#jade watches bridgerton

[clumsycapitolunicorn]

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[the-tenth-arcanum]

"ladies do not have dreams. they have husbands" i love you portia featherington. always keeping it real

[quotergirl19]

Random thoughts on Colin & Portia:

I loved watching how the “neighbor boy,” Portia Featherington assumed was a typical rakish gentleman, out of reach and unrealistic for Penelope to like:

Declared his love for her daughter assuredly, fervently and loudly to make sure nobody dared question that he wanted to marry her.

Defended Penelope fiercely even against her own mother to make clear that mistreating or disrespecting his woman would not be tolerated.

Discovered Penelope was Lady Whistledown (after he himself said no one would ever marry LW because she would bring ruin on her family) but not only did he not end the engagement despite being upset with Penelope about it, he married her anyway and his vows were undeniably heartfelt and sincere, he gave her a wedding ring which was not necessary or common practice at the time apparently (Daphne just got the one ring from Simon), and he danced with her in broad daylight at their wedding breakfast (rather romantically).

He was immediately furious the second he heard that someone would dare blackmail his wife, and not only would he not stand for it, he immediately acted (however misguidedly he did so) intending to protect Penelope and when the situation escalated, he was willing to lie to his family and pay a fortune to keep her safe.

And much to Portia’s surprise, he took accountability for his part in making things worse when he could have blamed everything on Penelope.

Then Colin supported Penelope’s choice about how to handle the LW situation and when she revealed herself to the ton.

When Penelope offered him an annulment to free himself of association with Lady Whistledown, he insisted he was lucky just to be with her because he loved her.

Then Colin danced with Penelope, clearly sending the message to the ton that he loved and supported his wife. Lady Whistledown did not trap him nor would he be turning his back on her. This was our first glimpse of Colin “My Wife” Bridgerton.

Colin gave Penelope a son, and the Featherington estate the heir they so desperately needed, and Colin will no doubt raise her grandson to be a man of honor, elevating the formerly mocked and disrespected Featherington family to a level of respectability on par with the Bridgertons.

As if that weren’t enough, Colin continues to support Penelope as a wife and mother, encouraging her passion for writing/working.

That Bridgerton neighbor boy single-handedly made his mother-in-law, a justifiably jaded cynic, believe in love.

I cannot wait to see their relationship in future seasons.

[lukolabrainrot]

Calm theory anon here!! I see that Jade ended things with her BF and now people are thinking that L and J will get back together. When a couple decided to end a relationship normally it happens for various reasons. It's never just one reason. So when L and J ended their relationship they had their reasons and those reasons are still I'm sure in play still. Whatever reasons they had aren't just going to solve themselves. If J and L truly loved each other then they could've fought for their love before the decision was made to end things. Also jade was before Nicola. Guys he has his soul mate. Yes they didn't date right away and I say this with all understanding Nicola is not a rebound type girl. She is a forever type girl. I am not one to ship actual actors. I have never been on a ship before. Guys I didn't even watch Bridgerton. I hardly even watch TV. Yet I came across an interview that Luke and Nicola did and was floored that they were not together. The type of connection they have is what most people yearn for and never get. They were able to drag me who doesn't hardly watch TV into their lives. I've become a first time shipper in my 40s. What they have is real and strong. As much as jade seems like a sweet girl she doesn't stand a chance against that type of love. I wish her well and that she finds what she looking for. As for Luke he is Nicola's.

💯

I've said this before, but I will say it again. I'm almost certain N was part (and I'm saying PART, not the ONLY) reason L/J didn't end up working out. I can't predict the future, but N seems to be the one who has L's heart, and I think J knows this too. I think the L/J ship has sailed...

J breaking up with her boyfriend has no DIRECT connection necessarily to her current relationship with L. L/J broke up almost 2 years ago, and haven't seemed to interact in a longgg time, sooooo... there you go.

[jbaileyfansite]

GQ Magazine Interview (2024)

It’s about four hours before the Los Angeles premiere of Wicked, and the actor Jonathan Bailey, who’s playing the male lead Fiyero in the feverishly-anticipated movie musical, is busy… playing Lego?

“I’m currently constructing,” he tells me, “the Atlantic Ocean of a globe, which I'm building as I travel around the globe [for Wicked].”

In a sunny Santa Monica hotel, in the middle of a whirlwind international promo tour for Wicked—director Jon M. Chu’s screen adaptation of the megahit Broadway musical, starring Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo—the award-winning star of Bridgerton and Fellow Travelers says that playing with Lego has become one of the things helping him stay centered. “Lego’s 18+ Adult level, that's what gets me going these days,” he says.

It is, after all, a high-stakes moment for Bailey. Fan expectations for Wicked are sky-high, and every detail of the project’s rollout has been the subject of intense scrutiny.

Even Bailey’s seemingly innocuous decision to wear shorts to a photocall for Wicked in Australia made waves, and photos of Bailey in black pleated shorts and a sheer black long-sleeved polo by Giuliva Heritage quickly went viral—the gams seen ‘round the world.

“The idea of a very relaxed, elevated day look is something I've always enjoyed,” Bailey tells me, about the fit. “And of course, in Sydney and down under, we should be showing down under.”

“It's funny,” he continues. “Sometimes, you feel like what you decide to wear chooses you. The waist, the cut of the trouser, the pleat, and the waist—it made me feel very elegant.”

When the photos spread on social media, comments sections buzzed with people wondering about Bailey’s leg workout. Inquiring minds want to know: how does the Winkie prince get those legs?

“Well, they should be dancing from a very young age,” he says, laughing. “It's encouraging your sons to dance and do ballet. I played rugby growing up as well, and I play a lot of tennis now. I did ballet for a good few years, and I think the way that the body responds to that and gymnastics, I think, that's the key… Lots of handstands and deep squats.”

Another moment on the press tour that’s already gone viral is a video where Bailey talks about a small travel mishap during pre-production, in which every part of his Fiyero costume wound up stuck in airport limbo—except the footwear. "There's an amazing photo,” Bailey teases in the clip, “that no one's ever gonna see of me, in nothing but my boots, which sort of felt right for Fiyero somehow.”

When I bring it up, he reiterates firmly: “Never to be seen.” But maybe, I propose, that photo finally makes an appearance in a future museum retrospective on his career, the kind London’s Victoria and Albert Museum does for Britain’s most iconic performers? “Literally, let's not get ahead of ourselves,” he says, laughing. “There'll be maybe some shed in the Cotswolds that will be some sort of weird relic to my former career. Maybe it will be laminated there.”

It’s been exciting to watch Bailey’s red-carpet evolution in the last few years. Early in his career, the actor mainly stuck to more traditionally buttoned-up suit-and-tie looks. But recently, there’s a newfound confidence and playfulness to his red carpet style, a willingness to flip some red carpet traditions—and a frisky inclination to show off that body.

Part of that confidence has to do with just how fit the actor is. “I probably am in the best shape I've ever been,” he says. But it goes deeper than that: “I honestly think it reflects a confidence in identity, in one's self,” he says. “You realize how important it is just to be completely yourself.”

“Jonny is a whimsical, mischievous delight, so we try to show that through his sartorial choices,” says Emma Jade Morrison, his stylist. “He is joyful and cheeky, with an old soul, so I love to modernize classic shapes through colors, materials and saucy bits of skin.”

For the Los Angeles premiere of Wicked last night, Bailey once again turned heads in an exciting ensemble—this time, in custom Versace, in a slinky, body-caressing chainmail shirt paired with immaculately white trousers, ruby-red slippers and a poppy boutonniere. (The cherry on top? A mischievous tuft of chest hair peeking out from that Versace shirt.)

“It was Donatella’s idea to allow me to wear the chain mail, the iconic Versace chain mail,” he says. “It's so part of the Versace DNA, and I wanted that DNA pumping around my veins tonight. It's a beautiful thing to wear.”

Bailey, who calls himself “obsessed” with the ‘90s, remembers the iconic image of Kate Moss in a Versace chainmail dress from 1999. “The thing that I remember is the way that it clings to the form of the body. It feels sculptural and sexy,” he says. “All I can see is the way she moved, [the way it] caressed every nook and curve and cranny… I'm excited to be celebrating nooks and crannies tonight.”

“From my moodboard, Donatella and her team honed in on two images of Errol Flynn and Cary Grant and put their iconic Versace twist on them,” Jade Morrison tells me. “We kept the shapes classic and the shirt a bit slouchy to stay true to Jonny’s style. There is literally no material as sexy as Versace chainmail and using chainmail felt like a princely nod to the Winkie Prince.”

“We loved the red slippers with the poppy—as Dorothy says, there’s no place like home, especially since the LA premiere was the weekend before Remembrance Day in the U.K.,” Morrison continues. “Versace also made us a Winkie Prince bomber—a perfect ode to varsity jackets of the 1930s and something that Fiyero would absolutely wear himself.”

“That's the thing about Wicked, and that's the thing about Oz,” Bailey adds. “It's like visually and thematically so inspiring to so many generations that when you work with creators like Donatella, and you work with fashion houses who have so much to say and [we have] so much respect [for] and so much in archive that we feel so nostalgic about these fashion pieces, it's like everyone just goes off like fireworks. And you come up with something incredible.”

Last time Bailey and I spoke, we were doing a mini pub crawl through Manhattan’s West Village with his Fellow Travelers co-star Matt Bomer last year, to talk about their work on the acclaimed series. During that interview, Bailey talked about the tricky balance he had to strike in order to shoot Wicked, Bridgerton and Fellow Travelers simultaneously. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, he sees how the projects inadvertently informed each other—and emboldened him as an actor.

“I just look back on Fellow Travelers with such fond memories,” he tells me now. “The confidence in telling that story, I think, is actually present throughout Fiyero. Wicked is so about identity. The resonance of the themes is even louder I think on film... Playing Tim [on Fellow Travelers] just beforehand allowed me to sort of maybe expand the part in a way that I wouldn't have done otherwise.”

At Wicked’s Sydney premiere last week, Bailey experienced a full circle moment that left him in tears. “I sat with my sister, who’s based in Sydney, and had my two nieces watching it for the first time in front of an audience. And I felt a volcanic sense of emotion,” he says.

“Me and my sister went to the back and had a pint and we both just had a good cry. What Jon Chu has achieved in this film is exactly the sort of cinematic experience, that my whole entire family loved [when I was] growing up, and it's what inspired me in the first place to want to [become an actor].”

At 36, Bailey is a veteran of the stage and the screen—he’s stolen scenes in Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s acclaimed pre-Fleabag series Crashing, held his own with Patti LuPone in a revival of Stephen Sondheim’s Company, and broken hearts in his award-winning turn on Fellow Travelers. But he’s hardly jaded and still finds himself overcome with emotion during various career milestones. “The wonder hasn't left me,” he says.

It’s that same wonder he hopes to impart to young viewers watcing Wicked. “The idea that some lads somewhere might turn to their mom and dad and go, ‘I really want to dance’? That's what it's all about.”

“And also,” he says, with a laugh, “they'll get bloody good legs in the process.”

Source

[atopvisenyashill]

You know when I think about lyanna and watch fan edits I always see someone older cast as her like you know a fourteen year old the perfect fancast will be hyacinth from bridgerton s2 which was around lyanna age when she was crowned queen of love and beauty

If you didn't know this is her

OH MY BABY GIRL HYACINTH THAT'S A GOOD ONE.

That reminds me of my own White Lyanna and White Jon (lol) which is Malina Weissman from A Series of Unfortunate Events, and My Son Who I Birthed And Raised Lucas Jade Zumann as Gilbert Blythe. First of all, look at them, they even look related-

But I love them for the same reason your Hyacinth fc is sooo good - THEY'RE THE CORRECT AGE. Look at those faces! Those are BABIES!!! Stop giving them crowns they should be in school!!!!

[kmomof4]

A Scoundrel... Or a Gentleman? Ch. 5

We are back everyone!!! I've been waiting for this chapter for several reasons and I so hope you enjoy it! Thank you again for coming along on this journey with me! It means more than I can say!

Thank you as well to @jrob64 for all her help in crafting this story and to @snowbellewells and @motherkatereloyshipper for the artwork they made to accompany it!! Love all you ladies to bits!!!

Words: Almost 6300 of approx 59,5K

Rating: M (smut in later chs)

Tags: Regency Romance, Inspired by Francesca Bridgerton's Story, Smut in Later Chapters.

On ao3 From Beginning / Current Chapter

On Tumblr Prologue Ch2 Ch3 Ch4

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615 @donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings @booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells @pirateprincessofpizza @djlbg @lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thisonesatellite @jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779 @kymbersmith-90 @suwya

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

The rest of the week passed in a nauseating blur of flowers, candy, and badly recited poetry by lovesick suitors. It was enough to make Killian want to vomit. Preferably on the lovesick suitors.

Emma was apparently putting all the young debutantes to shame. Her number of suitors may not actually be doubling every day, but it certainly felt like they were, as Killian had had to remove himself from Kilmartin House each day to keep from constantly tripping over the latest besotted fool.

And God above, could not a one of them conceive an original thought? Of course they all made mention of her eyes, but was there anyone with an ounce of creativity in their brains that they might compare them to something other than the green grass of Hyde Park? If anyone had bothered to really look at the color of her eyes, they would clearly see they were a shade all their own. And their hue would change based on her mood - the sparkling green of an emerald when she was happy or laughing, or a more muted jade when she was melancholy.

And everything was worsened by the memory of his conversation with Will. 

Marriage to Emma. 

Marriage to Emma.

Marriage. To Emma.

He’d never really allowed himself to consider it. But now it gripped him with a fever and intensity that burned as hot as his love for her ever had.

And Will knew. 

Of course he knew. Will may not have known for sure when he first made the suggestion, but there had been no way for Killian to effectively hide everything that went through his head at the suggestion. Will was shrewd and nobody’s fool, so there was no doubt in his mind that Emma’s brother would have accurately deduced his feelings just from his utterly flabbergasted response. The question now was, would he tell Emma?

It was something his mind wouldn’t let go of - like a dog with a bone, gnawing at every side - even as he stood watching her on the dance floor at the Fisher ball a week after the original conversation.

“She looks very beautiful tonight, doesn’t she?”

A soft smile touched his lips when he heard his mother’s words.

“Doesn’t she, Killian?” she repeated, when he didn’t answer right away.

“Of course,” he replied quickly. Hopefully quickly enough that she’d think he was simply being polite.

“Green suits her.”

Everything suited Emma, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud to his mother. The deep green velvet she wore, coupled with her golden tresses, made her look like a rare and sparkling jewel.

“You should dance with her.”

He cleared his throat and took another sip of champagne before speaking. “Oh, I will,” he assured her. “After I finish my drink.” Even if the only thing he wanted to do was march right over to her and forcibly remove her from the arms of the latest gentleman dancing with her.

Alice huffed. “Her dance card will surely be filled by then. You should go now.”

Killian gave her his signature smirk, designed to make her forget whatever she was fixated on at the moment, and set his glass down on a nearby table. 

“Now why would I do that,” he said, gallantly with a deep bow, “when I can dance with you instead?”

Her expression changed quickly to amusement. “You rascal.” But she didn’t protest when he led her out to the floor. 

He knew he’d pay for this tomorrow. The society matrons were already circling him for the kill, and there was nothing they loved better than a rake who doted upon his mother. 

The dance was lively, which left little room for conversation, but he still managed to keep Emma in his sights. Until the end of the dance, when he was forced to make one final turn away from her.

And when he turned back, she was gone. Technically, it was possible she’d excused herself to the ladies retiring room, but as he knew she’d done that only twenty minutes earlier, it seemed unlikely. He finished his dance with his mother, bade her farewell with a deep bow, then made his way to the north side of the room, where he’d last seen Emma.

As he got closer, he noticed tall French doors, probably leading to the gardens, closed and curtained. It was not terribly surprising as it was only early April and not warm enough yet to keep the doors open. But he was still suspicious. He’d spent far too much time out in gardens himself with various women to not be fully aware of what could happen in the dark of the night.

He slipped outside. As soon as the door shut behind him, the sounds of the music and three hundred bodies dancing and talking and laughing inside were muted.

Then, he heard her voice. She sounded happy, absolutely content to be in the company of whoever had brought her out here and the thought felt like a punch to his solar plexus. He should leave. Emma wouldn’t want him here. But he couldn’t bring his feet to move. 

He’d never spied on Emma with Liam. If he’d ever stumbled across them during a private conversation, he’d removed himself immediately. But now, something was different. And he couldn’t explain why. But he couldn’t make himself leave.

Just one more minute, he told himself. Just one more to make sure she really was enjoying the man’s company and was not in a dangerous situation.

“No, no.”

Emma’s voice. 

His ears pricked up. She didn’t sound upset, but she was saying no. Of course, she could just be responding to some tidbit of gossip or laughing at a joke.

“I really must… No!”

And that was all it took for Killian to move.

~*~*~

Emma knew she shouldn’t have gone out on the terrace alone with Sir Walsh, but as a widow, she wasn’t subject to the same rules as the debutantes and she was a trifle warm inside, so the cool night air was welcome. 

It had been perfectly pleasant for the first few minutes. Sir Walsh had made her laugh and made her feel beautiful, and oh! how hard was it to admit that she missed that? Was it so bad to want to feel beautiful and desired? 

Maybe they were all only after her notorious double dowry, or maybe they were seeking an alliance with two of the more well-known and powerful families of the ton - Emma was a Nolan and a Jones, after all. But for this one evening, she was going to pretend that it was all about her.

But then Sir Walsh had stepped closer. She moved back a step as subtly as she could, but he took another step in her direction. Then another. And another. And before she knew it, she was pressed back against the trunk of a large tree and Sir Walsh was much too close with both hands on the bark on either side of her head.

“Sir Walsh,” she began, as politely as she could. “I’m afraid there has been a misunderstanding. I’d like to return to the party now.” She kept her voice light, not wanting to provoke anything.

“Now, why would you want to do that?” he murmured, his head dipping closer to hers.

“No, no,” she protested, ducking to the side to avoid him, “People will be missing me.” Dash it all. He wasn’t backing up. She was going to have to stamp on his foot, or worse, unman him in the manner her brothers had shown her when she was but a green girl. “Sir Walsh,” she tried one more time for civility, “I really must…”

And then his mouth, wet and insistent, and not at all welcome, crashed against hers.

“... NO!” she managed to squeal.

But he was quite determined and was much stronger than she gave him credit for. She twisted and turned trying to position herself so she could bring her knee up where it would hurt him the most, but before she could, he was gone.

“Oh!” The surprised sound burst from her. There was a whoosh, the sickening sound of knuckles on flesh, and a cry of pain the likes of which she’d never heard. By the time Emma realized what was going on, Sir Walsh was on the ground and a large man loomed over him, his boot planted firmly on Sir Walsh’s chest.

“Killian?” Emma asked, unable to believe what she was seeing.

“Say the word,” Killian said, in a voice that she’d never heard cross his lips. A voice she’d never dreamed he possessed, “and I will crush his ribs.”

“No!” Emma said quickly. She may not have felt the least bit guilty about kneeing the man between the legs, but she didn’t want Killian to kill him.

And from the look on his face, she knew that he would. And not think twice about it.

She moved quickly toward him and touched his arm. He looked at her, a feral gleam in his eye and Emma caught her breath. “Could we just, perhaps, ask him to leave?”

Killian continued to stare at her. Hard. With an intensity that made it difficult for her to breathe. He ground down on Sir Walsh’s chest just a little bit harder, enough to make the man grunt in pain.

“Are you quite certain?” he asked, his voice still low and full of fury.

“Yes,” she said, “there’s no need to hurt him. I shouldn’t have come out here with him.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” he agreed, “but that doesn’t give him leave to force his attentions on you.” His voice was harsh, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of her behavior or Sir Walsh’s. Killian suddenly removed his foot from the man’s chest and hauled him up by the lapels of his jacket, pressing him against the tree he’d trapped her against, then moving in close until they were nose to nose.

“Doesn’t feel so good to be trapped, now does it?” he taunted. Sir Walsh remained silent, just staring at Killian in terror. “Do you have something to say to the lady?” Sir Walsh shook his head no and Killian shook him before slamming him back against the tree. “Think harder!” he roared.

“I’m sorry!” Sir Walsh squealed.

Rather like a girl, Emma thought. She knew she wasn’t really interested in marrying him, much less bear his child, but this just confirmed it.

But Killian wasn’t finished with him yet. “If you ever come within ten feet of Lady Kilmartin again, I will personally disembowel you.”

Even Emma flinched at his words.

“Do I make myself clear?” he growled.

Another squeak of acknowledgement and Sir Walsh sounded like he might cry.

“Get out of my sight,” Killian said, all but throwing the terrified man away from him. “And don’t let me see your face in London for at least a month.” Sir Walsh got to his feet, his face pale with shock. “Unless, of course, you want to meet me at dawn.” Killian shrugged an insolent shoulder, but the gleam in his eye and the smile on his face told her that he’d like nothing better than to meet Sir Walsh on the dueling field.

Emma realized she was holding her breath. Killian was terrifying. And magnificent. And it was a true shock to realize that she’d never imagined Killian had this in him. That he could be like this.

Sir Walsh ran away as fast as he could, heading across the lawn to the back gate and leaving her alone with Killian. And leaving her, for the first time since she’d known him, without a thing to say. 

Except perhaps, “I’m sorry.”

Killian turned sharply back to her. “Don’t apologize.”

“No, of course not,” she agreed. “I should have known better.”

“He should have known better,” he bit out.

It was true and Emma’s mouth shut with a snap. It wouldn’t do to feed his anger any further. She’d never seen him like this. Truly, she’d never seen anyone like this. So angry that they looked like they might shatter at the slightest touch. As he’d dealt with Sir Walsh, she’d thought he was out of control, but she now realized the opposite was true. He was holding on to his control with both hands, and perhaps his teeth as well. If he wasn’t, Emma was quite sure, Sir Walsh would be dead.

Emma opened her mouth again, but found she still didn’t have anything to say. She could do nothing but stare at the man that she thought she knew so well.

There was something spellbinding in the moment and she couldn’t look away from him. He was breathing hard, struggling mightily to keep his rage under control, but his eyes were far away, as if he wasn’t really there.

“Killian?” she asked in a whisper. 

No response.

“Killian?” she tried again, this time lightly touching him on the arm. He flinched and whipped around toward her so quickly that she stumbled backwards.

“What?” he snapped.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head sharply. She didn’t know what she meant to say, but the look on his face left her shaken. And desiring something comforting and familiar, which at the moment, Killian was not. “I’d like to go home please.”

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll make your apologies inside. Would you like me to escort you through the back gate or the ballroom?”

“The back gate please. I’ll send the carriage back for you and Alice.” The words were formal and necessary to keep her mind away from what all had transpired. He led her toward the gate, his hand on the small of her back, burning through her gown the entire way. When they arrived at the carriage, a thought suddenly occurred to her.

“How did you know I was in the garden?” she inquired. He didn’t answer right away, but his gaze was intense on her and Emma caught her breath. “Were you watching me?”

His expression didn’t change a whit. “I’m always watching you.”

She had nothing to say and climbed into the carriage. But she knew his words would keep her awake long into the night.

~*~*~

Three hours later Emma still lay awake. Alice had returned some time earlier and had informed Emma that Killian was spending time at his club before returning home. Emma wasn’t prepared for the despair that rolled over her at her mother-in-law’s words. 

He was avoiding her. When he’d saved her earlier this evening, he was every bit the dashing romantic hero she secretly swooned over in the latest novel. But by the time she left the party, she had the distinct impression that Killian wanted to get away from her. No matter his last words to her. That his heroism was nothing more than something that he had to do, rather than something he wanted to do.

And even worse, that while she thought of him as a cherished friend and her closest confidant, she was nothing of the sort to him. Nothing more than someone whose presence he endured.

And that hurt. To the very depths of her soul.

She finally heard the carriage roll up outside, then the front door open and close. He was home. And the evening could now officially end. She should at least try to sleep. Perhaps listen for a moment at their adjoining doors. She had no idea what she’d be listening for, but something had changed between them tonight and it left Emma feeling unsettled. Perhaps listening to him ready himself for bed would settle her nerves, help her convince herself that everything was fine between them.

But when she heard his boots on the stairs, she couldn’t stop herself. She wasn’t thinking, she was only moving. To the door of her chamber and out into the hall, her bare feet making hardly a sound on the carpet runner. He stopped when he saw her, surprised, and Emma caught her breath. He was literally breathtaking in the pale glow of the moonlight spilling through the window at the end of the passage.

He looked completely exhausted, but his blue eyes still glowed in the night and his dark hair was tousled over his forehead, inviting her to brush it back into place with her fingers. He was utterly beautiful and she was suddenly conscious of it, almost as a physical caress against her skin.

“Emma,” he said, wearily.

And she, of course, stood there like a fish out of water, gaping at him and not saying a word.

“Emma?”

She shook herself. “K-Killian…” she stammered. “Good… good evening.”

He just stared at her, his eyebrow rising in inquiry.

She took a deep breath and tried again. “I… I just wanted… to see if you were alright.”

A weary sigh left his lips. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“I didn’t thank you earlier,” she said, the words bursting out of her before she could think about the wisdom of that statement.

“For what?”

“For coming to my aid.” She would have thought it was obvious, but maybe he was just too tired to really think about it. “I would have defended myself…” She trailed away when Killian raised a single brow in disbelief. “My brothers showed me how.”

He chuckled and looked down for a moment. “Then I have no doubt you would have rendered him a soprano in moments, had I not intervened.”

“Yes, well, I do appreciate not having to, ahh…” She was blushing. God above, she hated it when she blushed.

“Knee him in the bollocks?” Killian supplied helpfully, the corner of his mouth lifted in a mocking smile.

“Indeed,” she murmured, quite convinced that her cheeks now flamed scarlet, skipping all the shades of pink completely.

“You’re welcome,” he said abruptly. “Now, if you will excuse me.” He moved toward her, but she couldn’t let him go - not yet.

“Wait,” she called, turning around as he approached his bedchamber door.

He sighed, the exhaustion clinging to him like a coat. “Yes?” But she could think of nothing to say. He huffed in exasperation. “Can it wait until morning?”

“No! Wait! Please!” And this time she moved toward him and grabbed his arm. He froze. “Why are you so angry with me?” she whispered.

“What?” His confusion was all over his face, and if she hadn’t been so upset and caught up in her own head, she might have found it humorous. He looked at her like he couldn’t believe what she’d just said.

“Why are you so angry with me?” she repeated, a bit stronger this time. Something wasn’t right between them and she had to know why.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered. “I’m not angry with you. I’m merely tired and want to go to bed.”

“You are angry,” she insisted, “I know you are.” And she did. He was quite adept at hiding it, but there was ire in him and it was directed at her.

Killian placed his hand over hers and Emma caught her breath at the heat from his touch. He lifted her hand from his arm and let it drop. “I’m going to bed.”

She was speechless. She watched as he opened his bedchamber door and entered, then shut it behind him.

“No!” she cried. She dashed after him, unthinking, unmindful… right into his bedroom.

If he wasn’t angry with her before, he definitely was now. “What are you doing here?” he barked.

“You can’t just dismiss me like that, Killian!” she protested.

He stared at her. Hard. “You are in my bedchamber, Emma,” he said in a low voice. “I suggest you leave.”

“Not until you tell me what is going on!”

Killian held himself perfectly still. His every muscle frozen. It was truly a blessing, because if he allowed himself to move, he’d lunge for her. And God knew what he’d do when he caught her.

He’d been pushed to the edge. First by Will. Then by Sir Walsh. And now by Emma herself. Standing there, confusion and hurt rolling off of her, and without a bloody clue.

His world had been turned upside down by one simple suggestion.

You could marry her, you know.

It dangled before him like the choicest of fruit in the Garden of Eden. A wicked possibility that shouldn’t have been his to take.

Liam, his conscience reminded him. Don’t forget Liam.

“Emma,” he said, his voice low and even and perfectly controlled. He swallowed hard before he continued. “It is well after midnight. And you are in the bedchamber of a man to whom you are not married. I suggest you leave.”

But she didn’t. She didn’t move. Damn her. She stood there, a vision in her nightdress, her hair loose, staring at him as if she’d never seen him before.

“Why are you angry with me?” she repeated a third time. “Is it because I want to remarry?”

Killian just stared at her dumbfounded. He couldn’t have been more surprised at her words.

“You think I’m betraying Liam’s memory, don’t you?” she accused.

“No, Emma,” he said wearily, scrubbing his hand down his face. “I would never…”

But she wasn’t listening. “You think I should mourn your brother forever. Do you think I don’t? Do you think that I don’t think about him every single day? Do you think it feels good to know that when I do marry, I’ll be making a mockery of the sacrament?”

He looked at her. She was breathing hard, the color high on her cheeks, tears glistening in the corner of her eyes.

“What I had with Liam,” she said, her entire body shaking now, “I am not going to find with any of the men of the ton who have been sending me flowers. And it feels like a desecration - nothing more than utter selfishness that I’m even considering remarrying.” She turned away from him and grasped the edge of his chest of drawers. “If I didn’t want a baby… so damned much.” 

She stopped then. He couldn’t move. He should move. He should comfort her. And if they’d been in any other room than his bedchamber, he would have. But it was all he could do to control his breathing. And himself.

“You don’t know,” she whispered. “You just don’t know.”

It was more than he could take. She was the one who barged in here, uninvited, demanding answers, when she didn’t even understand the questions. She pushed him to the limit, and now she was going to turn her back on him and tell him he didn’t know?

He crossed the room on silent feet until he stood mere inches behind her. “Don’t know what?” he demanded softly.

She whirled around. “Killian,” she breathed. She was as still as marble, the only sound her breath feathering over her lips, her eyes never leaving his face.

His fingers tingled, his heart thudded in his chest, his breath stuttered. 

His body burned. 

She was as close as she’d ever been to him. Her eyes were glazed, her chin slightly lifted making her mouth open gently. If she’d been anyone else, he would have sworn she wanted to be kissed. 

The moment was endless. 

A whisper crossed his lips, her name, maybe. His head bent toward her and suddenly the impossible became the inevitable. There was no stopping it. He gathered her in his arms and claimed her lips with his own. Sealing his fate… and hers.

When she thought about it later, she could only say that she hadn’t heard him approach from behind. Because if she had, she never would have turned around. But she did turn, his name a whisper of breath.

And he was right there.

So close. Closer than he’d ever stood to her. Closer than anyone but Liam had ever stood to her. And never Killian.

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but breathe as she watched him, realizing with awful certainty that she wanted him to kiss her.

Good God. She wanted Killian to kiss her. She wanted Killian.

The knowledge was like a lightning bolt, electrifying her nerve endings and leaving her trembling in anticipation. She wasn’t supposed to want anyone. But Killian…

She waited for him to move. She could do nothing but moisten her lips and wait for him to move. Because she knew when he did, it would be perfection. 

And it was. 

He claimed her lips with his own and she melted into him. His hand found its way to the small of her back and while he didn’t pull her into him, the barest pressure was there and the distance between them slowly disappeared until she could feel the scrape of his evening clothes through the silk of her dressing gown.

His lips grew more demanding and Emma opened to him, a low moan coming from her as his tongue fully explored the recesses of her mouth. His passion left her weak until she had to grab his arms, to touch him of her own accord, to fully participate in this kiss. To acknowledge that she was a part of this. That she wanted this. That she wanted him.

He murmured her name into her lips, his voice gravelly with desire and need and something more she dared not think about. She could do nothing but cling to him and kiss him as he was kissing her.

Her hands raised to his neck and her fingers buried themselves in the silky soft strands of his hair. His hand moved up her back, trailing fire in its wake, and moved around to her breast. Emma froze, but he was too caught up in his passion to notice. A moan broke from him as he squeezed the tender flesh.

“No,” she whispered.

“Emma,” he moaned again as he trailed kisses up her neck to gently suck at the skin just below her ear.

“Killian,” she begged. “We can’t… I can’t… I can’t do this.” She wrenched herself away from him and opened her eyes, immediately wishing she hadn’t.

His pupils were blown with desire, only the thinnest rim of blue still visible. His hair was even more tousled than it had been and his lips were red and parted. He stared at her, the intensity threatening to consume her.

“I can’t…” she repeated. “I can’t do this…”

“Then go,” he ground out.

She fled to her room. Then the next day, she fled to Number Five.

And the day after that, she fled all the way to Scotland.

~*~*~

Emma had always been a sly one, and she could lie with the best of them when the occasion called for it, but even Killian was rather taken aback at the note full of lies she’d left for his mother when she’d gone to Scotland.

She described the disease spreading amongst the livestock in remarkable detail, all while assuring Alice that it wasn’t necessary for her or for Killian to follow her. She was fully capable of handling the emergency and would return to London just as soon as she could.

His own letter from her was far less wordy and more to the point.

It was wrong of me. Forgive me.

Although what she thought she needed to be forgiven for was quite beyond him. He had kissed her. 

Not exactly the kind of behavior he should be engaging in if he wished to keep his true feelings secret. She may have barged into his bedchamber, but she hadn’t done it expecting him to kiss her. She’d been concerned about their friendship. She thought he was angry with her, so she had acted rashly. But only because she cared about him and their relationship.

Was it possible that the reality of her kiss would so completely surpass every fantasy he’d ever had? And with six years worth of dreams behind him, he’d envisioned some truly spectacular kisses. But, yes. Yes, it was possible that his fantasies had been so lacking, it was almost laughable - if he was capable of laughing. And it was over now. Never to be repeated.

So now he was truly miserable. He’d only thought he’d been miserable the last six years. But no. Now that he’d tasted her, and actually experienced the far superior reality, his torment knew no bounds. He knew now exactly what he was missing. He understood with agonizing clarity what would never be his.

And nothing would ever be the same again.

They couldn’t even remain friends after this. Running to a different country in order to avoid him? Hell, he knew Emma. If she could have run to the moon, she would have. A woman couldn’t send a clearer message than that.

He still wasn’t quite sure how it’d happened. When she’d turned away from him, something had snapped in him and he moved. That was when everything between them changed. And then when she’d turned back to him, he was lost. There was no escaping it. The lid he’d kept on his love and desire for her had simply disappeared and there was nothing he could do but fall into her. There had been no choice involved. No free will. She’d simply waited, her stuttered breath the only thing between them. Waited for him to come to his senses and walk away? Or waited for him to kiss her? It didn’t matter. The result was the same.

The floor around his desk was littered with crumpled sheets of paper. He was in a destructive mood and they were easy targets. He grabbed another from the surface of his desk and prepared to do the same when he realized it was an invitation. He looked closer and saw it was for tonight. He inhaled sharply through his teeth. He’d probably answered in the affirmative when it’d arrived, but he was not in the mood to endure an evening of polite company. He crumpled the invitation in his hand and dropped it to the floor with its fellows. He rose from his desk and decided that he’d handle his problems the way he had so often before. By finding himself a woman.

~*~*~

A couple of hours later he found himself at the door of his club in as foul a mood as he’d ever been. He’d visited one of the higher class brothels in town - one that ensured the women were clean and there of their own free will - but had a difficult time deciding on one. Too short, too lean, too blonde, not in the mood for a brunette or redhead. In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to choose. There was no reason to seek out someone who would just leave him feeling emptier inside than he already did.

So now he was here, where he’d be confronted with not a single female, hoping that alcohol would be successful where La Belle had failed. He walked in, but hadn’t even made it to the lounge when he heard his name.

“Kilmartin.”

Will Nolan. Damn, damn, damn! Anyone would have been preferable to a Nolan. Even Napoleon himself.

“Nolan.” He tried to inject a pleasant tone into his voice, but seriously doubted he was successful.

“Join me,” he invited, motioning to the seat across from him. There was no avoiding it. Killian could only hope Will had a pressing engagement that would require their impromptu meeting to be cut short. In about a minute and a half.

Will was silent until Killian’s drink was delivered. “I understand Emma has returned to Scotland.”

Killian grunted and nodded. 

“Surprising, isn’t it?” Will mused. “With the season just getting started and all.”

“I don’t pretend to know her mind,” Killian grit out.

“No,” he agreed. “There’s no understanding a female mind. Particularly Emma’s.”

As foul of a mood as he was already in, Will’s words made it even worse. “I seem to remember telling you during our last conversation that Emma deserved respect,” Killian growled. “And I would tolerate nothing less. From anyone.”

The warning in his tone was evident but Will was silent and just continued studying him.

“Have you thought about what I said?” he asked, changing the subject smoothly.

Killian held himself very still. “About what?”

A corner of Will’s lips rose in the beginnings of a smug smile. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing and Killian would have loved nothing better than to punch him.

“About Emma.”

“Didn’t we just confirm that she’s left the country?”

“Scotland isn’t that far,” Will observed.

“Far enough,” Killian muttered. Far enough anyway to make it abundantly clear how she felt about him.

“She’ll be all alone up there,” Will sighed.

Killian just stared at him, narrowing his eyes.

“I still think you should…” Will shrugged, “Well, you know what I think,” he finished.

Killian was done being polite. “You don’t know a damned thing, Nolan,” he growled.

Will raised his brows at the snarl in his voice, but the smirk didn’t disappear. “Funny, I hear that all the time,” he murmured. “Most of the time from my sisters.”

Killian was quite familiar with this tactic. He’d often used it himself. And it was probably why the desire to punch Will in the face was now manifesting in his clenched fist under the table. Nothing had more power to irritate than one’s own behavior showing up in someone else. And Will’s face was tantalizingly close.

“Another drink?” Will asked, motioning to Killian’s empty glass.

“No,” Killian bit out and rose from the table. He may have been happy to drink himself into oblivion, but he was certainly not happy to do it in the presence of Will Nolan.

“You do realize, Kilmartin,” Will said, his voice low and intense, “There’s nothing keeping you from marrying her. Nothing at all. Except of course,” he added, shrugging indifferently, but with his steady gaze not leaving Killian, “what you come up with yourself.”

Killian’s heart ripped in his chest. But he’d grown so used to it, it was a wonder he still noticed. And Will just wouldn’t shut up.

“Now if you don’t want to marry her…”

“She might say no.” His voice was no more than a whisper and damn it all, if Will hadn’t known his feelings for Emma before this conversation, he certainly did now.

Will shrugged again. “She might. Most women do, the first time they’re asked.”

Killian raised a brow. “And you know this how?”

Will’s gaze never wavered from his as he answered, “Oh, just hearing it around the ton.” He waved his arm about, rather aimlessly. “Because I’ve only asked once. And we both know how that turned out.” His grin now was genuine and a bit lovestruck, but seeing the happiness on Will’s face did nothing to improve Killian’s mood. Will’s eyes focused on him again, his gaze open but also calculating. “But speaking of, the wedding is being moved up.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My wedding,” he repeated. “To Belle. We’ve decided to move up the date.”

“To when?”

“Two weeks.” 

Will’s gaze still hadn’t wavered, but now there was an amused satisfaction in his eyes that had Killian’s eyes narrowing, even as an idea began to form in his mind. “Emma will need to be informed.”

Will nodded. “Yes, she will. I’d go to her myself, but I’ll be a tad busy the next couple of weeks.”

“You will,” Killian acknowledged. “And your mother will likely be too busy to send a note as well.” Will nodded silently, his dark eyes dancing. 

“I’ll go.” 

It was the only conclusion to the little dance he and Will were engaged in, however unwilling he was as a participant. Will may have thought he was cleverly manipulating Killian into going after her, but he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t desperately want to follow her to Scotland, and now that he had a reason to, nothing would stop him from doing so.

Will raised his drink in salute as Killian rose from the table.

“Safe travels.”

~*~*~

Several days later, Killian stood at the door of Kilmartin, his childhood home. Spring had yet to arrive in the Scottish highlands and the bite in the air reminded him that this - not London, and certainly not India - was home. No matter how long he’d been away from it. But this sense was little comfort as he prepared himself for what lay ahead.

He had to face Emma.

He’d envisioned it a thousand times during his journey north. Imagining her reaction to him showing up, the words she might say, the words he’d say to her. Besides the message he’d actually been commissioned to bring her.

He was going to marry Emma.

He was going to have to convince her of it, of course. It had taken ten days - ten tremendously difficult days - for him to get his mind wrapped around the prospect since that first cataclysmic conversation with Will. But, that had been because he loved her so completely, and been so thoroughly convinced that she’d never belong to him, it had taken a while for him to accept it as even a remote possibility. Emma felt nothing of the sort for him, and so would undoubtedly see the advantages he was prepared to lay out for their union. She was an imminently sensible woman, and Killian was sure he’d be able to convince her to marry him.

And it would be good. It would be heaven. He may not have her heart, but he’d have the rest of her. And that would be enough.

Wouldn’t it?

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! Next ch will be up late Friday night before I go to bed.

[atouchofireland]

PR Perception & Consequences: Luke Newton

[This analysis is from the perspective of a lover of story with a Masters in Publishing & Writing, with ties to a publicist with 20+ years experience.]

I didn't watch Bridgerton until a while after s2 came out. Partly because I hesitate with new shows and mainly because I hate waiting years between seasons.

I LOVE Derry Girls because it clicks with my mainly Irish family. So, I knew who Nicola was as Clare before watching Bridgerton, but nothing else.

That leads into the LN assumptions.

From what I can tell as a general viewer of the show and Social Media, he came from musical theater and Disney stuff in the UK before landing the Colin role in his mid 20's.

During this time, aka 2019/2020-2023, LN had a gf named Jade for that whole time.

Media reported that they'd broken up some time at the end of filming in June 2023. Then, there is some reports saying he got with his current partner, mere months later in at least 8/23 if not sooner. (Nic is known for keeping her even longterm relationships a secret, but Luke's previous gf would post a few pics and vids here and there.)

This is where PR should've started to protect his image before the first premiere and press tour even happened.

At this point, late 2023, Luke has not posted even a hint of his supposed app gf anywhere. Then he leaves for a 6-month world tour with his friend, of 5 years that he has easy chemistry with, but now they both are not with longtime partners.

LN leaned into the romantic press interviews with his friend because he was comfortable with her and it promoted the show.

Here's where his friends as PR shows dumbass judgment.

I believe I saw something about the app gf attending the 1st premier in London, before the tour, but it wasn't paparazzi-d. Whereas, after the WT, the 1st LN news was pap photos with this girl at the after party 2nd half premier. Basically, PURPOSEFULLY taking the romance illusion away from the couple that the actors built for the months leading up to this.

Bad PR leads off from here: self-described introvert Luke goes to Milan with 'gf',' fair enough it's fashion week. But, THEN he's BACK in Italy on "holiday." Getting paparazzi pics of him they didn't even get on his World Press Tour. Then possibly in Greece, continuing some vacation? So much of this shit makes zero sense both PR-wise and normal person-wise.

For example of good PR capitalizing on lead roles: Nicola is on a movie rn, she's part of A-list representation, she's possibly a future bond girl. Johnny Bailey was shooting a drama, Wicked, and his Bridgerton cameos at the same time. Simone is starring in a motion picture out soon.

The rumors of LN's friend Rory running his socials is horrible because: 1) Rory seems like a douchebag who wants more shirtless pictures of himself on his non-famous account than of his gf. 2) He puts Luke's skinny "similar to his gf" wannabe influencer gf on his instagram without hyping up any on Luke's actual work and projects.

This all gives off the vibe of this friend being resentful, taking advantage of Luke breaking up with his longterm gf and deciding to get more built for the show, and convincing him he needs the "hot rebound" for himself and image. As always, that gross straight man is wrong. All his friends say he's so sweet and quiet and genuine.

How I perceive him from his own press: Had a supportive, longterm gf who was also an aspiring actor as they were both coming up in their early 20's. LN started working out so much to get lean & abs to feel on-par with the other Bridgerton guys. Him and his gf grew apart, maybe even felt resentment, while LN was shooting so long for BS3. Shooting raps.

This is the overall perception that makes me and I think many others so mad: Luke had a sweet, curvy, talented gf for 4 years. And he was a thicker tall guy, not fat, not skinny, not ripped but amazingly curvy in the male way that's rare. He got all built for Bridgerton when Nic refused cuz it isn't necessary for the characters. And after all this real-life and on-screen romance with a mid-size woman, after becoming a "muscly man," he shows up with a stick-figure wanna be dance influencer.

His actions of allowing his pr/friend to paint him as if he gets "hot women" now that he's "desirable" is what makes me fucking sick about the perception of him and I think this is why so many Bridgerton fans in the SM sphere got the ick.

[mochinomnoms]

ptm jade just casually be creating high level production, multi-angle, million dollar bridgerton sex scenes with ptm yuu in his head, what a creative boy!

I've never watched bridgerton that's the show about british people right?

Either way, what a creative boy! He'd really make an excellent fanfic writer with how detailed those scenes in his head get.

[tangledbea]

My Tangled/Bridgerton AU ideas that no one asked for

Rapunzel and Madame Gothel

The daughter of an extremely successful merchant (yes, she's getting a downgrade, can't just have princesses running around everywhere), Rapunzel's mother died in childbirth, and her father died of a broken heart shortly thereafter. Fortunately, the woman who was hired to be her nanny and governess was there to step in immediately, caring for the girl like she was her own.

Rapunzel is raised by Madame Gothel, who she calls Mamá, and is hidden from society for the majority of her life and carefully cultivated to be the Diamond of society upon her debut, which will raise her own status on the ton when they all see how flawless her “daughter” is. Rapunzel is beautiful, demure, regal, elegant, talented… everything a man could want as a prize. Now, if only Gothel could wed her off to royalty and secure her own status forever…

Before her debut, Rapunzel was rarely seen in public, though she could often be glimpsed in her window on the top floor of her house. When she was allowed out in public, she was made to wear wide-brimmed hats, keep her head down, and carry a parasol. Gothel wanted to prove she had a daughter while cultivating mystery about her, so that her debut would be a big reveal to the ton and the world. Because of this, Rapunzel was raised alone, without friends, though she spent a lot of her time in the window watching the people below. When they weren’t in London, they were at their country estate, Der Sonne Manor, with sprawling grounds and little staff, who were under severe threat to never speak of the girl when they happened to catch sight of her.

Though Rapunzel is barely interested in most of the men whose eye she catches, she knows her job is to catch a husband. Against Gothel’s desires, she wishes to find someone interested in her, and not just her beauty and status. She hates suppressing her entire personality and hiding her quirkier interests, but she does what she’s told, lest she risk her mother’s wrath.

Unbeknownst to Rapunzel, Gothel murdered her father when she was an infant after securing that she would have access to Rapunzel's inheritance in order to raise her properly. She took advantage of his broken heart, manipulating him to sign legal documentation before killing him. Though the exact cause of his death is not confirmed, there are those who speculate that Gothel had something to do with it.

Eugene Fitzherbert and King Edmund of Umbra

There was treachery afoot in Umbra when Eugene (Prince Horace) was but a baby. King Edmund sent his only child away for his own protection, but the trusted maid he sent him with was killed en route to a safe location. Suspecting she was being tracked down, she left the baby on a stoop. The people who lived there were unable to care for him, and so took him to the local orphanage, where he grew up under the name Eugene Fitzherbert, and never knowing his lineage.

Growing up poor, Eugene longed for a life of wealth and adventure, envious of the nobles who dallied in the richer parts of town. Knowing that there was little to no future for an orphan, he took to stealing and conning to give himself even a fraction of the life he wanted.

He became jaded over time, convinced that the world was hard and cruel, and that he'd never know anything else. And yet, when he was 25, he was abruptly rediscovered by his birth father, who announced his lineage and brought him back home to be the Crown Prince.

Eugene (who refuses to go by Horace) is at something of a loss. This is the life he has always wanted, and yet he has no idea how to actually live it.

Lance Strongbow

Lance grew up in the orphanage with Eugene, and they were best friends, learning to steal and con together. However, their paths diverged in their late teens, and while Lance didn't know what became of his friend, he set his own sights on being such a convincing conman that even the nobles wouldn't know the difference.

He slowly and gradually worked his way up in subtle ways, until he hatched his major plan. The Baron of Vardaros is a man who has not made a public appearance for decades. The last Lance heard, he'd made his way to America and was never coming back. And so, Lance took his name and title, and has begun passing himself off as the current Baron of Vardaros.

He is a rake, spending his time at the club with other men and enjoying the marriage season because he gets much attention from fawning young ladies who are hoping to catch a rich, titled husband. In truth, he gets a huge thrill out of knowing that he is a fraud, and that no one around him is any the wiser.

Little does he know, the true Baron of Vardaros is soon to catch wind of his identity theft, and will want his revenge.

[emkayewrites]

Lukola fanfic scenario, Luke POV: Luke and Nicola are in the middle of filming Season 3, and Luke has just realised he is infatuated with Nicola. Only problem is he's in a relationship and so is she. During a short break from filming, he catches up with his parents, who have some sage bits of advice for him...

(Excerpt taken from my fanfiction 'Curtain Fall')

31st October 2022 – Salisbury (UK)

“Oh my God, it’s Colin from Bridgerton.” He heard their hissing whispers before he saw them.

Two young women stood at the entrance of The Bell and Crown pub, trying desperately to appear nonchalant.  They were wrapped up warmly in thick coats with hats and gloves and holding an array of shopping bags.

In a situation like this one, he had decided he would follow suit and pretend he did not notice them noticing.  He sensed this might be hard to achieve as they were partially blocking his way into the pub, but he did his best to try to manouevre past them with his head down.  The brunettes’ eyes widened at the realization that their paths were about to cross.  Luke watched as she nervously took a few steps back from him, the back of her legs hitting the giant ornamental pumpkin that was placed on the ground behind her.  She had barely let out a squeal as she started to tip backwards before he reached out and grabbed her by the arm, steadying her.

“Woah, careful.” He gave her what he hoped would be his most reassuring smile. 

Regardless, the colour drained from her face.

“Oh m-m-my God, I-I’m so sorry.” She sputtered.  She looked like she was going to be sick.

“We’re really big fans!” Her friend in the mustard-coloured coat behind her suddenly burst out, her eyes widened with excitement.

He was not sure how to receive their two very different energies.

“Thank you.” He replied, again hoping that he came across kind.

“So, you guys are filming up at Wilton House, right?” Mustard coat continued.  “We love it up there, it’s so gorgeous.  Are you guys there for the rest of the week? Oh, wait, you probably can’t say! Or wait, can you say? You probably can’t say what you’re filming though.”

“Yeah, we are. I’m sorry, I’m going in for some lunch.” He gestured to the inside of the pub.

“Oh! God! Look at me going on and on. Of course, of course.” Mustard coat shuffled away, pulling her friend away with her.

He knew the whirlwind of emotions that you could experience when you encountered someone famous, he had been the fan many, many times in his life.  He hoped he had never been the embarrassing fan though.  He had also been recognised before, but this was the first time in his life that he had found himself being recognised this often. 

In fact, just a few weeks ago, he and Jade had been drinking in a London bar when a group of girls had realised who he was and had encircled them.  The situation had turned incredibly awkward when they started talking about how hot he was and then one of the girls tried to give him her number.  It did not help matters that the girls were a group of European models celebrating their last night of work in the city.  He had watched Jade’s face go from mildly annoyed by the inconvenience to viscerally angry.  They had ended up cutting their night short and heading home; Jade had remained stoically silent the entire way.  It had worried him.  He knew she did not blame him for the reactions he was getting but he wondered how much she would be able to tolerate.  How much could any woman’s self-esteem tolerate seeing other women throw themselves at their partner?  He had reminded Jade that it had been public knowledge that he and Nicola were this season’s protagonist and ever since filming had started; fans of the show were constantly awestruck when they saw him or Nicola out anywhere.  The reactions were even bigger when the two of them were spotted out together.  He had hoped it would reassure her somewhat that this was the Bridgerton effect.  He felt a need to remind not just her but also himself that he was not the one changing, it was the situation.  He had not suddenly become hot, whatever that meant.

If things are like this now, what will it be like when the season’s out? He thought.  He could hardly fathom it.

He thought about the ways Nicola had reassured him about what was to come.  In her typical, unflappable way, she had told him it would be hilarious, and they would get through it together.  It was silly advice but because it came from her, he believed it. Those words had been keeping him grounded.  No matter what happened, she would be with him, and they would surely navigate it all together.

Now though, he felt as if that certainty was threatened.  He had been having dreams.  Then out of nowhere, Ezra had shown up.  He could feel deep in his bones that he was agitated about what Ezra’s presence in Nicola’s life meant more than anything else.  He also knew that was wrong.  This should not be occupying so much of his brain.  He was also aware that he was not very good at hiding how wound up he was feeling.  It was becoming apparent in his body language, and sometimes it was slipping through in what he said.  This was why he was so grateful for an afternoon away from everyone and everything, and to be around the two people who always helped him gain a sense of perspective.

He walked through The Bell and Crown, taking in its historical features that included wooden ship beams suspended from the ceiling and stone floors.  The smell of fried food and woodfire hit his nostrils as he spotted them seated at a mahogany table right at the back. 

“Mum, dad!” He greeted them with a small wave as he made his way to them, pulling off his jacket as he did so.

His parents were sat with an assortment of small plates before them and three glasses: one with water, one with wine and the other with beer.  His mother, Sharon, was a petite woman with short blonde hair that was scooped up into a ponytail with a fringe.  His father, Lee, sat opposite her; his sandy brown hair was covered by a dark red beanie hat. 

It was too easy. Luke thought, as he yanked the hat off his father’s head and took a seat next to his mother. 

 “Thank you!” Sharon exclaimed, putting her hands together in a praying gesture. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Lee looked from Luke to Sharon, and then back at Luke: “Do you want to sit here with a man with hat hair or a man with a hat?”

“It’s ungentlemanly to wear a hat indoors.” Sharon shook her head at her husband. “Just smooth it out.”

“Why aren’t you using that hair gel I got you for your birthday?” Luke added, amused.

There was no escapism like being around your parents and watching them bicker over the smallest things.

“I’m not using any ruddy hair gel!  I’m a fifty-nine-year-old man Luke, not a member of One Direction.” Lee snapped back, making Luke roar with laughter.

“We ordered for you.” Sharon nodded at the food in front of them. “We knew you wouldn’t have long before you would have to head back and service here is woefully slow.”

There was something to really love about the predictability that came with your parents’ habits when they reached a certain age.  He had all but compiled a bingo card in his mind of the things he knew were going to be coming up during this meal.  At the top of the list was his mother picking fault with the service in the pub – never mind that the pub was five-star reviewed.  His mother could make Gordon Ramsay look soft.

“Thanks mum, I do have to get back in about an hour.” He popped a fry into his mouth.

“How are you, my love?  You look a lot more tired than when we last saw you.” Sharon eyed him carefully.

“You do look a little rougher around the edges.” Lee added, some concern in his voice. “How many hours are you doing on set?”

Luke was appreciative of how much his parents cared for him.  Even though Lee was not his biological father, he had always treated Luke like a son – in fact, Luke was sure he was treated better than most sons were by their biological fathers.  Lee had also been in the entertainment industry and had taken great pains to ensure Luke was protected and well supported as he sought to make a career for himself.  Luke was sure that he would not have been half as successful if it had not been for Lee’s wisdom.

“The hours are fine; I’m just not sleeping too well.” Luke replied, surprising himself with his own admission. 

“It’s a lot to be carrying a whole season your back.” Lee said sympathetically.

“Well, how’s Nicola? She will be a good one to help you through.” Sharon advised, taking a sip from the wine glass.  “She’s done it all before with Derry Girls. Although I imagine this will be on an even grander scale…”

He had not wanted to talk about Nicola.  He knew that between Ezra and his dreams, the topic was too loaded for him.  He had wanted to come away for a nice meal with his parents to get a break from those thoughts.  Yet, talking about her and about him seemed irresistible to him. 

He could barely stop the words exploding out of his mouth. “Oh, I don’t think she’s losing sleep. She’s got a distraction right now.”

The words came with a little more emotion than he had intended them to.  His parents knew him too well not to pick up on it. 

“Oh really?” Sharon raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“She’s got this… guy friend who’s visiting and she’s all over him.” Luke stated, he hoped he sounded less bothered than he was.  He picked up his knife and fork and began to make a start on the giant battered cod that sat on his plate. 

“Guy friend?  Is that what you millennials call boyfriends?” His mother laughed.

“They’re not calling themselves that… yet.” Luke grimaced.

He caught the exchange of looks between his parents out of the corner of his eye.

“So, I take it you don’t like him then?” Lee asked.

Luke realised there was no one around that could judge him for his real opinions on the matter.  He had had to put on a mask on the Bridgerton set but around his parents, he could be honest.  He felt liberated.

“I just don’t get what she sees in him.” He replied. 

“Oooh, that is really tough.” Sharon made a face. “But she isn’t just your friend.  She’s also your scene partner, you can’t upset things at this stage of filming by saying anything too honest.”

“I know.” Luke felt the frustration rise again slightly. “Believe me.  I’m swallowing it.”

“Nicola’s got a good head on her shoulders.  He might not be as bad as you think.” His father shrugged, slicing into his steak and taking a bite. 

Luke shook his head emphatically at this.  “No, this guy is everything we would make fun of.”

“Well, matters of the heart aren’t always a straight line.” Sometimes, Lee doled out predictably vague dad wisdom.

“I don’t think you should be making fun of anyone.  It seems cruel.” Sharon added, wrinkling her nose as she frowned.  Sometimes she said predictably mum things.

Luke pulled out his phone and with a few swipes on the screen, he pulled up an Instagram page and held it up for them both to see.  “This is him.  LOOK at him.  Skinny jeans, v-neck white t-shirt that’s too small for his arms, standing in front of designer luggage with the caption CEO mode.  Am I going mad or is this man not a parody of himself?” 

Sharon threw her head back in laughter. “Oh God, yes, he’s quite something.”

“And Nic – she’s the opposite.” Luke continued.  “She’s down to earth, she’s not flash, she wears designer clothes but it’s tasteful, it’s not like this-”

“I’m sure she is the wonderful, thoughtful friend you know but she’s also a woman.” Sharon interrupted him.  She surveyed the photo on the screen with a smirk. “You know, as a woman, I get the appeal.”

Luke made a disgusted face and looked at Lee for some help in the matter. 

Lee stopped, his fork mid-air, and moved his face closer to the phone screen.  He eventually shrugged. “He's a fine specimen of a man.  Sorry, I’ve got eyes, Luke.”

“Ugh.” Luke groaned, taking his phone off the table.

“But hey, this is good, isn’t it?” His mothers’ eyes twinkle with realisation. “You can knead your concern for your friend into Colin’s concern for Penelope.  They are keeping the love triangle element?”

“You know I can’t say script specifics, mum.” Luke said dismissively.  He could feel the simmering annoyance that had now settled in.  He needed to change the topic.

Just then, Sharon reached forward for a napkin that was in the center of the table and her hand knocked her wine glass, causing it to tip onto the table and onto the sleeve of her cream cardigan. 

“Oh, Jesus!” She leapt up in her chair.  Luke grabbed at the remaining napkins and started to pad the table dry, and Lee started to get to his feet to assist.

“It’s alright Lee, I need to wash this out in the ladies.��  Sharon gestured for him to sit. “Thank God it was only a white wine.” She grabbed her handbag and walked away from the table.

Luke continued to dab at the table, which was now drier but also stickier.

“Word to the wise, focus on the girlfriend you’ve got.”  Lee’s voice interrupted him, making him stop. 

He fathers’ words took him slightly aback. 

Lee took in his reaction and continued: “Look, Nicola’s a very beautiful girl. It’s easily done.”

“I’m not… nothing’s being done.” Luke responded, but his voice cracked as he spoke.  He knew he was lying to himself and Lee by pretending not to know what his words meant. 

“It happens, you know.” Lee spoke calmly. “I saw it all the time. Feelings getting intensified and confused on a shoot like this.  I’m just saying, keep the work as work and don’t neglect your real life.”

Luke felt the weight of what was being said.  As always, Lee was able to read him better then he could read himself.  Yet, the feelings felt too raw to be exposed like this.  He could not rationalise them so he did what his instinct told him to: deny them.

“I’m not.” He repeated, firmer this time. “Nothing’s getting confused.  She’s my friend, I just don’t like the guy.”

“Well, then do a better job of it.” Lee’s voice was equally stern.

“Better job of it?” Luke was confused.

“Of acting like you’re not.” Lee shot back. “You know, acting? The thing you’re good at but seem to be completely unable to do when it comes to this.”

Luke felt himself getting flustered.  He knew he was having a hard time hiding his feelings but was he really being that obvious?  Before he could respond, Sharon had appeared behind him, and she was carrying what looked to be a mountain of paper towels.

“Jesus, did you leave some for the rest of the restaurant?” Lee exclaimed.

“Very funny.” Sharon rolled her eyes. “What are you two looking so serious about?”

“Plotting your Christmas present.” Lee spoke before Luke could.  That was the signal to say that particular conversation was over, and Luke could not feel more grateful.  It was hard enough denying those thoughts and feelings to his father, let alone his mother.

“Oh, I already said I don’t want a big fuss.” Sharon sighed. “Don’t you dare let him make a fuss, Luke.”

“Well, I don’t control the man, mum.  I’ve already got him to downsize the gift from a trip to the Maldives.” Luke teased.

“The Maldives?” Sharon gasped.

Difficult as it was, Luke tried to enjoy the distraction of winding his mother up for the rest of the lunch hour.

[clumsycapitolunicorn]

.

[newtonsheffield]

A couple bath! Anthony has the flower petals and candles ready and no one interrupts them.

Eloise is fighting the patriarchy? Cool, he can talk to her later.

A gentleman wants to court Francesca? Here's the viscount's office hours. Make an appointment.

Gregory and Hyacinth tore down the wall with Newton? He'll deal with them later.

Colin is currently in crisis mode because he figured out that he's in love with his best friend and uh oh, she's also a notorious gossip monger? Benedict, watch Colin and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.

Anthony’s valet and Kate’s Maid standing outside the door to the room at Anthony’s request under strict instructions that he is unavailable.

Particularly to Benedict whose taken to wandering around after this new Anthony, fascinated in the changes he’s seen in his older brother. A year ago Anthony was saying he really didn’t care to whom he was married. And now Anthony walks into the breakfast room humming as he settles Kate in her seat, preening when Kate leaves him a kiss on the cheek for his trouble.

“Well, this is a change brother.”

Anthony sighed, swishing his napkin, “You minding your business? I quite agree it would be.”

Benedict rolled his eyes, nudging Kate good naturedly, “Have I told you about Anthony’s list of desired attributes in a wife?”

“Benedict.” Anthony warned as Kate chuckled.

“You haven’t but I’m very intrigued.”

“Anthony once asked me which poetry was more deceptive.”

Kate laughed as Anthony tutted, “Well, I was perhaps a little jaded then. I’m very romantic now.”

“Are you?” Kate teased him, “With whom, darling? Must be with your other wife.”

“Kate!”

“Oh he’s getting very cross with us, lady Bridgerton.” Benedict teased.

“I rather like when he’s cross.” Kate hummed, “He looks like an angry turtle.”

“I’m very romantic!” Anthony argued, “Did I not treat you to a very nice interlude last evening?”

“I’m not sure your brother needs to know about that, Anthony.”

“He doesn’t.” Benedict agreed.

[stacygetsit]

This might be a stupid question, but do you think that Antonio and Luke ever dated? I'm not sure if you've talked about it before but I would love to hear your opinion.

I welcome all questions. There are no stupid questions. We are all going based on very little information. I will be the first to say. I have no clue what's going on. I can only offer my opinion. I've never shipped anybody in my life. I didn't even watch Bridgerton from season one. What got me into Bridgerton was watching a interview of Luke and Nicola. And I saw how much chemistry they had and that's what sparked my interest. But onto your question I don't know I'm always on the fence about this one. From pap gate I have always felt that something was off with what we are seeing. On one hand, she was around a lot during the summer, but it was always in group settings. I can't deny that she's clearly in his group of friends at least. But I often question her place. And I think that's due to what we know about Luke and how is been with woman he loves. And we should've seen more then lifeguard Luke since he didn't know about the photos. Then there's the body language. Like we know you can scroll down and see my post on body language between Luke and Jade and Luke and Nick. And then go back and find a picture of the girl and luke. it's not the same body language.

[sukibenders]

I just had an idea for a Sleeping Beauty au for Edwina and Prince Friedrich and now I want to write about it. Okay, so the story takes place following the last season and its effects, the Ton gossips and sinks their claws into Edwina and her image because, from their point of view, she ran from the Viscount during the wedding so, of course, of course, she's to blame (sarcasm). As a result of this, as well as coming to understand who she is, Edwina becomes jaded and closed off. She keeps to herself a bit more, still hurting but not wanting to drag anyone into it, so to escape she goes to the bookstore. Insert Friedrich.

He's recently returned to London, unaware of the drama of the last Ton and its following, and only knows about Edwina because his aunt, the Queen, has been filling his letters with mentions of her. Knowing that he doesn't have much of an option, he accepts an offer to meet the girl his aunt has been so taken by---but not without taking some liberties for himself. He sneaks off to a bookstore, under an alias, where he bumps into Edwina, who is also under an alias. Neither know who the other truly is. Friedrich is almost instantly taken with her, but Edwina doesn't fall for his charms, so he takes to getting to know her as a friend instead.

This false identity aspect plays for a few weeks, as Friedrich is incognito in hopes of avoiding his aunts persistence, and Edwina, in hopes of avoiding the awkwardness of the Bridgerton household, sneaks out under the pretenses of wanting to be her own person (which she does in a sense). It last them a few before others start to notice-- Lady Danbury watches the young Sharma with a close eye, Violet and Mary hold motherly worries, and Kate nearly has half the mind to follow after her sister in secret (even more so when she stumbles upon a rather expensive gift bestowed upon her by a person that Edwina just calls "friend" whenever brought up).

Edwina begins to slowly open herself up more to Friedrich and some seedlings of romance may start to blossom, only for a ball of the next season to happen and makes everything crash down. Or does it. It's here Edwina's and Friedrich's identities are revealed to one another and awkwardness ensues (maybe on Edwina's part). It doesn't help that she's still talk amongst some, so it makes her doubt aspects of her and Friedrich relationship, attempting to push him away, but the blonde prince doesn't seem to get the hint (or maybe just doesn't care about what others have to say). Gifts fill Lady Danbury's house and the prince always finds someway of being near Edwina, to show that even with his princely title, he's still that boy she met at the library and she's still the girl that had his heart from that day forth.

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, a sickness makes its way through London and Edwina falls ill! She has moments of consciousness, but it's masked in a sickly haze and she spends most of her time unaware of the world around her, as if she's in a deep sleep (get it?). Everyone is on the edge of their toes as the reports of said sickness have not been good. Friedrich does not become aware that Edwina has fallen ill until a week later, and instantly bolts to Danbury residents to go and see her. He doesn't care if he becomes sick, as all that matters is that he's by her side.

I don't know if it'll interest anyone, so I think that's why I'll leave it here (mainly because there are a few parts to work out) but if anyone is interested in a follow-up, than I might do it. But this was just a story rant that randomly came into my mind as I was watching Sleeping Beauty (the plot doesn't follow everything about the movie, but does take some ideas from it)

[eternalremorse]

Tag nine people you want to get to know better!

Thank you to @pluviowriting and @cuffmeinblack for the tags! 😘

LAST SONG? - Not a song, but a YouTube mood board medley called "what it feels like to be a memory" - listen here

FAVORITE COLOR? - I have a few! Garnet red, midnight purple and forest green.

CURRENTLY WATCHING? - I need to finish Bridgerton and The Doll Factory, also casually watching a comedy show called Taskmaster and Bluey.

LAST MOVIE? - Fighting With My Family - it's a biographical film about the career of the WWE wrestler, Page (also known as Saraya-Jade Bevis). Not a bad movie tbh!

SWEET/SPICY/SAVORY? - Sweet all the way! I'm a major sucker for chocolate and desserts!

RELATIONSHIP STATUS? - Been with my partner now for 17 years and engaged to him for 8 years (weddings are too expensive these days!)

CURRENT OBSESSIONS? - Hogwarts Legacy and Evanescence (100% millennial over here)

LAST THING YOU GOOGLED? - The film name for Fighting With My Family as I forgot what it was called lol

I think most people I know have already been tagged. So I'm going to tag @blueraineshadows and @slytherin-paramour as I haven't seen you do one of these yet! :)