#she's gone and caught feelings *for* cressida

[change-the-rules]

throwback appreciation for eloise's 'seriously?! Seriously?!' face while observing cressida's swooning dramatics with the prince

[myfairstarlight]

Good day friend! I've been really enjoying your takes for bridgerton this season :D Would love to hear your thoughts about part 2, particularly Colin's character portrayal if you're at all inclined!

Well hello there dear, thank you!

And what a coincidence, because Colin's portrayal, always the polarising topic in this fandom it seems, has been on my mind ever since I finished watching part 2... I shall ramble here then! I hope you do not mind a long answer, dear reader, for my last analysis post was not a quick read indeed. And I will now also stop trying to sound like Whistledown.

So, overall thoughts? I think he was handled mostly brilliantly, actually. And thus still despite the pacing issues (but that's an overall issue I have with the show, not specific to this season). Controversial take, already, so let's break it down a bit.

I will try to organise my rambling, but this is pretty much my immediate thoughts after watching the season. Perhaps I'll make a more organised and proper post later, adding Penelope's side, like my friends to lovers love letter, but we'll see! So:

Colin's journey to self-love

Because just like Penelope, though we arguably see it less, Colin has his own journey to loving himself because the thing with Colin is that he's still so insecure. Yes, he's more himself in part 2 now that he realised he's in love, he no longer tries to pretend to be someone he's not, but he still struggles to prove himself, and we see it in those last two episodes, when the truth is truly out. People are harsh on him for being so caught up in what Whistledown wrote and constantly celebrating the idea that LW might meet her demise, almost like a child who just got some sweets, but as we've seen in his discussion with Eloise after the reveal, it's because Whistledown calling him out at the beginning of the season for his new persona poked at his biggest insecurity, and he's still stuck on that, even more so now that he learns Penelope was behind the words, the one person who always made him feel seen and in this case, made him feel too seen. To me, him bringing up Marina so insistently was him grasping at straws, clinging to the one thing he knows for sure was unfair so he does not have to face the fact that what Penelope wrote was the truth (sidenote, was a little disappointed they did not have Penelope say she did try to talk to him about Marina but he literally did not listen and did not care that Marina loved another). He is still trying to find who he is and for a moment, he thought he had it, thanks to the very person now making him question everything all over again.

And oh boy does he not cope well.

Hero complex and what it means to be the man of the house

Colin has a hero complex. That's news to absolutely no one, unless you have not paid attention, so I won't make a list of the instances in previous seasons again. But we see it right away in e5 as he stands up for Penelope in front of Portia, then constantly shielding Penelope as soon as Cressida is involved. Penelope even thanks him for it, telling her no one has ever stood up for her of the sort, which fuels his hero complex. In fact, it is Colin's protectiveness that leads him to learn Penelope is Whistledown since he followed her out of worry, and that leads him to the realisation that she may not need him as much as he thought she did (and in his mind, perhaps she even just pretended to need him, to love him). And that, along with discovering that secret, shatters him. His whole sense of purpose, the one thing he thought he could for sure provide? Gone, just like that.

Even more so later when he learns she may be richer than him lol

So he overcompensates. When Cressida's blackmail is revealed, he does not listen, he jumps on the opportunity to prove himself, to protect his wife even if he's still mad at her, no one can disrespect her and his family so blatantly. As the man of the house, he needs to do what he must. And then he fucking fails and makes things far worse. And you know what? How satisfying it was that for once he failed, arguably when it was the most important for him, to remind him that hey, don't get on your high horse, listen to your wife and your family, don't try to handle everything on your own! (A lesson that Penelope also has to learn at the same time! That's marriage baby!) I like that he gets humbled twice, by Penelope and Cressida, the person he loves most and the one he despises so, yet they both throw the truth at him - he's privileged, as a man, and as a Bridgerton. He gets to question himself, travel to his whim, be even reckless like he just was because he will always have unconditional love from his family, but Penelope had to hide a part of herself to be able to do something she likes, meanwhile Cressida has to resort to questionable means to avoid getting married off to an old man. They do not have the luxury that Colin has to just do things. And it pains him to face that.

I've seen the sentiment that part 2 has Penelope be more assertive than Colin, with the dynamic shifting again when it should not, and while it is true she is the one who seeks him out more, it makes sense, she is seeking his forgiveness all throughout the last two episodes. I love her, but you cannot argue she is not at fault here and Colin deserves to be upset and a bit withdrawn as he deals with the conflicting feelings suddenly assaulting him. Yes the entrapment accusation hurt especially since he was the one who couldn't keep his hands to himself, but with his history after Marina, it makes sense that's what his hurt mind decides to focus on that, to justify the fact he's still so upset (It does bother me he never apologises for that comment though, at the same time Penelope doesn't hold it against him. They, or the writers, probably forgot about it.) But I would also argue that him being so troubled, is a proof of love, he even says so to Eloise "you are lucky you've never been in love" because if he wasn't, this would be much easier to deal with. Despite it all, he loves her, he chooses her, he will protect her, he must. He decides to sleep on the sofa to still stay close to Penelope despite the fact he could just sleep in one of the empty bedrooms. He still reassures her during their wedding, with one look encouraging her to walk more confidently down the aisle, and he holds her oh so tenderly when they dance at the wedding breakfast. He's so upset, but he's still so much in love. Of course, unlike part 1, there's no urgency or desperation on his part, there's no Debling threatening to take Penelope away, or him trying to earn back her favours so of course suddenly his displays of love feel less outward. But again, they're arguing, no he will not forgive her so easily, and that's a good thing, yet he's still here to support and protect her, and that says so much because again, he could just leave, that would have no consequence to him as a man. And in kind, Penelope makes an effort to do better as well, no longer witholding any secret from him, and he sees that.

And deep down, he understands Penelope, we see it when he confronts Cressida and perfectly described why Penelope became LW without her telling him in such words beforehand, because he's had similar struggles, he just needs to admit it, and be okay to show this vulnerability with her.

Colin's writer struggles and jealousy.

Now, I must admit, this was the weakest and a bit disappointing part of his arc to me, which is why I'm writing it last. I wish we could have had more time exploring that, and not just being told so (hopefully in s4? Assuming the writers won't pull a Kate and Anthony and constantly have them leave for no reason). This, however, adds to the previous part and Colin's struggle to provide, be the man of the house.

Here his wife is, an accomplished writer, even if under a pen name, who may be richer than he, oh how it must have deepened his insecurity. After all, if he cannot provide protection, or financial stability, then what good is he to her? What good are his silly journals when compared to that damn column that has all of Mayfair on a chokehold?

And yet.

Is it not telling and precious that he kept all of Penelope's letters? And that they're the catalyst of reminding him why he loves her so much, and how her love for writing and her cleverness shine through and that it is unfair of him to expect her to give it up when he himself aspires to be a writer? Writing is what brings them together truly, the same way writing letters to each other was the precursor for him realising his feelings as well. He is at peace then, Penelope is Whistledown, and she shines with her pen, and Colin fell in love with her quill, long ago, he was just overcome with grief to realise Whistledown held the same brilliance.

And sure, Penelope does not need him to provide, but she loves writing so much, and it inspires Colin in his own writing as well. And I also think it's super cute that he was going through a writer's block until Penelope told him she's loved him for years and suddenly the gates were opened (granted, this was before the reveal but now imagine post-reveal, as he struggles to edit and write, Penelope comes up beside him telling him he's doing well and boom, he's determined to write again).

But, back to the topic at hand, most importantly... he offers her love and support, even through all this battle, he unconsciously kept caring for her, and that's what Penelope craves, just someone there for her.

And that? That Colin can absolutely be, and he will proudly take on the role of her husband rather than "the man".

So I think this about wraps it up! Colin is the definition of a sensitive man trying his best to tough it up, a third son who struggles to find a place in this world. But he found a woman who does not need him to be what he is not, the one woman who will love him not for what he can provide, but for who he truly is, kind and incredibly empathetic. The one woman who fell in love with him because she made him fall off a horse and instead of yelling because of a bruised ego, he laughed at his own expense.

And I just think Colin Bridgerton is neat.

Also as I hit post it's 2AM for me so if some of this doesn't make sense, that's why, don't hold it against me, thank you dear one <3

[spaceorphan18]

The Lady Whistledown Papers : 1x07 Ocean's Apart (Part 3)

Welcome back, Gentle Readers, to The Lady Whistledown Papers, where I’m taking an in-depth look at Penelope Featherington and Colin Bridgerton’s character arcs and romance within the show Bridgerton!

For previous issues, follow tag : The Lady Whistledown Papers

The Queen's Luncheon

The family is back together again (except, you know, for Francesca, but who's really paying attention....) Violet seems genuinely happy to be out in society with 7/8ths of her children.

Colin snarks that they should tempt scandal more often -- and I mean, he might be in a pissy mood, but I appreciate he hasn't lost his sense of humor.

I don't really ever get to talk about Lady Danbury, but she has a moment where she talks to Daphne about how her plan of showing up and, idk, being there? is helping no one talk about Colin and Marina. Sure. Okay. I still don't really get these society rules. But if Daphne is now the A-List celebrity kicking the c-tier out of the tabloids, then okay. Lol but mostly, I just like Lady Danbury and wanted to say that.

It is twenty minutes into the episode and this is our first bit of Penelope. And look how gorgeous this girl is, my god. She's got such a beautiful smile.

Anyway... not a long scene, but there are some key elements going on.

For one, the Featheringtons have caused quite a stir showing up. Ooff, the ton is not happy about them trying to foist a pregnant girl onto a Bridgerton. The nerve.

Secondly, Eloise whisks Penelope away -- it's nice that they're friends again. I love that Eloise is so concerned for her, and wants to make sure Penelope is okay, and there's this real moment of care and affection from Eloise to Pen. Eloise is so caught up in Eloise-land half the time that she doesn't always notice what's going on with Penelope, but she does still very much care.

Pen is good about it -- and (unsurprisingly) only concerned about Colin and how he's doing. (It's like she cares about him or something, idk...;) ) And it's fascinating at how dismissive Eloise is of it -- saying his ego's bruised, but the men are usually fine in this. And, I mean, she's not wrong. Look - I'm not downplaying Colin or his right to have feelings, because I think he should have feelings, and it's good that -- unlike so many other men in this universe, he expresses those feelings.

But I can also see it from Eloise's POV, too -- Colin is the one who, from a society perspective, gets off the easiest here. He will be fine, he's protected by his gender and by his family name. Whereas the Featheringtons, who are already somewhat outcasts to begin with, are bearing some truly awful treatment from society.

And then we get into Lady Whistledown, and I always love these conversations, because there's always another layer once you know that Penelope is LW. Eloise reports that people think she's gone too far this time -- and Pen looks away, because she knows it was a risky thing doing what she did. But interestingly, she reminds Eloise that Eloise was once LW's biggest admirer.

And Eloise really steps into her friendship, saying that LW has gone too far when she smears the name of her greatest friend. And Pen is genuinely moved by this. And Eloise also promises that when they find out LW's identity - a retraction will be made, and they'll restore the Featherington name. And Pen is just - she's so happy that Eloise is so dear to her. It's really heartwarming when these two can have such beautiful moments together.

Meanwhile, The Featheringtons are going to get kicked out of the luncheon. Ooff.

Cressida is going to be snarky about it - but Daphne puts her in her place, and really she should learn not to fuck with the Featheringtons (or the Bridgertons) because it will not end well for her.

[I should also point out - the Marina storyline takes a detour with Daphne getting involved to find George Crane. It's nice that the two storylines converge at this point, but neither Colin or Pen are involved at this particular point, so I'm skipping over it.]

Searching for Lady Whistledown

One storyline that I've mostly been neglecting to talk about (and is probably my favorite Season 1 storyline) is Eloise searching for Lady Whistledown. She's gotten in so deep that she's been asked by the Queen to track her down, and the Queen is now threatening Eloise if she doesn't start giving results, so Eloise is pushing all in on it.

Of course, now that she and Pen are doing alright again (interesting their little tiff in episode 5? goes unspoken about -- but I mean, they're such great friends that sometimes you get into fights and let it go because the friendship means more, you know?)

Anyway, Eloise has enlisted Pen's help in going over all the data... (which is kind of funny - as Pen is just enjoying herself watching Eloise spin in circles while the culprit is sitting right there!)

It's clever, really, the Penelope can give so much and so little away at the same time. She managed to not have the whole Marina thing tracked back to her -- shifting the focus onto the servants who (as we saw early on in the series) all gossip. Eloise has ruled out servants, but who isn't ruled out? Tradespeople! So there are new leads and new possibilities!

Also, the end of this scene is... odd, in that all it's really doing is setting up Eloise going to an opera, even though she's not out. I mean, the only reason Pen says what she says is to get Eloise to go be in the next scene so that Eloise can have a scene with the Queen. It's... a tiny bit awkward. But eh, I guess I'll just throw it to - Penelope wanting Eloise to enjoy being in society, since she's already stuck there.

And then the ending of the scene, where Penelope is meh about restoring the family name (I mean, the girl knows her family is a mess even without scandal) and laments having to sneak out the back way so not to be scene. (The amount of times this girl sneaks in and out of this house, I mean really...ten bucks says she sneaks past Colin's room on her way out.)

But anyway, on her way out, she does thank Eloise. She really is grateful to have such a great friend. And even if she knows that LW really can't be revealed, at least she has satisfaction in knowing there is at least one person in the world who truly cares about her and her well being.

[Also, as an aside, towards the end of the episode - Eloise is going to reflect on this conversation, and in kind of a brilliant misdirection, she's going to come up with the idea that Madame Delacroix could be LW.]

An Apology

Another Colin and Anthony scene! And you know what, I know. I know I know I know that this show is supposed to be about the romances, and I mean, I cannot wait to get to season 3 and really dig into Pen and Colin, we'll get there.

But I adore the sibling scenes. I really do. It's a big draw for me. And I just don't think there are enough ABC brother scenes in general. (God, I hope there are more in Season 4...anyway...) This little scene is a just a really nice mirror to the scene where Anthony reprimanded Colin a couple episodes earlier.

What is Colin up to at the beginning of this scene? It looks like a map? Colin is going to spend his evening bunkering down and really getting his travel plans in order, because now that he has no reason to stay, there's nothing holding him back from going...

Here's the thing about Colin and traveling. I do genuinely think, as a part of his personality, that he does enjoy the idea behind traveling - of seeing the world and seeing what's out there. But I think a big component to Colin's travels is that he is looking for something. What is that thing? His purpose? His place in this world? His reason for being? The answers to life's greatest mysteries? All of the above?

He is the third son -- Anthony has role as leader of the family and his duties to the Bridgerton estate. Benedict is the 'spare' but also is finding himself through artistic pursuits. Colin doesn't have the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. But so he is looking elsewhere to give his life some meaning.

The somewhat funny thing about Colin traveling, though, is what he's searching for is right where he left it. He just doesn't know it yet.

But! I do think traveling (both times) is really good for him. Seeing the world does open it up, and gives you new experiences, and lets you see the world in ways you've never seen it before. And (in both cases) it's going to help him grow up a bit. (It's also going to give him the opportunity to really fall in love again -- but he also doesn't know that yet...)

Here's the other thing about this moment... Colin isn't going to the concert because he isn't feeling up to it. He's still very much in his feelings, and when Colin is in his feelings, he retreats. Big time. (It is another reason he's traveling, too, to make an escape.) Not that he shouldn't be, his heart has been very much shattered and things like that do need time to get over.

But it's just another character trait that has been firmly set up in this season that's going to end up magnified in Season 3.

And, omg, I've barely gotten into the scene, lol...

Anthony hands over an apology drink (lol) and Colin starts getting snarky again - locusts in the street? is it the endtimes? what is happening?? Again - I love that Colin retains a sense of humor and a bit of sass. The boy may be wallowing, but he hasn't lost his cheekiness that gives him his charm.

Anthony, to his credit, doubles down on a sincere apology. And Colin becomes self deprecating again -- acknowledging that Anthony was trying to 'protect' him from his foolishness. (And Colin does seem to recognize that jumping so quickly into an engagement was somewhat foolish, even if it's going to take him a while to really get over Marina.)

And I love Anthony's banter back -- ribbing Colin about being foolish. Because it's such a sibling response. And there little banter back and forth -- again such siblingness! And I love it. Love that this show doesn't back away from balancing sincerity with levity and the push and pull that comes with real sibling dynamics.

And then Anthony becomes somewhat prophetic. He's speaking to Colin as if he was speaking to himself, saying that a broken heart will indeed mend, and at some point in the future, you'll barely remember her name. Because Anthony is in the same place Colin is -- nursing his hurt over Siena, and it occupies all of his thoughts. But pretty soon, we'll be in Season 2, and Anthony will discover Kate. And Colin will travel and (somewhat unknowingly) start a correspondence with his future wife. And the names Siena and Marina will be flickering memories of things that seem odd were once a big deal.

The other thing that Anthony does is such a sweet, big brother thing -- he reaffirms that, in the wake of it all, reassure Colin that his family loves him. Which is a big deal - because not everyone (as we'll see) will have families to rely on, but the Bridgertons are a unit, one that unconditionally supports each other, and that's a huge thing.

He also minds Colin that he has the honor of his actions. Which is an important thing to Colin. He has Anthony's respect and that means something.

The scene ends with Colin's empathetic side (as shown through brotherly teasing) coming out -- as Colin asks Anthony how is own advice is working. They may have not directly discussed it, but Colin must know about Siena, and must know that Anthony is also in pain. Anthony doesn't know how it'll play out... but we do, as we know what's coming :D

As we're nearing the end of the season this scene is most definitely setting up the future for our characters, a laying the ground work that even if these story lines are coming to a close, better things are most definitely on the horizon.

[Also - I kind of enjoy the fact that these two are going to spend the evening drinking and being miserable together. Kinda wished we got to see these shenanigans more so than the Simon/Daphne drama, but ah, I suppose that's what fanfic is for]

A Special Cocktail

The episode is going to end with Marina making herself a special potion -- of what? We won't know until the next episode. And Penelope is going to find her! Oh no, the drama! I do like how much Penelope cares, though. Even though they've done nothing between Penelope and Marina since their last exchange where Marina was a bit cruel to her, Penelope doesn't want her dead. And does want her to be okay.

Anyway, it's so weird not to have Penelope featured that much in the episode -- she was barely in it, and her story line didn't really progress at all.

But - with this (and Daphne's dramatic reveal of not being pregnant), we're crashing into the finale!

[Also, huh, it is fascinating that they're paralleling Daphne and Marina's storylines here -- both women wish for the opposite - Daphne wishing she was pregnant, Marina wishing she wasn't, and neither are getting their wish. It's some good storytelling technique here. Shame I don't necessarily care about either of these stories that much. But I can appreciate good storytelling when it's happening. Bravo show, bravo.]

On to episode 8! Whooo! (I'm happy - I'm so ready to move beyond season 1)

[jazzyjazzin]

my writing:

Summary:

“You should try writing to her, even if you are not to send them. I find, when I have so many feelings that I am unsure what to do with them, it helps to release them creatively.”

“But you draw, and I’m not much of a writer honestly. Well… most of the time anyway.”

“There are all kinds of writers you know. You believe yourself to not be a writer because there are so many of them already around you, but the world is full of creativity, full of art, full of someone who will always be better at something than you Eloise. Besides, I’m not asking you to publish a book of poetry for a long-lost lover. I’m just saying, try an outlet for once that doesn’t involve smoking on a swing?”

At that she had laughed but she had gone to bed with Michaela’s advice singing in the back of her mind and then had spent many nights when she couldn’t sleep in Scotland doing exactly as she had suggested.

And now Eloise stared at the never-to-be recipient of dozens of letters that hide in her desk drawer that resides in her room at Aubrey Hall and she is none-the-wiser and oddly calm and beautiful for someone who has been stuck with sheep for the last year.

playlist for story:

Summary:

“What’s a stunning thing like you doing here?” And at first, it’s just the terror of being caught somewhere she’s not supposed to be. She would have played it cool, but her fingers have frozen on the zipper and her eyes… her eyes are on the most vicious looking angel she’s ever seen in her life.

Pale blonde tumbling hair shining in what little moonlight there is peaking through trees and there’s… something red on her chin, eyes black but it must just be the darkness, and that red on her chin litters across the whiteness of her very old looking dress. She briefly registers that the wailing in the distance has stopped, but her eyes cannot move from the commanding presence of the woman in front of her.

She looks like hell, and she looks…

Lost in time.

or a Vampire!Cressida AU

playlist for story:

Summary:

Michaela’s fingers, which are a bit cold, graze the inside of her wrist. “It’s not innocent like this.” She whispers now too, fingers slide up her forearm.

That certainly doesn’t feel innocent to Francesca, who bites down on her lip to suppress a whimper at the contact she’s not at all used to.

Most touches did not feel as Michaela’s fingers do now, tracing across the inside of her arm, pushing up the sleeve of her dress so that skin can meet skin in some distracting sort of way that immediately sparks a new melody in Francesca’s head. As her fingers dance in what is supposed to be an innocent action across the soft skin of her forearm, she is finding it harder and harder to breathe in any air.

“Many nights in France I found places full of the kind of touch that you cannot possibly imagine.” Michaela is still watching every feature on her face, so closely that it would make her self-conscious about it if she wasn’t so distracted by the way her careful fingers dance across her skin. “That is the most wicked thing I can tell you of, something so ruinous that even if I had ever wanted to be a debutante, I would not have the chance.”

or With Love, Franchaela.

If you like my fics you can also find my original works on my Ko-Fi as well as polls, outlines, and sneak peeks for active fics I’m working on. I also take prompt commissions NSFW&SFW! Consider checking it out, I would greatly appreciate that!

[astridthevalkyrie]

https://www.tumblr.com/astridthevalkyrie/759973639654391808/whyyyyyyy-do-people-look-at-marina-through-a?source=share

So it is okey to tame a kind man just because you are pregnant?? I have rhe feeling that if she was ahitw everyone would have hate her

no, it's not okay. it's definitely not okay. to take a step back from my marina rose colored glasses, no it's definitely not okay and yes, i would feel bad for colin if she had gone through with it. however, a few things:

"if she was white everyone would hate her" is a point that we see come up for a bunch of different characters and different situations. and it's not outright invalid. however! it's easily reversed too. marina is pretty hated. if not a very talked about character, when she is mentioned it's usually in remarks like "penelope should've sent her a wedding invitation" or she's treated as colin's evil ex. so we can say that if marina was white, a lot of people would love her too! she'd be #girlboss and #feminist. same with penelope, in that if she was a woman of color, i think she'd face a lot more criticism, because fandom tends to always give white characters more grace and understanding than they do poc.

cressida is white, and people both love and hate her. obviously she doesn't try to marry someone while pregnant, but a lot of people excuse what she does in season 3 (rightfully) because she's acting out of terror of being either shipped off or married to a very old man. marina is acting out of fear as well, thinking that she and her kids will either be living in extreme poverty or that she will be married to a very old man that was already treating her like cattle. if people can excuse cressida's actions, i think they can excuse marina's as well.

now when it comes to colin, of course he'd be heartbroken if he found out. that's pretty awful, it's just that when it comes to balancing the worst case scenarios for these characters: for colin, if marina goes through with her scheme, he will either knowingly or unknowingly be responsible for children that aren't his, possibly be in a loveless marriage (and more on this later), or caught up in a large scandal if the ton were to find out. for marina, if she doesn't go through with it (obviously not knowing about philip at this time), she would be a single mother, kicked out and living on the streets, scorned by everyone, possibly death for her and her children, or marriage to a man that will most likely rape her. when you balance the worst case scenarios, for me at least, it's a no brainer. marina's worst case scenario is worse, and she's doing what she needs to do.

there's also the slightly iffy question of: does the fandom dislike her because she's babytrapping, or because she's babytrapping colin specifically? of course we know that's why penelope has a problem with it, but say she was to marry an old man and let him think the kids were his. is that suddenly okay? would the fandom hate her so much if she had gone after someone who wasn't already a confirmed love interest of another character?

and now about colin's life should marina have succeeded. in his own words, if she'd told him, he would've married her and raised the kids. let's imagine two scenarios. one where he never finds out. he's happy and in love with a woman who loves him back (or so he thinks). and second scenario, if he does find out post marriage, he'd obviously be very upset (and rightfully!) but doesn't seem like the kind of person who would divorce her or anything like that. and in both scenarios, while it wouldn't be the glamorous love that bridgerton is renowned for, i think it would be highly likely that colin and marina could still be together and be in love.

this insistence, that colin would've been unhappy with marina, is just so incredibly strange to me. the insistence that it was just a crush, just an infatuation, is just. strange. "they just met!" yeah, but so did simon and daphne. they danced. they spoke. i've seen people say that they know it was fake because he was totally fine with her having someone else in her heart but with penelope and lord debling he flipped his shit, "proving" that his feelings for pen were genuine. i'm sorry but to me, that's icky. that's immature. i'd love men to react like colin did in the first season when pen told him that. a lack of jealousy and a mature response should not be a sign that there isn't true passion.

i've also seen people say that marina and philip clearly look miserable, and that's proof that that would've been colin and marina's fate as well. it's just. no. those scenarios are different. a, marina and philip both know the kids are not his. b, marina is constantly around her dead lover's brother, and god knows how painful that is. c, philip is also probably not comfortable around her as colin would have been, because in his eyes, she's his brother's lover. these things would not have been the case for colin and marina and there would have been a lot less misery. also to add, we don't know they're miserable. we see colin visit them and marina being rightfully uncomfortable that he's there. for all we know, they're content with each other (at least until future seasons come out).

so yeah! what marina wanted to do isn't "okay." it's also just a lot more complicated than that.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

ship 3 location 19 👀💖🫶🏻

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

3) SHIP: Cressida x Eloise

19) LOCATION: a carriage interior

more Bridgerton-themed fic prompts

Two to Give Chase

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cressida blinked.

“To do what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She could.”

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

“She does.”

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

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

“Practical,” Cressida repeated.

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

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

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

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

“You’re brave,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well.

Eloise had been unutterably wrong.

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

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

“Let me,” Cressida muttered.

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

“I do.”

Dazed, Eloise looked up at Cressida with a frown.

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[gleefullypolin]

Ok it is part 2 of Stacy’s Tipsy Ramblings about Season 3.

I apologize once again as I have had another night of Red Bull and spent time on Reddit and doing my favorite thing that I do all day long which is talk to @devastatinglygreen about the things that irk me the most when it comes to fandom musings and questions. You will have to thank her for this being somewhat readable at least but it may have gone off the rails in parts. Again, the thoughts are my own but they are definitely RANTS. Goooood luck!

Is Pen not telling Colin immediately about LW the same as what Marina did?

Ok lets break this down shall we. Marina came in to the family in a bad situation. She was in love with a man who was on the battlefield. She was put into the sights of Portia and immediately set to be married off. During this she finds out she is with child, something I think she may have suspected but then confirmed once she arrived. That is where my sympathy starts to wane.

Now she must find a husband and quickly. She finds one pleasant to look at, young, and gullible. She is able to immediately pursue Colin who at the time was very green. It did not take much to earn his affection and move him along the path she needed. She then LIES to him and convinces him to marry her. She in no way planned to tell him EVER about being pregnant with another man’s child. She tricked him willingly and without remorse. She tried to get him to comprise her, which he did not acquiesce to. She did so with no love in her heart for Colin. She held him in “high esteem”.

Let’s look at Pen, who writes a gossip column, in which she tells NO LIES in her column. Along the way she without even trying to, the man she has been in love with for most of her adult life, falls in love with her and proposes to her in a swift and confusing night. She accepts and is immediately thrown into a whirlwind engagement. She then attempts to tell him many times about her secret but is interrupted. While she should have told him immediately, it does not appear she will get to and is found out. However, she never tricked him out of hate, and it appears to pain her to hurt him. She tried to kick him out of a carriage before he got on his knees, professed his love and compromised her in the best way with love in his heart. Did I mention she loves him?

Anyone see the differences?

Is El’s anger mostly about protecting Colin after the engagement announcement?

Ok let’s see if I can rile up the masses here.... This might be fun. Is she protecting her brother. Yes, of course. Is that what this is all about. Good God no. Let’s get serious here, it would take a lot of rewriting for this to be true. El has always been a tad...a lot...self-absorbed. She spent so much of her time talking AT Penelope that she never stopped to notice that Pen was having conversations with Colin that they were involved in that she was DRAGGING her away from. She never took her OWN brother’s letters seriously, even when Pen mentioned she was writing to him too, she laughed it off, like why are you writing to HIM? Boring!

Had El stopped for a single moment she might have noticed her friend staring with heart eyes at her brother for a single moment, any moment, for there were MANY. Or all the times they ran off together, unchaperoned? Many. Men of the ton took notice, because they were teasing him about it as well, but not El. El is out here lost in her own world.

When she found out that Colin was helping Pen to find a husband and they were laughing in the ballroom, she was annoyed by their giddy friendship. But why? Jealousy? El is so caught up in her own BS that she can’t get her own head and her own anger at Pen to even see what was going on in front of her own face. So no, I don’t think this is about protecting her brother as much as it is about protecting her own feelings and anger, she is still reeling over her hurt she has from Pen not sharing and telling her the truth about LW.  

How do you feel about the Cressida/El friendship?

Ok, I’ve had 2 Malibu Red Bulls so this might sting a bit guys. Hang in there! If there is one thing that gives me the puke feelings more in Season 3 it’s this shit. Let me start with this. I get that El was mad at Pen. I GET IT! She found out that her friend was writing the column that she so coveted and didn’t share the info with her and now she’s butt hurt and refusing to listen to anything Pen has to say about why she did it and instead she thought...I’m going to go and talk to the one person who has been the meanest person to the friend I have known most of my life who I am mad at.

Ok I got that out of my system. Let’s get down to the next reason I hate this. Cressida allowed her to see how blessed it is to have a good family supporting her based on how Cress is treated at home. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW? This is the stupidest shit I have heard in all the stupid shit I have heard. Her best friend since childhood who has Mama make you feel like a piece of shit and Sister let me treat you like a piece of dirt and garbage, lives next door and SHE DIDN’T LEARN ANYTHING AT ALL? Ok nice try but I also wasn’t born last night.

All of this to say, El watched Cress rip her dress...whoops. Knows Pen needs to find a husband by episode 2 and has one prospect in Debling...still helps Cressida try and fuck that up anyway. Tells Cressida....YES YOU READ THAT RIGHT...Pen’s BULLY, that Colin is helping her find a husband, you know the one thing she just told Colin would be AWFUL news if it got out, then 2 seconds later BLABS quickly about it TO this bully in the middle of a ball....Yeah I know...she says “oh sorry” for each of these things in a polite whisper, but each of these things are absolute rubbish and I just don’t care what anyone says, it displeases me.

Is Pen actually Colin’s second choice since he could have married Marina?

Ok wait....So this was an actual thing I was told is an actual thought. Like WHAT? I don’t know how else to tell people this. But Colin had a choice. Even after LW column came out, he had a choice, he could have still married Marina. He CHOSE not to. He saw that she lied to him willingly, she admitted she did not love him, and he CHOSE not to marry her. Could he have married her, yes. He could have married Cressida had he bloody chosen to. But he did not. He chose to marry Pen. He got in a carriage, fingered his way to a proposal and walked her right into his mama with pride (and dirty fingers) but there is only so much you can do with that. Either way, Marina is a non-factor and needs to die in all thought processes at this point.

Will it be unfair if Pen has no consequences with the Queen at the end of the season?

Will it be fair? What were people expecting? A beheading? Do you all realize that Queen Charlotte enjoys LW? She gets bored as fuck with these debutantes. Like BORED BORED! This woman loves gossip. You also realize that this is a woman sitting on the throne. A woman in this age! At the end of the day, a woman being successful in any realm might actually have the respect of the crown. Yes, she gets annoyed, yes, she goes after her! It’s sport. She wants to know who she is. But I’m telling you, she never intended to punish her. You all are mad if you thought so and most people asking for this just hate Pen anyway. And I will ask you ONE MORE TIME! What exactly has LW ever LIED about in her column? She reports the news. Not her fault these ladies and gents out here acting like fools. Be better people!

Should we tar and feather Colin and Penelope because of the *gasp* premarital sex of it all?

Clutching our pearls once again are we fandom. I actually read something today that Pen/Colin are the ONLY couple to have sex before they are wed as the main couple. After I got done laughing and watching Ant/Kate fuck before their marriage in S2, I came back to this question and said FUCK NO! Let these two get their freak on. My God! Are we really going to get all high and mighty because lil Pen got fucked? Like you all hate her that much? Get over this shit. Where is this coming from?

This was such an important thing in the book for them. Polin really are winning with how much of their book stuff is coming over to the show. The really important stuff, the stuff you highlighted because it was impactful when reading, that’s the stuff they are adding and that’s winning. And obviously certain people are taking note of that because they be mad as fuck out there about this shit.

Is Colin a free loader living off Anthony’s good graces and money?

I am sooooo over this question. First off, EDMUNDS family money that Anthony now manages, is one thing, the inheritance that each kid has is a different thing. And yes this is going to sound really dickish, and it’s meant to in order to prove a point. What did Anthony do besides be the sperm that came out first, and after he got done fucking his way through all of London, he finally decided to run the house. Then he said, let’s let mom do one more season then I’ll buckle down and run all this MONEY that is mine.

But the main point I would really like to know, and honestly, this is a serious question. Why does this question only come up in relation to Colin? Why is no one asking why it’s ok for Ben to be out there painting and fucking his way through all the widows and modieste’s in town, but Colin goes traveling and OMG what a dick, loser, who does nothing at all but fuck over his brother. You got a tell people. It’s called asshole syndrome.

Ok that's all you get out of me tonight...I leave for Las Vegas tomorrow so I will try and behave for a few days!

[beautifulsavagegarden]

Window to the Past

Cressida hadn't been able to help herself when she had seen the jewellery box, resting on the counter at the antique store. Her mother had worked at the store for years and Cressida had fond memories of coming by after school and helping her mother around the store as was needed. The owner had been particularly fond of her and so long as she was careful and considerate, he had let her into the backroom on weekends to read the books that had been donated from the families whose loved ones had died and didn't know what to do with them. Dorothea Perkins had jokingly said that every book had to be vetted by Cressida before it was worthy to be sold. Cressida remembered well the smell of the store, the fresh cut flowers on the counter mixing with the old book smell in the air. After her mother had died, Cressida had stopped coming by so often but she had still maintained the relationship to a degree. Dorothea had been overjoyed every time the bell rang and she looked up and saw that Cressida was in the doorway.

She had come to the store, carrying a box of her father's things, a few weeks after his funeral and when the bell had went, Dorothea had gasped and then rushed to Cressida as much as she was able to considering her advanced years and the damage that years of lifting heavy things had done to her book. She was a little more stooped than when Cressida had been young but age changed them all in the end. Dorothea was still lovely and her smile hadn't changed one bit.

"Cressida, you should have called ahead. I would have made some tea." Dorothea chided her just a touch as Cressida heaved the box up onto the counter.

"I'm sorry Dorothea, I didn't think. I was just in the zone you know? Anyway, I was clearing out the attic and I know that my father would want you to find new homes for a few things." She patted the box with one hand. It was then that she noticed the jewellery box and her interest in it must have caught Dorothea's attention because the next thing Cressida knew, the box was swept off the counter into Dorothea's wrinkled hands and she was presenting it to Cressida.

"I know that look when I see it; take it. As a thank you for, well, everything." Dorothea was watching Cressida with a gaze that clearly told her that there was no point in arguing, that it wouldn't accomplish anything. She wanted to ask Dorothea if she was sure but she always had been sure of herself and almost everything she did.

"I was so sad to hear of your father's passing. Arthur deserved better than that."

Cressida nodded her head, agreeing. It had been a lot, so much, too much for her and it was part of why she was considering putting the house on the market. She didn't feel like she belonged in Salem anymore. She wasn't going to tell Dorothea though, or anyone else, not until she had decided for sure what she was going to do.

She had stayed for tea, thanking Dorothea and giving the older woman a large, warm hug and then she had gone on her way home. They had recounted memories of her father but mostly of her mother and Cressida felt the weight of their losses weighing heavily on her shoulders. If she hadn't felt crushed by the grief, then perhaps she wouldn't have made the decision that she did.

Later that night, she pulled out the few pieces of her mother's jewellery that she still had and placed them in the box on her vanity. When she had opened the drawer they rested in, her fingers had brushed against the velvet of the bag that housed her angel cards. She hadn't touched them in so long, hadn't read in so long, and she felt that she needed their reassurance then more than anything else in the world. Perhaps she would get comfort from the angels.

She had lit a candle and had placed the cards next to the jewellery box that she just couldn't stop staring at. There was something about it that called to her, as though it had always been meant for her, as if it's creation was connected to something buried deep inside of her that she couldn't understand or name.

She had started to draw the cards, selecting the first for the past and that was as far as she got. There was a sudden wind, the flame of the candle guttered in the wick and the card fell from her fingers, landing on the table face down so she could not see it. It seemed that she didn't need to though because the card wasn't going to hold any answer for her. No, the answer was in the room with her, in the mirror. There was a man standing behind her and Cressida jumped, whirling round in her seat, eyes wide, hand trembling as it rose to her mouth. There was a man standing in her room.

"W-Who are you?" She asked, a tremor in her voice.

@symphonyofmalice

[andthebubbles]

okay, some vague overall thoughts for bridgerton 3x01-04 (spoilers ofc)

benedict didn't get much to do. am disappoint. all he did was run away from mamas and debutantes, and find a widow and then he did a lot of fucking. impressive

this so far is the season of the sideplots being more interesting

creloise is the literal damn highlight of the season so far. ESPECIALLY cressida

anthony is also, to me, always the damn highlight of any season. except for s1 on my first watch. heh.

but on that note, since cressida's gone the same way as anthony, now i get to rewatch s1 and s2 cressida scenes and just skjfgnkfg fall in love with her even more, like i did with anthony

ugh, cressida's dad! :( but as someone else said, what's wrong with befriending a bridgerton? haha maybe eloise is not Male enough. THEN LET HER MARRY A WOMAN, U ANCIENT DICK

i love i love i love all the a&b scenes we got, and anthony being the big bro and looking out for gregory

speaking of gregory, what was the purpose of him having a broken arm lmao. IS there a purpose? will there be a purpose?

rip that anthony went on a second honeymoon and had the balls to do it, i miss him being chained to his desk with violet slowly eviscerating him with a blunt knife

(i did detect some potential delicious conflict though re how slow violet's been at moving out of the house. i wonder if the show will get into that)

francesca and john stirling. aaah they snuck that one right by us. i love him and i love them! i'm not sure how much i like francesca yet though; i don't hate her but there's nothing i particularly like yet

so this is the first season where it's not (primarily) told from the point of view of a bridgerton. interesting.

i thought debling would've caught on earlier that some weird shit is going on with pen/colin, and with pen/eloise/cressida. but... well, either he did, or he's as dumb as a doornail (haha i know switched up the phrase). but yeah, at first i liked the idea of pen/debling, but by ep 4 he had become rather flavourless

portia's gonna be shook when she finds out pen and colin are getting married :3 she better be happy for pen! and also like, be nicer to her; i feel like there was a look from her towards the end of the ball in ep 4 where she might be rethinking how she talks to pen

anyway, will add to this post if i think of anything more.

ETA:

that spoiler we got after the bowral screening of anthony being gifted a venetian glass ball; has that been cut from the ep...? instead he's just holding a ball which he is gonna try and fit into his mouth and/or hole for Science. string somehow attached ofc! can't have it getting lost 😈

SKDJNGK nearly forgot. okay so i have some thoughts re will and alice mondrich. with how gossipy and snipey and judgey the ton is, i'm surprised they were fairly well accepted into the ton. that is something i had not extrapolated on based on s1-2. but i do feel like cressida's mum and her friends are doing them dirty behind their backs. so that's... good... good as in, it doesn't invalidate what i headcanoned for a/b fic lmao

aaaaaand, once again for good measure - anthony's gay lil sit:

[bridgertonbabe]

Bestieee, we need more 👏🏻

Following the events of Michael's birthday on the Greek island, Benedict had been mopier than ever before, wallowing in his own guilt and self-hate for hurting the one person he loved more than anyone.

Another couple of years passed and Benedict focused on his art. If anything the heartache was doing wonders for his rate of production; anytime his mind drifted to Sophie he would pick up a paintbrush and start work on a new canvas, desperate to occupy himself. He avoided any invites he got from Colin or his interrailing gang, coming up with excuses and fabricated plans for why he wasn't able to join them in whatever place in the world they currently were. Benedict tried to give dating a go after hearing from Kate that Sophie was dating to her globetrotting content, but every time he sat down for another first date all he thought was that they just weren't Sophie.

To a certain extent he felt having Sophie out of sight and out of the country was better than having her in close proximity and seeing her regularly; there seemed to be less torture in that. But then one day, despite Sophie being firmly out of reach, Benedict heard something that made him feel violently sick. He had met up for drinks with Henry and Wetherby and as they caught up on the latest news, Henry asked him if he had any intel on the drama his younger brother and his friends were going through.

"What drama's this?" Benedict puzzled, seeing as this was the first he was hearing about it.

"We heard from Alice who heard from Cressida who heard from Fife who heard from George that apparently; Phillip's really ill with some muggle disease whilst Colin and Michael have had a falling out because they got in a love triangle with Sophie,"

"And she's ended up pregnant with twins!" Wetherby finished.

Benedict blanched, just about told them he didn't know any more than them, and then made his excuses and left. He ran home, reaching the fields surrounding his country home and collapsing against a tree after throwing up in a nearby bush.

Sophie was pregnant - with twins?! - and apparently Michael fucking Stirling or his own brother Colin might be the father. Benedict's breathing was becoming increasingly ragged and his heart was pounding so hard against his chest that he thought it might end up bursting out (and with any luck provide him with the sweet release of death). How was he meant to carry on when Sophie was having someone else's baby and was being fought over by her two best friends?

His father found him and talked him through the panic attack he was suffering from and produced a small vial of liquid from his jacket pocket, advising his son to inhale the scent. When Benedict followed his guidance, he was instantly put at ease, taking a few deep inhales before handing the vial back to his father.

Once he was calm Edmund asked what had got him in such a state and Benedict apprehensively told his father about the drama he had just learned of from his friends about Colin and his friendship group. He was surprised when Edmund told him he was aware of the drama in question but that several crucial facts had been mixed up.

For starters, Michael was the one who was ill with something called malaria (Benedict felt bad that he had barely taken in the news that one of his brother's friends was sick once he learnt of Sophie's supposed pregnancy), which Edmund had been researching to learn more about. There had been in-fighting within the group but between Colin and Phillip. Colin had fallen for a girl they had met on their travels, Marina, but things had gone pear-shaped when she revealed she was pregnant - but with Phillip's babies after they had drunkenly slept together behind Colin's back.

"Wait; so Sophie's not pregnant?" Benedict swallowed, his eyes bright and hope-filled that what Henry and Wetherby had told him had been totally wrong.

"No, Ben." his father responded and Benedict sagged with relief. "By all accounts she's the one playing peacemaker between your brother and Phillip, not to mention ensuring that Michael's getting the treatment he needs."

Benedict nodded in acknowledgement as he processed the fact that not only was Sophie not pregnant but she was not romantically involved with his brother. He might be back at square one with his deep-seated feelings for her torturing him to no end, but it was far more preferable than the godawful alternative that he had thought was real for the last horrific hour.

"By the way; what did you smell?" Edmund asked and tapped a finger against the vial in his hand before returning it to his pocket.

"The smell of grass after it's rained... chocolate... and -" Benedict stopped short before he said the smell of Sophie's hair, and he darted his gaze to his father. "Dad, what was in that?"

"Amortentia." Edmund replied.

"You carry that stuff around?" Benedict frowned, wondering why his father had a vial of love potion on him.

"It's my little remedy for when I'm feeling stressed at work. I take one whiff of it and smell freshly baked bread, bergamot, and baby powder, and it provides me with comfort when I need it most."

A smile played on Benedict's lips as he associated the smells his father had just listed with his mother, and it touched him dearly just how much his father loved his wife, wishing for a grandiose love like that for himself - or at least, having that love reciprocated.

Benedict groaned and buried his head in his hands as he cottoned on to the fact that what he had inhaled from the love potion and what provided him with immediate comfort was Sophie.

"What is it?" Edmund asked him.

Benedict withdrew his hands from his face and solemnly looked out at the countryside before them.

"I love her, dad."

He didn't say Sophie's name and yet his dad responded with a consoling pat on the back. "I know, son. I know. Have you told her?"

"I've ruined my chance with her. Twice now. I hurt her badly - not that I meant to, but I still did. She deserves so much better than me."

"But have you told her? Does she know how you actually feel?"

"I don't think there would be any point. She hates me."

"I don't think she's capable of hate. Ben, you've got to tell her. You've got to at least try."

"She's happier without me."

"You think she's happier without you."

"She should be."

"But what if she's as unhappy as you are?"

It had never occurred to Benedict that Sophie might still feel for him something other than hate. He figured she had moved on, had realised she could do so much better than him, and could never look back - but what if his dad was right? What if there was a chance that at the very least she still held a candle for him? What if he still crossed her mind? What if there was still a place for him in her heart?

"They're coming home at the end of the month." Edmund mentioned. "Just in time for Simon and Daphne's wedding. No better place for romance then during a celebration for love."

Benedict nodded and as they watched the sunset together, he decided he was going to talk to Sophie one way or another at the wedding. He would apologise for everything he had said and for hurting her - and he would tell her how his heart was all hers, whether or not she chose to accept it. His dad was right; he had to at least try if only to not live with the regret of never telling her what she meant to him.

[savingthrcw]

stares at "fiancée" from across the room cause so pretty. @bcnedict

Cressida was nervous. Of course she had told Eloise everything, the full truth, if only because explaining she had tried to say no may perhaps keep her friend from kicking her out of the Bridgerton's house; Eloise had understood that Benedict had accidentally put her on the verge of being ruined and had refused to be ungentlemanly, but even so it was clear she didn't know how to feel about the matter. Mrs. Bridgerton did not know the whole truth, since that was something that Cressida felt up to Benedict. And so Mrs. Bridgerton had spoken of taking walks together as a family as if she were one of her daughters, however, and had been happy to bring her to the modiste to buy her new dresses since all she was relying on was Francesca's old ones and what she had brought from her house when forced to run off. Cressida had let her choose everything, because as Benedict's 'future wife', if he still wouldn't change his mind, she was determined to do whatever pleased him, and whenever he wasn't available, she'd whatever pleased his mother, who was all too kind to her. If only Cressida could stop herself from being on the verge of crying whenever Mrs. Bridgerton treated her with affection. Hair down and delicate dress, she felt a bit more like she had a family again, but still out of place in such a bright drawing room. She had gone at the window again, in an attempt to see her own reflection and fix something, when her attention had been caught by Hyacinth and Gregory seemingly attempting to murder each other down at the garden. Another sting of longing then, watching the children being allowed to play and be loud. Her father had nearly thrown a fit when he had learned that her cousins had taught her card games and, worse, how good she was at them; she was not allowed to indulge in such unfeminine things, unless of course a husband would make her play, in which case she'd have to lose. Clear rules that didn't exist here, but that she'd still have to follow since men did seem to be that prideful.

A giggle escaped her as the girl hit her brother, but when she turned around, tempted to go see what they did at a safe distance, she found Benedict there at the door; she beamed, tension leaving her entirely and her smile turning wide and happy, because that was her fiancée, her unexpectedly joyful future standing there, watching her in a way that she didn't quite recognize but she assumed was curiosity over the brand new dress. "Mr. Br-Benedict," she greeted him, forgetting all about playing coy for a moment; he had already decided to marry her for her honor, it wasn't as if she had to worry about seducing him anymore, only about not changing his mind. "Your mother took me to the modiste today, so that we may be able to take a walk in public soon. If that pleases you, of course," she added quickly to tamper her own excitement. At least about the walk, the enthusiasm about Violet Bridgerton taking her to the modiste was palpable.

[petalsmooth]

I do like Eloise or I wouldn't be infuriated at the character assassination by placing her with Cressida. I do not believe either book or show Eloise EVER would have gone that direction and this is where I get into huge doubts about the writers crafting original stories when they deviate too far off the narrative of the book. Most of their original ideas do NOT WORK.

Now Polin's story may not mirror the books exactly because getting together much younger, but the basic construct for THIS season at least (Danbury aside) is much closer to a faithful adaptation even if you have to make tweaks for how written previously.

Which is a reason I fear for Benedict's book because his book story is NOT adaptable imo without sweeping change and the writers of the show have not impressed me with their original content that is not at least inspired by the book. Even if I don't like Debling, even that you could say was ripped form the book because there is self introspection by Colin about another world in which Penelope had moved on and found someone else.

At any rate, spending an entire season having Penelope grovel at the feet of Eloise who presumes nothing but malicious intent by her doesn't play with me. Colin is going to be mad like 10 minutes, or passage of a day on the show. He'll talk with Anthony and Kate and work past it. That is what you do when you love someone and know deep down know the person who hurt you wasn't trying to do so.

There is an imbalance in the Eloise and Penelope relationship and until or IF they address that I don't want them friends again no matter how much I love Claudia's chemistry with Luke and Nik. Because whether the show realizes it or not, having Eloise completely unaware of Pen's feelings when Cressida points a big flashing red arrow right on them as Colin crashes Debling's dance...does not scream "best friend" or "soul mate". It screams girl who is entirely caught up in her world to the point she never listened or paid attention to anyone else...including her brother.

By all means, I will be the first to say Pen is wrong not to tell Colin but I at least understand her fear of losing him. But there is the issue. I generally can understand how Pen gets into these situations and she often will admit wrong or feel torn. Eloise just barrels ahead taking no accountability, making erroneous assumptions of people and listening to no one. This needs to change

[golden-heretic]

🔥find the word tag🌊

Thank you @awritingcaitlin for the tag! These are always so fun 💕

My words are: goal, memory, escape, sunset, tense, eternal 

Snippets are from A VERMILION CURSE, which is still on the lookout for betas:

GOAL

A million things go through her head. If she tells him she was Apolthos’ previous spymaster, he could demand a higher price. He could exchange her to other nobles and royals that she has pissed off. But, if the price on her head is that low, it implies that only Ayndall and perhaps a few of his closest advisers know of her true identity. 

There’s also the faint inkling of an idea forming in her head. They both seem to have the objective of achieving Abyssal-related goals. She makes her decision fast. “I was the king’s companion.” 

MEMORY (nsfw)

A flash of Cressida’s neck, thrown back in pleasure flashes in his mind with a quickness he can’t stop and he feels his face grow heated as his body reacts to the mere memory of her soft flesh and luscious taste on his tongue.

ESCAPE

The night most certainly had not gone according to plan.

By this waning phase of the moon, her plan had included her on the route to escape, lying on the most expensive featherbed that coin could buy, stolen from the very manor she had raided before her trip down the Abyssal temple.

SUNSET

 “Yes,” He continues, ignoring Cressida's glare. “Pack whatever you need and be in the wagon around late sunset. Near the inlet by the castle, Cressida and I will meet you around midnight, more or less. Can one of you steer?”

TENSE

There’s apprehension in her stance, shoulders tense, and eyes narrow. “I’m not a member of the cult,” she replies. “But I’m not letting myself get caught either,” she adds and before Ryesand can blink, smoke fills the room. He hears light footsteps run down the cathedral corridor.

ETERNAL

Apparently, I don't have this word in the manuscript, which shook me, tbqh.

[ijustwant2write]

Fight or Flight-Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

(GIF credit to @ladycolinbridgerton​)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hiii,Love your writings! Could you do something Bridgerton, Anthony x reader where the reader tries to stop the duel and gets hurt? Angst/fluff?!’

Characters: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader, Daphne Bridgerton x Reader (sister-in-law), Collin Bridgerton x Reader (brother-in-law)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Duel (guns, mention of death), injuries, angst, fluff

                                    *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Collin and I laughed as we both carried Violet through the foyer of the home, clearly someone had too much to drink. My mother-in-law continued to deny this through her giggling.

“Of course not, you are completely sober.” Collin joked as we made it to the stairs.

“And I’m sober enough to know when you’re being impertinent.” Violet said to her son, still holding my hand.“Good night dears.”

“Good night mother.”

“Good night.”

Collin and I shared a look as she went upstairs, failing to hold in our laughter. We both doubled over as we laughed, until we heard someone call us. Turning to our left, we saw Anthony and Benedict in the doorway.

“Come here.” Anthony hissed.

“Good God. Did someone die?” Collin whined.

“What? What’s happened?” I asked, suddenly panicking. 

“Collin, get here, now.” Anthony instructed, his younger brother complying. 

I followed.“Anthony, what’s wrong? Is someone hurt? Are you in trouble?” I didn’t mean for all the questions but I loved him too much for something to happen to him.

He shoved Collin inside, stepping out and shutting the door behind him.“It doesn’t concern you darling. Just go up to bed.”

“Wait,” I grabbed onto his arm before he could get away,“Anthony, please don’t shut me out.”

“This isn’t for women’s ears. Please, do as I say.”

Anthony kissed my forehead tenderly, before he quickly ripped his arm away, looking sympathetic as he did so. The door shut, and although I was tempted to burst in there, I knew this was something out of my league. Sighing, I reluctantly walked away, slipping off my heels before slowly making my way upstairs. 

As I prepared for bed, my mind was distant. I couldn’t stop wondering what their meeting was about. Anthony looked stressed (even more than usual), and the fact that the eldest brothers were together meant this business was serious. Once my maids were finished and gone, I sat up in bed, having left some candles lit. At first I thought reading might take my mind off things, but the romantic novel only made me think of my husband more. I was tired from the ball, feet throbbing from dancing, which made me believe I could fall asleep. I wasn’t able to fool myself, unfortunately stuck awake again. Groaning in frustration, I stood, making my way to the door. I hesitated, wondering if I should really go storming downstairs when Anthony told me otherwise. No, I had to check on my love.

Opening the door, I heard someone else do the same. Poking my head out, I looked down the hall, seeing Daphne also awake. She rushed towards me, grabbing my hand without a word and dragging me out of my room.

“Woah, Daphne, woah, slow down!” I exclaimed quietly, stopping her at the top of the stairs.“Why are you rushing downstairs? What’s wrong?”

“My brother is doing something terribly stupid, and I cannot stand by doing nothing.” She said, tugging on my arm as she continued her route.

That made my heart beat even greater, terrified for what my husband could be a part of. I kept up with her, still tightly holding her hand until we burst into the room the men had their meeting in. Collin was the only one in there, looking alarmed when he saw us.

“Where have they gone?” Daphne demanded to know.

Collin sighed.“Daph-”

“Tell me where this duel takes place.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Duel?! Anthony has gone to a duel?! With who?!” I exclaimed. 

“So that I may prevent it from happening.” Daphne continued.

“Hastings has done you a grave dishonour.”

“Can someone please explain what is happening?” I stood beside them, though neither took any notice.“What does the Duke of Hastings have to do with any of this?”

“Surely you wish to see him pay?”

“Not with his life.” Daphne snapped back.

“Anthony is dueling with Hastings?! What if they kill each other?”

“It will not come to that.” Collin finally addressed me.“The Duke will remember his honour once he finds himself on the deadly end of a pistol.”

“And if he does not?” Daphne said.

“They will both do the gentlemanly thing and fire their pistols wide. Now allow them to bring this ugly business to a conclusion themselves.”

Daphne groaned as I began pacing around the room.“Do you know how many times I’ve heard that said? Myself and (Y/N)? That we should leave the men to their business and to not concern ourselves with such weighty affairs? Whose affairs, right now, are my future, my family.”

“This isn’t going to end well, you know it Collin.” I stopped walking around, crossing my arms over my chest in frustration.

“(Y/N) is right. Anthony is too angry to fire wide and Simon is too stubborn to yield. You did not see them in that garden.”

“No, I did not, and neither did anyone else. You should be happy that no one saw anything.” Collin pointed out.

So something dishonourable happened in the gardens of the party. Something that has cause my husband to want to duel an old friend. Part of me felt slightly angered towards Daphne, she had been playing with fire around the Duke, it’s all Anthony went on about for the last few weeks.

“Only someone did see.” Daphne realised.

Collin and I stared at her wide eyed.

“Cressida Cowper. Collin, you must tell me where they’ve gone.”

“I’m coming with you.” I declared. 

“Neither of you are going, Anthony will have my head-”

“Collin.” I stood in front of him, putting on the angriest face I could.“My husband may be about to lose his life and I knew nothing about it. Believe me, he will be reprimanded for that, but if you do not tell us where these stupid men are right now, it will be me having your head, not Anthony!”

After pressuring Collin to reveal where the men were, we raced to the stables, both Daphne and I still in our nightgowns, with only a cloak to cover us from the wind whipping against us as we rode. Our poor horses were not expecting this early call, using what energy they had to gallop as fast as possible. My throat was dry, heart racing and mind drowning with thoughts about what could be happening right now. Had they even started? Were the shots fired? 

We rode out of the country and into large fields. It seemed that we would never reach them in time. I kept my eye out for any signs of people or horses, praying that my husband wouldn’t be bleeding out on the ground. Why hadn’t he told me? He hadn’t even said goodbye. All I got was a simple kiss on the forehead, nothing other than that. Even if he did survive, he would have to leave this place, but was he going to leave without me?

“There they are!” Daphne shouted to us, speeding her horse ahead.

“Daphne! Wait!” I yelled after her, but she was too far away.

There were multiple bodies up ahead, and it looked like the duel had only just started, they were taking their steps already. I urged my horse to go faster, screaming Anthony’s name, but he couldn’t hear me. The men turned, ready to aim and fire. Tears started falling down my cheeks, quickly drying from the wind hitting my face. I was getting so close, but it still wasn’t enough. Daphne had somehow made it to them, but as the gunshots echoed out, she was caught in the middle of it, her horse rearing up and throwing her off.

As she landed on the ground, my horse also got spooked, rearing up as hers did, though I managed to stay on. However, it went hurtling forwards, and I couldn’t regain any control. I screamed as I tried to grab the rein again, feeling my balance slip away. One minute I was managing to stay upright on the horse, the next I had fallen off to my left, with my foot still hooked onto the stirrup. My head hit the ground harshly, and I was dragged through the dirt and grass as my horse continued to gallop. I couldn’t make out where I was, or what was right or left. Suddenly, the horse started slowing down, the dragging finally stopping. As I figured out where I was, my head still spinning, I felt someone lift my leg out of the stirrup and slowly onto the floor. 

“(Y/N), (Y/N) can you hear me?” Anthony gently held my face in his hands, kneeling beside me.

“My head...” I moaned.

“It’s alright, my dear.” an older man appeared, and I only just realised he was also kneeling beside me.“You’ve hit your head quite hard, you’ll likely have bruises along your back, and your leg will ache. But it’s nothing rest won’t fix. If you have severe headaches, you should call upon me again to give you something for it. For now, I shall forget I ever saw any of this, just as we agreed.”

“Thank you doctor.” Anthony breathed out, helping me sit up as the doctor walked away. 

I clung onto his arm, using my other hand to pull his face closer to mine. I kissed him hard, relieved that he was still alive and unharmed. He seemed to be feeling the same way as me, until I pulled away and slapped him round the face. His mouth was open in shock.

“That’s for going to a duel without telling me.” 

“(Y/N), I...what?”

“I can’t believe you thought you could just go and get shot, or shoot someone and leave me behind! What would happen to me? I couldn’t bear it if you died, or left, either way, I am furious with you!”

“Darling, I had to do it. He dishonoured Daphne, therefore, dishonouring our name.” 

I tried to stand by myself, though felt dizzy, annoyed that I had to have Anthony to help me. He kept his arms around me, and although I loved the feeling, knowing he was safe, I had a hatred for him in that moment.

“But why wouldn’t you tell me?” I looked up at him, ignoring the throbbing in my head.

“We would have to leave society, make a life as...I don’t know what but we wouldn’t be allowed here anymore.”

“So? Do you really think I regard myself so highly that I would diminish my love for you to remain in society?”

“What?”

“Anthony, I would rather leave all of this behind, and be with you wherever you go in the world. That fact that you think I would prefer to live without you hurts me.”

“(Y/N), I didn’t mean-”

I slipped out of his hold, hopefully stable now.“I don’t want to speak of this right now. I’m finished with this topic of conversation.”

Anthony knew there was no point trying to reason with me in that moment. It was also no time to argue when there were more pressing matters at hand. He huffed, only walking away from me once Collin approached, letting me loop my arm through his for support. I watched as he glared at Simon, who was in a deep discussion with Daphne. 

“We must resume before someone should find us.” he said to Simon before taking a pistol from Benedict again.

“There will be no need to resume.” Daphne spoke up. We all looked at her, wondering how she was going to stop the duel.“The Duke and I are to be married.”

                                     *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

We had all ensured we were home before any of the staff could see us, slipping out of our dirty clothes and stuffing them under the bed. I had struggled, feeling nauseous as I rushed. But as I lay down in bed, my headache suddenly returning and my back aching, I heard the door lock. Anthony threw the key onto his desk in the room, hands on his hips as he paced. 

“Anthony.” I tried to stop him.“Anthony, please don’t do that.”

“I’m thinking (Y/N).” he mumbled.

“Then why don’t you think in your office? You’re making me dizzy. And nervous.”

“Do not speak to me like that. You do realise how this might tarnish our name?”

“They’re getting married, it will be fine Anthony.”

“It does not matter, he still dishonoured her, I saw it myself.”

“And you have not done that yourself in the past?”

That made him stop in his tracks. His head turned to me so quickly I though his neck would snap off.“They were not eligible ladies.”

“And that makes a difference? Anthony, I need to rest, please leave me.” I turned onto my side, pulling the covers higher so they almost covered my face.

He groaned, and I instantly regretted what I had said. His footsteps were loud as he made his way to the door, but I never heard it being unlocked. He sounded like he was now approaching the bed, and I found out I was right when the bed dipped in front of me me. I opened my eyes to see Anthony shuffling around, and I heard two light thumps on the floor from taking off his boots, before he lifted and covers; he shuffled in towards me, gently putting his arm under my pillow, moving as close as he could to me.

“You are right.” his voice was quieter now.“I, along with many men, have...done things in the past. Those women are, were meant for those things, but as soon as I saw you in the room, I knew I had to approach you. I remember that beautiful blue dress you were wearing, and how well you held yourself. But you were still so enticing, I found you to be so interesting, yet you only spoke with me for five minutes. You danced so elegantly, yet I still thought I could keep up with you.”

“If you are trying to make me swoon so I forget all about earlier, it isn’t working. You use the same story every time.” I said.

“Because it’s one of the best ones. I could retale about the time I saw you first promenading, the balls and social events we coincidentally went to, how I called upon your house-”

“Anthony, you may stop.” I tried not to giggle, but my smile was evident.“I am still angry at you for putting yourself in such an idiotic and dangerous situation. However, I deeply admire your love for your family, I know you would do anything for them. Just...if you ever do anything like that again, you are to inform me of your plans. I go wherever you go.”

“I promise. I was stupid to think I could do that to you. I just wanted to make sure you would still have a good life.”

“The only way I would have a good life is by being with you.”

Anthony smiled, tenderly kissing me.“You should rest darling. You’re hurt.”

“As long as you stay here with me.”

“I promise.”

[rubysunnday]

your song | c.b

Summary: Being in love with Colin Bridgerton is hard when the man keeps running off to different continents for months at a time. But the letters he writes and the songs he sends keep the romance alive.

It had been six, long months since Y/N had last seen Colin Bridgerton.

He had gone off travelling again, disappearing off one night with nothing more than a kiss on the cheek goodbye and a promise to write.

The romance between Y/N and Colin had struck out of nowhere. One night they'd been dancing as nothing more than friends and the next moment, there was something more. The way his hands tightened on her waist whenever Cressida said something mean felt different. The way he wrote her notes with every bunch of flowers he sent read differently.

The way he took her hand as she stepped out a carriage, his fingers gently entwining with hers, felt different.

Y/N had fallen head over heels for a man who hated staying in the same place for more than a week. And it was annoying.

He'd written to her more than he had his own family. He wrote to her everyday, judging from the dates on his letters and they arrived in bundles from the postman, all tied with a ribbon that somehow managed to match the dress she was wearing that day.

In the dozens of letters Colin had sent her, he wrote down every detail of the place he was in from the sunsets to the colour of the postboxes. The friends he was traveling with were both music students, desperate for either a career break or to find a new purpose in life.

One of them, Freddy, has been teaching me about the beauty of song writing and how all great pieces of music begin. I'm nowhere near the grandure of Mozart or the beauty of Beethoven or any musicale we've ever attended, but I'm enjoying it nonetheless.

I've found that in my writings there's always one thing I can never quite describe correctly. I search through books for the right words that could even begin to do you justice, my dear Y/N, but I find none. There's no word for describing the way you watch a musicale, or the way you talk about art and reading. There's no word on earth that could do you justice.

So, I hope this poor man's attempt at a song, written under strict guidance and a watchful eye, will begin to convey, just how much I love you.

Y/N had read the letter over and over, her eyes scouring each and every line, taking in the sloppy slant of Colin's handwriting and how he smudged the ink in his desperation to write and write and write.

She pulled out the final sheet of the letter and let out a small surprised gasp. It was a piece of music, the notes written precisely and intricately, the lyrics written messily and scrunched up underneath it. It was obvious which part Colin had been trusted with.

To Y/N

Your Song - by Colin Bridgerton

Y/N stood up from her desk and walked over to the pianoforte that sat in the corner of her room, covered in a thin layer of dust. Y/N wasn't an expert on the pianoforte, her and Colin had bonded over their failed attempts at playing. Colin could sing, though. And as Y/N read through the lyrics, tentatively playing a couple of notes on her dust keys, she could hear him singing it, his hand in her hair as they watched the sunset from the garden bench at Bridgerton House.

Their romance had been kept quiet. The ton was used to the two being openly affectionate with each other, constantly hugging or holding hands and none of them realised when it turned from friendship to romance.

Y/N and Colin had sat in the rose garden of Aubrey Hall one summer night, the sounds of the ball drifting over to them along the gentle breeze. Colin had quietly begun singing along to the song, his hands gently tracing a dance on Y/N's bare arm as she rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes shut.

Colin's singing voice was beautiful. And as Y/N played the song he'd written for her, she could imagine him sitting beside her and singing along, his hands over hers as she slowly played the notes.

Attending the opera without him felt bizarre. They'd begun a routine of sitting next to each other in the box, sharing the opera glasses and softly commenting on the music, the costumes, the lighting.

Y/N sat down in the box, scooting her chair close to the balcony. Her mother sat down next to her and sighed happily as she took in the view.

"Isn't this lovely?" She asked, picking up her opera glasses and looking through them at the stage. "I do love a concert."

Y/N said nothing, merely nodded. She kept thinking back to Colin's letter, of his promised return home in time for the concert. In time for him to sit down next to her, take her hand, and whisper about the music.

Y/N glanced up at the box the Bridgerton's sat in and tried not to let out a defeated sigh - still no Colin. Francesca caught her looking and gave her a sympathetic smile along with a shake of her head and Y/N turned back to the stage, trying not to let the disappointment sink in.

The orchestra began warming up, the music notes blending in with the quiet chatter of the audience. Y/N couldn't stop her eyes from constantly scanning the audience, the stage, the boxes, for any sign of Colin.

An excited whisper went over the audience as the lights were dimmed and the lights on the stage that illuminated the thick, red curtain were turned on.

For a minute there was silence. And then the orchestra began playing as the curtain flew up, revealing the actors on the stage.

My gift is my song, and this one's for you

And you can tell everybody

Y/N felt her heart do a bizarre skip. She recognised those words. She'd read them over and over again each night before she went to sleep. The piece of paper they had arrived on was now well worn and creased and she'd meticulously copied out the notes and the lyrics for fear of loosing them.

She scanned the audience again and felt her heart stop. The concert faded away as she focused on the man standing in the corner near the side door, a tiny smile on his face.

Colin Bridgerton stood with his hands behind his back, smiling up at her, his chin covered in the stubble of a beard. He was tanner then before and his hair had gotten lighter but it was still Colin.

Her Colin.

You see I've forgotten, if they're green or they're blue Anyway the thing is, what I really mean Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

Y/N giggled and felt a smile appear on her face as she gave Colin the smallest wave possible, not wanting to attract attention. Colin waved back and nodded to the door that led to the auditorium. Y/N nodded in return and watched Colin disappear out the side door.

"Go on, then," Y/N's mother said, tapping her daughter's knee. "Go find him."

Y/N quietly slipped from her seat and pushed open the curtain, blinking at the bright lights in the corridor.

As she made her way down to the auditorium, she could hear angry voices that were trying not to yell. She rounded the corner and saw Anthony, Violet and Benedict Bridgerton all standing in front of a bemused looking Colin.

"You said you'd be back by the concert!" Anthony hissed, clearly irritated by Colin's lateness.

"It's hardly my fault the train got stuck by a tree, is it, Anthony?" Colin asked, sighing. "I'm here now, however, am I not? Stop fussing."

Anthony went off again, flailing his limbs around as he tried to knock some sense into Colin, his mother trying to be the peace maker between the two as Benedict tried, and failed, not to laugh.

"This isn't funny, Benedict!" Anthony snapped, turning to face his other brother as he snorted.

Benedict's smirk faded as he realised he was about to be on the end of Anthony's rant. He sighed and crossed his arms, physically bracing himself as Anthony went off again.

Colin, looking both bemused and annoyed at his family, turned and spotted Y/N, hovering at the stop of the stairs. His face fell from an annoyed smirk into a stunned smile as he stared up at her.

"They're actually both," Y/N said to Colin, her voice quiet enough that the three other Bridgerton's present had yet to realise she was there.

"What are?" Colin asked, walking up to meet her, taking each step slowly.

"My eyes," Y/N replied, smiling, dropping the skirt of her dress. "They're both colours."

Colin chuckled and looked like he was blushing. "I told you I wasn't good at song writing."

"Everyone else seemed to enjoy it," she replied as she heard the audience applaud loudly.

"Because Freddy worked on it for months until tonight," Colin replied. "Even then he wasn't sure about performing it. If he'd performed the version I'd written the ton would be complaining. I'm not very good at it."

"I think you're better at it than you believe, Mr Bridgerton," Y/N said as she continued walking down until they were both on the large step that broke up the stairs. "I'm not sure about the beard, however."

"Why?" Colin asked, a hand subconsciously flying to his chin and running across the stubble.

"Well, it just means that every time I go to kiss you, I will have to be tickled and scratched by it," she replied, her hand covering the one resting on his chin. She entwined her fingers with his. "But I can live with that."

Colin laughed and leant forward, kissing Y/N with the passion and desperation of not seeing her for six months. His hand rested on the back of her head, carefully minding her hair as his thumb stroked her skin.

"I think I'm going to stay here for now," Colin said softly, breaking apart from her, resting his forehead on hers. "Stay with you."

Y/N looked up at him, feeling his breath on her cheeks. "Colin Bridgerton, are you -"

"Yes," Colin said, cutting her off. "I am. Because it took being apart from you for six months to realise what I was missing. To realise that I travel the world searching for purpose and reason, when, in reality, my reason is you. The purpose of my entire being is you.

"Without you, I'm half a man. Without you, the travelling begins to feel like running away and I don't want to run from you. I want to take your hand and run with you. Forever if we wanted. I can run until you can't run anymore. And when you can't run anymore, I'll carry you."

Y/N smiled, pressing her lips together as she savoured the taste of his kiss. "Words are your forte, Mr Bridgerton," she said softly, stroking the side of his head, threading her fingers through his curls. "I'll run with you to the end of the world and back again. I'll take your hand in mine and I will never let you go. Not again."

Colin pressed his lips to her and Y/N smiled against his lips before returning the kiss. He smelt of his cologne, the sweet caramel biscuits he loved and, somehow, the floral, homely scent of Bridgerton House

He smelt of home. He was her home. Simply being in his arms was enough.

"I've just realised something," Colin whispered in her ear.

Y/N looked up at him, staring into his eyes. "What?"

"My family is watching us."

Y/N glanced behind him and saw the three Bridgerton's pretending to occupy themselves with anything else. Benedict was investigating a painting, Anthony was admiring the ceiling and Violet had been reading the program but glanced up at them with a smile.

And despite it all, Y/N let out a snort of laughter and dropped her head on to Colin's shoulder. "Of course they are."

Colin giggled, actually giggled, and rested his head on top of hers. "Better get used to it, love, I doubt they'll ever stop staring."

[fw00shy]

Prophesy

For @drarrymicrofic prompt, better than fighting. This is a 1.4k "microfic" lmao. You can read on AO3 as well as here.

You know when you look at someone and just know they're no good? Pansy says it's a sure sign that they pissed you off in a past life. I tell her that's about the funniest shite I've ever heard. I don't need divinity to explain myself; I've always been good at reading people. That's just how I am.

Say, Pansy. I knew we'd hit it off the moment I saw her head-to-toe in Prada, her hair as glossy as volcanic glass. That's not fate: that's good taste. And Crabbe, well — that one is a bit odd, I'll give you that. Lord knows why I have a soft spot for him when he's far too much trouble for his worth. Nearly got me killed once or twice, even. Not literally, of course — just at the bars, when he drinks me under the table. Pansy says he's "mine" the same way Theo is "hers"; I've never cared for Theo. He seems the type of guy who holds back while you make a rash of bad decisions. Mind you, Pansy isn't much better either, but at least she's always right there, too, making the same damn mistakes.

Pansy asked me what Theo did to piss me off so much. I made up some lie about how he didn't warn me about a rotted foundation on a house I was trying to sell, but really, I don't know why I think that about Theo. I'm a genius people-reader, alright? And I don't question intuition.

So I'm not worried when Blaise calls me in to meet a high-profile client. Rich geezers, they're all the same. And I've seen this one plenty in the newsstands before, so I've already sussed him out. He always looks like he doesn't want to be there. A bit sullen — dead inside — but harmless enough.

"Seems a trifle odd, doesn't it?" I tell Pansy that morning. "He could've called me direct. My number's on half the park benches around his neighbourhood."

"Maybe he thinks you'll say no," Pansy says. She has that faraway look in her eyes she gets every morning before the caffeine kicks in.

"Why would I say no?" I laugh. "I'd be an idiot to give up a million-pound commission."

She's not paying attention to me. Her eyes bug out and her lips part. It's like she's in a bloody trance. I swear she does it just to piss me off.

I'm still thinking about her ugly mug when I'm going up to Blaise's office. He's got the entire penthouse of the building for him to sign papers, and the elevator ride up the twenty-three floors leaves plenty of time for spacing out. So I'm caught off guard when, coming out of the elevator, Harry Potter smacks straight into me and all I want to do is kill him.

Oh lord, how I want to kill him. My rage builds so strong that I'm taken out of my body. Where I go, I don't know. But when I come to, Potter is gone and I'm sitting across from Blaise.

Blaise has his pitying face on, the one he practices in the mirror. His hands are clasped over the expansive walnut desk (live edge, of course), his suit as green as Potter's eyes.

Potter's eyes. Merlin, I barely remember meeting the man, but it's all I can think of now. That luxurious, deep emerald. Green as everything I ever wanted.

"No," I say. "I won't take him on."

"Dee," Blaise says, gentle. His brows raise.

I'm on the spin bike at the gym trying to blow off some steam when Pansy calls and says, "Blaise is right, you know," her voice tinny above the whirl of bikes around me. "You'll be stupid to walk away from a million pounds over a premonition."

"He's a lying tramp, I swear. I'll put in all this work, set up the listing, stage the place, and then he'll change his mind and walk right out. I know. He's a ticking time bomb."

"So...." she giggles, "what'd you think he did?"

I'm confused for a second, but then I realise she's probably talking about her reincarnation theory again.

"Don't you dare start on this past life shite," I warn. "I'm not in the damn mood."

"Maybe he razed your lands. Ohhh, can you imagine, Harry Potter — a viking? All that fur… mm, and those horned helmets. Sure makes me horny —"

"Jesus, woman. I'm at the gym."

"Okay, okay," she says. "Since you're at the gym, what about this: Harry Potter as naughty, lying George Wickham. And you: the poor Lydia Bennet, tricked into a life of poverty and ridicule for the rest of your days. Embittered, you —"

"That's Jane Austen, that's not even real life," I say before hanging up.

I meet Potter at his Islington townhouse the following Tuesday. He's a capital C celebrity so he's got no regular day job, which makes him horrifying easy to slot into my schedule.

"You're late," I say as soon as he opens the front door. He runs a hand through his tangled hair — soft, I know — and bleats out an apology as I brush past him into the grim, old place. The hallway is long and dark. There's a kitchen in the far west corner overlooking the garden. And upstairs there are three bedrooms, of which the medium-sized one is his because it faces east, and he enjoys waking sun-rumpled and satisfied.

The floorplan, I pulled from public records. The rest, I — well, I don't know. I just know. I know it with such vivaciousness that I can see us there, on his — no, our — bed, his arm thrown across my chest, and I —

"Draco?" he asks, tentative. Like he's found something he's lost but isn't sure what to do with it, yet.

My hands clam up, my heart racing back to the present. He's only a foot from me, his doe eyes searching. I know what it feels like to pull him in by the waist, to watch those lids flutter shut as we kiss. And I know he knows this too, so I lean in and punch his face.

"He called me Draco," I say to Pansy later. "Draco. Only my mother calls me Draco, and she's been dead a full decade."

"You're crazy, Dee," Pansy says, patting my hand with hers on the bar counter. "What did you do after? Get on your knees to kiss his arse so he'd keep you on?"

"Bloody hell, no. I bolted the fuck out of there thinking I lost the biggest deal of my life. But then the next day, Blaise calls and says Potter stopped by the office. Says could I get him a list of stagers, all cool and shite like nothing had happened!"

"Hm… maybe you two are more Troilus and Cressida than Brutus and Caesar. Ohh, or Achilles and Patroclus. God, yes. That fits so well —"

"Good God, woman! Unless Patroclus was trying to sell Achilles' ionic column abode, I don't want to hear another peep of past lives from you."

Pansy pushes her martini to me and waits for me to drain it before signalling for another round. "I'm only saying," she says, tapping her square-tip nails on the stem of the glass, "Kissing. Fucking, even. Wouldn't that be better than fighting?"

Naturally, I choke on my drink.

I meet with Potter the next day and manage to get through the walkthrough without any further hallucinations or fisticuffs. I call Greg up to stage the place and we go through the house again the following week. Potter's in the kitchen when Greg leaves and offers me a cup of tea while I wait for my car. I'm out of excuses and exhausted from the day, so I accept.

"Draco," he says when he hands the cup to me. Two sugars, a splash of milk. I try not to think about how he knows.

"Why do you call me that?" I ask instead, blustering.

"Why do you call me Potter?" he retorts. He's smiling, but I can tell he's not really happy. It's the same smile the paparazzi catches him with.

"I don't know," I say because I don't. My tongue knows his name better than I do.

I can't keep my eyes off of his as he comes up to me. "Draco," he says my name like he had a claim to it, long ago. I let him loosen the cup from my hand and push me up onto the counter. The angle's better here; perfect if I want to slide my hand up to his cheek and through his hair. He smells like broomstick and phoenix ash. I love him, I know. But it's not supposed to be this easy.