#give her a chance to breathe colin

[asmilinghopelessromantic]

Colin, panicking after showing Pen their new home: 😁🤔😳😰😭

Pen, meanwhile, thought she was getting and planning to accept Debling's proposal but the man who she loves comes and interrupts their dance, creating a big scene, gets rejected by Debling, crying in the carriage when the man who she loves tells her that he's unmanned and down bad for her, gets fingerbanged by him, said man then chaotically proposes to her, he drags her to announce the betrothal to his family, argues with ex-best friend, writes and publishes their engagement in Whistledown, gets berated by her mother for how her daughter's engagement was announced and for choosing love/a third son with no title, then said man comes in visit his betrothed and dresses down her mother in front of her which has never happened before: 😲😳🥺😭🥵🥰😍

Colin panicking when he shows Pen their new home is so funny because he's straight up scrambling trying to make her happy and is so worried he's not succeeding, and meanwhile Pen is looking at him like 🥺😍🥰 the whole time.

[frost-queen]

Tempting fate // part 5 (Reader!Featherington x Colin Bridgerton)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @bubblybrianna97 , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampthing07 , @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury ,  @imagines-by-her ,  @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @iixchloee, @cherrysxuya , @dutifullyannoyingfox , @wolf-phoenix-lover, @mellowdreamlandpost-blog ,

@markive-m, @esposamultifandom, @mswwvaleska, @itsalyssadawnuniverse, @magical-spit, @winter-solstice24 , @bloommart, @mushy-mushroom04 , @iamaslytherin0 , @writingfortheunloved , @superhighschoollevelfashion-blog , @kamiliora , @itsfromaboyband-blog, @redhoodsoutlaw , @anonymouscherries , @gayandfairycore , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @niktwazny303 , @markive-m , @lovesanimals0000 , @randomgurl2326 , @dutifullyannoyingfox , @h-l-vlovesvintage , @bee-unknown , @dd122004dd ,

Summary: With a little help of Anthony, Colin tries to have a moment to speak with you. Rather taking the flee, you leave him no chance of conversating with you. Will Colin get his chance to speak with you or will you forever ignore him. [ part 1 & part 2 & part 3 & part 4 & part 6 & part 7 & part 8 & part 9 & part 10]

A fast feather scraped over parchment, filling the silence in the waiting room. Penelope hunched over her parchment as the feather wrote down her exact thoughts. You entered the waiting room, seeing her write so lost in her thoughts. An annoyance grew over you. – “Writing about me again for your latest sheet?” – you said out loud, wandering around the armchair closer to her. Penelope glanced to the side, pausing her writing briefly before continuing.

“It is a letter.” – she responded after some silence. – “One to your adoring readers?” – you teased moving closer to the window. Moving the curtain a bit aside to peek outside. – “Perhaps you can ask your adoring readers for their opinion on me? I’m sure they would be delighted to follow in your delusions.” – you spoke with a mocking undertone. It made Penelope lay her feather down.

“I thought you didn’t wished to speak to me ever again.” – she replied bitsy, making you briefly look over your shoulder to her. – “I am.” – you spoke. – “You are the just the only breathing thing in this house at the moment.” – you left the window moving more to the centre of the room. Penelope swallowed a bit, glancing your way.

You went around the armchair, making your way for the door with your head up high. – “You shouldn’t give me ideas.” – you heard your sister call out to you as you were heading out. Not liking the taunting in her tone, you went back inside, picked up the nearest pillow and threw it at her. The pillow hit her and the ink bottle. It fell over, spilling her parchment and a bit of her dress.

Penelope gasped loud, jumping up at the sudden wetness on her dress. – “Do not provoke me sister!” – you said in a cold tone, throwing a glare at her. Penelope looked in shock at you for having spilled ink on her dress. You turned on your heel, heading out once more. In the hallway, you walked through the house, making your way to the garden. Setting foot in the sun, you took in a deep breath.

Glancing over your shoulder, you lowered your gaze. Feeling like there was no one to trust. Not your own sister nor Colin with his false promises. You headed for the large tree where the swing was strapped to. You carefully sat down. Balancing on your feet to move the swing a bit. Lost in thoughts, you stared down, fidgeting with your fingers on your lap.

Breathing out loud, you looked away, finding yourself pathetic. A shadow of yourself sitting on the swing. For a moment, just for a moment, you thought you’d be his. That you found someone to love you unconditionally. Colin had always been a good friend of your sisters. Colin and you weren’t that close to begin with. It wasn’t like you could get to know him that well since your sister had a way of claiming him.

Ever since you were little. So it was shocking to know that Colin was interested in you, or at least even for a little while. Perhaps that kiss meant nothing to him, but it meant everything to you. The first time a boy showed such affection towards you. Colin must have kissed plenty of girls, that it had little meaning by now. To you it felt like he had stolen something from you.

Stolen something he couldn’t return. Touching your lips, you recalled the feeling it left on your lips. Strangely enlightening. Bringing your fingers down, you tore your gaze away, feeling foolish. Wanting to forget about stupid Penelope and stupid Colin, you grabbed the cord firmly.

Setting your feet off as the swing got in motion. Kicking your feet back and forth to create the friction. Up, up, up you went. Higher and higher till you could reach the clouds. The wind blowing through your hair untangling it as it had a mind of its own now. Blissfully you smiled, forgetting about your worries for a moment.

Leaning back, you watched the skies make you feel dizzy. The light making you squint your eyes as you let the swinging die out. Pulling yourself back up when you were closer to the ground. A summer’s sadness on your face as the swing slowed down. Staring lost in front of you. With a huff you got up, having enough of it. You weren’t going to let anyone humiliate you ever again.

Not your sister not Colin, not again. The hell with Penelope. The hell with Colin Bridgerton for he would never loose his boyish act. Seeing his true colours clearly in a shade of green. You looked curiously up hearing your name from afar. Prudence stood in the entrance leading outside. – “Coming!” – you called out, lingering for but a moment before going inside.

Phillipa was fanning vigorously in the carriage. Mama slapped her hand on her hand to stop her hurricane of fanning. Phillipa gave mama a sheepish smile, followed by a nervous swallow. Mama moved a bit closer to the centre of the carriage, placing her hand on Phillipa and yours knees that were in reach. – “Now girls it is not too late for us to shine.” – she said to pep herself up. – “We’ll attract nice men and turn this tide.” – she patted your knee with a trusting smile.

Prudence who sat beside you across from Phillipa took your hand, giving it a soft squeeze. – “We’ll find you a good husband.” – she whispered to you. Penelope let an amusing chuckle slip. Making everyone stare at her. – “Something funnily Penelope?” – mama questioned with a quizzable brow. Penelope cleared her throat.

“No mama.” – she answered. The rest of the carriage ride was in silence. Till you rode up to the event. A springs festival. Tents stationed around. Flowers used as decoration to celebrate its bright colours. The footman opened the door helping mama out first. Then Phillipa and Penelope. Prudence and you as last.

By one of the tents you immediately recognized the Bridgerton brothers. It made you turn around, hoping they hadn’t noticed you. There was one thing you wanted to avoid at any cost. Colin Bridgerton. – “Come girls.” – Mama said pulling Phillipa with her. Penelope and Prudence followed as you rather wanted to disappear. So you headed the other direction than them.

Walking around groups of gathering people to find a way around. Having squeezed yourself between two groups who stood with their backs at each other, you let out a soft gasp. Coming face to face with Eloise Bridgerton. – “Y/n!” – she let out with wide eyes. – “Eloise.” – you replied nervously. – “Penelope is that way.” – you informed her, going round her to not engage any further.

You quickened up your step, hastening away from her. Freezing you saw Kate with two glasses in her hand. Probably one for her husband as well. Moving your hand against your cheek, you bowed your head for her not to notice you. Avoiding these Bridgerton’s seemed harder as they seemed to turn up at every corner.

Colin stood by the tent with Anthony and Benedict. Anthony nudged him in the side. Motioning with his head in the direction of the Featheringtons. Colin got on the tip of his toes, staring at them. Anthony kept gesturing with his head for him to make a move. Colin set his feet back down, shaking his head with pulled up shoulders. Benedict stared at the display. – “Why do I get the feeling I am missing something.” – he let out, feeling excluded for whatever it was they shared.

Anthony kept bugging him to do something. – “She is not there.” – Colin shout-whispered to him. – “Then find her!” – Anthony spoke back giving him a push. – “I am definitely missing something.” – Benedict answered looking over at Francesca who sat down with a book. Francesca pulled her shoulders up, forming a thin line of her lips.

Colin exhaled deep getting in motion. – “What am I missing?” – Benedict asked Anthony. Anthony rolled with his eyes taking his leave. – “An…Anthony!” – Benedict called out going after him for answers. Francesca shut her book, getting up. Kate arrived at the tent, looking confused around for everyone had taken their leave.

You were still walking around, staying close to large groups so you wouldn’t stand out. You even had lost track of where your family was. You started to look around for escape’s if you indeed did encounter Colin Bridgerton to your dislikes. You moved through a group, eyes widening when you came nose to nose with Francesca Bridgerton. – “Colin is looking for you.” – she said with a shy smile. – “Must I encounter every Bridgerton?” – you mumbled under your breath, taking your leave.

Francesca blinked confused feeling too shy to call out your name and draw any attention towards her. Your unfortunate encounter with her led to spotting Colin through the crowd. He turned at the exact same time, you saw him, making him notice you. – “Y/n.” – he called out making his way over. You turned round, pushing some people aside to make your escape. Colin furrowed his brows, going in pursuit. You started to run faster, no way wanting to be near with him. Some heads turned your way at you taking a run for it.

Leaving the festive for the woods. Panting loud, you ran till you jumped aside, hiding behind a tree trunk. You heard twigs snap underneath shoes as it made you cover up your mouth. – “Y/n? Y/n? Where are you?” – it was Colin calling out to you. You tried to remain still not wanting him to find you. – “Y/n I… I want to talk about our last encounter.” – he let out looking around for you.

He waited for an answer but you never gave one. There was another pair of footsteps, this time coming from the front. Your eyes widened when a brown bearded man came to a stop. Staring right back at you. Slowly questioning what you were doing. Seeing an opportunity you whispered to him, to help you. You walked up to the man, taking him by his arm as you walked out in the open. 

Colin coming to a stop as he saw you appear around a man’s arm. – “Y/n?” – Colin said in disbelieve. – “Can’t speak now Colin, can’t you see a woman is in company.” – you replied walking past him with the lord. Putting on a smile to show Colin you didn’t need him and his false promises. The lord seemed to play along, laying his hand on yours around his arm. Starting to talk about nature as you listened half.

Colin turned to your departure with shock in his eyes. – “Y/n.” – he squeaked out too stunned that you were walking with another lord. Nearing the festive once more, you thanked him for helping you out. – “It was my pleasure Miss Featherington.” – he said with a bow, leaning down to kiss your hand. – “If you ever need saving again, simply call upon me.” – he continued after having kissed your hand.

You curtsied to him, taking your leave to return to your family content. – “Where have you been?” – mama questioned blinking surprised. You hummed soft, ignoring her question to come and join Prudence. Colin returned to his brothers with a sweat. Anthony stopped him by his shoulder.

“You are sweating dear brother.” – he pointed out. – “I…I… she was with another gentleman.” – he called out. – “Who was?” – Benedict asked curiously coming in sight, holding a pastry. Anthony inhaled deep, bringing Colin closer to him. – “It is not too late brother.” – patting his brother on the chest.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[its-time-to-write]

masterlist

i figured it was time to make one. it's in order based on when i wrote it. please, please let me know if a link is broken/mislabeled!!

*82 fics*

All of these are Jamie Tartt x reader

dress

Jamie and Keeley buy you a dress for the benefit gala

three times 'cause i've waited my whole life

secret relationship to engagement

you're losing me

first kid

don't make this any harder

Jamie wants to take you to Brazil, you’re both idiots

would hit him in a heartbeat now

Your ex boyfriend is a footballer and also a douche

silent sleepers

Jamie contemplates your relationship on the team bus

what it is

Jamie is sick ft. Roy

don't go wasting your emotion

Secret relationship + you own a bookshop! Ft. Roy and Keeley

you know, you'll always know me

You’re a famous singer! Congrats!

i don't know how you keep smiling/i'm just choking almost constantly

Jamie’s dad is a douche

i'll still be right next to you my dear

Jamie is a dad

can't really say i'm enjoying it now

Yikes it’s a breakup fic, but happy endings only in this house

mine of you with me

Reader and Jamie go semi-public with their relationship

today's a day like any other

The Tartt family thru the years

there's orange juice in the kitchen

Oof ouch period cramps

i can't breathe without you

Nate kisses you w/o consent

damned if i do give a damn what people say

You’re a theater actress! How exciting!

island made of faith

People think Jamie’s dumb, and he’s not

take your time while you're mine

You’re Roy’s other sister ft. all the Kents

honey, i'll give you all my time

Vienna. Enough said.

feeling fragile can't you tell

Jamie gets hurt

wrote all your lines in the script in my mind

Oh no! Some girl kissed Jamie and it wasn’t you! + Colin as the bff

stick together like glitter

Babysitting Phoebe + angst

your mind is not your friend

Angst + comfort after you have a bad hookup

chasing shadows in a grocery line

You���re pretty sure you have a hot stalker

don’t go yet

Tee hee protective Jamie at a club

kicking myself to keep from crying

The morning after your mind is not your friend

i think we could do it if we tried

High school sweethearts reunited after 6 years🥺

i’m glad you exist

You and Jamie go to a wedding

send for me

BREAKING: shit day at work made better by local boyfriend

tell me where to put my love

day off = food + snuggles

bored

The longest angst I’ve ever written. Def not the best angst I’ve ever written.

would it be enough if i never gave you peace

you’ve got baby fever and your pretty sure it’s going to kill your brother

wishing on every one

You own a flower shop. It’s adorable.

lyrical eyes, indigo smile

Bea meets the team for the first time!

something to rely on

You storm the pitch and smooch your bf

flipped the script

Enemies to lovers slow burn (or maybe fast burn, idk)

i fancy you

London Boy by ms. T. Swift

you don’t want to know me

Jamie shows up at your door after s.1 Man City

you’re in the kitchen humming

Post-Mom City

family that i chose

For the child-free girlies!

never wanted you to hate me

Pt. 2 of you don’t want to know me

wonderstruck

BFF Keeley tells you to give her awful ex a chance

in love with an idea

idk it’s like a confession of love? kinda cute

sinking into your worn-out mattress

Touch-deprived therapist! reader

you’re a mansion with a view

just two footballers doing an England promo, nothing to see here

i know what i’m doing

Post-Roy/Jamie locker room hug after Man City

wonder what it’d be like

Jamie tries to win you back

if only love were true

You’re a single mom in dire need of a plus-one

i know now it’ll pass

It’s hard to love someone when you’ve been told you don’t deserve it

the way it goes

The Greyhounds are protective of Jamie

how to love being alive

Idk this one’s like whatever and also supes long

there is happiness

GEORGIE GEORGIE GEORGIE

it’s just wanderlust

Relationship soft launch

glitter on the floor

You like to knit. You also think you’re a comedian.

maybe tomorrow you’ll know

The “he’s a prick to everyone but her” trope

hustling for the good life

I swear this is my last chaptered fic

let’s fall in love for the night

Kent!reader is having a baby

soft hands hit the jagged ground

friends w/benefits

for you, there’ll be no more crying

anxiety at work + bf jamie

smile at me

there was only one bed!!!!

slow motion double vision in rose blush

happy b-day Jamie Tartt

half-moon eyes

it’s just a question!

can’t hear my thoughts (i cannot hear my thoughts)

I’m allowed to write what i want, ok???

here in my arms

more Kent!reader + a baby named George

coffee at midnight

prick coach wakes you up bc of your prick boyfriend

healing me fine

Just a lil engagement fic for ya

i don’t know anything

if you’re interested in Bea

right words at the right time

It’s a wedding fic

move fast and keep quiet

boxer!reader + smitten Jamie

not saying you’re in love with me

You meet over Bantr!!!

we could be so good

Jamie comforts you after a bad date

i hold it like a grudge

i don’t even know how to describe this one but u might cry

there for you

sick fic

before you go

physio!reader

you’ll probably date her

chronic illness + childhood friends. gotta love it

feel it burn

Gym anxiety

play it back

Old movies of bb Jamie

ours

Thanksgivinggggg

light in the hallway

MORE Kent!reader

stuck by you

Bad family + good Jamie = fic

please don’t be

five chapters of sadness that definitely isn’t based on personal experience

[matchesarelit]

Imagine If You Will... (Ocean of Grass, Colin Bridgerton x f!Reader)

The Queen opens a new gallery space, and you can barely tear your eyes form the works on the walls, until art starts pouring from the lips by your side.

W/C: ~2.8k Warnings: None I believe A/N: there is a part where writing it was like patting myself on the back, so damn strange. fear not, I am not that up myself. but reader had to simp over smtg.

Stepping onto the marbled flooring of the gallery, you struggled to keep your concentration on the task of putting one foot in front of the other. Eyes locking on the pieces adorning the walls and topping the podiums. The words of greeting hitting your ears from all directions as you began trailing the walls of the space, were forgotten immediately, muscle memory replies rolling off your tongue with ease. The same old people and same old conversations were now framed by works of detail and grace grander than you'd ever had the pleasure of seeing.

The tickle of lace over your arm was the only thing to prompt you back to the world of the Ton, as an elbow hooked through your own and a head weighed down your shoulder. Vanessa, a close family friend, had taken her place by your side, as she often did, leaning into you and squeezing your arm in a silent greeting. Taking a moment you finished following the length of a brushstroke, before you tore your stare away and with a breath, that you held for perhaps a beat too long, looked towards your friend.

'Hello' The bland greeting was all your brain could hope to form at that moment. Your mind was shaken awake as the woman by your side responded simply with a suppressed squeak and a wide-eyed grin.

Her expression held within it a great amount of glee and undoubtedly a grand quantity of gossip, only being held back by the tight-pressed line of her lips, a sight that never failed to elicit a smile of your own. Raising your eyebrows slightly, you opened the floodgates and suddenly you found yourself much more knowledgeable about the events that had preceded your arrival. 

To the best of your understanding; One young lady had swooned at the revealing visage in one of the paintings, The queen had not yet made her appearance yet would most certainly do so soon and many of the mamas and papas had retired to the adjacent tea rooms which many had taken as a sign to converse freely. The latter explained the cacophony you registered now free of your stupor, but it certainly surprised you as you surveyed the room to find the group of your peers crowding a piece only a few meters away. 

'Are they discussing that work? Come, surely this will be interesting' You tugged your friend along as you started towards the trio, Vanessa and you discussed each of your hobbies with each other at length but rarely had the chance to discuss such matters with other members of the Ton.

'I don't believe they ar-' Vanessa's warning was cut short as you greeted the small group, not registering her concern in your excitement. 'Hello!'

Looking to the women closest who turned on the spot to see you, you watched with confusion as their smiles twisted into bitter replicas of kindness, each of them giving a nod to you, a small curtsey to the art and turning to walk away.

'Where are yo-' Your words trailed off, your eyes on the receding figures of the other debutantes, as Vanessa spoke up from beside you;

'Good afternoon Mr. Bridgerton, Mr. Bridgerton' From your peripherals you watched her curtsey, you followed suit before you had thought to comprehend why.

'Good afternoo- OH' Your realization wasn't loud, but it wasn't silent either, so truly you shouldn't have been as startled as you were when a pair of matching chuckles were heard from the men in front of you.

'We did not mean to interrupt, we were under the impre-' Vanessa was silenced as Colin Bridgerton shook his head slightly, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth before he spoke up in a lilting tone; 

'No need to apologize. Who would we be to be upset with such beautiful company? We are truly a lucky pair of gentlemen.' 

A minuscule bow of your head and a flash of a smile that you refused to let within a mile of your eyes, crossed your expression before you were blinking your eyes into focus. Looking to the older Bridgerton with a gaping expression Vanessa had, long ago, coined as prized koi, you found your voice a moment too late.

'Amidst my travels-'

'Mr Bridgerton, You are an artist are you not? What are your thoughts on the collection thus far?' You had spoken at the same time and inadvertently cut off Colin. Your mind catching up with your mistake had you countering your question with a rushed apology to the man at your left; 'I am so sorry Mr. Bridgerton, please go on,' Looking up at him you matched the warm smile he sent you as best you could despite the heat in your cheeks.

'It is no problem at all, I was simply saying-'

This time it was Benedict who interrupted his brother with a waving hand of dismissal and a much too-happy-with-himself smirk, at which the younger simply scoffed.

'I am indeed, I was studying for a while but have found the natural approach to growing my abilities to be more fulfilling. I have found some of the pieces featuring the Welsh townships inexplicitly compelling, the detail and depth given to the cobblestones is startling.'  

'That sounds...' You began before pausing somewhat taken aback by the fullness of his answer.

'Compelling' you finished before shifting to the balls of your feet, peering back over the crowd to search the walls for the works Benedict spoke of. 

'And what of this one?' A new voice spoke from behind you, Viscount Edward Lowe had approached and looked to the piece that hung behind the Bridgerton men.

You felt Vanessa's arm slip from your own, as she met your eyes, tilting her head to the side, you nodded in return, assuring her you would be fine should she take her leave. 

'Mr Lowe' Benedict greeted, 'Grown a sudden interest in the arts have you?'

'Not so much as I have found in my betrothed.' Smiling to yourself at the glance the couple shared, you watched as Vanessa took his offered arm and stepped away from the three of you.

'They make a charming couple do they not?' You mused to seemingly no one, not waiting for the opinions of the brothers before shifting yourself to study to the work framed on the wall. 'I find the colouring of this one to be concerningly bland, as if the artist had naught but three hues on his palette and was unaware he could mix them.' Your words pulled a laugh from Benedict while Colin remained silent, 'I apologise if that was too cruel,' Looking towards the latter you found him shaking his head slightly as if to dismiss your apology, and still your eyes remained on his silent figure for a few moments longer even as his brother began to speak.

Benedict was fast to fill the silence, eyes trained on the artwork as he shifted to fill the space to your right,

'I agree, it makes the work come off hollow, as if he, himself felt disconnected from the scene he stood amongst, which if that is the case I would ask him why he desired to commit it to canvas.'

'Perhaps his intention was indeed to spur discourse over that distant feeling?' You mused, attempting to refrain from overly critical comments going forth. 'What do you think Mr Bridgerton?' As you addressed the younger of the two, you watched him glance towards the art, eyes roaming the surface with some obscure purpose.

'The- um, the reds are a strange choice for such trees that don't shed with the seasons' He was softspoken yet the charm of his tone was absent, a vulnerable air to his persona that was rare to see amidst Society. 

Nodding to yourself as you let your own eyes fall back upon the art, you attempted to consider the implications of such a choice. Benedict, on the other hand, seemed not similarly inclined as he started his assertion, 'The warm shades are a strange choice but I doubt it was a pensive decision. He seems unable to make use of any cooler tones. The brush strokes in that area, however, are not dissimilar to that of a toddler with their fingers dipped in mud. Pure chaos. So perhaps he aims to discuss the unpredictability of the natural world.' 

Colin's face was more unsure than ever, clearly out of his comfort zone and flanked by two enthusiasts was surely not the easiest position to be in.

'Perhaps the red of the trees work to add to that chaos Mr. Bridgerton, the artist certainly could have made them brown. Most trees do reach that colour as they die.' You had averted your eyes to the older of the pair, hoping to give the younger a moment to collect his confidence which, to all appearances, he managed, as within moments he spoke again.

'I-I also find the textures... quite... realistic' His voice was still low and somewhat unsure of himself, this was of course not helped by the immediate response, once again, of his brother nor the brow quirked in amusement that accompanied it.

'You find the flat orange expanse of grass, with no discernible brush strokes, accurate?' 

'Mr Bridgerton, if that is how your brother experiences the work is that not a testament to the nature of art itself as a concept that is entirely subjective' Your rebuttal, if it even counted as that, was weak and somewhat irrelevant, even so when Colin spoke next his voice was notedly more settled.

'It follows memories of mine of hills of grass in the wind, moving as the ocean does not as singular blades but as a fabric of silken thread.'

To say his words caught you off guard would be inadequate to describe the buzz and ache that filled your mind and chest at his observation. Everything aside from the artwork and his presence by your side fell from thought. Benedict's lips were moving, that much you were sure of, although that wasn't much of an accomplishment as even the man in the painting could surely hear his opinions.

Colin's words were still floating through your mind, drifting in and out, painting the picture within your head, the image, as clear as it was beautiful. He had set out the details so masterfully you doubted more than a select few painters could compete at rendering such a scene.

Looking up at the man by your side you watched as he rolled his eyes, exasperated as a bright blush crawled over the peaks of his cheekbones. You were startled when his observation fell on you once more, this time partnered with a touch of confusion as he glanced to his brother and back. 

'Are you quite alright?' You watched his lips form the words and still they took comparable years to reach your ears, not to mention the decade it took for you to splutter out a response.

'Oh, I'm quite alright, thank you Mr Bridgerton.' Shifting on your feet you glance to the art before settling your attention on the elder brother, hoping to remain grounded in conversation, 'Art has a way of consuming my attention, although usually, I can maintain focus on the discussion and not drift into thought'

A bright smile broke over Benedict's face in jest as he clasped a hand on the other man's shoulder, 'It seems we are boring her dear brother,' 

'Oh, I assure you that is not the case. You have both given me so much to consider I simply couldn't stop my mind from wandering.' Looking up to Colin you hoped he knew you spoke of his words, and as his eyes met yours you watched his signature smile bloom on his face.

Nonetheless, breathless, you spoke up again, 'I apologise for my rudeness.' His expression melted every ounce of tension in the air and like a windswept hill allowed you to breathe easy.

Keeping his gaze on yours he leaned closer, barely an inch, un-noticeable from afar but up close it was enough to have your breath catching in your chest as his lips parted in a whisper; 'Best to save that for the art hm?' His smile, was now a full-blown smirk as he straightened himself. You could swear his movement had stolen the heat from your skin as he retreated those measly few centimetres to stand back by your side, this time, however, he extended an arm for you to take.

'Shall we move on to the next one? I am eager to hear how you shall tear it apart-' the last second of his speech was cut short by the blaring trumpet that announced Her Majesty's arrival, 'We shall have to save that for later...' Your words, although a whisper, were stronger than you thought you could manage given the nerves plaguing your chest, and surprisingly, your composure was strong enough to allow yourself to retreat to the other side of the room. Stopping short of the wall you stopped, finding yourself alongside your friend and her husband-to-be, stationed by the refreshments... exactly what you needed.

The queen had not spoken for long, but the air in the room had grown hot, so aching for a breeze you stepped outside the moment her speech concluded. Walking clear of the tiled path that hugged the exterior of the gallery you landed amongst the grass of the gardens, traversing the plains your eyes hovered around the horizon, cloaked in statues, hedges, and shrubbery it trapped your attention. You charted the curves of green, trailing your hand against the leaves as you strolled, turn after turn until hedges eight feet high were all you could see.

The maze was not a difficult one to escape, you had surely only rounded a few corners, but the peace was difficult to pull yourself away from. It was simply you, the wind, the trees, and a single set of footfalls.

'Mr. Bridgerton' Startled yet relieved, you stepped to the middle of the path, away from the branches and towards the approaching figure as he rounded the turn. 'What are you doing out here?'

'Am I not to be?' His question was teasing and the smirk across his lips broke the charade of his concerned tone as he continued, 'In that case, you shouldn't be out here either...'

'I-I only meant-' your words were forced out through breaths that grew ever more shallow as he drew closer.

'Why am I here? That's what you meant isn't it?' Now, standing mere inches from you, his voice was quiet, barely audible above the rustle of the leaves and the whistle of the wind. 

'Yes, that's what I meant. Why are you out her-' Feeling small under his gaze you set your stare on somewhere through his chest, a far-off distance blocked by his being just as your question was halted by his voice,

'Guess.' 

'The wind is moving today, the grass, the trees, they do as you said. You came out to feel it for yourself?' The guess was the best you could produce that wasn't corrupted by the heaving of his chest and the depth of his voice. His lips parted though you beat him to it as you questioned him further, 'Why are you breathing so heavily?'

Reaching forward at a snail's pace you sought out his eyes only to find them affixed to your hand as it drifted nearer, 'Mr-'

'"Colin", please' his correction was soft as he inched forth, his chest leaning into the touch as he sighed at the contact.

'Colin, why?'

Encasing your hand within his own as he held it to his breast, he parted his lips once more, 'Listen to the trees, the branches, the leaves. They breathe as we do, as one. Like waves crashing upon the shore,' With a deep breath in his chest pressed into your fingers, 'before returning to the depths,' With a shaky sigh you found yourself emptying your lungs alongside the man in front of you.

Holding his eyes with your own you slipped your hand free, the flash of pain across his eyes faded instantly as you turned his wrist, pressing his palm to your skin.

'Waves crashing down on the sand' your voice is low yet resolute as you breathe in, Colin following suit, 'Before finding its way to the depths...' Raising yourself to your toes you press your lips to his. Releasing your breath, no sooner have your heels returned to the grass than his hand has found your waist and pulled you back to him.

[arroganceisherfavoritecolor]

I will take ANYTHING with colin and/or rodrick (#I'm desperate i've read everything twice) Sorry if thats vague, but I'm like a garbage disposal and will take anything atp. Thank you if you look at this, have a great day/night!

Something about whats-her-name

"Mr. Heffley, whats got you daydreaming away in my class, hm?" Rodrick snapped back to reality, the brittle voice of his teacher shattering his thoughts about- wait... what was her name again? Oh, that's right, Y/n. Y/n L/n, how could he have already been in his 3rd year of high school and barely notice her? "Oh, sorry, it wont happen again" Rodrick said, like an idiot. The teacher simply rolled her eyes and went back to the lecture. As the teacher was talking, Rodrick went back to thinking of Y/n. Since they had just came back from winter break, Y/n must have moved her schedule around and ended up getting put into his 4th period English class. The seating chart app must have been on Rodrick's side when it was determining the new seating chart for the remainder of the year, because it had placed Y/n one person above him, but still in the row next to his, giving him a perfect view.

She was more than just gorgeous, more than ethereal, more than any word that Rodrick's pea-sized brain could come up with. She wasn't like all the other girls Rodrick had liked in the past, most of them quite prissy and rude. But Y/n? Y/n was cool, stylish and you could tell she was NOT just another brick in the wall. Although she was seen hanging out with Heather and her goons sometimes, you could tell she was nice. Rodrick knew she had an amazing personality, and he wasn't just saying that because he was totally head over heels for her. Every time he saw her from across the campus during lunch, she had that gorgeous smile of hers on her face. When he had asked his friends about Y/n, they had only good things to say about her. After a few weeks, Rodrick decided he HAD to get to know her, so he set up a plan.

Rodrick had came to the conclusion that he was going to throw a party that weekend. Since his parents and youngest brother would be gone, Rodrick felt it was the perfect (and probably only) opportunity to throw a sick ass party and impress the girl of his dreams. He sent out a group text in his schools group chat, which soon got screenshotted and posted on various social networking's. Most of the time, Rodrick didn't give a damn about what his peers thought of him. He had gone through all 11 years of school being seen as a dorky, emo weirdo. But now that Y/n was in the picture, Rodrick gave every damn and a bag of chips. He knew this kickback of his had to be off the hook, it was really his only chance to get Y/n to fall for him.. because y'know, he cant just go up to her and ask for her number or something... boy logic.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The Heffley household was PACKED. Teenagers coming in like ants marching. 30 minutes after the party started, Rodrick chose to stop answering the door, and just leave it wide open. People were drunk, some partying it up inside the house, and others passed out in the yard. As he surfed through seas of people, Rodrick made his way to the backyard. There, he saw Y/n sitting on the porch, alone. He opened the sliding glass door, feeling the fresh air on his skin. Y/n turned around, eyes widened. They soon softened when she saw Rodrick. He stood there, looking down at Y/n. She smiled, scooting over to make some room for Rodrick. He smiled, sitting down next to her. Finally, he broke the silence. "So... am I interrupting something? Or are you only out here 'cus my party's lame?" Y/n smiled, Rodrick swore he could feel his pupils dilate. "Nah, of course not. It just really stuffy in there, needed a breath of fresh air." She broke eye contact with him, looking down at her drink. Rodrick saw it wasn't even beer, it was Coke. As he continued to stare at her, Rodrick realized that Y/n is even prettier up close. She turned her head to look at him, which made Rodrick snap out of his trance. "Is there something wrong?" Asked Y/n, her head cocked to the side. What kind of question was that? Of course there was something wrong. Rodrick is sitting outside with the girl hes been damn near stalking, ALONE, and he probably creeped her out because he can't keep his eyes off of her for two seconds. "No, nothing wrong. You're just.." Rodrick couldn't find it in himself to spit out what he so badly wanted to say. "I'm just what?" Y/n's eyebrows were furrowed, a confused expression on her face. "You're so beautiful" Oh shit. It just slipped out, he didn't even mean to say it. Her eyes were wide, her once confused face now turned surprised. "Oh- oh my god. I'm.. i-i'm so sorry Y/n i ju-" Rodrick's stammering of nonsense was cut off by Y/n's soft lips kissing his. Her hands found his face and thumbs gently began to stroke his cheek. Y/n pulled away, a sweet smile on her face. Rodrick's mouth was hanging open, speechless from what had just happened. "Whoa, okay uh, alright." Rodrick said, which made Y/n giggle, eyes scrunching up and sparkling. "I don't wanna sound conceited, but I know everything Rodrick. I can feel you staring at me during 4th period, I notice how you purposely walk by my table during lunch, I even see all the profile views you leave on my socials." With every word that came out of your mouth, Rodrick could feel his face getting warmer and warmer. "O-oh my god Y/n, I'm sorry." He covered his face with his hands, trying to hide the blush. You laughed and softly grasped his wrists, uncovering his cute face. Y/n looked into Rodrick's eyes, deep and dark and desperate looking. "I don't mind at all, Rodrick." She said, eyes switching from looking at his eyes to his lips. "Why didn't you ever talk to me sooner, Rodrick?" Oh lord, hearing his name coming from your voice sounded like music to his ears. "Well I mean, you're just so... I cant even think of a word. I guess I've just been intimidated by you, I didn't know how to approach you." Y/n's eyebrows raised. "Oh, is it because i'm just sooo scary and discouraging, that it took you 6 months to have a conversation with me?" Rodrick laughed, feeling the tension wearing off. "Well, I guess you cant be THAT scary since you just ate my face" Y/n rolled her eyes, gently slapping his arm. "Seriously though, I really like you Y/n, I know i'm a wuss for not talking to you sooner." Y/n smiled at him as she ran her fingers through his hair. "Kiss me again, Rodrick."

And so he did.

A/N: THIS IS NOT MY BEST WORK GUYS! Lowkey rushed bc school stuff lol (i'm dying inside) PLEASEEE request more stuff!! thank u so much for requesting @my-sibling-wears-a-muumuu !!

[ancoraimparosblog]

“What’s going on?” Colin asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. He knew this routine; whenever his family looked too pleased with themselves, it usually meant something that would require his immediate attention—and not in a good way.

“Oh, nothing much,” Eloise said with a casual wave of her hand, but there was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Just that we’ve rented out a room to a paying guest.”

Colin blinked. “A paying guest? Since when do we rent out rooms?”

“Since we need the money, obviously,” Franny chimed in, flipping through a magazine. “And she’s paying quite well. She’s a student at Oxford, you know. Might even be a good influence on Gregory here.”

Colin turned his gaze to Gregory, who was smiling like an idiot. “What’s with you?”

Gregory shrugged, trying to look nonchalant but failing miserably. “She’s nice,” he said, his cheeks reddening slightly. “And she’s really smart. Knows a lot about…stuff.”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Right, ‘stuff.’” He turned back to his mother, who was pouring tea with a serene smile on her face. “And where is this paragon of virtue staying?”

His mother hesitated for a split second, just enough for Colin to notice. “Well, she’s, um, upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” Colin repeated, a sinking feeling forming in his stomach. “Upstairs where?”

There was a moment of silence, then Hyacinth, ever the bold one, piped up, “In your room, of course.”

Colin’s eyes widened in disbelief. “My room? You rented out my room?”

His mother put down the teapot and turned to face him, her expression still calm but now with a hint of firmness. “Colin, dear, we needed the money. And you’re always saying how you don’t spend much time there anyway. It’s just temporary, until we get back on our feet.”

“Why not any of the guest rooms in the East wing, then?” he asked, furrowing his brows.

“The heating system doesn't work there, you know that already.”

“Why my room though? What were you thinking? Just because I wasn't there–”

“Surprisingly, she actually chose your room.” Chimed Eloise, “Said it smells nice. Weird thing to say considering all you boys smell so funny!”

“My room smells like oil and grease, of course it should smell funny!” Colin's frown deepened at the realisation, “I can't believe you rented my room to an Oxford weirdo.”

“Colin, it's just for three months.” His mother said gently.

“But that’s my room!” Colin burst out, his voice rising. “You can’t just—”

“Relax, Colin,” Daphne interjected, trying to smooth things over. “It’s just a room. You can share with Greg for now. It’s not the end of the world.”

Colin was about to retort when he caught Gregory’s barely contained smirk. “You knew about this, didn’t you?” he accused.

Gregory shrugged again. “Hey, don’t look at me. I just think she’s cool. Besides, it’s not like you keep anything valuable in there.”

“Except his pride,” Eloise muttered under her breath, earning a few snickers.

Sophie and Kate, who had been watching quietly from the kitchen, exchanged a glance. “Colin, we know it’s an inconvenience,” Kate said gently, stepping forward. “But it’s helping the family.”

“Yes. And she seems nice. Maybe give it a chance?” Sophie added hesitantly.

Colin shook his head, feeling his temper flare. “This is ridiculous. I’m going up there right now. And I'm going to throw her out.” he stopped and turned towards Greg, “Maybe she can share with you, you little jerk!”

Read more on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58504285/chapters/149080918#workskin

[nic-coughlan]

Bestie you’re a really talented writer! Any chance you do any more little snippets for them? 🤞

*blushes* if you or anyone else sends me a prompt i can give it a go!

here's one...

colin stared at the ceiling, his eyes stiff and sore from tiredness but sleep evaded him. his thoughts wouldn't stop running no matter how he tried and he refused to disturb the sleeping woman in his arms. colin turned his attention to penelope breathing deeply against his chest, her lips still slightly swollen red from their previous activities, and in the dim light of the moonlight shining in he could still see the pink flush of her rounded cheeks. she was so beautiful. colin's chest ached as he carefully lifted a hand to catch a long curl of her red hair and he revelled in the softness. he dropped the curl slowly to her shoulder and paused when she breathed in deeply, head twitching and snuggling deeper into the warmth of his skin.

colin's memory flickered to the first few days of marriage and he swallowed hard at the flare of pain in his chest. night after night on the chaise lounge, the stiffness under his neck and back a constant reminder of where he was and his refusal in his angst to lay with his wife. he was a fool, she would argue it was justified and he had every right to be angry with her but his own stubbornness failed him yet again. nothing compared to this feeling, to her touch, her gaze, her kiss, the feeling of her around him, and he could not believe he deprived himself for so long. colin moved his head slowly pressing a soft kiss to her forehead and shut his weary eyes letting himself rest there just for a moment. the smell of vanilla and rose washed over him and he let himself bask in that scent till sleep finally washed over him.

[bullet-prooflove]

I have an ask for OA Zidan 🪻 The prompt is 15. A little bit tired of tryin' to care when I don’t. Thank you so much.

References to upcoming series 'All That Glitters'

Tagging: @trublu2u @greenies-green @rosaliedepp @whateversomethingbruh @anime-weeb-4-life @daydreaming-belle @burningpeachpuppy @upsteadlogic @malindacath @skyesthebomb @redpool @district447 @yousigned-upforthis @stelacole @abby-splace @delightfulheroshoeflap @alice30martini

OA tries to give a shit about Scott Forrester’s feelings, really he does. It’s clear you meant a lot to each other in the past, that Scott still bears the weight of the attack. OA can’t blame him, he would too. He tries to take all of that into consideration when he deals with the other man because it’s hard for him being around you, it’s hard for you too. You’ve started having nightmares again.

It’s when Scott suggests using you as the delivery girl for international sex trafficker Colin Kent that OA finally snaps.

“Hanna fits their target demographic, she looks young, vulnerable…” Scott’s face remains stoic as he says the next part, his arms folded over his chest as he leans back against the desk. “You need to channel what happened to you, use it make yourself as non-threatening as possible.”

OA sees the effect it has on you. It’s subtle shift but OA can read you like a book. He sees the tension in your shoulders, the clenching of your jaw. The fingers of your left hand curl into a fist and he can see the light tremble there when you flex them. It makes him want to punch Scott Forrester right in the mouth.

“He likes beautiful women.” Scott reminds them as he meets OA’s eyes, as if he can forget everything Kent orchestrated back in New York. He still dreams about Julia’s blood smeared all over his hands, he still hears her last breath. “He’ll step out to get a look at Hanna, she’s just his type.”

OA fucking hates him in that moment.

He waits until you leave the building before he storms into the other man’s office, slamming the door so hard behind him that the glass shakes in the frame. He can tell from the expression Scott’s face that he half expected this reaction.

“You don’t get to do this to her again.” He finds himself snarling as he jabs his finger at Scott. “You don’t get to revictimize her…”

“This is our best chance…” Scott begins but OA’s already cutting him off.

“But it’s not the best thing for Hanna.”

“Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t see the look in her eyes?” Scott snaps, vivid blue eyes boring into OA’s. “I’m asking her to do the exact same thing as I did back then and it makes me sick to my stomach.”

It’s the emotion in Scott’s voice that catches him off guard, the haunted look in his eyes. That devastation OA feels in his chest, Scott has it tenfold because he’s re-living what happened six years ago, the last time he asked you to go undercover.

“If there was any other way I’d do it.” Scott tells him, his palms resting flat on his desk. “But Vo’s too green and Natalia’s not the right fit… It has to be Hanna.”

Every single part of OA rallies against it despite the fact he knows that Scott’s right. He hates it, he hates this whole damn case.

“I am trusting you.” OA tells Scott, his voice raw as he speaks. “I am trusting you with the most precious thing in my life, if anything happens to her…”

Scott reads the undertone.

If you let something happen to her again…

“That’s why you’re coming with us.” Scott tells him, removing his Glock from the desk drawer and slipping it into his holster. “You’re going to make sure I don’t fail her again.”

Love OA or Scott? Don’t miss any of their stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[rainybraindays]

The conversation about Portia is once again making me rip my hair out.

"She loves her daughters! Shes just practical!"

"She tries to understand them more than violet does!"

"Shes so ooc during the end of ep 2 why wouldn't she whould be ecstatic Penelopes finally looking for suitors."

None of you have payed attention to this character in s1 and 2 huh? She is not a good mother or guardian, she's not someone you're meant to biew as a good person.

From her fist scene in s1 we see her, shes showing abusive tendencies. Having Prudences corset laced so tight she can't breath, the other girls are standing away watching in horror, Penelope even comments on it. Portias waves it off, saying at her age she had hers laved until her waist was the size of "an orange and half".

Prudence is also generally the one Portia is the worst to. She views her as stupid, a d seemingly resents her for not having been the heir she as meant to be. When she pits the girls against each other its always pitting Prudence against them.

"Do you want to be like Penelope and have no suitors?" She asks while trying to manipulate her into marrying Jack. Ignoring the fact that like her younger sister shes also had no prospects.

"Don't you want to beat Phillipa in getting the estate?" She says when Prudence expresses her discomfort about sex.

She never goes to one of the other girls and says something of the same ilk, its always Prudence who is being forced to see her younger sisters as competition. To the point where Phillipa the younger of the two is given the bigger room while Prudence is kept in a smaller one, and Prudences debut it pushed back until Penelope is old enough to as well making her 21 when she comes out. Which is absolutely detrimental to her chances when you can be considered a spinster as young as 24.

She's also so fucking reckless with her reputation. She has her caught alone with Jack, claims scandle, and holds very little care for how that makes Prudence look. All because she wants to have control over the estate and she knows she can get Prudence to do as she pleases because this girl is desperate for her mother's love. While also considering being his mistress as if that wouldn't get out.

And thats just one daughter. Lets talk about Phillipa who she let go into a marriage knowing nothing about sex? Like say what you will aout Violets sex ed but at least she tried whereas Portia fully allowed Phillipa to go in blind. If she had a husband less kind than the one she has that could have been a horrifically traumatizing experience for her.

Phillipa is arguably the favorite just because was able to snag a husband so fast, but shes also ignored. Portias favoritism is not paying really any attention to this daughter, and the attention she does pay is to not so subtly jab at her for being stupid.

Then we have Penelope who oh my god this woman doesn't care about?? In s1 we see her try and get Prudence and Phillipa suitors but never Pen. She introduces them to the duke abandoning Penelope who they had literally been standing with. When the drawing room is full for Marina she urges the men to talk to the girls, even if just in passing as they leave, and tacks Pen on as an afterthought. S2 she barely acknowledges Penelopes existence far more concerned with trapping Jack and scamming people. The two interactions between them of any worth is her irritation at th fact that Jack and Pen seem to be getting along, and mocking her for daring to think Colin considers her a friend.

If Portia paid any attention to her youngest she would have been at least somewhat aware of the meetings between her and Colin, but instead at the age of 19, younger than Prudence was during her debut, shes given up on her. Though really is it giving up if you never believed in them in the first place? In ep 1 shes already saying how pleased she is Penelope will always be there to take care of her. When she yells at and berates Penelope for thinking she could get married its entirely because shes being entirely honest. She doesn't think Pen is good enough for marriage, she can't imagine anyone wanting the daughter she barely wants. Her comforting her is only because, for the first time we see Pen break in front of her.

It makes Portia feel the tiniest bit guilty. Because Penelope is usually able to hold her feelings in whn Portia attacks her like this, even in s2 when Portia tells her Colins not her friend she gets frustrated but she doesn't cry like she does in s3. Her "comfort" is telling her shes better off without a man which actively goes against everything Portia preaches to her girls.

Its not genuine.

Even when it comes to Debling and his proposal, she cares less for Pens happiness- and Penelope is clearly not happy she looks so distressed the entire time- and more about the influence she gains from having her daughter marry up. When Debling leaves with proposing, she immediately puts the fault at Penelope because she can't imagine anyway its not her fault. And lets be honest shes not upset Penelopes not going with the "practical" option shes upset Penelopes not helping her gain greater influence.

Theres also ALL the shit with Marina, forging a letter, the slapping her, trying to force a man old enough to be her grandfather on her, that entire situation is entirely crafted by Portia.

She is not a good mother, shes not a good person. Portia is abusive, shes both controlling and neglectful, her daughters only matter in how much she can mold them to be like her and what they gain her through their marriages. Her being mean to Penelope isn't ooc.

The "I am a mother" speech was never about how much she cares about her girls, if it was the focus wouldn't be on how good of a mom she is and how caring and kind she is, it would be focused on her actual love of her daughters. Just because a character says they're good doesn't make them good.

[pentopaper23]

Collection of one shots revolving around Anthony comforting his siblings while they are injured or sick.

CHAPTER Two - Gregory - The Attack of the Playpen.

Anthony is 19 and Gregory is 2.

Anthony groaned and rubbed his eyes; he had been sitting in the study at Aubrey Hall for the last few hours going through the estate books and banking statements. Benedict had taken the Colin and the girls to the village to give him a moments peace and the nanny was with H upstairs. Gregory on the other hand was sitting in a play pen by the window happily playing with his toys a babbling to himself. Anthony remembers his father doing the same for Ben and Colin when they were younger, and their mother needed a break from all three of them.

Anthony laughed then Gregory pulled himself up using the walls of the playpen for leverage, “Such a clear little man!” he said cheerfully clapping his hands in encouragement. Gregory smiled a gummy smile in response and proceeded to stamp his little bare feet against the blanket Anthony has put down and Anthony smiled back before going back to his papers. Seeming to lose interest in standing up Gregory fell back onto his bottom and started playing with his toys again. The two brothers played and worked in relative silence for the new few minutes, said silence only broken by the sound of Anthony’s pen and Gregory smashing his toys to get and laughing to himself.

Anthony was in the middle of writing cheques for the children school fees when Gregory gave a loud scream of pain and started to cry. Anthony dropped his pen and rushed over to the play pen scroop up the crying boy onto his hip. Gregory had a small bleeding cut on his chin and big fat tears were rolling down his flushed cheeks. Anthony looked into the play pen to search for offending object that has caused the small cut and saw a building block with a tiny spec of blood on it’s corner. Gregory had been playing with it when Anthony had glanced up a before and hadn’t given it a moment thought. He pulled a tissue out of his pocket and wiped the tiny trickle of blood that was running down Gregory’s chin.

“OH such a grievance my little man!” Anthony said using the same tissue to wipe away some of Gregory’s tears. “Shhhh….shhhh,” Anthony cooed as he started to pace around the study bouncing Gregory in his arms, “Did the bad block hurt you? Oh noo…” He continued to soothe and when Gregory's cries continued and went up in octave he laughed and caught himself with a bite of his lip.

“Come now little man, such a noise!” He said pulling a funny face trying to calm down the little boy. It somewhat worked and Gregory’s cries turned in little sobs as he tried to catch his breath. Anthony moved the little boy, so his head was resting in the crook of Anthony neck and shoulder, and he continued to pace.

“Is everything okay my Lord?”

Anthony spun around to see their nanny, Kate, standing at the door with baby H in her arms. Anthony moved Gregory back to his hip and ran a hand over the little boys back, “We have had a minor disagreement with a block. Poor Gregory has been brutally attacked!” He said tickling the little boys stomach. Gregory gave a little giggle but still continued to give little sobs and buried his head in Anthony’s shoulder. Kate stuck out her bottom lip and gave Gregory a little wave.

“Shall we swap? I can clean him up and he is due a nappy chance anyway.” Kate said moving Hyacinth, so she was holding her with one arm. Anthony nodded, “Do you want to go with Miss Kate?” he said running a hand through Gregory’s messy curls trying to flatten them the best he could. The little boy nodded sadly and yet still reached his arms out for her and with a small shuffle the adults swapped the children with a practiced ease. Anthony waved Hyacinth little hand at Gregory and Kate as they left the study and when they were gone, he held Hyacinth out in front of him, blew a raspberry on her little stomach and was rewarded with a loud laugh from his baby sister.

“Hello my little love, shall we sit a while?” Anthony said to Hyacinth who stared down at him with their mothers eyes, “I think so” he said taking a seat on the lounge that was by the wide window. He sat with his back against the armrest and propped up Hyacinth on his knees, “Did you have a good day?” he asked playing with her hands and watching as she smiled at the sound of his voice.

A father wasn’t something that Anthony though he would be at eighteen, but looking down at the tiny baby he knew that he would never have a more important job. The title, the running of the estate and even his own schooling at Oxford would never been more important than the little life that was resting on his knees. He would put every one of his siblings before himself and he would spend the rest of the life insuring that they were happy and provided for. For he was now father, mother and brother to six children that has known more heartbreak in their small life then most adults would in their whole big life. Giving Hyacinth a smile he brought her up to rest on his chest and held her tightly to him placing a soft kiss on her head. He felt as she started to drift off and closed his eyes too, the sun casting them in a warm glow as they both fell into a peaceful nap.

[theregencywriter]

(3) A Gentleman's Pursuit - Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

My dear readers,

Tonight's ball, an affair filled with the crème de la crème of society, has proven to be a source of intrigue and speculation. And while I am known for my uncanny ability to uncover the most scandalous secrets, I shall keep you guessing as to my own presence at this particular event.

Yes, dear readers, it is true that I am well acquainted with the happenings of this evening's affair. The lavish decorations, the resplendent gowns, and the enchanting melodies that resonate through the grand ballroom—I am intimately aware of every captivating detail. However, whether I am an esteemed guest or an unnoticed observer, I shall leave to your imagination.

As I roam the ballroom, like a wisp of smoke or a phantom in the night, my eyes are drawn to the figures that capture the attention of the crowd. Among them stands Y/N, a figure of undeniable allure, her every move captivating the hearts and minds of those in attendance.

It appears that suitors flock to her like bees to honey, eager to bask in her presence and secure her hand for a dance. Yet, it is not merely the suitors vying for her attention that pique my interest, but also the protective presence of none other than Anthony Bridgerton.

Anthony, a man of honour and responsibility, seems to have taken it upon himself to shield Y/N from any potential harm. Whether by design or happenstance, his watchful eye is a testament to the undeniable connection that exists between them.

However, as whispers of a heated exchange in the garden reach my ears, one must wonder if their bond has faced its first true test. What transpired in those moonlit moments? Ah, my dear readers, that is a secret yet to be revealed.

But fear not, for Lady Whistledown is always on the prowl, my pen at the ready to record the most intriguing tales. Rest assured, dear readers, that no stone shall be left unturned, and the truth shall be revealed in due time.

Until then, I bid you adieu, and may you continue to dance through life with an air of mystery and excitement.

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

---

As the ball progressed, Y/N found herself at the centre of attention, with suitors vying for the chance to dance with her. Colin and Benedict observed from a distance, their eyes ever watchful, but it was Anthony who became particularly protective as he held onto her arm and guided her through the hall. Unable to bear the sight of other men vying for Y/N's attention, Anthony kept a close eye on her, intervening whenever a suitor approached. His protective instinct heightened as he noticed Y/N's perceived discomfort growing.

Feeling suffocated by Anthony's constant interference, she excused herself from the crowded ballroom and made her way to the tranquillity of the garden. The moon cast a soft glow, illuminating the path ahead as she sought solace amidst the blooming flowers. Unbeknownst to Y/N, Anthony had been trailing her, his protective instincts overriding any notion of personal boundaries. Catching up to her just as she reached a secluded spot, he called out, "Y/N, wait!"

Startled, Y/N turned around, her frustration and anger palpable. "Anthony, what on earth are you doing? Can't you give me a moment of peace?"

Anthony's expression softened as he took in the fire in Y/N's eyes. He took a step closer, his voice laced with concern. "Y/N, I... I didn't mean to intrude, but I couldn't bear to see you uncomfortable. It's my duty as your friend to protect you."

Y/N crossed her arms and took a deep breath, struggling to rein in her emotions. "Anthony, I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself. I don't need you constantly hovering and deciding what's best for me. I deserve the chance to make my own choices, even if they lead to mistakes."

Anthony's eyes widened, a mix of regret and realization dawning on him. He reached out, attempting to touch Y/N's arm, but she took a step back, her anger still simmering beneath the surface.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Anthony said softly, his voice tinged with remorse. "I never intended to undermine your independence or treat you as if you couldn't handle yourself. I've let my own fears cloud my judgment, and for that, I apologize."

Y/N's anger began to subside, replaced by a mix of exhaustion and vulnerability. She lowered her gaze, her voice softer as she replied, "Anthony, I know you mean well. But I need you to trust me and respect my choices. We're friends, and that means allowing me to navigate my own path, even if it leads to stumbling along the way."

Anthony's stubbornness got the better of him, and he stood his ground, his face stern and serious. "Y/N, you must understand that it is highly improper for a young lady to walk unchaperoned, especially at a ball of this magnitude. I only wished to ensure your safety and reputation."

Y/N's anger flared anew at Anthony's refusal to acknowledge his overbearing behaviour. She couldn't believe he was invoking societal rules as a justification for his actions. "Anthony, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I do not need a chaperone or your permission to navigate a crowded room. I am not some fragile flower that needs constant protection!" With her words reverberating in the night air, Y/N turned on her heel and marched back into the ballroom. She was determined to show Anthony that she could handle herself, even in the face of his misplaced protectiveness.

Lost in the sea of dancing couples and swirling gowns, Anthony scanned the room in a panic, searching for a glimpse of Y/N's familiar figure. But try as he might, she had disappeared amidst the throng of revellers, leaving him with a sinking feeling of regret. Realization dawned on Anthony as he came face to face with the consequences of his actions. His stubbornness had cost him not only Y/N's friendship but also the opportunity to support and celebrate her independence.

Determined to make amends, Anthony pushed through the crowd, his eyes scanning every corner of the ballroom in a desperate quest to find Y/N. He longed for the chance to set things right, to apologize sincerely and show her that he respected her autonomy. However, no matter how he searched, Y/N remained elusive, her presence a ghostly absence that haunted his every step. Regret weighed heavily on Anthony's heart as he realized the magnitude of his mistake and the potential loss of a cherished connection.

Amid the bustling ballroom, where laughter and music filled the air, Anthony stood alone, his gaze fixed on the empty space where Y/N had once stood.

---

In a room adorned with exquisite paintings, Benedict Bridgerton's eyes fell upon Y/N, engaged in conversation with an older man, their attention drawn to a particular artwork. Seeking to impress, Benedict confidently approached them, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Ah, Y/N, I see you've found yourself in a room of artistic wonder. Allow me to demonstrate my discerning eye for detail," Benedict declared with a touch of arrogance, pointing out various flaws in the painting they were examining. Y/N listened with an amused smile, allowing Benedict to continue his critique, his words dripping with confidence. But just as Benedict prepared to unveil another flaw, Y/N interrupted him with a playful gleam in her eyes.

"Before you proceed, dear Benedict, I must inform you that the gentleman standing beside me is none other than the artist himself," Y/N revealed, gesturing towards the older man who had been quietly observing the exchange. A look of surprise and embarrassment washed over Benedict's face as he realized his blunder. The painter, a seasoned individual with a look of amusement in his eyes, had been silently absorbing Benedict's remarks.

With a gracious nod, the artist excused himself, leaving Benedict flustered and at a loss for words. He quickly realized the error of his ways and attempted to offer an apology, stumbling over his words in an attempt to rectify the situation.

However, Y/N's roaring laughter filled the air, her amusement melting away any tension that lingered. She reached out and lightly touched Benedict's arm, a warm smile on her lips."Benedict, fear not. Your intentions were meant to impress, and the moment simply took an unexpected turn," Y/N reassured him, her voice filled with genuine understanding. "Let us share a laugh about this amusing encounter.”

Benedict looked down at her arm. Draped in a soft silk glove. He wished for nothing more than for her to remove it, to feel her own skin against his. As his eyes drove up and were met with hers she began to open her mouth, though it was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. “Excuse me miss, may you do me the honour of re-joining me in the ballroom to share this dance?” as the two made their way back she looked over her shoulder at Benedict, saddened by her departure by gracious to have shared that moment.

~

In the midst of the bustling ballroom, Y/N had found herself swept away in a dance with a mysterious stranger. The rhythm of the music matched the fluttering of her heart as they moved across the floor. In the intimacy of the dance, a connection grew, and Y/N couldn't help but be captivated by the charm and warmth emanating from her partner.

As their steps slowed, the mysterious man gazed deeply into Y/N's eyes, his voice filled with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. "Y/N, I must confess that I am set to propose to you tomorrow. The timing feels right, with your stepmother's visit and all."A wave of sadness washed over Y/N's features, her heart heavy with conflicting emotions. She had not anticipated such a declaration, and the unexpected weight of her stepmother's impending arrival added a layer of complexity to her feelings. Sensing her unease, the mysterious man searched her eyes for a response.

“Were you not informed of this?” He asked

However, instead of returning his gaze, Y/N's eyes flickered with a mix of turmoil and longing. The weight of the situation bore heavily upon her, and she made a decision in that fleeting moment. She couldn't fathom entering into a lifelong commitment when her heart was filled with uncertainty and her emotions entangled in conflicting desires.With a deep breath, Y/N pulled away from the embrace, her voice filled with sorrow. "I... I appreciate your feelings, but I need some time to sort through my emotions. It wouldn't be fair to you or myself if I were to give you an answer without being certain of my own heart."The mysterious man, though disappointed, seemed to respect Y/N's honesty. He nodded, a mixture of understanding and disappointment etched on his face. "I understand, Y/N. Take the time you need. My proposal shall remain open for the time being."

As Y/N gracefully excused herself from the dance floor, she quietly slipped away, unnoticed by the masses. The ball continued on, ignorant of the internal struggle that was within Y/N's heart. She boarded a carriage and it drove away into the night, back to the Bridgerton residence.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Ordon Village is buzzing with its usual morning cheer as its people slowly come to life. By the river, Colin and Link are fishing and laughing, speaking of adventures in far off lands, their toes barely dipping into the water.

A little distance from them, their parents' house is still and silent. Uli is passed out in bed, exhaustion evident in the shadows under her eyes, but her face is peaceful in rejuvenating slumber. In the main room, Rusl is laying on the sofa, a lump tucked into his shirt as he looks down and sees Hana napping on his chest, skin to skin. He smiles, his hand resting overtop where she lays under his tunic, keeping her warm as her little breaths brush against him.

Usually, Rusl is already at work in the forge, but he will never pass up an opportunity to have quiet mornings like these. He remembers them with Colin as well, giving his wife time to rest while he cared for their baby boy. He remembers Link, never having known him when he was this small, but still holding him tucked to his chest when the little one would have nightmares that would keep his mother up all night trying to comfort him.

Birds chirped outside, and sunlight spilled in, promising a new chance for time with family, a new chance for adventure and delight and peace and joy. Rusl relaxed in his perch, content in the moment, soaking up every bit of time with his little girl that he could get.

[frost-queen]

My deepest regret (Male!Reader & Bridgerton eldest siblings)

Requested by: @los-angeles-71300, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex–awesome–22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine

Summary: M!Reader is around Colin's age. During the duel it is you who get's shot at with a fatal impact. Anthony who is closest to you, freaks out and panics as he has really shot you. When you are unconscious he never leaves your side. Begging for your forgiveness and apologizing.

“We must hurry!” – you shouted loud, arms flapping at the intensity of you holding the reins. Not far from you was Daphne riding her horse. The hood of her cloak already fallen off. She was panting loud, her body motioning to the rhythm of the horse. – “Who’s foolish idea was this?” – you called out tensing your jaw. Looking sharply behind you to your brother Colin who was trying his best to keep up. – “I swear!” – he replied kicking his horse to go faster. – “I had no idea brother.” – he continue, his horse’s head close to your horse’s back.

“Yaa!” – you outed kicking your horse. It neighed loud, kicking up a notch. Patches of earth ungrasping from its soil as it tackled underneath the hooves. – “I swear if any of you do something as foolish as this!” – you made clear yelling at your siblings. Colin nervously swallowed. You were but a few months older then him yet, the power in your voice now made him tremble to the bone. Briefly he saw Anthony resemble in you.

Daphne was riding in front as your horse easily caught up with her. The beast snorting loud as a puff of air blew out of his nostrils. Sweat creeping up on the body where the saddle was. Your horse was giving his every might, known for his strength and velocity. Daphne gaped while your horse came passing hers. Colin met up with her, riding in sync with her. – “Hurry!” – you yelled, riding towards  a stream breaking two parts of land. – “Y/n you aren’t serious!” – Colin called out with worry.

Daphne gasped already slowing her horse a bit down. Tensing your jaw, you lifted your bottom up. Your horse leaped front legs pulled in as your legs followed the movement of the horse’s body work. Knees contracting up and untensing. Colin and Daphne gasping loud, fearing you might not make it. Hooves thumped loud on the ground, breaking earth loose. You got sat back down from velocity. You could feel the power of your horse in it’s back legs. The strength of the muscles working. –“Yaa!” – you called out as your horse ran further. – “We have to jump!” – Colin told Daphne.

“I…I…I can’t.” – he breathed out, pulling her horse to a stop near the stream. Her horse neighed loud, hooves up as it thumped them back down. Colin slowed down as well, allowing his horse to circle hers. – “We have no choice! Do you wish for Anthony to be hurt? Simon?” – Colin said in a clear voice to her. Daphne shook her head. – “No!” – she forced out. – “Then you must jump! We have no time to loose sister. I wish we could take a safer route, but we don’t have that privilege!” – Colin said continue to circle around her.

“Y/n is on his way alone! It is dangerous Daphne…I…I”- he couldn’t get the words out, suddenly at a loss of air. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to find his voice again. – “If I must go alone further I shall, but I am not letting Y/n ride in there on his own!” – Colin signaled his horse to turn back. – “I will not take any chances.” – he said turning his horse back around after a decent amount of runway.

“Yaaa!” – he kicked his horse, hands flapping with the reins. The horse neighing loud as it started galloping towards the stream. – “Colin!” – Daphne called out as his horse made the jump. He fell back in his saddle, almost flung over the head as he quickly balanced himself by leaning back. His horse continued giving him little time to recover or think about what he just did. He was used to riding, just not mindlessly jumping over streams. – “Your call sister!” – she heard him shout across the stream.

Daphne took a deep breath. Cliquing her tongue, she signaled her horse to do the same. With a scream she jumped across, her eyes half shut. Her horse kicked on as she bounced in the saddle, trying to find a steady rhythm once more. It took a few attempts to find her steadiness. Fully dedicated once more, she rushed after Colin. You were panting. Heart beating so loud it felt like knocking out of your chest. Sweat forming on your forehead and in your neck. – “Anthony you fool.” – you breathed out hoarse.

If you had known sooner of the duel your brother had planned to secure your sisters reputation, you would’ve stopped him. You weren’t sure yet how, but anything was better than having a damn duel over it. And to think he convinced Benedict to help him. You for sure thought your brother had more sense. Guns were never the solution. Apparently it never crossed their minds that anyone could get hurt or worse killed.

You would have to live with that then. With the notion that your brother died foolishly at the hands of a gun. A gun his best friend happened to be wielding. Foolish Anthony, foolish! Groaning you tried for the thoughts to not mess with your head. You needed to have a clear mind for this and do nothing rational. But act with precision and a calm mind. If emotions ran high, it might lead to a misstep. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Colin in the distance.

Another horse not far behind. Good, your siblings had decided to come. You very much needed them to convince Anthony to stop this madness. You hoped it wouldn’t be much further. Crossing land field after another to reach the dueling point. Breathing loud, you wiped some sweat of your forehead.

Your horse was still very much giving his all as you knew he couldn’t keep holding the same pace forever. Eventually he will exhaust out, coming to a full stop unable to move any further. That couldn’t happen as you needed to stop it. Stop the madness. You just hoped you were getting close. Reach it before your horse could surrender to the muscle pain and exhaustion.

Squinting your eyes you saw it. Between the trees. Anthony and Simon with their backs turned to each other. By the tree stood Benedict. – “On my count!” – you heard him call. His voice echoing over the silent spread of the green fields. – “No!” – you shouted pushing your horse to go just that little further. Benedict started counting as Anthony and Simon parted. Benedict’s voice deafened in your mind as you could only hear your own breathing.

The soft thumping of hooves on the sturdy ground as you galloped towards the battlefield. Chest beating with the movement of the galop. Everything seemingly slowing down. Blinking rapidly as your vision didn’t seem to focus. You weren’t thinking what you were going to do. All you knew was that you needed to stop this duel. One way or another. – “One!” – Benedict shouted as Simon and Anthony turned. You closed your eyes as your horse ran across the duel.

Bang! A loud piercing sound echoing across the green fields. A flock of birds startled from up the tree, making an escape for it. Your body fell side-ways as your horse gave in. Sending you down with his entire weight. Simon and Anthony’s eyes widening as they lowered their guns. Your body slamming against the ground with a loud thud. The world gone quiet.

Anthony stared with wide eyes of shock at you. Head trembling as he withheld a firm shake of his head. – “Y/n!” – he shouted, urging his feet to get in motion. Benedict gasped loud dropping to his knees. – “Y/n! Y/n!” – Anthony called out, rushing over to you. He gasped loud seeing you lay underneath the horse. – “Help me!” – Anthony cried out, looking frantically around. Simon came to his assistance as well as Benedict. Simon took one side as Benedict joined Anthony’s. Together they pushed to get the horse off you. – “Dear God!” – Colin and Daphne arrived, pulling their horse to a stop.

Colin jumped off to help. Daphne got off of hers, running over. All groaning they used all their strength to push the horse off you. It had fallen on you when you had fallen. The shot startling it. The horse jumped up and out of the way. Anthony and Benedict leaned back for the horse to run off. Daphne gasped loud, hand to her mouth in shock as she was the first to see it. Your brothers and Simon looked down at you, eyes widening at the small forming red stain on your shirt.

“Y/n!” – Anthony called out frantically kneeling closer to you. He cupped his arm underneath your head to lift yours a bit up. You tried to smile, sputtering out blood. – “You utter fool.” – you forced out, teeth stained with blood. Simon took of his vest, pressing it down on your gunshot wound. You called it out in pain, biting down hard to shout any swear words.

“I…I’m so sorry…” – Anthony said shakily, holding your head. Your chest spasmed as you wanted to keep a cough in. It came out anyways as it hurt like hell. – “I…I’m really sorry.” – Anthony repeated overwhelmed with guilt. – “This is all your fault!” – Daphne shouted. Simon looked up to her with a deep exhale. – “You and your stupid duels, look where it has gotten us!” – she was angry, beyond angry as to speak. Benedict tried to calm her down, seeing how close she was to freaking out.

The moment he held her, shushing her quietly, she broke down in tears. – “Please…” – she said gesturing at you. – “I know… he will be alright sister.” – Benedict reassured her. – “What if he does not?” – she replied in a panic. – “This is all your fault!” – she kicked some dirt at Anthony out of spite. Anthony jumped up as Colin took his place by your side. – “You think I don’t know that!”- Anthony shouted. – “If Y/n dies on us, I would never be able to forgive myself. I pulled the trigger Daphne! I killed our brother!” – Anthony yelled raging with emotion.

“I…I am not dead yet.” – you chuckled out, feeling a sting of pain. Colin could slap you for still making jokes while on the brink of death. – “Y/n stop talking.” – Simon ordered, clearly the only one sane enough to function. He kept pressing on your wound to hold back the bleeding. You nodded, sputtering out more blood. Chin and mouth already stained. Your entire body was trembling from shock.

Breath quickening through your nostrils, chest pulsating up and down rapidly. Colin shushed you, stroking his thumb near your eye as he caught a tear ready to roll down. – “We need to move him.” – Colin said to Simon. – “We can’t. We can’t him risking more blood, he already lost some.” – Simon answered.

“We have to move him! He needs help or he dies!” – Colin shouted getting the attention of the others again. Anthony turned around sharply. – “He needs help! He needs to sit up!” – Anthony said. – “He can’t.” – Simon replied. – “Y/n up! I…I’ll ride with him. Make sure he stays awake.” – Anthony rambled on, planning it all strategically. – “You aren’t listening to me!” – Simon yelled bursting through his rambling. – “If we move him, he could lose a lot more blood. He could die Anthony!” – Simon glared coldly at his friend.

“Is that what you want?” – Anthony shook his head. – “I…I’ll be fine…” – you breathed out touching Simon’s arm. – “Help…help me on that horse.” – you told them, already lifting your head up, flinching at the intense pain. Simon wanted to protest gladly, but he also knew if you didn’t find help soon, you’d be marked for dead. – “Alright.” – he said moving a bit so he could wrap his vest around your stomach to stop the bleeding. Colin and Simon helped you on your feet. You could barely stand up straight, hand clutching the wound.

Already a stain of blood coming through on Simon’s vest. Anthony got his horse, guiding it to you. With the help of the three of them, got you hoisted up in the saddle. Feeling lightheaded, you nearly fell forwards if Simon hadn’t stopped you. Anthony climbed on the horse behind you, taking the reins. – “Ride as fast as you can. I’ll reach a physician and bring him to your house!” – Simon ordered. Anthony nodded as his horse stepped restlessly around. – “Go!” – Simon smacked his horse sending it off.

“Keep your eyes open Y/n!” – Anthony called out, squeezing his arms around you so you wouldn’t fall. – “Bro…Brother…” – you breathed out, head bobbing at the movement as you lacked the strength to hold it upright. The green fields became a blur to you as you couldn’t focus your vision on it. – “Stay awake Y/n! We are going to get you help! I promise…I…I am so sorry!” – Anthony had to force himself not to cry. He couldn’t afford it as he needed his mind clear and sharp. Clutching your stomach, the blood staining through Simon’s vest already inked your hand in red.

A dizzy feeling swirling up. – “An…Anthony…” – you said softly. – “Save your strength!” – Anthony reminded you, kicking his horse to go faster. Your eyelids weighed down as you weren’t sure for how much longer you were going to be able to keep them open. If this was the last time you could speak your mind, now was the time. – “I…I…” – you tried to speak needing a lot of effort for it. – “I forgive you…” – you spoke making Anthony widen his eyes. Then your entire body went limp, bending forwards as Anthony had to hold you tighter.

“Y/n!” – he cried out. – “Wake up! Wake up brother! Wake up!” – he screamed out fighting off his tears. – “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…I’m sorry.” – he cried out, hating himself for pulling the trigger and accidently shooting you. Anthony screamed out a gut-wrenching cry. He never meant to shoot you. You weren’t supposed to be there. It was all his fault. If only someone had talked him out of it. He wouldn’t be at the brink of losing the brother he loved closest. The brother he felt truly connected with. The brother he dared show his emotions. The one who could make him laugh so hard, his stomach would hurt.

The horrors were still playing in his mind. Over and over while waiting by your bed. Your siblings had come in and out while you were unconscious, yet Anthony was the only remaining thing in the room. Never leaving the chair he had pulled up to your bed. Elbows resting on your bed, he prayed for you to come through. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if you didn’t. – “Please… wake up Y/n… I need you…” – he sniffled quietly, begging you to come through.

“Come home.” – he whispered taking your hand. He clutched it between his grip, blinking his tears away. – “If…if” – he wasn’t sure where this came from, but he spoke it out anyways. – “If you don’t want to come home… I…I understand… I…I let you go…” – he sniffed loud, looking up to the ceiling, moving your entangled hand under his chin. – “But please… come home.” – he sputtered out sobs, lowering his head.

“I’m home.” – you whispered out, slowly opening your eyes. Anthony’s eyes widened as he frantically lifted his head up. – “Y/n!” – he called out loud, startling you. He immediately started to cry wrapping his arms around you. You groaned in pain, tapping his arm to get him off you. Anthony pulled back, wiping his tears away. – “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please… forgive me brother…I never meant to…I” – he blurted out, not sure what to say first. Apologize or beg for forgiveness.

“Please forgive me… please say you can forgive me… I hate myself for shooting you… I never meant… please… I beg of you… forgive me brother… I’m so sorry. So sorry.” – he squeezed your hand tight, lowering his head humble, begging. You softly smiled patting him on the hand with your weak hand. – “Like I said…I forgive you…” – you told him. Anthony sputtered out sobs, trying to smile between his tears. You opened your arms to him, welcoming him for a hug.

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

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[addieisnotawriter]

Confessions to Getting Caught

Ted Lasso x fem!reader

i have no idea what this is, i found this in my drafts and thought ‘what the hell’ and wanted to share this mini drabble that i don’t even remember what i wrote in this lmao

—

"You're not leaving!" Ted slammed your office door open, startling you and Colin who was there for a session. You whipped your head towards him with a pissed off look on your face.

"Ted!" You hissed, pointing out that you're in a session.

"Oh hell, sorry." Ted just awkwardly stood there, embarrassed. He scratched the back of his head and then waved at Colin, apologizing to him.

"Go outside and give me five minutes to wrap things up." You muttered, shaking your head.

"Yep, gotcha. Sorry." Ted walks back out, shutting the door behind him as he left.

"Sorry 'bout that Colin. Where were we?" You apologized, giving a smile.

Colin went back to talking and you finished your session ten minutes later. Colin kept repeating his mantra as he left your office while a determined look on his face. You gave a stern look to Ted when you saw him standing there with his hands in his pockets.

"I am so sorry. I didn't know you were in a session." Ted apologized again for the third time.

"Please knock next time." You replied, waving him into your office. He walks in and you shut your door behind you.

"So you heard?" You asked, walking up to him while crossing your arms together.

"Yeah I heard. Why didn't you tell me?" Ted was angry which surprised you. He's always so calm and happy.

"I was going to. But apparently it got around before I could tell you." You replied honestly and calmly.

"I won't let this happen! There's no way in hell you're leaving!" Ted yelled, throwing his hands in the air. He walks away from you, running his hands through his hair and down his face.

"Ted.." You spoke softly, "it was bound to happen. I was only hired to stay on till the end of the season. It's the end of the season, therefore there's no reason for me to stay on." You reasoned with him, hoping it'll calm him down a bit.

"I will talk to Rebecca, get her to hire you for another season!" Ted started pacing, "She'll say yes, she will definitely say knowing it's you. We can-" You cut him off and stopped him by putting your hands on his shoulders, turning him to face you.

"Why are you so hell bent on keeping me here?" You whispered, furrowing your brows at him.

"Because.. I don't want you to leave." He sighed, his eyes softening when he looks at you.

"Why? Ted, if this is about therapy, I can give you names of the best people I know around here to take over. You're going to be fine without me." You spoke softly, letting your hands fall to your sides.

"It's not that. It's.. I-I.." He trailed off, trying to find the words to admit his feelings. He never thought in a million years he would find someone who cared for him as much as you did.

Granted, you were his therapist and that's your job, but there was something different about your relationship with him. You were a friend to him and he wanted you to be more than that, even if it meant having to change therapists.

You ignited something in him that he hasn't felt in a long time, and he wanted more. He felt this way since the day of Rebecca's father's funeral. He just didn't realize those feelings until his conversation with the Diamond Dogs a few weeks after. Though they didn't know you were his therapist in which they said to tell you how he felt but he just played it off. He truly couldn't tell you how he felt because he didn't want to compromise anything. He liked how things were and didn't want anything to change. But now? Now, this was his last chance to say anything before you left.

"I like you. A lot. I have feelings that I probably shouldn't be having but I can't help it. I want you to stay because I can't imagine my life without you." He admits, releasing a heavy breath after.

You stood there stunned. You never thought in a million years he would say something like that to you. You had to admit, you had feelings for him for a long time. But, you played it off and stayed professional with Ted and sometimes friends. Close friends. Though you complained to Keeley and Rebecca that you liked him a lot but couldn't say anything. They never understood why you couldn't tell him because you never said anything about being his therapist. So, you just stayed quiet, and let things continue the way they were. Now things were different.

"Ted.." You whispered after realizing you were gaping and he started to get nervous.

"I know you're my therapist and this crosses a lot of lines between us. Now, you don't have to say anything if you don't want to, but I just wanted you to know how I felt. I'll leave you be." He puts his hands in his pockets again and starts to leave.

Before he could reach the door, you walked up to him and turned him around. You stared into his eyes then his lips and back up to his eyes before grabbing his shirt collar and pulled him into a kiss, your lips crashed into his, tickling against his mustache. He grunted lightly at the impact but didn't mind as he kissed you back, deepening the kiss as he did.

You pulled away, breathing heavily and looking down at the floor before looking back up at him, "I feel the same way and I can't imagine my life without you either. I don't want to leave at all because you're here." You whispered, your hands moving up to his face, your thumbs rubbing his cheeks lightly.

"Then don't. Please stay." His arms snaked your waist, pulling you in closer. He softly bumped his forehead into yours and closed his eyes, sighing as he did. You felt his hot breath against your lips, and wanted more right now.

"God, I need you so badly right now." You muttered, and he chuckled before pulling you into a hard kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he picks you up, letting you wrap your legs around his waist and he carried you to the couch. He softly places you down on the cushions, and laid on top, his right knee and elbows holding him up so he wasn't laying completely on top of you.

You continued to make out with him until you were suddenly interrupted by a door opening and a voice talking. You pulled away quickly to see Keeley there but she didn't see you and Ted yet as she was distracted by her phone.

"So, I decided to plan a going away party for you cause I thought why not and holy shit!" Keeley squealed when she finally looked up from her phone to see you and Ted on the couch together.

"Keeley!" You gaped, shocked to have gotten caught by your best friend. Ted gives a confused look after you pulled away then his eyes went wide when he heard you say Keeley's name, quickly turning to see her standing there.

"Hey Keeley!" Ted drawled on, giving an awkward smile when he looked up at her.

"You know what? I can come back! Keep doing what you're doing!" Keeley starts running out of your office, then comes running back in and leans on the door frame, "thank God you two weren't naked, yea? Could've been a lot worse." She giggled and left, shutting the door before she did.

"Knock next time!" You yelled out, sighing when you know she was possibly out of reach to hear you.

"That is embarrassing." You muttered, covering your face to hide the redness that was slowly growing.

"Hey like she said, it could've been a lot worse." Ted crawls off your body and gets up, grabbing your hands to pull you up off the couch.

You groaned that your moment got interrupted, but then you thought it was good it got interrupted. You didn't know where things could've gone if Keeley didn't walk in here.

It would’ve been amazing either way, you knew that for sure.

[gleefullypolin]

Stacy's tipsy ramblings about season 3:

I have thoughts...and I've had a bad Friday sooooo....here we go.

Do I want Pen to write as LW past S3? Yes and No. Fantasy Stacy wanted Colin and Pen to be Lord and Lady Whistledown spitting truth across the ton to all who needed to hear it. Reality Stacy wants her to have a true career and write a real novel as Penelope Bridgerton where she has her own success and Colin has his.

How are we feeling about the Ben storyline? zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz Sorry.....was asleep. Wake me when we give him something to actually do.

Do we feel sorry for Cressida and want to see her arc redeemed by the end of Season 3? Nope. Every story needs a villain and I'm perfectly fine to see this one drown.

Do I enjoy John and Fran? No. Their story is not exciting for me. Sorry. Nothing against them, I'm just not enjoying it, personal opinion simply my own. I'm sure others might be in the same boat but unlikely to voice that opinion and that's fine as well. Again. Personal opinion and nothing against them. Just how I feel.

Should Colin forgive Pen so quickly in Part 2? Duh. It's a gossip column. I'm sorry that she wrote some honest things that cut close to the vest for people. She didn't lie. She tried to talk to these people over and over and over again and NO ONE listens to her. Colin patted her on the head like a puppy...."Pen you are so good" when she tried to warn him and she saved his ass from twins. Soooo, yeah. Let him feel his feels but honestly, lets move on.

Do you feel like Colin's character is OOC and the brothels are unnecessary? Nope, he came back as the person society expects him to be. Just as he said. He tried to fit with the Lord Douche Brigade and went about his business. The only time he was himself was with Pen. The whole point of that was to see the difference. Brothel mess and all and I was good with that. Clutch your pearls when you want to complain about his brothers having threesomes and fucking in public against trees.

Is Pen trapping Colin by not telling him right away about LW? Girl just got all her dreams converging into one. Confessions of love and fingering all in one. Then thrown into a family marriage proposal, immediately blackmailed by Eloise to confess, Cressida taking all her life's work credit from her, the Queen hunting her down. She's 20 years old. Image the pressure. Not only that but she gets the one thing she's been coveting since she watched him fall off a horse and now it could fall to dust. El already showed her what could happen by telling that secret and she was the love of her life. No one gave her a chance to breathe much less think of what these repercussions could mean. Either way, mistakes were made, but not unforgiveable, and nothing she would not have allowed him out of. When you allow someone the chance to remove themselves, it is not a trap. Point. Blank. Period.

Is the season rushed? I don't know, I've only watched four fucking episodes. Have you watched more than me? Please tell me where to watch the other 4, I'll pay!

Am I an asshole? Nah, just had a bit to drink, did you not read the top part...ok show time over! Before I really tell you how I feel!!

[forasecondtherewedwon]

ship 3 location 19 👀💖🫶🏻

Thanks very much for the prompt, Anon!! Hoping you find this one 👀 worthy...

3) SHIP: Cressida x Eloise

19) LOCATION: a carriage interior

more Bridgerton-themed fic prompts

Two to Give Chase

Pairing: Eloise x Cressida Rating: E Word Count: 3201

Summary: Colin had chased Penelope, and Eloise had chased Colin, and Cressida, rather miraculously, had chased her. Or; Eloise and Cressida get their own carriage scene.

All was in motion tonight, and Eloise, who had only wanted to sit and unfurl her ideas to Cressida, was caught out. Colin had gone to Penelope, and Cressida had gone to Debling, and who to Eloise? No one.

It was not the evening she had thought she was having, ensconced with her friend. She had briefly imagined their tête-à-tête a stimulating salon… until Cressida had abandoned her the moment Debling stood alone on the dance floor. Eloise had scoffed to be left so in the lurch. She had stared, in puzzled awe, at the dancing pairs. Penelope and her brother had appeared to be arguing, while Cressida had looked rather smug in whatever she was imparting to Debling. Both pairs had annoyed Eloise, and it was more complicated than because she had not been a part of them, a part of the easy swish and turn of society she had always felt so out of step with.

Eloise had not solved the mystery of her feelings by the time the music stopped and the set broke up, and so it was impulsively that, when she saw Penelope disappear from the room after speaking to Debling and saw Colin follow after, she shoved her chair back and gave chase.

She was in time to catch up with neither the retreating roll of Penelope’s carriage nor her brother’s feet as he ran—absurd!—after it. She was left, in fact, panting and clutching her side, squinting after them with consternation. She was left alone in the night.

…Until she felt a gloved hand on her arm and turned to see Cressida skidding to a stop at her side. Eloise did not know how much she had seen, what she knew or even guessed, and she had no chance to ask. Cressida was flagging down assistance, was ordering the Cowper carriage be brought. Eloise, repossessed of her breath yet befuddled, only understood that the cause of this rush was her. Colin had chased Penelope, and Eloise had chased Colin, and Cressida, rather miraculously, had chased her.

After Cressida had all but bodily yanked Eloise into the carriage and ordered “Bridgerton House!”, they sat face to face. Eloise did not know quite what to say, except: “What are you doing?”

“I am assisting you! I admit, the destination was a guess—”

“But…” Words failed Eloise for a moment. “Surely this is your opportunity.”

Cressida blinked.

“To do what?”

“To speak with Debling. To dance with him.” Eloise made a gesture that attempted to communicate all the rituals of courtship, all the things it was so much more difficult to do when the man whose attention you sought was so often divided between young ladies—namely, between Cressida and Penelope, who had just fled.

“Oh.” Cressida appeared thoughtful, as though she had truly not considered this. Then, her countenance cleared. “I suppose I did not want to stay with him. I suppose I wanted to… go with you.”

“I do not even know why I am here!” Eloise’s voice rose in exasperation—at herself? At Cressida for throwing away this long looked-for chance to have Debling to herself? Whatever was any of them doing this evening?

“Well, I…” Cressida began tentatively, sitting very straight with her hands folded on her lap. “I rather hope you are trying to waylay Mr. Bridgerton, though I cannot imagine why. Should your break from Penelope Featherington keep your brother from her as well?”

Eloise stared at the woman across from her. She had misjudged her more than once, and was now especially touched by Cressida’s unexpected generosity; it was clear she felt an empathy with Penelope after all. However much she did not want Penelope competing with her for Debling, she apparently did not mean for Penelope to have no husband. For that was the reason behind all of this, Eloise knew—if she stopped to contemplate it beyond rash decisions and gravel in her shoes: Colin must love Penelope. He would not have run behind her carriage if circumstances were otherwise.

“If you side with Penelope, why are you hoping I am trying to prevent my brother from seeing her?” Eloise asked.

Cressida directed her gaze down to her lap, smoothing her dress.

“Because… if you are not…” Her smile, when she raised her chin once more, was fragile. “If you are instead chasing after Penelope, I have made... a very silly blunder. And I ought to have remained with Lord Debling.”

Eloise had never felt it: this. She held Cressida in her gaze—all her terror, all her practicality, all her pink—and she saw what so many of her mother’s stories had not been enough to say. It seemed so simple, so suddenly simple, that she could have laughed. She did not; she did not ever want Cressida to think she was being laughed at, and Eloise felt too overwhelmed to make sense of her laughter to another person. She doubted she could have made sense of it to herself. She felt like a doll that had fallen from a height, wooden limbs all disjointed, so low to the moving sky. It was disorienting, and it filled her with a mad feeling of immortal joy.

“Debling is a most sensible choice,” Eloise murmured. Her lips felt numb, but that was alright, because she was more interested in Cressida’s, which were flinching into a sad smile as she glanced away.

“That he is,” Cressida agreed with forced confidence.

“He would be a good husband to a woman who wanted her freedom, who wanted to be out from under her parents. A woman who had not had a warm home growing up could undertake the making of one, all to her own taste, if she had such a husband as Debling, who was not uncaring but left her much on her own.”

“She could.”

“Does not the woman I describe remind you of yourself?” Eloise wondered gently, making Cressida look at her. “Unless I am mistaken.”

“She does.”

Again, Cressida went along with what Eloise had said, still wearing that unhappy smile. She did not see—Eloise did not know how to make her—that Eloise attempted the same empathy Cressida had lately shown Penelope; she felt for the other woman, and knew what might make her happy. Or if not happy, easy, which might even be better, if love was out of the question. But whether or not love was out of the question was what Eloise really hoped to determine.

“The two of you together,” Eloise ventured, longing to be contradicted, “would be quite a practical match.”

“Practical,” Cressida repeated.

The ensuing silence stretched long enough for Eloise to begin to think of Penelope and Colin, and wonder what had transpired, what might have been transpiring even then, whether they had proceeded to Bridgerton House as Cressida had supposed or aimed for a different destination. Eloise felt she would need to meddle there; if they intended to marry, she could not keep Penelope’s secret quiet. She would not have it on her conscience, no matter if Penelope had reconciled herself to having it on her own. Colin was Eloise’s brother and deserved the truth. What could be love that was not begun honestly?

Eloise’s thoughts were scattering into abstraction when Cressida spoke again, concentrating her focus.

“Of course,” she said, “the practicality of the thing is what makes it all the more inconvenient…” She swallowed and the eyes she locked on Eloise’s were full of nervousness. “…as I fear your influence has made me an idealist.”

Heart beating with a hopefulness that was almost painful, Eloise pled from her eyes.

“You’re brave,” she said.

“More likely a very great fool,” Cressida admitted.

Eloise pulled Cressida’s trembling hands into her own, stroking the satiny fingers of her gloves.

“You will not marry him?” Eloise fairly breathed the question, afraid to hear herself ask it, afraid of what she wanted the answer to be.

Cressida leaned in and swore, “I will not marry him. How could I go away from you?”

With a strangled sound which might have been ecstasy or agony but was certainly a relief to expel from her chest, Eloise took advantage of the jostling of the carriage to fling herself forward, lips pressing Cressida’s. Cressida gave a little cry against her mouth, and then her head was tilting to kiss her more assuredly, her hands squeezing Eloise’s.

Eloise could hardly believe it. Fortunately, there was no more time for doubt than there was for belief, and as Cressida was kissing her back, Eloise seized the opportunity wholeheartedly. The carriage ride would only be so long. At the end of it would be Bridgerton House, and Colin, and Penelope, and perhaps a proposal. If Eloise had to stand witness to a happiness constructed partially over the uneven ground of deception, then she would witness it with her own honest happiness, even if it must be concealed. One of them was crying desperate, grateful, ecstatic tears; as Eloise cupped Cressida’s cheeks in her palms, the tears soaked her gloves.

As though Cressida too had remembered they did not have long, she kissed Eloise more roughly, eliciting a groan even Eloise had not expected.

“I—” she muttered, eyes still half shut but with some vague sense that she must apologize for the impropriety of the sound. “I did not—”

Cressida would not hear the apology. Her arm slipped around Eloise’s waist as she said insistently, “Come here.”

Eloise all but threw herself onto the opposite seat, and in seconds, Cressida had her crowded into the corner, apparently doing all she could to cause Eloise to repeat the noise. With a sloppy swirl of her tongue into Eloise’s mouth, it was accomplished.

The more they kissed, the more they touched—Cressida’s hand gripping Eloise’s side now, higher than her waist—the more Eloise wanted Cressida’s kisses and touches. She was experiencing an urgent sensation. For all her mother’s stories of love and marriage and children, this was something Eloise knew she had never described. Eloise had believed in passion, of course, but she had assumed it was all of the mind—that desire sprung of a connection between two people on the field of intellect and emotions. That understanding was the pinnacle of what one could hope to discover in another person.

Well.

Eloise had been unutterably wrong.

She had also read books, but any book in their home that made any allusion to physicality did so in a glossing, indistinct way. What she felt at the juncture of her thighs, at that very moment, was nothing if not distinct!

Eloise quickly became as desperate to touch Cressida as she was to be touched herself. And not through these blasted gloves! Pulling out of the kiss, Eloise bit the finger of one offending article between her teeth, but the damned things were so snug! She would scream if she were not able to feel all the textures of Cressida beneath her bare fingertips!

“Let me,” Cressida muttered.

With a frustrated gasp, Eloise extended her arm. To her tremendous surprise, Cressida bowed over her arm and used her own teeth to take hold of the fabric and draw it down Eloise’s skin. Oh, it rubbed deliciously as it went, making all the fine hairs on her arm stand on end. Cressida whisked away one glove and then the other. Eloise watched and saw the barest hint of an impulsively made decision in Cressida’s expression before she licked between Eloise’s fingers. Eloise moaned.

And then they were upon one another, Cressida wrenching the dress from Eloise’s shoulders. The straps of Eloise’s stays digging into her upper arms, and she did not care! Her movements were slightly restricted, and what of it! There had been days—many days, most days—when a restrictive garment would have provoked her into endless complaints. Groaning! Whining! Refusals to be dragged from the house! Now, it hardly mattered, because her mouth could still kiss Cressida’s, her thudding chest could still press Cressida’s, her legs could twine with Cressida’s still as they reclined across the seat.

Cressida’s leg rubbed between Eloise’s quite by accident, and Eloise heard another sound of her own creation that was totally unfamiliar to her own ears. Cressida became as a statue. They panted against one another. And then, slowly, Cressida rubbed her leg against Eloise once more. Eloise’s head fell back as she cried out.

They carried on in a flurry, and likely would have carried on longer—longer than the journey would take, longer than the whole of human history had yet spanned, surely—had Eloise not been gripped by the need to show Cressida the same sort of pleasure. She had to. The thought possessed her as she grasped Cressida’s hips and handled her roughly, moving her aside so she, Eloise, could sink to the carriage floor. Cressida sat up, looking much dishevelled.

“What are you doing?”

“I have no idea,” Eloise confessed, the words seeming to crackle as they left her mouth, which was no longer for speaking, only for kissing, for kissing only Cressida.

Kneeling, she took the hem of Cressida’s dress in her hands and began gathering it up towards her knees. She could not explain. All Eloise understood was that the feeling was there for her, and so it must be there for Cressida, and perhaps, if she could see, she could comprehend: how to coax the sensation from her body, how to prolong it, how to prove Cressida had chosen rightly by picking her over Lord Debling.

Her head dropped onto Cressida’s bare knee and she sighed her thanks to God.

“I do.”

Dazed, Eloise looked up at Cressida with a frown.

“Hmm?”

“I know what you must do,” Cressida clarified. Her cheeks were the soft-edged pink of the inside of a cherry, though as she continued to stare at Eloise, they darkened towards a shade more like the ripe skin of that fruit.

“How on earth do you know?” Eloise demanded. She could not fault Cressida for smiling as though she would laugh at her; Eloise’s voice had come out rather indignant. But this meant some young ladies were actually learning about—

“Just because I do not read books on the subject of the great auk does not mean I do not read.”

Cressida’s smile was now very sly, and she held her chin up haughtily as she slid her dress higher than Eloise had yet dared. Eloise’s face grew hot at the sight of Cressida’s naked thighs. Was this the sight men traveled halfway across Europe to enjoy? Was this what men snickered about in their clubs, away from delicate, feminine ears? If it was, Eloise was immediately certain they were unworthy of it. They could not possibly have been appreciating such a view as much as she was, crouched before Cressida Cowper in the moving carriage.

“Could you possibly lend me some of your books?” Eloise murmured.

“Of course. For now, I shall tell you all you need to know.”

This exchange seemed more than generous, an abundantly fair trade for swiftly imparted information on a flightless bird. The knowledge would serve both parties; they would both be the better for it—Eloise was convinced of this, even after Cressida’s hurried account of the mechanics of the maneuver gave way to an explanation without words. With dizzying suddenness, Eloise’s face was nestled between Cressida’s warm thighs and Cressida was tugging her gloves off—left on in their haste—to plunge her fingers into Eloise’s styled hair, likely rendering it irreparable.

Knowing they drew ever nearer to Bridgerton House, Eloise did not hesitate. Lick, Cressida had said, so Eloise did. She did it without being sure, which was a little terrifying, but eventually, she found she had done something correctly; she knew by the way one of Cressida’s hands gripped her head and by the slam she pulled back enough to see had been Cressida’s other hand striking the ceiling of the carriage. Eloise made a noise of satisfaction and continued, only to have her audible satisfaction overtaken by Cressida’s.

She said all sorts of things Eloise had never heard her say, filling Eloise with delight as well as absolute, unadorned lust. Eloise clutched Cressida’s thighs and licked harder, blending saliva with the fascinating wetness that accompanied Cressida’s passion. She lapped at the flushed, budlike apex until Cressida began a mindless roll of her hips, a steady moan. Eloise was a curious woman, and had been a curious child before that; she knew what her own body looked like, but she had not known, had never guessed at, all its miraculous capabilities. She felt the good fortune of Cressida and her books—she felt it from the scalp against which Cressida’s fingernails scratched to the feet she sat on in this position on the floor of the carriage.

Cressida rocked against Eloise’s eager mouth until she panted, “El, El, Eloise,” went silent, and came to a shuddering stop. When she pulled her fingers from Eloise’s hair, Eloise’s head tingled all over like departing fairy magic. She sat back. Cressida’s other hand plummeted from the ceiling. They rearranged her skirt so that it fell down her legs. Eloise tugged her stays and gown back into place around her shoulders. Their gazes pulled at each other, heavy as the sway of the sea. That was what Eloise felt, rolling along, anchored to Cressida. She wondered whether this was what marriage was like; she could not imagine a more profound feeling of connection.

Cressida extended both hands to her and Eloise took them gladly, letting herself be pulled up. She sat next to Cressida, who carefully rested her head on Eloise’s shoulder, mindful of her extravagantly-style hair. Eloise reached up and stroked her soft cheek. She longed for more caresses, more time. She wanted to know what else Cressida knew—wanted to know it with her body.

“I do not know what to say,” Eloise confessed at a whisper.

“Say nothing.” Cressida tucked an arm around Eloise’s waist. “It has all been said.”

Perhaps she was right, Eloise considered. For two people who talked almost ceaselessly when they were together, there was nothing it seemed pressing to say. The obvious thing, Eloise supposed, was to propose. That would save Cressida from ruin. But Eloise was not a man, and could not propose, and had not ruined Cressida by any definition she knew. The weight and warmth of Cressida against her did not communicate ruin. Nothing they had done felt dishonourable to Eloise, and so no dire need for a solution succeeded it. When they arrived at the house, they would have travelled there to here without incident, as far as anyone knew. Someone might observe their stripped gloves, their mussed hair, and see nothing but a pair of tired girls come back from a ball. It was sad, but it was not all sad. It would not be seen, but that did not mean it was not real.

Cressida turned her head and kissed Eloise’s shoulder. Eloise’s heart swelled and shrank and swelled again. They held each other until the carriage slowed.