#portia featherington x you

[midnightscramble]

Hiya, could you do a Portia Featherington x female baker reader. Of course you have all creative freedom. Thank you, love. ;P

Sugar, Sugar Part 1 (Portia Featherington x fem!Reader)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

The Masterlist

Author’s Note: Thanks for the request! Love this idea and am so joyed to write for it. If it’s not to your liking feel free to make another request (don’t be shy!). Happy readings to you.

Summary: The stress of running a doomed household is getting to Portia. In an effort to get her daughter and Mister Finch to produce an heir, she employees local baker Y/n to fill the house with goodies.

Warnings: Portia has anxiety, slight derogatory references to religion, memories of a neglectful marriage, period typical misinformation about pregnancy and fertility, No Beta read

“Mama, I swear, Albion and I have been trying. It is simply in God’s hands. A baby shall appear within my belly when he deems it so.” Philippa shrugged and looked towards the vaulted ceiling as if it was the heavens. Portia pinched the bridge of her nose at her daughter’s idiocy. She walked towards the window and looked out upon the street, shaking her head while cursing her daughter’s religious education. Of all the books Penelope had convinced the late Lord Featherington to supply her with, it had to be the Bible that Philippa happened upon. The very same girl who could not remember her Hail Marys.

Spinning on her heel, exasperated, Portia looked towards her daughter, “It is absolutely in your hands. God gave mankind free will. Free will which you will use to become pregnant. Are you sure that Mister Finch is doing his part, is he doing all a man can to enhance his virility?”

"There is only so much Alby can do, Mama. He has many allergies, it is near impossible for him to eat the foods that are meant to increase his bravado." Philippa yawned resignedly.

"Well, have you noticed any particular type of food that effects his, uhh," Portia raised her eyebrows and whispered conspiratorially, "appetite for you?" Philippa gasped despite her mother's careful phrasing, causing Portia to roll her eyes.

Offended, Philippa tsked, "Mama, that is very improper of you to ask. But if you must know, he rather enjoys sweets before the act."

Of course, Portia thought, when does the man not want sweets. "Then I shall have the staff fill your room with treats and you are not to leave until you are sure you are with child."

"You cannot trap us in our room!"

"I very well can! All of our futures are dependent on your and Mister Finch's coupling. I cannot count on Prudence to put her pride aside and measure up to the task. Penelope has not a suitor insight while she chases Mister Bridgerton's coattail. Please Philippa, if you do not do this we will lose everything." Her ears ran hot as she tried to reason with her. Was it possible that she was the only one who understood the enormity of the situation?

Slouching, Philippa huffed "Fine, although my only request is that the sweets not be from the kitchens. I'd rather it be from Y/l/n Pastries and Delights. The shop has gained quite the following with-"

"Yes, yes. I will take care of it, now off you go! I expect you to be glued to his side by the time I return with the order."

...

The carriage ride into town was bumpy and unpleasant. Perhaps Portia was overly sensitive due to her soured mood. She despised having to haggle, especially with someone as well connected as the Ton's premier baker. Since the death of Lord Featherington, Portia had been careful to reduce the size of the staff and have the kitchens purchase day old produce from the markets. While she preferred to be frugal in such times, this expense would prove to be important. Never did she think her family's future would rely on a man's appetite.

Coming to a halt, she peered out the carriage window. Her destination was at the edge of the Ton, surprising her considering the supposed popularity of the bakery. Gingerly stepping out of the carriage, she tried to settle herself. She knew exactly how to get what she wanted. Men, older men in particular, were simple creatures. With a delicate balance of sexual innuendo and pseudo helplessness, she was sure to emerge victorious.

The shop bell jingled, causing Y/n to look up from her place behind the counter. "Welcome in! what can I do for you, Lady Featherington?" She smiled brightly at the auburn haired woman. The aroma of the shop washed over Portia gently, reminding her briefly of the display of sweets she had at her own wedding.

Portia smiled tightly and approached the counter. To be known about the Ton was both a blessing and a curse. There was pride in being instantly recognized by strangers, yet it made discrete deals such as the one she was trying to procure all the more difficult.

"Hello, Dear. I was wondering if I may speak to the head chef?"

"I am the head chef." Portia released a guffaw, "Pardon me, I'm afraid you misunderstand, I am looking for the shop owner."

Y/n smiled kindly, Portia was not the first to make this mistake, "That would be me, Lady Featherington."

Portia's smile dropped momentarily. A woman shop owner was hard to come by. Sure, there were lady bakers in the Ton, but none owned the shops they worked in. "How modern," she complemented, "I was hoping it would not be too late in the day to place an order for tonight?" She was in fact hoping that it was too late, and thus the remaining goods would have a reduced price given how long they had been siting.

"As a matter of fact, I make night batches to supply to the local families. It seems everyone is partial to dessert before bed," Y/n jested slightly. Although her heart rate picked up a notch, Portia released a laugh to show good nature. Reevaluating the situation, she looked around the shop, "Well I'm not sure what I should order..."

Reading the hesitancy in her eyes, Y/n offered "Why don't I give you an assortment. That way you can come back tomorrow with a list of what was enjoyed, hmm?" She was used to having to sell herself to the people of the Ton, none were quick to trust a female shop owner.

Portia's smile relaxed at the prospect, "That would be lovely, thank you." Y/n started packing up one of each dessert. Absentmindedly, she made conversation, "My condolences on the late Lord Featherington. When my own husband died, it nearly sent me to ruin."

Eyes widening, Portia scrambled for an appropriate response to such an abrupt topic change, "Thank you..." She drifted off, not sure what to say. She studied the young woman, wondering what she was getting at. Their eyes met briefly and Portia looked away, feeling caught.

Filling the silence she continued, "My condolences as well, was it your husband who started this fine establishment?" Internally she grimaced. She knew it was none of her business, yet the oddity of the situation drove her to seek some sort of explanation.

"We started it together. I had to petition to the province to assume control of the estate. They wanted to give this shop to my eleven year old cousin, can you believe that?"

She sucked in a breath, "Yes, yes I can." Portia was becoming all too familiar with inheritance laws.

Y/n placed three full boxes on the counter and grabbed a paper. "Now, I am going to write which box contains which sweet," she beckoned Portia closer to watch as she wrote.

"This box has", rather than listen, Portia found herself distracted in watching Y/n's hands move as she emphatically described how each pastry could be identified. Her fingers twisted as she mimicked the pipped icing atop a miniature cake. The subtle flexing of her hand when she grasped the quill left Portia wondering what strength those hands possessed. Y/n seemed to have a good work ethic, leaving no doubt in her mind that she would be behind the scenes with her staff, kneading dough, working till sweat dripped down the column of her throat- Portia's mouth suddenly felt very dry and she cleared her throat, causing Y/n to pause. Embarrassed she rushed, "Thank you, I shall return tomorrow. You can hand these off to my footmen." She spun around on her heal and in three long strides she exited.

Y/n called after her, "Have a nice night, Lady Featherington!"

...

Feeling rather worn, Portia told Philippa's maid to have the sweets brought directly to her daughter's room. She retired early, settling in the king sized bed with the latest issue of Lady Whistledown. Seldom did she wish to know the true identity of the infamous writer. However, it was nights like these that she wanted to meet the woman face to face. She was curious, how had she made it so far? Was there a man behind the publishing? If it was truly a Lady behind the gossip expose, she may be the most independent woman of their time.

Oh, to be so free, she thought.

Turning, she blew out her bed side candle and tossed the pamphlet to the floor. Even with her husband dead, she was still chained to his decisions, his name, the failures he had made and hid from her. It would have scorned her if not for the fact that she had no emotion left to give the man.

She had never truly been dependent on him, at least not in the traditional sense. There were women like Violet Bridgerton, who mourned her husband years after his passing, pious and properly. For Violet had loved him, and in turn was dependent on his love and company. Portia, on the other hand, had tried to love her husband. She gave Lord Featherington her youthful devotion, drawn to his coy smiles and cold disregard for her. There was a certain safety in giving her heart and hand in marriage to a man who was distant. Who showed his affection in gifts rather than touch or word.

Their relationship, transactional at best, had entirely ceased upon the birth of Penelope. Lord Featherington had given up on the prospect of a male heir and moved to the opposing wing. From then on, the bulk of their interactions consisted of sitting across from each other at breakfast and linking arms at social events. Both were too content to break the newly developed pattern. It was almost pleasant, to look upon each other and feel no obligation to pretend.

Tonight was like any other night in her marriage, spent alone. She was normally untroubled by the empty side of her bed, cold and firm from being unoccupied. Closing her eyes she resigned herself to ignore the sudden deficiency. She told herself that it was of most importance to fall asleep quickly. Tomorrow she would have to be sharp to negotiate with Y/n.

Reminded briefly of the baker, thoughts of little cakes with pipped icing, quills, and the smell of bread paraded through her mind as she succumbed to sleep.

[anastasiareadsnwrites]

May I please request a Portia x Fem! Cook! Reader? Where the cook has been with the featheringtons for a while and helps Portia find a dowager house?

Hey pretty, Mama Part I (Portia Featherington x Fem! Reader ) Part I, Part II

Author's note : Thank you so much for requesting. I hope this is up to your hearts content. I had fun with this request.

Summary: You've been working with the Featheringtons for a while now and never once have you seen the lady of the house. until tonight. you were working late preparing the meal for tomorrow until you informally meether and she is intrigued.

Warning(s): Playful flirting, brief nail picking, fidgeting, Tired! Portia, Irritated! Portia, pacing, minor anxiety, more to be added

The MAIN Masterlist

Bridgerton Masterlist

Thunder rumbled outside the house as you continued to knead the dough that was placed onto the counter. Sweat dotted and dripped down the column of your throat as you sighed. Preparing for breakfast, lunch, and dinner was quite the job you had.

The window was cracked open a little to let the cool air in. The air danced in the kitchen as you worked. You could feel the cool breeze that the wind was sending in through the window and it was very much welcome.

The creaking of the door was something you didn't hear until you heard someone gasped. In the corner of your eye you seen a lady, red fiery tresses that cascaded down her back and over her shoulders, her green eyes, obviously an older woman, but the only thing that made you stop was because you never seen her before. You've never seen your employer, and you've never seen this lady come in or out of the kitchen. 'Maybe she's new here' was all you thought as you wiped your hands on the towel that hung over your shoulder.

"Hey there pretty mama." You smiled as you tilted your head drinking in her appearance. She certainly was gorgeous. Her bangs were nicely curled and swept to the side some covering her eyes as she was going to back out.

"Are you new here? I've never seen you before." You asked as you turned back to the dough on the counter, reaching for a bowl to put the dough into.

The lady on the other hand was surprised, frozen into place, her mouth unmoving, you spared her a glance and noticed her hesitancy.

"Come in, I won't bite." You chuckled smiling big enough to show off your white pearly canines. Maybe wasn't the best idea as you seen her take a big breath.

Using the unknown identity to her advantage, Portia gave a tight lipped smile and entered the room.

"Y-yes" She cleared her throat and stood by the counter. She definitely shorter than you causing you to smile stupidely.

She looked at you with big doe eyes, which certainly caught you off guard. You gulped and put the dough into the bowl and gave yourself a small pinch to your forearm and you chuckled nervously.

"Why are you smiling?" You could hear the irritation that laced her voice but she yawned afterwards. Playing off her irritation as tiredness. You continued smiling.

"You very breathtaking. I must say." You answered as you covered the dough and put it away.

Now that certainly caught the other woman off guard. Portia was expecting to hear a retort of words back to her but it was very different. You complimented? her?

You honestly didn't mean to do it but you couldn't lie to yourself.

"I- uhm. Thank you..." She started fidgeting with her fingers.

"I'm pretty sure there is still come cake left, would you care for a slice?" You offered as you crossed the room to one of the cabinets to take out two plates.

"Yes, if you will." She answered.

"My apologies. I should've introduced myself. My name is Y/n L/n" You smiled again as you set the plates in front of yourself and the older lady.

"Lunete" She said as she looked out the window noticing the slight breeze and how there was some rain drops here and there. It didn't as often like this but for the past few days it had been raining.

"Lunete." You repeated it reminded you of your aunt Constance, she named her first daughter, your cousin, Lunete. But Lunete inherited her mother's black hair and her green eyes and her fathers boldness. Though she looked nothing like her father but she certainly acted like him. Adventurous and bold.

"It's such a fitting name for a lady like you. Almost reminds me of my cousin." You looked at her as you places one slice of cake onto the plate and one of yours. You covered the cake back and turned around to grab two forks.

"Oh," She gave a soft whisper of acknowledgment.

"Yes, but tell me about yourself, Lunete." You smiled as she looked at you as your offered her a fork.

"Uhm, I would rather not." She almost sneered at you but quickly corrected herself. "I'm rather tired from the day." She admitted and you nodded as you brought a piece of the cake to your lips. You both ate in silence and listened the patter of the rain and rumbling of the thunder in the distance.

"You are the cook? Yes?" She asked as she took a small bite off her fork. You noticed how her tongue darted out to lick her lip, her cherry plum-

You cleared your throat-"Yes, I am the cook. The baker is my sister."- You smiled as you gave your sister some recognition.

"I see. Apologies, I won't be able to finish this big of....piece." She gave you a tilt of her head and smile.

"Ah yes, it does seem I gave you a rather large piece." You compared the cake piece with yours. "Apologies."

"It's perfectly alright." she gave you a small smile. Yes, she was irritated, but there was something about her that caught your attention. surely, it wasn't that she looked more regal and refined than most of the maids you've met.

"I'm sorry but what is your job here?" You asked, quirking a brow in her direction. Her demeanor changed as she started fidgeting with her hands. "You don't work here, do you?"

That's when it all came together, not only that she wasn't employed here but she lives here.

"What is your name?" You questioned the lady again. knowing full aware that this woman who stood before you couldn't be one of the Lady's daughters.

"Portia..." she said, and it immediately clicked in your head. Lady Featherington.

You bowed out of respect and worry for your job. "I will have one of your personal maids escort you to your chambers once you are finished here." You continued to bow and formally apologize which she gave you a sneer as you addressed her by her title.

"Don't apologize. This is the VERY reason why I didn't want you to know who I was." She scoffed as she rubbed her temples to relieve the headache that randomly appeared.

"My apolo-"

"Stop, don't even finish that." She groaned

You closed your mouth entirely and sighed, slumping your shoulders. You stared at the irritated woman noticing that she must've been really tired. You, yourself, were irritated that she lied to you about her name. Imagine if you didn't see through her little scheme. What could've happened?

"Why did you lie in the first place?" You asked through clenched teeth. You regained your posture by inhaling and exhaling through your nose.

"And what would happen if I didn't?" Portia looked at you, brows furrowed. Obviously, she was angered.

"Well certainly I wouldn't have called you pretty mama." You muttered knowing that you would've said it anyway.

Portia let out another sigh. "Third cabinet to the left." You turned confused at what she wanted you to do. As you opened the cabinet, you noticed the slight shift in the cupboard. The wood in the back moved, and it was surprising that you never noticed.

"How was I not noticed about this?" You sighed. This was something certainly new. You grabbed the bottle that was hidden in the cabinet. For sure, this wasn't cheap wine, nor was it expensive.

You grabbed the bottle and put it on the counter, and raised a brow at her as she looked at you with furrowed brows. She reached for the bottle only for you to slide it back toward you. She sighed angrily toward you and tried again for the bottle only to be met with the same results.

"If I may speak freely, my lady. In which I will. But I do not suggest drinking at the moment." You gave a polite innocent smile afterward, and she was flabbergasted at your boldness.

"You shall give me that bottle if you do love your job." She threatened you through clenched teeth.

"And if you did, get rid of me. Who would cook then? Varely doesn't know how to cook. None of the maids will." You lifted a brow and gave the woman a smirk. "If I heard right as well, you wouldn't want to hire another person, nor would you have the power to do so."

"You bloody cheat." She frowned.

"I'll make a deal with you." You started giving her one of your best winning smiles. The deal part certainly had gotten through to her as she prompted you to go on about it.

"On with it." She waved her hand dismissively.

Your smile grew even wider, and you chuckled. "I get to keep this," you gestured to the bottle in your left hand. "And you would have to drink a glass with me only until this bottle runs out, and if I happen to catch you in MY kitchen, then I get rid of all alcohol in this estate." You smugly said.

"I thought you were just another maid. But clearly, you are very bold for just a mere cook." Portia itched at her lips on the right side and huffed. "Deal"

The both of you reached out your hands and shook on it. You felt the subtle softness of her hands in comparison to your rough calloused hands from manually labor. It was rather pleasant to feel such softness of someone who had never lifted a finger to do such work of a mere commoner.

"Well, we will start tomorrow night." You licked your lips as you stared at the woman in front of you. First, you were to cower at her feet, but now you felt rather bold. Guess those gossip sessions that the maids had done are settling in its educational cost.

"Yes, very well." Portia sighed in defeat as she stood up from her chair and started for the door. "Goodnight, pretty mama," you nearly whispered, and yet it sounded so loud aside from the pitter patter of the rain against the window and thunder that sounded more distant with every strike.

The certainly stopped the woman in her tracks and she whispered out a weak "yes, you as well" without turning her body toward you and yet wished she had to see her bright green eyes that caught your attention. You turned to the window and saw some light shine from the neighbors. The bridgertons maid, Alice, was a great friend of yours, though you both had any time to greet one another. She would visit late at night and you would both talk for hours and giggling like school girls.

Tonight, she wasn't going to visit. Perhaps tomorrow? Or the day after?

Were you thinking of Dowager Baroness Featherington or your friend at this point. Though you wouldn't care less about your arrangements.

****

You grunted as you rolled out some dough for your sister. She was making bread and was rather tired because she stayed up trying to wait for you. In apology, you told her you were to help make bread and such.

"Well maybe if you and Alice weren't so caught up in fucking. You would've come back in time." She muttered obviously mad that she didn't get much sleep.

"Alice hasn't come in the last few days." You gave your sister a look that your mother used to give the both of you when you asked a stupid question.

"Then whom was it?" She asked poking you slightly in your side causing you to yelp and giggle.

"It was rather interesting. The Lady Featherington. Has personally met with me last night."

A gasp could be heard from your sister, Y/s/n. "And what did she say? Anything about my baking?" She sighed as she fanned herself with her hand and soon started to pace the floor as her hands clasped, and she fidegited, picking at her nails. She had always over thought things, and baking was one of the few things that made her forget.

You rolled your eyes and turned away from her to but the small dough balls on the pan brushing the top with some egg wash. "Now that I recall. She did say something along to lines o- what's that smell?" You turned quickly to your sister who yelped and grabbed her over mitts and ran for the oven.

The actions that set before you, you could help but laugh as your daft sister rushed the burned pastries onto the counter. She groaned in frustration and gave a weak laugh.

"You should've seen your face." You wheezed a laugh.

"I swear!" Y/s/n wacked you on the arm and threw the oven mitt in your direction. So far so good. Everything would be going according to plan until the dread and yearning feeling hit you.

Tonight would be night one of your drinking parade with The Dowager Baroness Featherington. Tonight will await your fate within this household despite working here for many years.

Tonight, you would have the opportunity to see Lady Featherington with the most gracious smile you would ever see and the most jewels that she had stolen and put them in her eyes. Her green eyes.

[thebluemallet]

Portia may not have always been the best mother, but she was the only one who noticed and brought attention to the fact that Penelope wrote terrible things about herself in Whistledown once she learned the truth.

Someone should write a fic where that is brought to Colin and Eloise's attention by someone else and they both have that "oh shit!" moment.

[girllookingoutwindow]

Portia and Penelope: cute moments.

[butyouaremymess]

“I simply cannot believe that a woman with such bravery loves me. How lucky I am to stand by your side and soak up even a little bit of your light. If my only purpose in life is to love a woman as great as you, then I will be a very fulfilled man indeed.”

[seeleybooth]

Season 1: Did we make it? vs Season 3: Yes we did

"I love you with everything I am, everything I've been, and everything I hope to be. I love you with my past, and I love you for my future. I love you for the children we will have and for the years we'll have together. I love you for every one of my smiles and even more, of every one of your smiles." Romancing Mister Bridgerton

bonus: babies having babies

[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!  

[kwikquik]

[foreverthebolter]

Colin when someone says something rude to Pen

[winters-rose-daughterofcain]

Fine I'll talk about Bridgerton

One thing this season made really clear to me is that Lady Whistledown is in a way a coping mechanism. It was stared by a lonely, neglected, unhappy seventeen year old girl who felt like she could scream until she collapsed to the ground and it would be into a void because no one would fucking listen to her.

Her mother constantly berates and criticises her, her father (while alive) barely speaks to her and is seen off to the side drinking when he's meant to be chaperoning her, her sisters are openly cruel to her and are still favoured by their mother. She has few friends, and the two relationships she holds closest both have significant blocks to them, with Colin it's her unrequited feelings and..... tbh her and Eloise's friendship is a whole different post and while they clearly mean the world to each other, there where fundamentally issues long before Lady Whistledown was so much as a drop of ink. I think they are both at fault for them and I love both of them, but Eloise's biggest issue comes from just not listening to her and in general as a person having a bad case of tunnel vision and hyper focusing on certain things while completely missing others.

Pen is outcast from society from the moment she steps foot in it, ridiculed and despised by those around her and bullied by girls her age for literally no fucking reason. She is seen as unattractive and undesirable, she believes the fundamentally human want to be loved a silly childish delusion because she is told from every angle that she is not worth it. She's not even worth listening to.

I think her resentment and hurt had been building for a while, she's never under any assumption that she will be treated or seen better. How could she be? When she is constantly reminded how much she fails to be what is wanted or respected or valued, primarily by her own damn family. Still, she's a kind girl. She's sweet and attentive and a good listener, she's patient and reliable and, before Whistledown started, probably extremely loyal, if how much guilt she felt whenever she genuinely betrayed someone says anything. She's someone who has never felt or had any power, who has so much hurt and resent and bitterness from years of this shit building and building.

But she's also smart and witty and funny and extremely intelligent. She has a talent for writing and words and clearly has the potential to be successful. I think being pushed into society a year earlier than she wanted (again, because her mother wouldn't listen) pushed her over the edge. She wrote her observations, the things she learnt from being pushed to the side for so long down, and published them. I don't think she ever intended for it to be as big as it was, and I think the bigger it got and still gets the more in over her head she is. Because for once people listened, for once people cared, for once what she thought and said and worked for mattered.

It is a young girl gaining her first glimpse at power and being deeply unprepared for the consequences. When things go wrong and she doesn't know what to do and no one will listen to her as Penelope, this is the only way she can make them. No matter how disastrous the affects, using Whiseldown gets results, it just also hurts people, pushing her further and further down this cycle where Whistledown is one of the only thing that makes her feel better and allows her to process the things in her life, while hurting the people around her and making her more dependent on it.

She truly meant to give up Whistledown after the disaster with Eloise, but on that night she had her connection or trust from the two people who she cared about and who cared about her the most broken. With the fight with Eloise and then overhearing Colin she lost both of them in the span of an hour, what else dose she have aside from her writing?

And again at the ball in episode one. Even after a complete upheaval of her entire look she still fails to talk to those guys, she still isn't enough, it's proof it is not her youth or her mother influence something fundamental in her can't do this. Then Cressida rips her dress with Eloise standing right there, then Colin comes and (even tho she is incorrect) confirms to her that he too, is embarrassed by her. So what dose she do? When she's miserable and powerless? She writes. She takes it all out in Whistledown and says the (admittedly true which is why it hurt so much tbh) cruel things about Colin, which she regrets literally a day later after actually talking to him. Adding more guilt and keeping her stuck in this cycle.

It's a business definitely, and there are many parts of Whistledown she genuinely enjoys, but I don't think it's good for her. It hurts the people around her and it hurts herself, she's in over her head and definitely knows she should stop, but I don't think she knows how. She doesn't let herself rely on others enough to be okay without this one thing that has allowed her to cope and be heard and respected and valued. That's also why I think she couldn't have stopped before this season, now she's finally getting that, she's finally being listened to and respected and valued and being told she is worth something. Not by many people, and it is still too new to change the fundamental thought patters about it she has, but it's a start.

Now she just has to grapple with that fact that this thing that has given her a voice and found her comfort might just be the dealbreaker for the real people in her life who can actually offer her the love and care and respect she deserves and craves and has been denied for so so long. It sucks and it's a cycle she can't get out of now, she's made her own trap without knowing how she did it.

That's what happens when a 17 year olds coping mechanism continues and grows and expands for years, when people unknowing pay to see more of it, and when she doesn't really know what else to do. Whistledown is Pens choice and all her actions for better or worse, but it would not exist without the context of her life. It would not exist if Portia was a better mother, if she had better sisters or a better family. It would not exist of other girls her age were kinder to her, if they excluded her a little less. It would not exist if she were not seen as a lost cause for love before she had the chance to try. Lady Whistledown would not exist if someone just fucking listened to her.

[lordandladywhistledown]

I love how Colin is surprised and taken aback when Marina says Penelope cares for him...

He's like: "Penelope?!??!?!! No way that she cares for me.... it's not like I send her more letters than anyone and she actually replies to them unlike my own family and it's not like she always smiles when she sees me and it's not like she tried to warn me not to marry a woman I barely knew and that she's the only one who seems to be interested in what I have to say about things. But Penelope???? No way she even thinks about me when I'm not there 😝😊🤪"

I feel like he doesn't understand that Penelope likes him until the very end of S2 and even then, he doesn't completely understand how deep her feelings are and that's then why he also doesn't understand that he has feelings for her, too. He's just stuck there thinking that's what normal friendships are like... he's so sweet and so so innocent

[midnightscramble]

Oh dios mio. I've re-read your Portia x reader and I've got to say that it's absolutely amazing and I can just imagine Portia thinking 'How would her hands feel on her' the sensational touches she would receive. I really hope you have a great day, love. ☺️

Sugar, Sugar Part 3 (Portia Featherington x fem!Reader)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

The Masterlist

Author’s Note: Thanks for your continued support! If this is not what was envisioned feel free to request again (don’t be shy!). Happy readings to you.

Summary: The women start to feel more and more attached to each other. Penelope confronts her mother. In a moment of weakness, Portia breaks their agreement, consequences follow...

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, fingering (Portia receiving), oral (Portia receiving), bottom Portia, internalized homophobia, angry-ish sex, no Beta read

The next night, Portia arrived to the bakery earlier than the agreed upon time. She walked down the aisles, vaguely looking through the shelves as she focused on listening to her baker bustle around the kitchen, obviously preparing for their meeting. She heard a deep sigh of satisfaction emit from the kitchen. As if on its own accord, Portia's mind produced images of Y/n, cheeks flushed and head thrown back as sweat slid down the column of her throat. Blinking back to reality, Portia felt desire settle in her abdomen, sinking as gracefully as a stone falling through still water. She pinched herself, such thoughts were improper, especially since she knew that Y/n's sigh was most definitely attributed to a baking related achievement.

She could not shake the warmth that tinged her cheeks pink, nor how Y/n's soft sigh seemed to echo in her ears. For the rest of the evening she sat with hands beneath her thighs, worried she would be overcome with the want to touch her sweet baker. If Y/n noticed her sudden hesitancy, for once she was polite enough not to mention it.

For the next week, Portia dreamt only of the young baker. While not particularly proud of the development, the Lady selfishly felt eager to sleep after their evening meetings. She could no longer deny her feelings for the other woman. In fact, the harder she consciously fought against it, the more radical her subconscious became in reminding Portia of her sinful desires.

Having experienced so little romantic pleasure in her life, Portia was content to keep this secret to herself, reap the blessings her dreams bestowed upon her. As long as she did not act upon it, it would be a non issue, she simply had to control herself.

...

Well practiced in self control, she continued to see Y/n every evening. However, on the thirteenth night of their agreement, Portia felt her resolve begin to crumble.

Sitting across from each other, Y/n unveiled her latest temptation, a pastry shaped like a heart. They sat in silence, the air around them was alight with electricity, leaving Portia feeling frozen yet energetic. The baker's eyes were soft, and something in her posture was different than other nights. She seemed to have forgone her usual bravado and crassness, that manifested in slouched shoulders and easy movements. Now, Y/n was still in her own unease, face dashed with hopefulness and vulnerability.

Portia swallowed, if she accepted the treat, then these meetings would come to an end. However, the alternative of rejecting the treat made her mouth taste bitter. Her knee bounced under her thick skirt as she considered. The dessert was precious, she wanted to pick it up with her hands and run her fingers along the flaky edges to appreciate its perfection.

Her voice grew quite as she spoke, falling off into a whisper, "Although it is delicate, and undoubtably exquisite, it does not tempt me..." Per usual, the baker gave her a kind smile, yet, tonight's held an element of disappoint. Portia wanted to rectify that, so she reached out and took the baker's hand, "You are so skilled, I'm sure tomorrow you will catch me."

Y/n intertwined their fingers and smiled subtly, "I suppose I must be satisfied with the thoughts of tomorrow," neither moved to extract their hand.

...

Portia returned home, feeling an unfamiliar ache in her chest which urged her to go back to the bakery and beg for a taste of the baker's heart. While it soothed her to be able to touch Y/n, she felt a pang of guilt from causing the subtle distress the baker experienced over tonight's rejection. It had all felt so different, as though they were speaking another language, one which Portia seemed to mispronounce every time she attempted to speak.

Sitting at her vanity, she brushed through her hair, trying to find a calming rhythm. A knock sounded at her door and having been so deep in thought, she jumped at the intrusion. Penelope entered slowly, looking rather sheepish.

"Mother, I must ask you an uncomfortable question..."

Portia sighed, "On with it," she prompted.

"I heard a rumor," Penelope could not out right say she had been following her mother, "that you have been having midnight rendezvous with a baker in town." Portia felt her throat constrict and if she hadn't already been sitting she surely would have lost balance. Goosebumps raised on her arms and a shiver climbed up her spine.

"She's my friend, who happens to have a very busy day and is only available at night." The excuse was rushed and Portia's eyes shifted away in an effort to hide.

"So you do not deny it?"

Portia mentally cursed herself, denying it altogether would have been much easier but now it was too late, "No, I do not."

Penelope continued, seemingly talking aloud rather than asking an actual question, "Then why lie to us and say you are off to bed, when you are really leaving to see a friend..."

The Lady's blood ran cold, she looked at her daughter and watched in abject horror as Penelope pieced it together. "You fancy the baker," It was stated as fact, almost light heartedly as her daughter was all too pleased with her own deduction.

"Penelople-"

"There is no use in lying, Mother. Although, shocked as I am, I must remind you of something," Penelope raised an eyebrow before quoting the woman, "It is foolish to be unreasonable about what you can achieve."

Portia's eyes watered as Penelope threw her cruel words back at her, before she could come up with a retort, her daughter had fled. She was left to reflect upon the brutal advice. She knew in her heart that she wanted the baker, but it would be unreasonable to believe in the possibility of having her. When she retired for the night, she committed herself to enjoying tonight's dream, as it was the last one she would allow herself to have. She wasn't sure how she had so stupidly let herself become hopeful, after all, Lady's don't have dreams.

...

The next morning Portia accompanied her daughters and their husbands to the Hawkins Hot Air Ballon Event. Although in a depressed state, she choked through an apology to Penelope on the carriage ride over.

"I am sorry. I-" Portia scrunched her nose and sniffed in discomfort, "You are right to have been so angry with me..."

Penelope pressed her lips together in sympathy, "I do not want to fight with you, Mother."

"Nor, I with you. If it is Mister Bridgerton you truly want, then you mustn't waste your time with any other." With a closed lip smile, Penelope nodded and gazed out the window. While their relationship was far from healed, this was certainly an improvement.

Penelope bit her lip, "Do be careful, with your baker. I do not want to see you hurt."

Portia chuckled, "You need not worry, it will be over by tonight." Her daughter eyed her with concern but dropped the subject.

Once the carriage came to a halt, Portia plastered on a smile, ready to make the most of the day instead of dreading the evening to come. She watched as Penelope left and realized that Mister Bridgerton was already watching her daughter with an eagle's eye. She smiled, knowing Penelope would be successful.

She herself filtered in and out of stands, pausing at a stall with various jams and pastries.

"Would you care for a sample, my Lady?" She nodded and was handed a lithe, croissant with sweet apricot jam in the center. Without thinking, she took a bite. As her tongue hit the jam she felt bile rise in her throat. Pulling back she realized she had officially broken her deal with the baker. Her mouth went bitter and all hunger was lost. Out of politeness, she finished the pastry and inquired about where the stand's main store was located in the Ton. She darkly thought about how she would need a new baker eventually.

...

Evening fell, and Portia made her way from the Event directly to the bakery, with the full intention of ending her late night escapades with Y/n. When she arrived, the usual table was not set, in fact all the chairs had been put up for closing. She heard grunting coming from the kitchen and the sound of metal being tossed into a sink, loudly echoing into the store front. Portia flinched slightly.

She called out for the baker, "Y/n?" Silence stung through the air and Portia approached the kitchen warily.

With a red nose and watery eyes, Y/n glared at her, "What do you want?" She wiped at her cheeks, trying to make the evidence of her hurt disappear.

Tentatively, she took a step forward, "I came for our usual meeting-"

Y/n flexed her jaw before seething, "I know that you made an inquiry into hiring Mr. Thompson for your baked goods."

Portia went to deny it but was cut off, "Do not lie to me..." Y/n stalked forward, and by reflex Portia stepped back.

She connected with the wooden prep table and her heart beat loudly in her ears. The baker's hands rested on each side of her, gripping the edge of the table fiercely. With their faces near inches apart, Y/n accused, "Did you like what he had to offer..."

"No," Portia choked out, lip quivering with emotion.

"Do you think he could satisfy your hunger like I could?" Portia shook her head and flushed, unable to speak. She watched as the baker's eyes darkened and the pinch in her eyebrows relaxed.

"Allow me to tempt you tonight?" Y/n's eyes trailed from her eyes to her lips, coyly asking permission.

As if she were emerging from water and gasping for breath, Portia responded, "Yes-" The baker cut her off and surged forward to connect their lips. Y/n's tongue slid across her bottom lip and Portia instinctively opened her mouth, encouraging the woman to deepen the kiss.

Inhaling through her nose, she felt faint as her mouth was thoroughly devoured. Y/n's deft tongue caressed her own and Portia sighed into to kiss. Strong hands came to rest on her waist, slowly grabbing the fabric and scrunching it up. The Lady mewled at the possibility of the touch which she had only ever dreamed of. She slid her fingers into the baker's hair, reveling in the softness of the locks, and how right it felt to cradle her head. For the first time in her life, Portia experienced an unbridled pleasure from sharing a kiss.

She shivered in anticipation as Y/n parted her legs. The baker disconnected their mouths and moved her kisses dow Portia's neck. Her hand stopped as she palmed the Lady's inner thigh, and she nipped at Portia's ear, waiting for permission.

"Please," Portia whined needly, moving her face to try and chase the baker's lips. Y/n gave her a sweet peck, and rubbed their noses against each other. Not wanting to deny the woman further, she moved her hand to cup the woman's sex. Their foreheads connected and Portia let out a contented sigh as Y/n ground the palm of her hand against her. The baker watched as her eye's fluttered shut and her breathes became shorter. Moving her thumb to rub the Lady's clit, she traced along her lips tantalizingly slow, watching how her hips twitched forward. Having gathered enough wetness, she slowly sunk her fingers into Portia's opening. Her neck flexed as she let out a silent moan, and her knees became weak at the sensation.

Pinning her further onto the table for support, Y/n moved a hand to her lower back, encouraging Portia to thrust her hips to meet her fingers. With cheeks as red as her hair, Portia delighted in the guidance, and surrendered all control to the baker. Rhythmically, Portia began to meet her every thrust. However, once she had gotten comfortable in the pattern, it changed. Y/n curled her fingers, dragging them along Portia's walls in a come hither motion. Portia's hips stuttered and a cry left her mouth out of ecstasy. Y/n felt Portia start to tighten around her fingers, and she knew the woman was close.

Portia's abdomen tightened, and she was surprised with herself, not entirely familiar with the sensation. The baker gave her little time to think about it as she dropped to her knees. Portia was confused by the action until she felt a hard lick journey up her inner thigh. Although slightly miffed, she would not deny the woman any part of her. Portia's hands clutched at the edge of the table, knuckles turning white as Y/n sucked her clit between her lips. She gasped sharply and barred down on Y/n's fingers, falling over the edge. Administering kitten licks and slow pumps, Y/n helped Portia through her orgasm until she felt her walls stop spasming.

Y/n removed her hand slowly and rose to her feet, giving Portia a tender kiss which the woman met in earnest. Her hands rested on the baker's shoulders as she rested her head in the crook of Y/n's neck, wanting reprieve after such thrilling intimacy. Y/n chuckled and held the Lady, "Now, can I tempt you with an actual dessert?"

Portia laughed but didn't move from her position, "it would only be appropriate."

[anastasiareadsnwrites]

Are we open to part 2 of At Last 👀

At Last Part II (Portia Featherington x Fem! Reader)

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV

Author's note: DEFINITELY, I was itching to write a second part to it but I didn't have the guts too in case it wasn't as appreciated so I procrastinated on it. Thank you for requesting! Your requests are always welcome and I can't wait to read whatever you come up with!

Summary: After such activities from last night, you can't help but indulge in your desires this morning waking Lady Featherington with such admiration that leaves her grasping the sheets, but a certain suitor visits and doesn't take Portia's kind rejection lightly.

Warning(s): 18+, NSFW, Portia receiving, Reader giving, morning sex, periodical appropriate homophobia, unwanted advances, slight praise, teasing, arguing, emotional tension, Emotional confrontation, mentions of past abuse, family tension, societal pressure...more to be added

The MAIN Masterlist

The Bridgerton Masterlist

The sun peeked through the curtains, casting soft rays over the luxurious room. Portia stirred beside you, her hair tousled from the previous night’s events. She let out a soft groan, pulling the sheets up tighter around her body, unwilling to break from the warmth of the bed.

You couldn't help but smile as you watched her. The way she lay there, her face so peaceful, was a stark contrast to how she looked hours before—completely undone beneath you, her body writhing in pure ecstasy. But now, she was quiet, beautiful in the soft morning light.

Your fingers gently brushed against her cheek, causing her to stir again. This time, she opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the brightness. When her gaze finally met yours, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

“Good morning,” she whispered, her voice raspy from sleep, and perhaps from all the things she’d begged for the night before.

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “Morning, Lady Featherington,” you teased, earning a low chuckle from her.

But your teasing didn’t end there. Your hand began trailing down the sheets, ghosting over her stomach before sliding lower. Portia tensed, her breath hitching as your fingers moved purposefully, reminding her of how well you knew her body.

“Already?” she whispered, but there was no protest in her voice—only desire.

“Couldn’t resist,” you murmured, letting your fingers dip lower, eliciting a soft gasp from her. Her legs parted instinctively, giving you better access.

“You’re insatiable,” Portia breathed out, her voice laced with pleasure as you began working her once again.

“Only for you,” you replied, your lips moving to her neck as your hand continued its slow, deliberate pace. You knew exactly how to make her lose herself, and you weren’t going to let her get away without giving you everything this morning.

Portia’s breathing quickened, her back arching off the bed as she gripped the sheets tightly. The sounds she made, breathy and desperate, were enough to make you ache for her all over again.

Just as she was teetering on the edge, a sharp knock echoed through the door. You paused, both of you frozen as the moment shattered.

“Lady Featherington?” a voice called from the hallway, one of her maids. “A gentleman caller has arrived. He’s asked to speak with you.”

Portia let out an exasperated sigh, her head falling back against the pillow. “Of course,” she muttered, her voice laced with frustration.

You removed your hand, earning a groan of protest from her. “We’re not done,” you whispered, pressing a final kiss to her lips before getting out of bed. “But it seems we have a visitor.”

Portia sat up, smoothing out her hair and adjusting her nightgown. “I don’t care who it is, I’m not interested.”

As she dressed, the irritation on her face was clear. She knew who was waiting—someone persistent, someone she had rejected countless times. But that didn’t seem to matter to him. His advances were as unwelcome as ever, but he wasn’t the type to give up easily.

“You don’t have to see him,” you offered, moving to her side as you both made your way downstairs. “I could make him go away.”

Portia smirked at your suggestion but shook her head. “No, let’s see what he has to say this time.”

Downstairs, the suitor stood in the entryway, impatiently tapping his foot. When he saw Portia descend the stairs, his face lit up, but the cold look in her eyes quickly dimmed his enthusiasm.

“Lady Featherington,” he began, bowing slightly. “I have come to express my sincerest—”

“No,” she cut him off, her voice firm and unyielding. “I told you, I’m not interested. You are wasting your time.”

His face twisted in anger, clearly not taking her rejection well. “You think you’re too good for me?” he spat. “Is that it?”

Before you could intervene, Portia stepped forward, her voice sharp and commanding. “You do not get to speak to me that way. I have been more than patient with your advances, but now, you will leave. And do not return.”

His anger flared, and for a moment, it seemed like he might lash out. You instinctively moved to Portia’s side, ready to step in if things escalated.

The suitor’s gaze flicked between the two of you, realizing that he wasn’t going to win this fight. “You’ll regret this, Lady Featherington,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. “Mark my words.”

Portia didn’t flinch. She held her ground until he finally stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

As the silence returned to the room, Portia let out a breath she’d been holding, her shoulders relaxing. You reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“He’ll get over it,” you reassured her.

Portia turned to you, a smirk tugging at her lips. “If only everyone could be as easy to please as you.”

You chuckled, pulling her close. “Well, I aim to please.”

As the door slammed shut behind the suitor, the echo lingered in the room, heightening the tension. You turned to Portia, who stood motionless, her hands slightly trembling. The façade she’d so expertly maintained in front of the persistent man was beginning to crack, and you knew the weight of it all was pressing down on her.

Without a word, you stepped forward, pulling her into your arms. Portia melted against you, her forehead resting on your shoulder as she let out a frustrated sigh.

“I hate this,” she whispered, her voice fragile. “The expectations, the advances… I feel like I’m being cornered at every turn.”

Your arms tightened around her, pressing a reassuring kiss into her hair. “You don’t owe them anything, Portia. You’re more than capable of handling them, but you don’t have to do it alone.”

She pulled back slightly, meeting your gaze, her eyes soft yet tired. “I know,” she whispered. “But it’s still exhausting.”

You reached up, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. “Why don’t we take the day off? No meetings, no obligations. Just you and me.”

Portia raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a small smile. “You’re tempting me to run away from my responsibilities.”

You grinned. “That’s the idea. Besides, I think you deserve a break after dealing with that insufferable man.”

Her smile widened, and for a moment, the tension in her shoulders eased. “What did I do to deserve you?” she teased, leaning into your touch.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you replied, tilting her chin up for a kiss.

The moment your lips met, the world outside seemed to fade away. Portia sighed into the kiss, her hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer. It wasn’t rushed or frantic like the night before—this kiss was slow, intimate, and full of the unspoken connection you both shared.

When you finally pulled away, Portia’s gaze was soft, her walls completely down now that it was just the two of you. “What did you have in mind for our day off?” she asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

You took her hand, leading her toward the sitting room where the large windows let in the soft morning light. “I was thinking we could go for a walk in the gardens, maybe have a picnic. Something simple, where no one can bother us.”

She hummed in approval, a smile playing on her lips. “That sounds perfect.”

The Featherington estate’s gardens were in full bloom, the vibrant flowers filling the air with their sweet fragrance. The two of you walked hand-in-hand along the cobblestone path, enjoying the rare moment of peace.

Portia’s demeanor had softened, her earlier frustrations forgotten as she admired the beauty around her. Every now and then, she’d glance over at you, her eyes full of something you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t just admiration—it was trust, maybe even love.

You found a secluded spot beneath a large oak tree, the perfect place to lay out the picnic blanket you had brought. The two of you settled down, the soft breeze rustling through the leaves as you unpacked the food.

“I haven’t had a day like this in ages,” Portia admitted, her voice soft as she leaned back against the tree. “I forgot what it’s like to just… be.”

You handed her a glass of wine, smiling as you sat beside her. “Well, you deserve to take it easy every once in a while. You’ve earned it.”

She looked over at you, her eyes lingering on your face. “You always know exactly what I need,” she said, her tone full of warmth.

You shrugged playfully. “I pay attention.”

Portia took a sip of her wine, her gaze never leaving yours. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable—it was filled with the weight of everything left unsaid, the growing bond between you both that neither of you had fully acknowledged yet.

After a while, Portia spoke again, her voice quiet. “Do you think I’ll ever truly be free of all these expectations? Free to live my life the way I want, without anyone’s judgment?”

You reached for her hand, threading your fingers through hers. “I think you can be, if that’s what you want. You’re stronger than any of them give you credit for, Portia.”

She smiled at that, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “I’ve never felt this way before… not with anyone,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “You make me feel… safe. Like I don’t have to pretend.”

Your heart swelled at her words, and you leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “You don’t have to pretend with me,” you murmured against her mouth. “Not ever.”

Portia kissed you back, slow and tender, as if she was savoring every moment. And for once, it felt like time had stopped, like the world outside the gardens didn’t matter. It was just the two of you, lost in each other.

But the peace couldn’t last forever.

As the two of you lay there in the soft grass, enjoying the tranquility, a distant voice called out, breaking the spell.

“Lady Featherington!”

Portia tensed immediately, pulling away from you as she sat up, her expression hardening. The voice grew closer, and soon, a servant appeared, rushing toward the two of you, slightly out of breath.

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt,” the servant began, bowing apologetically. “But there’s been… an issue. The suitor you turned away earlier, he’s causing a scene in the park.”

Portia’s face fell. “What kind of scene?” she asked, her voice cold but laced with concern.

The servant hesitated, looking down before continuing, “He’s making quite the spectacle, threatening to harm himself, blaming you for his… emotional state.”

Portia’s expression darkened, her earlier calm completely shattered. “Of course, he is,” she muttered, standing up swiftly. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with this before it escalates.”

You stood beside her, your hand resting on her arm to stop her. “We can handle this together,” you reminded her softly. “You don’t have to face this alone.”

Portia hesitated, her eyes meeting yours. For a moment, she looked as though she might push you away, but then her shoulders slumped, and she nodded.

Together, you made your way toward the park where the scene was unfolding.

As you approached, you could already hear the commotion. A small crowd had gathered near the fountain, and in the center of it all stood the suitor. His hair was disheveled, his face flushed with anger and desperation. He was shouting, gesturing wildly as though putting on a show for the gathered onlookers.

“Lady Featherington!” he called out as soon as he spotted you both approaching. “There you are! Come to see the consequences of your cold-hearted rejection?”

Portia stopped just short of him, her face a mask of indifference. “This is pathetic,” she said sharply. “You think this spectacle will change anything?”

The suitor’s expression twisted, his fists clenched at his sides. “You don’t understand!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “I love you! You’ve ruined me, and now I have nothing left. It’s your fault!”

You stepped forward, placing yourself between Portia and the man. “You need to stop this,” you said calmly but firmly. “This isn’t how you solve anything.”

He sneered at you. “Of course, you’d say that. You’ve taken her from me! She’d never have rejected me if it weren’t for you!”

Portia finally spoke up, her voice cutting through the tension. “I rejected you because I have no interest in you. You’ve made a fool of yourself, and now you expect pity? There’s none to be found here.”

Her words seemed to break something in him, and for a moment, he stood there, shaking with rage. Then, without warning, he lunged toward her.

But you were faster.

Your arm shot out, blocking his path as you shoved him back, sending him stumbling. “That’s enough,” you growled, your eyes narrowing. “Don’t make this any worse for yourself.”

He glared at you, his eyes wild, but the gathered crowd seemed to have brought him back to his senses. Realizing he had no more cards to play, he straightened himself, breathing heavily.

“This isn’t over,” he spat, his gaze flicking between you and Portia. “You’ll regret this, both of you.”

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed off, leaving behind the crowd and the tension in the air.

As the onlookers began to disperse, Portia let out a shaky breath. You turned to her, your hand gently resting on her back. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, though her expression was still tight with anger. “I’ll be fine. I just… I didn’t think it would come to this.”

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It’s over now. Let’s go back.”

Portia gave you a small, grateful smile. “Thank you… for stepping in. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You wrapped your arm around her as the two of you walked back toward the estate, leaving the chaos behind. The day may not have gone as planned, but at least you still had each other.

As you and Portia made your way back to the Featherington estate, the tension in the air between you started to dissolve. You had left the chaos of the park behind, but Portia’s mind still seemed to linger on the situation with the suitor. The lines of worry remained on her brow, her steps slightly heavier than usual.

Without a word, you led her back through the grand hallways and out to the garden, returning to the secluded spot beneath the oak tree where you’d left your picnic earlier. The sun had shifted slightly, casting warm, dappled shadows across the blanket. The peacefulness of the scene was a stark contrast to the turmoil that had just unfolded.

Portia stood there for a moment, her arms wrapped around herself as if she was trying to hold herself together. You approached her from behind, wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her into your warmth.

“Don’t think about him anymore,” you murmured softly into her ear, kissing the side of her neck. “He’s gone. You’re safe.”

Portia leaned into you, letting out a deep sigh, her body relaxing slightly under your touch. “I know,” she whispered. “It’s just… it’s always something, isn’t it?”

You turned her around to face you, cupping her cheek and making sure her eyes locked with yours. “Then let me take your mind off everything. Let me take care of you, Portia.”

Her breath hitched as your fingers trailed down her arm, your touch light but filled with promise. You could see the conflict in her eyes—wanting to let go but still hesitating.

“Here?” she asked softly, glancing toward the estate, her voice tinged with worry. “The servants… they’ll see.”

You smirked, pulling her down gently to sit with you on the blanket beneath the shade of the tree. “They won’t see anything if you stay quiet,” you teased, your hand slipping beneath her skirt, fingers brushing against the soft skin of her thighs.

Portia gasped at the contact, her body instantly responding to your touch, but her eyes darted back toward the estate again, her worry evident. “We can’t… what if someone comes by?”

You leaned in, pressing your lips to hers in a soft but insistent kiss, silencing her protests. “Let me worry about that,” you whispered against her mouth, your hand sliding higher under her skirts, fingers grazing the heat between her legs. “Just relax.”

Portia moaned softly into the kiss, her resolve quickly crumbling as you deepened it. Her body melted into yours, and you took full advantage of her surrender, laying her back onto the blanket. Your lips trailed down her neck, leaving a path of heat in their wake as your hands worked skillfully to lift her skirts higher, exposing her legs to the warm air.

“Someone… could see…” she tried again, her voice shaky but weak, the desire in her eyes betraying her words.

Your response was to kiss her deeply once more, your tongue teasing hers as your hands moved between her legs, parting her thighs and pressing gently against the dampness already gathering there. Portia let out a shaky breath, her head falling back against the blanket as her body arched into your touch.

“You don’t really want me to stop, do you?” you murmured against her lips, your fingers slipping beneath her undergarments, finding her already slick and ready.

Portia’s only response was a breathless whimper as your fingers dipped between her folds, her hips lifting slightly to meet your hand. Her legs parted further, giving you better access despite her earlier protests.

You smiled against her skin, leaving soft kisses along her jaw and neck as your hand continued its slow, deliberate movements, teasing her. “You’re so beautiful like this,” you whispered, your lips grazing her ear. “So desperate.”

Portia moaned softly, her hands gripping the blanket beneath her as she tried to stifle the sounds of pleasure threatening to escape her lips. “You have to stop…” she breathed, though the way her hips moved against your hand said otherwise.

But you weren’t stopping. Not now.

Slowly, you trailed kisses down her body, your mouth following the path your hands had taken. When you finally settled between her legs, your breath ghosting over her most sensitive area, Portia’s entire body tensed with anticipation.

“Please…” she whimpered, though it was unclear if she was begging you to stop or begging for more. Either way, you were giving her exactly what she needed.

Your tongue slipped between her folds, tasting her as she gasped, her hands immediately flying to your hair, fingers threading through it as if she needed to hold on to something. “Oh gods…” she whispered, her voice shaky.

You worked her slowly at first, savoring every sound she made, every slight tremble of her body beneath you. You teased her, alternating between slow, languid strokes of your tongue and quicker, more intense movements, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

Portia tried to muffle her moans, biting her lip as her body writhed beneath you. “Someone could… hear us,” she panted, her hands gripping your hair tightly as you continued to pleasure her.

But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

The sounds of the garden around you—birds chirping, leaves rustling in the wind—were drowned out by the sweet sounds of Portia coming undone. Her body bucked against your mouth as your tongue circled her sensitive bundle of nerves, and when your fingers slipped inside her, she let out a strangled moan, her head falling back against the blanket.

“I can’t… you have to…” she gasped, but her hips told a different story as they ground against your mouth, seeking more.

You smirked against her, quickening the pace of your tongue and fingers, knowing exactly how to push her over the edge. The way her body responded to you was intoxicating, and you couldn’t get enough of her taste, her sounds, her need for you.

Portia’s breathing became ragged, her moans louder now as she began to lose control. “Please…” she whimpered, her legs trembling as she teetered on the brink of release. “Don’t stop…”

And you didn’t.

With one final, deliberate stroke of your tongue and a curl of your fingers inside her, Portia shattered. Her body arched off the blanket, her hands fisting in your hair as she cried out your name, her release washing over her in waves. You stayed with her through it, never relenting until she was completely spent, her body trembling beneath you.

When she finally came down from her high, Portia lay there, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. You pulled away, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh before crawling up beside her, your lips and chin still slick with her release.

Portia opened her eyes slowly, her gaze locking with yours. “You… didn’t listen,” she said breathlessly, though there was no real anger in her voice—only a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction.

You smirked, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “I think you liked that I didn’t listen.”

Portia chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Incorrigible.”

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “Always.”

She sighed contentedly, snuggling closer to you as her body finally relaxed into the warmth of your embrace. The world outside the garden, the servants, the suitors—all of it faded away in the blissful quiet of your shared moment.

For now, it was just the two of you. And that was more than enough.

The atmosphere in the Featherington estate had shifted after that intimate afternoon in the garden. You and Portia had been stealing precious moments together, finding solace in each other's company, but the secrecy of your relationship still weighed heavily. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed. And unfortunately, that time had come.

Portia had been in the sitting room, quietly reading a letter when Penelope and her husband, Colin, burst into the room, their faces clouded with concern and judgment. You had stepped out momentarily, but as you returned, you heard the sharp words of an argument escalating inside.

"Mother, how could you?!" Penelope's voice rang out, her tone filled with disbelief.

You paused at the door, just out of sight, listening as Portia responded, her voice shaky. "Penelope, I—"

"You’ve been seen," Penelope interrupted, her words cutting through the air like a knife. "With her. It’s all anyone’s talking about! Do you understand what this will do to our family’s reputation? What it will do to me?"

Portia's breath hitched audibly, the weight of her daughter's words settling over her like a heavy blanket. You could feel the tension in the air, the emotions bubbling to the surface.

“Penelope, it’s not—” Portia tried to explain, but Penelope wasn’t having it.

“Not what, Mother? Everyone’s talking! People are already whispering that you’ve taken up with another woman!” Penelope's voice was sharp, each word laced with anger and frustration. “Do you know what that means? What people will think of you, of us?”

Portia’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Penelope, it’s not just… it’s not what you think.”

Penelope scoffed, her eyes narrowing as she folded her arms across her chest. “Then what is it, Mother? Are you really trying to tell me you’ve fallen in love with another woman? You’ve always told me that kind of love doesn’t exist, that it’s not real.”

There was a long pause before Portia spoke again, her voice filled with vulnerability. “I didn’t expect this, Penelope. It just… it happened.”

Silence filled the room for a moment, and you could almost hear Portia’s heart breaking under the weight of her daughter's words. You wanted to step in, to defend her, but you knew this was a conversation that had been long overdue.

Penelope sighed heavily, rubbing her temples in frustration. “Mother, this is ridiculous. You’re going to ruin everything. Do you know what people will say? It’s going to destroy your status, your reputation. I can’t—”

“Destroy my status?” Portia whispered, cutting her off. “Penelope, do you really think that’s all that matters to me?”

Penelope shook her head, exasperated. “You’ve worked so hard for years to maintain our place in society. And now, after everything, you’re going to throw it away for this—this affair? With a woman?” She looked at Portia, her eyes filled with disbelief. “Love like that doesn’t exist, Mother. It never has.”

Portia’s breath hitched again at those words, and she stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor as she stumbled backward. The shock and sadness in her eyes were palpable, her face pale and stricken.

Without saying another word, Portia turned and fled the room, her footsteps hurried as she moved toward the garden. You watched her go, the pain etched across her face too much to bear.

Penelope let out a frustrated sigh, throwing her hands up as she paced the room. “I can’t believe her. This will ruin everything.”

Colin, who had been standing quietly by the doorway, finally spoke. His voice was calm but firm as he watched his wife. “Penelope, that was harsh.”

She stopped mid-step, turning toward him. “Harsh? Colin, she’s risking everything. She’s—”

“She’s your mother,” Colin interrupted gently, walking over to her. His eyes softened as he approached, placing a hand on her shoulder. “And she’s clearly going through something. This isn’t just about us or her reputation.”

Penelope’s face softened slightly, though she was still tense. “But… what am I supposed to say, Colin? She’s risking everything. I don’t want to see her ruin herself.”

Colin nodded, his hand still resting on her shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze. “I know. But think about how much pain she must be in, hiding something like this for so long. Maybe instead of getting angry, you should try to understand what she’s feeling.”

Penelope blinked, her lips parting slightly as she absorbed his words. She hadn’t considered it from that angle, too wrapped up in her fears of societal judgment and reputation.

Colin continued, his voice soft and steady. “Love doesn’t always follow the rules we expect. I never thought I’d end up with you, remember? And look how that turned out. Your mother… she deserves a chance to be happy too, even if it’s in a way you don’t understand right now.”

Penelope’s shoulders slumped slightly, her frustration slowly giving way to uncertainty. “But Colin… what if people find out?”

Colin smiled gently, pulling her into a hug. “Then they find out. And we’ll deal with it. But your mother needs you right now, Pen. Not judgment.”

She sighed, leaning into him, her hands resting on his chest. “I just… I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“I know,” Colin murmured, kissing the top of her head. “But she’s strong. She’ll figure this out. And we’ll be here for her.”

Penelope pulled back slightly, looking up at him. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I just… I panicked.”

Colin nodded, his expression understanding. “I know. But maybe you should go talk to her. Make things right.”

Penelope hesitated for a moment before nodding. “I will. I’ll talk to her.”

Colin smiled, giving her a reassuring squeeze before releasing her. “Go. She’ll listen.”

As Penelope turned to leave the room, she glanced back at Colin, gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you, Colin. For helping me see it differently.”

Colin smiled softly. “Anytime, love. Now, go make things right with your mother.”

With that, Penelope hurried out of the room, her heart heavy but determined to fix what she had broken.

You found Portia exactly where you expected—in the garden, the very spot where you had shared such tender moments together just hours before. But now, her figure seemed small and fragile, as if the weight of the world had collapsed around her. She stood with her back to you, staring blankly at the flowers, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if she were trying to hold herself together.

You approached her slowly, your heart aching for her, knowing the conversation with Penelope had rattled her deeply.

"Portia..." you began softly, your voice breaking the stillness of the garden. She flinched slightly at the sound of your voice, but she didn’t turn around. "Are you alright?"

There was a long pause before she spoke, her voice quiet, almost distant. "She’s right, you know," Portia said, her tone flat. "Penelope... she has a point."

You frowned, taking a step closer. "About what?"

Portia turned to face you then, and the look in her eyes made your heart sink. There was pain there, but also a deep-seated doubt that hadn’t been present before. "About us. About this." She gestured vaguely between the two of you. "What we have... it can’t last. It’s not real."

Your stomach twisted at her words, and you felt your pulse quicken. "What do you mean, it’s not real?" you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief. "What we have is real, Portia. I’ve never felt anything like this before, and I know you feel it too."

Portia shook her head, taking a step back from you. "But it doesn’t matter, does it? Society... people like us, we don’t get to have this. We don’t get to love who we want. I’ve spent my whole life playing by society’s rules, and if I break them now, everything will fall apart."

You took a step toward her, desperate to close the emotional distance she was putting between you. "You don’t have to live by society’s rules anymore," you pleaded. "We can make our own rules, Portia. We don’t need anyone else’s approval to be happy."

But Portia shook her head again, more forcefully this time. "No. No, we can’t. Penelope’s right. If this gets out... it will ruin me. It will ruin my family. I can’t do that to her, to myself. It’s better if we... if we end this now."

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. You felt your heart clench painfully in your chest as the reality of what she was saying sank in. She was trying to end things—trying to walk away from everything you had built together. And it broke something inside you.

"Are you really going to let society dictate your happiness?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of hurt and anger. "After everything we’ve been through? After everything you’ve told me? You’re just going to throw it all away because Penelope doesn’t approve?"

Portia’s eyes flashed with pain, but she remained firm. "This isn’t just about Penelope," she said, her voice shaking. "It’s about... everything. The way people will look at me, the way they’ll talk about me. I’ve spent my whole life protecting my image, maintaining a reputation. And for what? To throw it away for something that... that isn’t meant to last."

You took another step forward, your voice rising with frustration. "Something that isn’t meant to last?" you repeated incredulously. "Portia, this is meant to last. This is real. Don’t you see that? You’ve been living in a gilded cage your whole life, but with me... you’re free. You don’t have to hide anymore."

Portia’s lips trembled, her eyes filling with unshed tears. "Free?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "I’ve never been free. Not with Archibald. Not with anyone."

The mention of Archibald ignited something deep inside you. Your voice hardened as you spoke. "That’s because he never loved you. He only paraded you around like a trophy, Portia. I know what he did to you. I know how he kept you locked away, how he treated you like you were something to be owned, not loved."

Portia’s breath hitched, her face paling at your words, but she didn’t deny it. Instead, she turned away, her shoulders trembling. "It doesn’t matter," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "He’s gone now. But what people remember... it’s the perfect Lady Featherington. If I... if we continue this, people will see the cracks. They’ll know that I was never perfect. And I can’t bear that."

You stepped around her, forcing her to meet your gaze, your anger giving way to desperation. "Portia, you don’t have to be perfect. Not with me. I love you for who you are—flaws and all. You’ve spent your whole life pretending to be something you’re not. When are you going to let yourself be happy?"

She stared at you, her eyes wide and filled with conflict. For a moment, you thought you’d gotten through to her, but then she shook her head, stepping back again.

"I can’t," she whispered, tears finally spilling over. "I can’t do this. It’s not real. It’s not possible."

You stared at her, disbelief and anger swirling inside you. "So that’s it, then?" you asked, your voice bitter. "You’re just going to walk away? After everything we’ve been through?"

Portia’s tears continued to fall, but she nodded, her expression pained. "Yes," she whispered. "I’m sorry, but I have to protect my family. I have to protect Penelope."

At that moment, neither of you noticed Penelope standing just behind the garden hedge, overhearing every word. She had followed her mother after their earlier conversation, intending to apologize. But now, she stood frozen, her eyes wide with shock as she listened to the raw truth being laid bare.

You, however, couldn’t take it anymore. The hurt, the betrayal—it was all too much. You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes as you turned away from her. "Fine," you said coldly. "If you want to throw this away, if you want to keep living in your perfect little lie, then go ahead."

You didn’t wait for her to respond. You stormed away, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind reeling with anger and pain. As you left, you heard Portia’s choked sobs behind you, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

When you were gone, Portia collapsed onto the bench in the garden, burying her face in her hands as she wept. She hadn’t even noticed Penelope emerging from behind the hedge, her expression a mix of shock and guilt.

For a long moment, Penelope stood there, watching her mother break down, unsure of what to do. She had never seen Portia like this—so raw, so vulnerable. It was as if the perfect image of Lady Featherington had crumbled before her eyes.

But when Portia finally noticed Penelope, her tears stopped abruptly. She sat up, wiping her face quickly, composing herself with a practiced grace. By the time Penelope approached her, Portia was already pulling the mask of indifference back over her features.

"Mother..." Penelope began softly, unsure of what to say.

Portia stood, smoothing out her dress, her expression cold and unreadable once again. "Is there something you need, Penelope?" she asked, her voice steady despite the redness in her eyes.

Penelope swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at her as she looked at her mother, who was now pretending as if nothing had happened. "I... I wanted to apologize," she said softly. "For earlier. I was harsh, and I didn’t mean—"

"It’s fine," Portia cut her off, her voice clipped. "You were right. You don’t need to apologize."

Penelope stared at her mother, her heart aching for the woman who was clearly hiding so much pain. But she didn’t push it. She didn’t know how.

Instead, she simply nodded, watching as Portia walked past her, back toward the estate, leaving behind the broken pieces of her heart in the garden.

[ebodebo]

so…i just spent an ungodly amount of time making this😭😭😭and it’s prolly shitty BUT the song and pen is just so ahhhh I HAD TO DO IT

[girllookingoutwindow]

The light through the window makes her feel warm. The piano song is sweet and peaceful. Her chest breaths calmed. Everything feels cozy, like waking up in the morning after a soft dream.

Penelope remembers the first time she entered the house. The smell, their friendship, the kidness of the words she found there. She never knew a home can feel like this.

She figure out that a place in her heart was there waiting for that moment. She felt in love of all of them.

She loves them still. Even when she doesn't have the right words to describe it. Even if sometimes she wasn't able to said it at laud.

She never knew what a home was before that day.

They share it with her because their kindness.

They're so nice and beautiful. They look like a paint. The smiles in their faces make her feel like an stranger. They look so happy together. He looks happy again.

It something there she can't reach. A feeling of being there and not being there really. Like she's watching the scene from outside, like an spectator in a theatre. She doesn't belong there.

The music takes her to another time. Another life, but with the same dream. To have a home, not a house with empty walls and without noises. To be loved. To feel desired.

She always wanted to know how he feels to belong to someone. To a family, specially one like this one.

His smile makes her remember other smiles. The first time he saw this boy smile her heart felt out of her body. Now, she feels she cannot breath. She doesn't want to. She would love to be froze here, in this moment, and never let go.

Now, she feels like she took his smile from him.

A sad and at the same time warm feeling full her chest. This is all she ever wanted, but it's not hers. Maybe was a beautiful dream but she needs to wake up now.

She needs to give up the house of her dreams and to build a new one, a real one. Because it can't be a home if she doesn't belong there.

Even if it's not a perfect house, it will have love and laughs, it will have a family, and it will be hers.

It will be theirs.

[sea-owl]

Back on my bullshit. Ignore histories and timelines, and my made up empire. We don't give a shit about that here.

So, an au where when Colin was out traveling, he was visiting an empire similar to ancient Greece or Rome. He met up with a few local lords, and the next thing Edmund and Violet know their third born son is writing home that he's engaged. Colin also wrote that his fiancé and her family are traveling back with him to meet the other Bridgertons.

Well damn the family's curiosity is peaked. Through different letters to different family members, they put together that Colin's fiancé is named Penelope, and she was the daughter of a senator, though her family's power came from her maternal line, though Colin doesn't say how. She has three sisters, two currently married, and one is coming with her on the trip to England. Her mother Portia is also coming. And to Violet's delight, her son was clearly in love with this girl.

Edmund has a few additional rooms set up at Aubrey Hall. By the time they get here, the season will be over, and the family return to the countryside.

In preparation, Violet asked around about the empire her son was returning from, hoping to gain some knowledge to start conversations with the girl and her family. Most of it was, of course, gossip and rumors, but at least it's something to start with.

Edmund and Violet had prepared, but they were not prepared for the woman who stepped out of the carriage.

The woman took in her surroundings, including taking in her new hosts, before letting out a small laugh. "Cute."

She then turns back to two others who must be her daughters, and Colin.

Colin finally noticed his family who were starting to gather on the front steps. "Family! I would like to introduce you to my fiancé and her family."

Dinner had been full of questions for Penelope. Some were jokes at Colin for finally settling down. It wasn't until later when the children were playing some after dinner games that Edmund and Violet got a chance to talk to Portia one on one.

Her stare felt like she was trying to read them. It reminded Edmund of some of the other lords in the house. Well she was the wife of a senator, maybe some of it rubbed off on her.

"Well I must say I wasn't expecting this when Colin decided to travel," Violet said, starting a conversation.

"Hmm, indeed," Portia hummed in agreement. "Though I suppose it's for the best. Penelope has worked so hard and always did desire a genuine love match. With Mr. Bridgerton she can be assured that it is a true love match."

"Colin mentioned it was your family that held more influence," Edmund said. "Is that what made it difficult to find a love match?"

Portia nodded. "Every noble son in the empire wants a chance to marry one of the Emperor's nieces. Especially since my brother has yet to produce his own heir."

Violet and Edmund choked on their wine.

Portia let out a small smirk, lost in her thoughts. "It was quite satisfying though when news spread of Penelope and Mr. Bridgerton's engagement. I thought Felician was going to fall over laughing when he heard the news."