It's obvious to everyone, including mom mind you! Why don't you ask her out finally?"

"Because...because I don't think I'm her type," Benedict explained as he grabbed a pair of sweats and one of his old sweatshirts from college.

"What makes you say that? You're a catch, Benny. And I don't say that to you a whole lot, do I?" Anthony challenged him, Benedict giving him a soft look to see that he was telling the truth. Anthony merely smiled, looking down at his phone with a message coming in.

"Kate will be here in 20 minutes," He explained, closing his phone before he gave Benedict one more smile, "Think about it, Benedict. You two would be great, I swear,"

Anthony walked back to the living room, leaving Benedict there to think about it. He did think about asking you out, maybe taking you to an art gallery or a picnic since you seemed like the kind of person who would love that. But then again, he was still afraid to jump in and be bold, and sometimes that fear got the best of him.

He was going to put it on the back burner for now.

5 minutes later you emerged from the bathroom, wearing your new clothes that Benedict left outside your door. Anthony was back in his room working on some paperwork from his job, leaving Benedict back out in the living room with his painting again as you walked out to see him. Your hair was back and freshly washed, your skin glowing and looking rather calm and the color was back on your lips and cheeks. The sight of you wearing his sweatshirt, the same one that had a few paint stains and one coffee ring on the end near your right hip, it was gut-wrenching, to say the least. Benedict never thought on how beautiful you would look in that garment when he got it for you, and he would never look at it the same way again.

"Thank you again, Benedict," You thanked him, then noticed the painting in front of him and pointed with a curious finger, "Is this a new piece you're working on?"

"Oh," Benedict said, looking at his piece and then back at you, "Oh yes! I'm trying to work on it but it's....it's not right. Something's missing,"

You hummed, walking over to stand next to him and looking at his work with your eyes. Benedict seemed rather nervous to have you stare at his work, he shouldn't since you've seen his work plenty of times. But not during the process of creation, only when it was complete and hanging on the wall. He felt most vulnerable when he was creating, the barriers were down and nothing was judging him when he had the brush in his hand.

"What if you use your fingers?"

Benedict looked at you in shock as you looked back at him with a shrug of your shoulders.

"W-what?" He asked, sounding a bit more high-pitched.

"Use your fingers, not your brush," You explained, then moving your pointed finger to the cured strokes to the left, "I think it would look more natural with your fingers, don't you?"

Benedict nodded his eyes without saying a word, his eyes on you as you were smiling at him. If his crush on you was bad before, now it was a lot worse. But this time, this time he wasn't afraid about it too much. He was tongued tied, yet you still grinned at him as the front door opened and Kate burst into the room.

"Thank God you're okay!" She said to you as she ran over to you and hugged you. Benedict left you and Kate to reunite and talk about what happened, his eyes going back to the half drawn picture and a massive grin was on his face. The idea struck hard and true, almost sideways to have him be knocked over.

Eureka!

He would hang it a few months later at his first professional showcase, with you on his arm as his girlfriend and the inspiration for the piece called Eureka!

The End

Spring Prompt Session

[love-imagineitall]

Loss

Request: from your prompt list: 3 and 4 for benedict bridgerton

3. “Over my grave, you bastard.” 4. “I almost lost you.”

Warning: Mentions of violence from men against women (not Benedict)

From this prompt list

You let out a frustrated sigh as you left the giant ballroom. You're mother was killing you and making you want to rip your hair out. You just needed to get some fresh air.

You and Benedict had been courting, but for some reason the second-eldest Bridgerton was just not good enough for your mother, and she kept trying to set you up with other men who didn't even compare to Benedict.

Speaking of Benedict, he wasn't even here this evening due to something about his art. Nevertheless your mother had dragged you to this ball and it felt like torture.

As you stand out in the cold trying to center yourself, you became startled by a man.

"Sorry my love, I didn't mean to startle you, I just needed a moment in the fresh air."

You chuckled, "I definitely understand, I am out her with the same intentions."

"Well perfect, " the handsome stranger says, "let us catch our breaths together."

The two of you stand in silence for a little bit before he asks if you would like to take a stroll through the garden.

"Won't that be improper, I'm sorry sir, but I don't know that I can risk my reputation for a stroll."

He laughs to himself, "of course my lady, but it won't be wrong if we get a chaperone now will it."

You smile politely and nod, "of course"

He leaves you to go fetch a "chaperone" for the two of you to walk through the garden together.

The man he brings back doesn't seem to be too much older than him, but you suppose that with three people, you are technically not alone.

Benedict's P.O.V.

I left the art party a bit earlier than I would normally, but I wanted to surprise (y/n) at the ball, given how much I know that she detests them, but of course her mother made her go even though we are openly courting. Every time I talk to her mother I always get the sense that she thinks I am not good enough.

As I enter the ball room I know that it might take a while before I find her.

As I start to give up I go outside on the balcony to escape the stuffy air from inside for a moment. I honestly don't know how anyone does this.

As I'm standing on the balcony I hear a familiar voice protesting and then it sounds as if her mouth is then covered. I immediately start sprinting.

(Y/N)'s P.O.V.

As we had started to stroll I felt a bit nervous. Something didn't feel right, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. One weird thing was that the chaperone was walking beside me rather than behind us like they would normally do, but I thought that maybe he was newly married and had never really chaperoned before.

I was talking to Lord Abney as we walked not really paying attention to where we were walking.

Ouch

Suddenly, I am shoved against a brick wall, my head hitting it with force.

My vision starts to fade in and out as I hear the two men that I was just walking with start laughing.

"This'll show that stupid Bridgerton"

"Yeah his little bitch beaten and left for dead, he'll learn to never mess with us again"

I regain some bit of consciousness, and I start to plead rather loudly, "please, please, just leave me alone," almost instantly a hand claps over my mouth.

"Shut your mouth you little bitch, someone's going to hear us, and then what about your reputation then? Huh, alone with not one, but two unmarried men"

I start to cry because he's right if someone does hear me to come save me, I'll be ruined.

I try to fight back, and I land some punches, but with two of them they just overpower me.

I start to accept my face as my vision begins to fade again, and as I tense up waiting for the next blow, I don't feel anything so I slowly open my eyes, and see the person that I was thinking about during all of this. I'm not sure if I'm dreaming or what, but before I can think about it too much longer, I feel his hand lightly touch my cheek.

"Oh (y/n), " he says lightly, "are you alright?"

I shake my head no, not really able to get any words out.

"Oh my god of course you're not okay, I am so sorry"

He picks me up and takes me to his carriage as he urges the driver to get to his house as fast as he can, he also tells one of the footman to get the doctor and meet him at the house. That's the last thing I hear before I pass out.

Benedict's P.O.V.

After hearing the sound of my sweet (y/n) and sprinting to find her, I see the two pricks that I met at the club with Anthony.

"Well, well , well if it isn't the man who took all of our money," Lord Abney laughs.

"Look Bridgerton why don't you go back to the party and we'll consider this repayment," the other man, Lord Denton says crudely.

“Over my grave, you bastard.” I say through gritted teeth, before I see red and kind of black out. I'm not really sure exactly what happens, but when I come to, the two men are no longer anywhere in sight.

I then turn to the woman whom I had been courting, "oh (y/n)," I let out softly.

I ask her if she's alright, but of course she isn't so I promptly pick her up and run to the carriage so that I can get the doctor for her. As I'm holding her in my arms I feel the blood coming from the back of her head which makes me panic even more.

When we get home I am met with the doctor and an unconscious woman in my arms. I set her down and he and the nurse begin to get to work examining her and trying to stop the bleeding.

I stand there frozen. It just doesn't feel real. (y/n), the most beautiful girl inside and out is laying there almost dying.

The world seems to go silent and I'm not sure how long I stand there until I feel a hand on my shoulder, and as I look, I see that it's Anthony ushering me out of the room.

As I sit down all I can think about the last painting that I had been working on.

During this ball, when I told her I wasn't coming I had given her some vague excuse about art, but in reality I was painting something for her.

During one of our walks through the park, she told me about how much she loved the park at a sunset, and how she just felt joy and comfort. The way that she described the feeling, the more I realized that it was the exact feeling that I had when I was with her.

As I'm in my head I hear the doctor call my name.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Bridgerton, we stopped the bleeding, but because of the head trauma, we aren't sure if she is going to wake up."

Once again I stood frozen and numb until I felt a tear run down my face.

For the next few days I stayed by her bed, praying and hoping that somehow she would wake up. I would sleep there and only left to go to the bathroom. After a few days, I began to lose hope, but just as was about to leave I feel her stir.

I leapt up.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)? Can you hear me?"

"Shh"

"What?"

"I said shh, my head hurts," she whispers.

As I calm down a bit, I feel another tear slip down my face, I grab onto her hand, "I almost lost you"

She looks at me with a smile, "I'm not going anywhere"

"Good, because I have a question for you," I reach into my pocket to fish out the ring that I have been carrying since the first week that we started courting, "(Y/N) (L/N), will you marry me?"

"Of course!" she says as I pull her in for a kiss before I realize that it's still considered improper.

She laughs, "not yet Mr. Bridgerton"

"Of course Mrs. Bridgerton"

[golbrocklovely]

Polin season has proved how much brainwashed people are with toxic relationships in MOvies that are based on constant fights, miscommunications and arguments , that when they see a healthy couple who can handle their feelings to each other in mature and pretty healthy way, that communicates and listen to each other , they see it as “no chemistry”. Same with Colin.. he is literally the greenest of the green flags so far from all Bridgeton “boys” ( i think Gregory & Benedict gonna join him on this one in their season), but how he is viewed ? As “boring” ? Toxic relationships for such a long time has been portrayed in Movie Industry as “happy endings” or just as “bigges and best type of love” that it brainwashed people into thinking that relationship without over jealousy, miscommunication and many fights is not interesting enough for them and they see it as “no chemistry”

The only thing you can accuse Polin is LW identity being still a mystery to Colin. Other than that Polin is a couple that is based on looking out for each other, protecting each other, listening to each other , not making fun of other’s interests ( while even their families kinda do) and not making them feel ashamed to talk about it and just being each other comfort person. Polin are literally soulmates and always have been best friends , even more of a best friends than Penloise. People view Kanthony as the best love story from Bridgerton and although i love their season, i do not view them in such good light as I view Polin. Kanthony season was filled with miscommunications, unsaid feelings, fights etcetc. And on top of that Anthony proposed to Edvina in front of Kate, knowing already that he loves Kate . In Polin we didn’t have this. The moment Colin realized he loved Pen and most likely always did, but he was too young and too lost to realize that… he ran after her carriage and told her. He didn’t play any games. Yes we have some “other ver of Colin” , but that is because he thought he needs to be like society, since when he is himself society makes fun of him and only Pen kinda appreciated him for who he is … which he literally said.

In conclusion… we need more love stories like Polin one. We had too many toxic relationships on big screens and we need more healthy ones for people to open their eyes and stop being so brainwashed.

i agree with you so much, honestly.

like look, i love me a bad boy romance. or one with a guy who's a bit emotionally constipated. but i was thinking about this earlier this past week and reality is, i don't want a complicated love. i want a love that comes easy like breathing. that i simply walk into. and that's the type of love that colin and pen have in the show and it's beautiful.

honestly that's why i fuck with friends to lovers more than enemies to lovers. don't get me wrong, both are awesome, but for me, enemies always falls right on the line of "oh the bickering is to die for" and "i think they're just straight insulting each other". and with certain writers, it's really the ladder than the former.

but anyway, back to your point: colin literally acting like a rake, a bad boy, causes us as the audience to cringe, and that's the whole point !! we all know he's a lover boy, he's a sweetie. he's not supposed to be sleeping around or flirting with every woman that bats an eyelash at him. it's supposed to feel weird. but if it was anthony, or simon, or even benedict doing it, most of the audience would think it's normal to some degree.

colin is soft but knows himself when he doesn't listen to anyone else on how he should act. bc the moment he realizes "fuck i'm in love with pen" he goes to tell her. of course he trips up and doesn't say it initially, but he ends up taking action. he confesses in the end, just before it's too late.

but compare that to simon and anthony, they both waited well past the point of no return to say how they feel. it's not even they denied it until they couldn't, they KNEW and still denied. simon would have rather died, and Anthony was content on marrying someone else entirely than admit he wanted kate. they both had way too much pride and issues in themselves to ever admit defeat.

colin doesn't see admitting your feelings as defeat, which is why "this season went by so fast" and that it was a boring season so far. no drama is gonna occur in the love department bc we're not being introduced to two characters falling for each other and denying it well past the end. we're being shown two characters that we already know realizing (at least on colin's end) that feelings were always there. and personally, that is actual romance, vs lust or yearning.

as for lady whistledown, imma be honest, and i talked about this in my review for this first half of the season that i'm gonna post soon: the bridgertons will always be fine. they are rich, they are hot, and no matter what LW has ever written about them, they have survived it and surpassed it. ppl act as if pen is the worst fucking person on the planet when reality is, she puts ppl like the bridgertons on an even playing field, even if just for a brief moment. without her, nothing would touch them.

bc think about it, her family has tons to lose if LW wrote something horrendous about them. and in a way, she has fucked her own family over multiple times. but the bridgertons, while she has written things that could have ruined them, it really didn't in the long run. she's also helped them from being thrown into more scandal (daphne almost getting married to berbrooke being one of those times). prime example being that if eloise was really ruined for hanging with theo (and the only reason pen even wrote that in the first place was to protect her from the queen) francesca would be screwed out of the marriage mart and eloise would actually be a permanent spinster. but atlas, they're all fine. bc they are bridgertons.

and then for colin specifically with marina, marina was doing something wrong by lying and trying to trap him. pen tried telling him in a nicer way, but he didn't care bc he's lovesick puppy when he's in love. colin explained it himself the best: if marina has just told him she was pregnant beforehand, he would have still accepted her. but instead she tried to lie.

i personally get the argument that she needs to tell colin before the wedding and all of that. and i agree. i'll be interested to see what plays out (even with the spoilers I've seen) so only time will tell.

also anyone judging this season - yall do realize that we haven't even gotten the whole season yet, right? like maybe don't judge an unfinished project lol

so far, polin has been the most exciting to watch. not only bc i love friends to lovers, but bc they truly are the most fleshed out characters. we've known them already for two seasons. we know who they are, which is why we're able to point out when they aren't being themselves. and to see the trajectory of their relationship has been fun to watch.

that's not to say i don't love kanthony or simon and daphne. honestly, no matter who your favorite bridgerton couple is, you're winning regardless. they all have interesting stories, it just depends what your cup of tea is.