#Colin is just in disbelief

[plumeriacosmos]

Kinda want a Polin AU where Finch and Dankworth thinks it is now their duty to be the men in Penelope’s life, and becomes overprotective brothers to Pen, so they try to intimidate Colin and “assess” him, but like Colin, who grew up with two insufferable older brothers, only raises an eyebrow with an amused smile. He’s mildly intimidated but like, this is also quite funny

[zo1nkss]

WWDITS fandom learn to recognize comedy beats that aren't meant to have grand finales challenge :(

[eufezco]

I saw your Bridgerton requests were open !

Can I do one for Benedict they’re courting but suddenly he starts spending more time with Tilly so reader starts to distance herself from him and starts to spend more time with Colin and Benedict gets jealous and pulls her away from Colin maybe they’re dancing or something. And pulls her to another room and apologizes and maybe smut occurs or something as a part of his apology ?

If not that’s ok I thought I’d ask!

YOU BELONG WITH ME

—Are you leaving with Colin? —Benedict asked you in disbelief.

You had been talking with Anthony and Kate about your intentions to join Colin on his next trip and it seemed that the older Bridgerton brother had wasted no time in letting Benedict know.

Now you were in a room of the Queen's palace, alone with Benedict and the piano in the center of it. He had practically begged you to give him a few minutes of your time, had interrupted your dance with Colin, and led you by the hand into that room. You and Benedict were the match of the season so the Queen had managed to distract the other guests while you sneaked out of the ball.

—How is it that you care?

—He is my brother.

You raised your eyebrows, hoping for some further explanation.

—You cannot leave with him —Benedict stated.

You shook your head, keeping eye contact with him. His blue eyes looked back at you and you just wished he could see the anger growing on your face.

—Where have you been these past days, Benedict?

He immediately knew what you were talking about.

It was true that he had not been visiting you during calling hours, he had not asked you out for walks, he had not picked flowers from the garden of Aubrey Hall to bring them to you while he had tea with your mama. He hadn't even bothered to put his name on your card tonight to secure a dance with you.

—I have been visiting a friend —He answered you.

—Since when are you friends with Tilley Arnold?

Benedict huffed a laugh. —Why do you care so much?

—Because you were courting me! —If it hadn't been for the loud music in the ballroom you would have sworn that the rest of the guests would have heard you. —A couple of days with Tilley Arnold have been enough for you to forget about me?

—I do not know, perhaps you can tell me since you are the one leaving with my brother to another country —Benedict said ironically.

You shook your head and rolled your eyes. On another occasion, you would have appreciated Benedict's lack of seriousness but right in that moment you were angry and you just wanted to get out of that room. You turned your back on Benedict to leave but on your way to the door, he grabbed your hand and made your body turn to him. Your face showed disappointment and anger and he knew he couldn't let you go like that.

—I apologize if I have ever caused you to doubt how I feel for you.

You took a deep breath through your nose. You were still angry but his words definitely made you feel better.

—My feelings for you have not changed —. He continued saying. Benedict began to walk slowly and you took a few steps backwards trying to escape from him until you bumped your back against the door. That didn't stop him from moving towards you. —And I don't think Tilley or anyone else can possibly change the way you make me feel.

Benedict's eyes moved from yours to your lips and you knew what he was about to do.

—Do not kiss me, Benedict, not now.

He slowly nodded, one of his hands pinched your chin so you would look at him. He gave you enough time so that if you really didn't want him to kiss you, you could push him away. —I am going to kiss you.

—Do not —You mumbled, but your eyes fixed on his lips betrayed the words that came out of your mouth and Benedict pressed his lips against yours. His hands went to cup both of your cheeks and you melted under his touch. How could you be angry with him if he kissed you with such sweetness?

Benedict's hands traveled down your body looking for your ass. He gave you a gentle squeeze and with his grip there, he started to roll up your dress to your hips, exposing your legs and making it easier for you to wrap them around his body.

Your hands were around his neck, helping him to hold your weight and also to deepen the kiss as much as possible. He guided you to the piano, his lips moving with yours and his eyes closed enjoying the kiss, so distracted by the feeling that when he sat you down on the instrument, the lid was up and your ass pressed down almost all the keys. You both jumped off each other, scared, but right after you bursted out laughing.

While you laughed and shook your heads, you got up and pushed Benedict off his shoulders, making him sit on the instrument stool. You rolled your dress up so the fabric wouldn't get in the way once you sat with a leg on each side of his body. Your cleavage was just a few centimeters away from his face and he didn't even try to make eye contact with you when your breasts, so enhanced by the corset, were practically in his face.

—My eyes are up here.

—I do know that—. Benedict said while his hands unbuttoned your dress and undid the laces of your corset.

Your body relaxed once it was freed from the uncomfortable undergarment and Benedict's lips were quick to attack your breasts. You took a deep breath and bit your lower lip, Benedict hummed while his lips left a wet trail of kisses across your breasts. Your hands moved down his body until they reached his crotch, he hissed when your fingers traced the line of his hard cock on his pants. You were quick to unbutton them and he helped you pull down his underwear just enough to free his cock.

His blue eyes were finally on yours, focusing on every little expression on your face. His lips were parted as you pulled your underwear to one side and lined him up against your entrance. You looked into his eyes and your lips half opened as his own which allowed you to share a moan when you gently lowered yourself.

Benedict kissed you again while his hands moved to hold your hips and help you move. One of your hands went to the back of his head and tugged his hair at the root. Benedict groaned but his dick jumped inside you.

—Tell me you're mine. Only mine, Benedict. Tell me I'm the only one.

You pressed your foreheads together while your hand kept a firm grip on his hair.

—I'm yours. Only yours —He said with a moan. His eyes closed shut, your body didn't stop moving up and down his cock, and his hands held you tighter. Benedict tried to catch your lips but you tugged harder on his hair and stopped him. You shook your head, that was not enough, you wanted to hear more. —You're my only one. No other woman shall have me the way you have me —He whined.

That was much better. —Good boy.

You allowed him to press his desperate lips against yours. You also allowed Benedict to set the pace, his hips fucking into you, thrusting from below to match your movements. You moaned in each other's mouths. The music was playing loudly in the ballroom but still, you swore that someone could hear your muffled scream when Benedict sunk balls deep inside you.

He kept fucking you as if he wanted everyone to notice what you two had been doing, alone, locked in some room in the Queen's palace. It was outrageous and Benedict loved it. He fucked you as if, when you finished and walked out of that room, he wanted everyone in the ton to know that his cum was dripping down your legs.

He kept fucking you as if he wanted everyone to notice what you two had been doing, alone, locked in a random room in the Queen's palace. It was outrageous and Benedict loved it. He fucked you as if, when you finished and walked out of that room, he wanted everyone in the ton to know that his cum was dripping down your legs. And by the wrinkles of the delicate fabric of your beautiful dress, they would know that it was going to be very difficult to see Benedict around Tilley Arnold anymore, and by the way Benedict wouldn't leave your side during the rest of the ball, they would know that you had no love interest in Colin Bridgerton.

Benedict would make sure that neither you nor anyone else in society would doubt how he felt about you and would assure that by putting a ring on your finger the next morning.

He came with a deep groan coming straight from his chest. You hid your face in the crook of his neck while your legs shook and you felt dizzy from all the panting. Benedict kissed your exposed shoulder as he gave you enough time to catch your breath. He caressed your back and ran his fingers over the marks left on your skin by the tight corset.

You fixed your position on his lap, sitting with your back straight. Benedict was still inside you, not allowing his cum to come out and go to waste.

—You must know that my wishes to join Colin on his trip to Greece have not changed.

Benedict huffed a laugh and kissed your lips. You smiled as well.

—Then I shall join you two. What would people think if you went alone with him? —By the way he asked it you knew that he meant no harm, instead, the tone in his voice was quite sarcastic.

—Since when Benedict Bridgerton cares about what other people may think?

—Since they would be talking about my wife.

[bosbas]

Chapter 11: tell me I've got it wrong somehow

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 4.3k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, small part of the dialogue in French, idiots in love!!, mentions of violence (nothing too graphic), mentions of blood

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: FINALLY. except not really. oops!

June 30, 1816 – If last night’s ball was any indication, it seems Lady Y/N has lost interest in finding a husband this season. More than a few whispers indicate that the Montclairs will journey to Spain to find better prospects for their youngest daughter. Let this be a call to action to the eligible bachelors of the ton so that they might consider being more… enticing suitors for our beloved Y/N. All this, of course, is to ensure that the Montclairs do not flee to the Spanish sun at the conclusion of the season. If nothing else, the Montclairs must stay so we can avoid losing Lady Y/N’s much-needed sense of style.

Colin stared in disbelief at Lady Whistledown’s column, letting it fall from his hands as he leaned back in his bed. If you were going to Spain at the end of the season anyway, why was he still here? He’d much rather be as far away as possible from anything that even remotely reminded him of you. 

Unfortunately, Daphne had given him some sort of misguided hope that staying in England would magically make you like him. Or perhaps make you hate him a little less. But it was becoming increasingly apparent that this was not the case. 

He wasn’t exactly sure what had changed from one day to the next, but you could barely look at him now. After your promenade, Colin thought you’d finally put your differences aside, and he could, at some level, be grateful to Lord Barlow for that, even if the man had acted completely indecently. 

But the truce didn’t last. 

Just three days ago, he’d run into you on the way to your father’s study to discuss pearl diving, and his heart had nearly skipped a beat when he saw you. You looked beautiful as ever, of course, and he was just staring at you dumbly, wanting to take in as much of you as possible.

You’d been humming as you walked down the hallway, smiling softly to yourself as you passed by a particularly large flower arrangement you had most likely received from a suitor. At that moment, Colin was sure that if you ever looked at him like that he would never recover.

Colin had tried to call out to you. Maybe if you were out of sight of the rest of the ton, you’d be more willing to speak with him. But the words had died in his throat as you had looked up and spotted him, just staring at you, across the room. 

Your eyes had widened, and your demeanor had instantly changed. A switch from serene to shaken so sudden that Colin had barely had time to react before you had clutched your skirts and ducked into the nearest room.

And though Colin had traveled halfway across the globe largely on his own, he had never felt so far from someone. 

Even now, in his room, away from Montclair House, he couldn’t help the deep shame that washed over him as he recalled how immediately you had rushed to get away from him. And Colin still had no idea why.

That was the worst part of it all. If he only knew what the problem was, he’d fix it. He’d do anything to be with you. Colin had had more than his fair share of escapades during his time abroad, but nothing even came close to the feeling he got when he was around you. The only person he’d known to dislike him. It was a cruel twist of fate, and he’d think it was funny if he didn’t physically ache with the need to be near you.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Colin. The more he was consumed by you, the more you pulled away. He’d been doing his best to avoid social functions for this very reason, but he feared he would not be able to do the same tonight. 

“Colin?” called Violet, peeking her head through his door. “Is everything alright? You look a bit…”

“I’m fine,” insisted Colin, wiping his slightly damp eyes and sniffing as he sat up.

“Anthony and Kate are hosting a ball tonight,” said Violet carefully. Colin’s recent absence from balls had not escaped her notice, but as much as she felt for her obviously lovesick son, he was not excused from familial duties. 

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“And you will be in attendance.”

Colin groaned. “Must I really be there? It’s one ball!”

“Actually, it’s been something like fifteen balls,” Violet shot back, unimpressed. “And I have graciously allowed you to be absent from them, but you will not miss your brother’s ball. You are still a Bridgerton. We do not miss family events.”

 Sensing he didn’t quite have a choice, Colin sighed, “Very well, then. Could I at least continue sulking before we go?”

Violet laughed softly and gave her son a sympathetic smile. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. Being in love. Even if it’s a complicated situation such as this one.”

“I’m not in love!” lied Colin. “It’s just… I don’t know. It’s not love.”

Violet raised her eyebrows pointedly but said nothing, closing the door quietly as she left her son’s room. 

Once he was alone again, Colin let out a frustrated groan and rubbed his temples. You would more than likely be in attendance tonight, and he needed to prevent what had happened in your hallway from happening again. He didn’t think he could bear having you practically sprinting away from him as soon as you saw him again.

Colin would simply have to stay out of sight of you. It was the only way he could stay at the ball. He didn’t ever want to look into your eyes and see the disdain and hurt that he saw three days ago. So, he decided he would be a wallflower tonight. Anything to keep you from seeing him. He would need to exercise a gargantuan amount of self-control to stay away from you when being near was the one thing he wanted, but the pained look in your eyes that haunted his sleep was enough to keep him in check.

---

Viscount Bridgerton’s ball was proving to be a supremely amusing affair. Your mother had decided that Louis should start looking for a wife, never mind that he was only two-and-twenty, and you were thoroughly enjoying watching how he was passed around from eligible lady to eligible lady. 

After nearly an hour of dancing and politely chatting, your brother finally stumbled over to where you were standing. Of course, you couldn’t help but snicker as he muttered something or other about needing a drink. 

“Tais-toi,” muttered Louis, crossing his arms over his chest as he crossed his breath (Shut up). “Maman veut aussi que tu danses avec quelqu'un” (Mother also wants you to dance with someone).

You turned to him, eyes wide. “Vraiment?” (Really?).

“Oui, c'est un autre duc,” Louis nodded and smiled evilly, gesturing toward where your mother was speaking to someone who looked to be at least Philippe’s age, if not older (Yes, it’s another duke). 

“Non, mais je peux pas,” you whined (No, but I can’t). You thought your mother had given up on finding you a husband for this season, but you supposed she couldn’t help herself if it was a duke. Even if he were a prince, you were not so sure that you would want to speak with him. 

Nigel Berbrooke and Lord Barlow, and you supposed Colin Bridgerton, too, had significantly dampened your excitement for the season. At this point, you were just looking forward to going to Paris for a few months once the season was officially over and trying to find a husband again in Spain next year.

But you didn’t even want to think about that. It felt like you were preparing for a prison sentence. One last year of traveling before you were limited to the confines of your future husband’s home with no escape other than your own mind. It was a chilling thought, and you were trying your hardest to avoid thinking about it. However, having your mother chatting you up to a duke was complicating that a bit.

Standing beside you, Louis was feeling quite annoyed after one grueling evening of speaking to unmarried ladies and their mamas. However, he knew that you had experienced about fifty times that many. So, taking pity on you, he leaned down and whispered, “Va dans le jardin, vite. Avant qu'elle ne revienne” (Go to the gardens, quick. Before she comes back).

Your eyes looked to the open doors leading to the gardens, and you decided the slightly nippy air was worth it if you could escape your mother and the unnamed duke. There were enough people outside that there was no risk of being caught in a compromising position, but it was far away enough from the ballroom that you knew your mother wouldn’t be able to find you immediately. 

Flashing your brother a grateful smile and squeezing his arm, you practically ran toward the exit, wanting to get away as soon as possible. Once you were outside, you maneuvered yourself so you were hidden behind a fairly large plant, but still had a view of the ballroom through the window. 

As Louis had predicted, your mother had come back to where you had been standing, duke in tow. She gave Louis a questioning look when she didn’t see you, and he simply shrugged, pointing to the other side of the ballroom. You sighed in relief, silently thanking your brother and promising to stop being quite so irritating toward him.

“Y/N?” you heard a voice say behind you. 

Your stomach dropped. You turned around slowly, growing nervous as Lord Barlow came into your line of vision. 

“Lord Barlow,” you said, feigning politeness in an attempt to avoid a scene. Your last interaction with him had not gone so smoothly, and you were afraid of what he would do now.

“So it is you,” said Arthur Barlow, his face contorting into an ugly sneer. He had never sounded so chilling when you were courting him, but you supposed at that time you hadn’t done yet anything to make him act so abrasive.

You cleared your throat nervously, looking around to see who else was nearby. But it seemed that everyone was too intrigued by this confrontation to put a stop to it. You internally cursed the duke for showing up at the exact moment that you wanted to be inconspicuous, but you smiled politely anyway. 

“I hope you’re doing well,” you said awkwardly, not quite sure what else to say. 

It seemed like the right thing at the moment, seeing as how no one, not even Lady Whistledown, knew what he’d been doing since he proposed to you. However, Barlow’s quickly narrowing eyes clued you in to the fact that it had actually been the exact wrong thing to say. 

“You hope I’ve been doing well? You hope? I’m sure you do, Lady Montclair,” he said sarcastically, fury evident in his voice. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to learn that the Barringtons are positively drowning in debt. Sorry, were drowning in debt, since I had to pay off all of their debts once I was forced to marry into the family. And now I’m in financial ruin, all thanks to you. You, Y/N, have brought on the downfall of the Duke of Monmouth.”

You would be lying if you said you weren’t the least bit pleased that things had turned out poorly for Arthur Barlow. But more than satisfaction, all you felt was indignation as you looked at the pathetic man in front of you. 

“I believe it was your decision alone to go outside the night of the Bridgerton ball, Lord Barlow,” you said, trying to sound as biting as possible. “It is a shame that your hubris has ruined your dukedom, but kindly leave me out of it.”

Barlow’s frown deepened and his eyes narrowed further, if that was even possible, as he practically shook out of barely contained anger. 

“You harlot!” he screamed at you, raising his hand and reaching out to you. 

“Barlow, you will cease at once!” came a commanding voice next to you. 

You turned to see Colin Bridgerton at your side, and you couldn’t help the flutter in your stomach that you felt every time you saw him. But now was not the time to get distracted by inconsequential feelings. 

“It’s alright, you don’t need to do this,” you urged Colin. “It’s not worth it. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

And surprisingly, you meant what you said. As much as you disliked Colin Bridgerton, you had no desire to see him hurt, even less so because of you. In some twisted way, you cared about this man. Far more than you cared about Lord Barlow, whom you had been ready to marry at one point in time. And more than anything it made you impossibly frustrated. 

Upon hearing Colin, Arthur scoffed and turned to face him. “I see you’re happy to be next in line for my cast-offs, Bridgerton. But let me tell you, she’s far too uptight, that one. Won’t even put out when you tell her to.”

Immediately, your spine stiffened, anticipation tingling through your nerves as you sensed the mounting tension in the air. Colin growled lowly, clenching his fists and stepping closer to Lord Barlow. Yet, just as it seemed he might strike, the duke swiftly sidestepped, causing the Bridgerton to stumble.

Your lips parted in a silent scream as you saw Lord Barlow aim his fist at Colin. You watched, as if in slow motion, how Arthur’s knuckles made contact with Colin’s nose, and you felt tears welling in your eyes as he fell to his knees, his head thrown back with the force of the duke’s punch.

“Colin!” you screamed, finally finding your voice. You could barely breathe, feeling like your heart was beating out of your chest. 

You rushed to his side, only vaguely registering that Lord Barlow was being roughly escorted out of the garden and likely out of the ball as well. Your eyes were glued to Colin, who was groaning in discomfort and bleeding profusely out of his nose. 

“Colin, are you alright?” you gasped, kneeling beside him, and clutching his arms as you choked back sobs, your heart still beating out of your chest. “You shouldn’t have done that,” you scolded, tears running down your face as you found yourself unable to be civil with him even when he was kneeling on the ground with a bloody– and most likely broken– nose. 

Colin, who was clutching his nose and groaning in pain, shot you an amused look. “Do I at least get some credit for trying to defend your honor?”

He sniffed, wiping away some of the blood with his hand, and reached for a handkerchief by his breast pocket. You were staring at him, horrified, as the blood kept streaming and he winced in pain. You had stopped sobbing now, but a steady stream of tears remained on your face as the panic mounted in you. 

“Colin, you shouldn’t have done that,” you whispered again, trying and failing to sound upset with him as you instinctively reached out to wipe some blood off his cheek. You hiccupped as you reached over, trembling slightly as you did, but his hand caught yours before it could touch his face.

He suddenly smiled wide, and you rather thought he looked a bit deranged. There was blood on his face and his hands and he looked more than a little banged up, but he was still smiling widely at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“Can you say that again?” he asked, his eyes searching yours.

“Say what? That you shouldn’t have done that?” you sniffled, wanting to cross your arms over your chest in annoyance but not wanting to let go of his hand. 

“No, the part before that,” he said, smiling cheekily as he intertwined your fingers with his.

“How are you smiling after someone broke your nose?” you said, growing irritated with him but not quite letting go of his hand yet. “You could have gotten seriously hurt. That was a stupid thing to do, Colin-”

“Yes, that. Again,” he pleaded, the yearning evident on his softly smiling face as he grabbed his handkerchief with his free hand, holding it up to stop the flow of blood from his nose.

“Colin-”

“Yes, that’s it. Just say that again.”

You shot him a confused look. “Colin?” 

Is that what he wanted you to say? His name?

“Yes?” he pressed, smiling wide at you. “Can you say that again, please?”

“Again? Colin, why-”

“You hadn’t ever called me Colin before,” he said, looking at you wistfully. “I like how it sounds when you say it.”

“Oh,” you gasped softly. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Bridgerton, I forgot myself. It-”

“No, please,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t bear to have you call me Mr. Bridgerton one more time.”

You averted your gaze and bit your lip, suddenly feeling very conflicted. This was Colin Bridgerton. This was the man who had jumped at the first opportunity to compromise you once he heard you didn’t put out for Lord Barlow. You could not be on a first-name basis with him. 

“Y/N,” he said softly, cautiously. 

And suddenly you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. Maybe you could allow yourself to be on a first-name basis with him. Maybe it felt too good to hear him say your name. Maybe you weren’t strong enough to hold him at arm’s length, and a half arm’s length would have to do. 

“Colin.”

“I didn’t give him access to that terrace, you know,” Colin spoke, a hint of indignation lacing his words. 

You nodded, lifting your gaze to meet his. “I know. I was looking for anyone to blame when Lord Barlow was the only one who wronged me. Your mother told me he forced the door open.” 

“I could never have done that to you, it would’ve been unseemly” Colin insisted, gripping your hand tighter. 

But you froze. Couldn’t he have done that to you? Based on what you knew about him, he certainly could have. But it was so difficult to parse the man who had just now defended you against Lord Barlow, who was sitting on the ground next to you and holding your hand, with the man who had wanted to continue Nigel Berbrooke’s disgusting conversation at the Danbury ball. 

Feeling you stiffen, Colin’s heart clenched. This couldn’t be happening again. What had he done wrong this time? He was here, on the ground, literally bleeding for you, and you still had something against him. 

“Please talk to me,” Colin begged, suddenly feeling very desperate to fix whatever was happening between you once and for all. “If you want me never to speak to you again, I will do that, but I must know. I must know why you hate me.”

You shifted uncomfortably, retracting your hand from Colin’s and placing it on your lap as you looked anywhere except for him. 

“I don’t hate you-” you started weakly, but he was having none of it.

“Oh, spare me. I am not a fool. You hated me from the moment you saw me in Lady Danbury’s ballroom, even before our rivalry properly began.”

You bit your lip anxiously. If you were to tell Colin why you truly disliked him, and he was to take it in bad faith, you would be finished. Colin could tell everyone that you had been unchaperoned in the presence of two men of the ton, and given his place in society, no one would hesitate to believe him. 

But it was exhausting. Hating him was far more difficult than anything you’d ever done, and you weren’t particularly eager to keep doing it. Perhaps this was the only way to let go, and trusting Colin right now would make things infinitely easier. 

You finally met his gaze, feeling his blue eyes boring into yours. There was no anger in his expression, just a look of concern, with a hint of something else you couldn’t recognize. 

Resigned, you sighed. “I saw you with Nigel Berbrooke at the Danbury ball before you even asked me to dance,” you explained. 

A look of realization came over Colin’s face, and his lips, caked in dried blood, parted to make a perfect circle. 

“Oh heavens,” he said, sounding terribly embarrassed. “I apologize that you had to see that. Honestly, I would feel worse about what happened, but he really deserved it.”

“I beg your pardon?” you said, frowning. “He really deserved what?”

Colin’s eyebrows furrowed and he sent you a questioning look. “You saw me break his nose in the gardens, right? That’s what you’re talking about? I promise I’m not usually a violent man, though I’m not particularly proving my point tonight. I apologize if I scared you off; it was not my greatest moment, but I do stand by my actions.”

“You- You broke his nose?” you said, your confusion growing as you tried to piece together what Colin was telling you.

“Well, yes. That’s why he left town for a month. His face looked something awful, and he was too embarrassed to say why. Though that won’t be a problem for me, since everyone already saw my nose get broken anyway,” he shrugged, wincing as he lightly touched his nose. “That’s what you were referring to, no?”

“Oh, dear. Oh, no,” you said, mortified as the realization dawned on you. 

“What?” he pressed. “What is it?”

“I didn’t see any of that. I heard you talking with Mr. Berbrooke in the hall. He said that you could have any girl you wanted and that you just had to look for one with a big dowry and good hips. And then you asked to continue the conversation outside. And I thought- I just thought-”

Colin’s eyes widened. “And you thought I actually wanted to continue the conversation.”

You nodded, barely able to meet his eyes because you were so embarrassed. “But I suppose you just went out to the gardens to... Oh, no. And when he came back into town, he told me the only reason you were- the only reason anyone was pursuing me was because they wanted what I wouldn’t give Lord Barlow.”

“Y/N, I would never-” Colin started, fury in his voice, but he was too mortified to continue. 

All this time, you had every right to resent him, and yet he stooped to childish antics to spite you. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t actually said those things; they were completely vile, and Colin understood that Nigel implicating him in that kind of talk would have been a glaring warning for you. 

The incessant teasing, snide remarks, and rude comments were a grave misjudgment. How could he have treated you so poorly? How could he have treated anyone so poorly, for that matter? He had presented the most unbearable side of himself, sometimes descending into cruelty, all because he felt insecure. You had a valid reason for your hatred, and his behavior was nothing but a misguided attempt to mask his own insecurities.

What a complete mess. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, resigned. 

You shook your head quickly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I-I misunderstood and let that guide my actions. The fault is all mine.”

“Except it really isn’t, is it?” he said, reaching for your hand again, desperate to have contact with you again. 

But you drew your hand back, too embarrassed that you had rushed to assume the worst so quickly. How differently the season would have gone if you hadn’t spent half the time trying to get under Colin’s skin.

“Either way, I’m so sorry,” you said, mortified as you saw just how much blood was on his face. 

Colin had been willing to put himself in harm’s way to protect you and your honor. And you had spent months thinking he was one of the men who had no respect for you. You shook your head in disbelief, chiding yourself for your headstrong ways. 

“I’m sorry, too. You had a real reason to dislike me, and I was just being childish,” Colin said, his eyes dropping to your mouth as you anxiously bit your lip. 

If he wasn’t caked in dried blood, he might have tried to kiss you right now. He knew it would probably hurt like the devil, given that his nose was most likely broken, but he would have been willing to endure that just to feel your lips on his. But he couldn’t do it. Colin could still taste the bitter metallic taste in his mouth, and he knew he was in no state to be kissing anyone.

You nodded at Colin, fixing a stray strand of hair that had fallen out of place. “Can we be friends now, then?” you asked, half-smiling. “And not just as a favor to Eloise.”   

Instantly, Colin’s heart dropped. He scolded himself for thinking you could ever consider him as a suitor. It was a well-known fact that you were looking for a titled gentleman with a large fortune. And, as a third son, he had neither of those things. 

“Yes, friends,” he smiled wide, not wanting to fracture the fragile peace he had been waiting for since the moment he met you. 

Friends was alright. Colin could do friends. He’d take anything at this point. 

But as you turned away from him to see Anthony rushing over to scold his brother for starting a fight in his home and nearly giving Kate a heart attack, Colin felt his smile falter. 

Oh heavens, he really did love you.

—

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[d-targaryenshoe]

In The End - Colin Bridgerton

Word Count: 2172

Summary: To be married to a stranger is not what every single lady of the Ton wants, is it not?

You and Eloise Bridgerton, childhood friends, sat under the spreading branches of an ancient oak tree, the leaves above you rustling in a gentle breeze.

The sunlight streaming through the leaves cast dappled shadows upon your faces, dancing like living things.

"You can't be serious, y/n," Eloise said, her voice tinged with disbelief. "An arranged marriage? You're far too young to be thinking of such things!"

You shrugged, your expression wistful. "I know it's not what I would have chosen for myself," you admitted, "but it is the path my mama has chosen for me."

Eloise reached out to take your hand, your eyes filled with concern. "But what if you don't like this Lord Somerset?" she asked. "What if you don't want to marry him, must that not change things?"

You sighed, looking away from your friend. "My mother says I must marry well, to secure the future of our family," you replied, your voice tinged with resignation. "I fear my opinion does not matter in this matter."

Eloise frowned, her brow furrowing. "But y/n, you're not just a possession to be traded or bargained with! You have feelings, thoughts, desires! You should have a say in who you marry!"

You bit your lip, looking away again. "I know, El. I wish things were different," you sighed. "But my mama has made it clear that this is how it must be."

Eloise's heart ached for you, but she could tell that there was no changing your mind right now. "There must be something we can do?"

You looked up at her, hope flickering in Eloise's eyes before being extinguished. "I don't know, El. I don't want to disobey my mother. She's only trying to secure my future."

"The future you did not choose, must I remind you."

Eloise's tone was gentle, but firm. You looked up at her, surprise flitting across the Bridgerton her features before settling into a pensive frown.

"I know, El. I just... I feel as though I have no say in anything that happens to me."

"But you do, you always have a say."

Eloise's gaze remained fixed on you, her eyes searching for any sign of doubt or hope.

"You could speak with your mother, and explain how you feel. You could try to convince her that you deserve a choice, that you deserve happiness."

You shook your head, your hair swaying gently. "She'd never understand, El. She's always put her desires first. I don't think she'd ever see things from my perspective."

Eloise bit her lip, thinking. "Then maybe it's time you showed her," she said, determination shining in her eyes. "Maybe it's time you stood up for yourself, for your future. You don't have to do this alone."

You looked up at your friend, hope flickering in your eyes. "You'd help me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eloise nodded, her determination growing. "Of course, I would. You know I'd do anything for you. Together, we can find a way to make sure you get the future you deserve."

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, each lost in your thoughts. Your hands were clasped tightly in your lap, your nails digging into your palms.

You looked away from Eloise, out towards the garden where the flowers swayed gently in the breeze.

Eloise watched you with a mixture of sympathy and determination. She could see the turmoil in your eyes, the conflict between your duty and your desires.

It was clear that this decision weighed heavily on you. As if sensing the tension in the air, a figure appeared at the edge of your vision.

Colin Bridgerton, Eloise's brother and your friend, approached you from behind, his stride purposeful.

His dark hair was tousled from the wind, and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "Ah, there you are, you two. I've been looking everywhere for you."

Eloise turned to face him, her lips curling into a smile. "Hello, Colin. We were just having a... ladies' moment, if you will."

You looked up at Colin, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Hello, Colin. It's nice to see you."

Eloise watched as Colin's eyes flickered between the two of you, clearly sensing the weight of the conversation.

She wondered what he made of your sudden seriousness, but decided not to dwell on it. "Colin, why don't you join us?" Eloise invited, patting the bench beside her.

He hesitated for a moment, glancing at you, before sitting down beside Eloise. "What were you saying about standing up for yourself, y/n?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"I know you've always been good at doing what's expected of you, but sometimes I think it's important to follow your heart, too."

You looked at him gratefully. "It's just... my mother has always been so strict. I feel like I can never live up to her." you sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I want so much more for myself, but I don't know how to make her understand."

Colin nodded in understanding. "I can see that. It must be tough, feeling like you're always walking a tightrope." He glanced over at Eloise, who was watching the two of you intently.

"But you know, sometimes all it takes is someone on the sidelines to give you the courage to step out of line, to take a chance on yourself."

You looked at him, hope flickering in your eyes once more. "Do you think... do you think she'd ever understand?" you asked softly.

Eloise took your hand in hers, squeezing it gently. "I believe she can if you give her the chance. You just have to find the right way to explain how you feel, and why this means so much to you." She glanced over at Colin, who nodded in agreement. "But I- I have to join mama to the modiste."

You looked up at your friend, a mixture of gratitude and determination in your eyes. "Thank you, Eloise. I'll think about what you've said."

Eloise hesitated for a moment before standing up, her dress rustling softly against her legs before she turned around and walked away.

Colin studied your profile as you watched your friend disappear into the crowd, a quiet strength emanating from you. "You know," he began, "it's not always easy to stand up to our parents, but I believe you're brave enough to do it."

You turned to face him, a spark of determination lighting your eyes. "Do you think so?"

"Yes, I do," he replied with conviction. "You have so much to offer the world, and I think your mother just needs some time to see that."

You let out a small sigh, your shoulders slumping slightly. "It's not that easy, though. She's always been so focused on me marrying well, and living a comfortable life. She doesn't understand that I want more than that."

Colin nodded, his expression sympathetic. "I know it's difficult, but you have to believe that she can change her perspective. You just have to find a way to help her see things from your point of view." He reached out, taking your hand in his. "And I promise you, I'll be here for you every step of the way."

You looked into his eyes, the sincerity in his words giving you strength. You could feel the warmth of his hand on yours, and for a moment, you forgot about everything else.

"Thank you, Colin," you whispered. "You don't know what that means to me."

He smiled, and you noticed how his dimple dented his cheek. "I think I do, actually," he said softly.

At your surprised expression, he continued, "I've been in love with you since the moment I saw you in the garden that day. You're beautiful, intelligent, and brave. You're everything I could ever hope for in a woman."

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you listened to his words. You had never expected to hear anything like this from him.

"But... we're just friends," you stammered, your voice barely audible above the laughter and chatter of the people around you.

Colin smiled gently, his eyes never leaving yours. "We are friends, yes. But I think there's something more between us. Something deeper, more intense. And I want to explore that." He reached up, cupping your cheek in his hand, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch.

"I want to get to know you better, y/n. Not just as a friend, but as a woman. As my woman."

Your heart raced as his words washed over you, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. You knew you should pull away, but the look in his eyes held you captive.

"Colin," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned forward, his lips mere inches from yours. "I know this is sudden, and perhaps I shouldn't have said anything tonight, but I couldn't help myself. I've felt this way for so long, and I needed you to know."

Your heart raced as his words sank in. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and you could hardly breathe. You knew you should say something, but the words seemed to stick in your throat.

You could only stare into his eyes, lost in the moment.

Slowly, almost tenderly, Colin leaned forward and brushed his lips against yours.

At first, it was gentle, a mere flutter of sensation, but then he deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing with yours. You gasped, your hands finding their way up to his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin.

You felt as if you were floating, your body alive with the heat of the moment.

The world around you seemed to fade away, and it was as if there was nothing but the two of you, your hearts racing, your breath mingling together.

You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, the hardness of his chest, the strength in his arms as he held you close.

When at last you broke apart, you found it difficult to focus on anything but the look in his eyes.

They were filled with desire and tenderness, and you knew that he meant every word he had said.

You could feel the blush creeping up your neck and into your cheeks, and you couldn't help but smile shyly.

"I-I don't know what to say," you managed to stammer.

Colin smiled back, his fingers gently caressing your cheek. "You don't have to say anything right now. Just know that I meant every word I said and that I want to explore this with you." He paused for a moment, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation, before continuing.

"I want us to be together. I want to protect you and cherish you, and show you the love that you deserve."

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words. You had never imagined feeling this way about anyone, and the thought of being with Colin filled you with a warmth you hadn't known was possible.

You looked up into his eyes, your shining with tears of happiness, and nodded slowly. "I want that too," you whispered. "So much."

He smiled down at you, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. "I know it's fast, and I don't want you to feel pressured, but...I want to start making plans with you. I want to take you away from here, show you the world. I want to build a life with you."

The words sent a shiver down your spine. You knew you should pull away, but the look in his eyes held you captive.

"Colin," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned in closer, his lips mere inches from yours once more. "I love you, y/n," he said, his voice firm and resolute. "And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Marry me?"

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared into his eyes. You could feel the truth of his words resonating deep within you. You wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of your life by his side, explore the world with him, and build a future together.

You knew that you could trust him and that he would always protect you.

With trembling hands, you reached up and cupped his face, tenderly brushing your thumbs across his cheeks.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Yes, I'll marry you."

The weight of your words settled between you, and you both paused for a moment, taking in the gravity of your decision.

It was as if the world around you faded away, leaving you alone in your little bubble, suspended in time and space.

Colin leaned in closer, his lips finding yours once more, his tongue tracing the outline of your mouth.

His kiss deepened, his hands exploring the contours of your body, and you melted into him, returning his affections with equal fervor.

[hashtagboykisser]

HARRY POTTER HCS !!

FIRST “I LOVE YOU” !!

prompt: harry potter characters and their first “i love you”s in relationships

characters included: harry potter, ron weasley, hermione granger, draco malfoy, ginny weasley, seamus finnigan, fred weasley, george weasley

warnings: you and seamus smoking in seamus’ part, swearing, physical abuse in george’s part

harry j. potter…

who said it: harry

when: 5th year

“cmon… just a little bit more..” harry cooed patiently, hands placed on your hips. “forget it, harry. i don’t think i’ll ever get it right.” you sighed, wanting to throw your wand down on the ground.

dumbledore’s army had just begun merely a few sessions ago, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get your patronous just right.

maybe it was because you upset professor dolores umbridge today and pushed her far beyond her limits (not even on purpose, for that matter). or maybe it’s because colin creevey was stuck way too far up your arsehole whenever you would do something wrong when it came to today’s D.A session.

“well, maybe i can give you a happy memory to think about.” harry suggested. “how on earth do you plan to do that?” you questioned, wary of what he may do.

“maybe…like this.”

and with that, harry began to scan your lips with his, feeling for all the fine details that no one else would get to see but himself.

harry felt you smile against his own lips before pulling away, with a lopsided grin smearing his cheeks.

“i love you.” harry smiled, sounding as if he’s been waiting a century to say those words to you.

“i love you too.”

ron b. weasley…

who said it: him

when: 3rd year

“oh no!! oh no no no..!!” the ginger boy roared as he was being dragged by the foot by the black-furred dog (unbeknownst to him, which was sirius black), “i can’t die yet!! i haven’t told (y/n) how much i love her yet!!”

“you bloody moron, she’s right here!!” the shorter bushy haired girl replied, slightly jealous it was her best friends name and not her own.

“i love you, (y/n)! if i die, i promise my ghost will haunt you!!” ron shouted before being dragged away out of sight.

“i love you too!” you yelped, hoping he could still hear you.

hermione j. granger…

who said it: you

when: 7th year

“i know this isn’t much… but i wanted to be able to do something for you for our anniversary.” hermione said, rubbing her neck in pure embarrassment.

you, hermione, harry, and ron were on a hunt to look for all of voldemort’s horcurxes, and because of that, you all were staying in a rubbish tent in the woods.

the tent was empty for the most part, other than the small radio player that had muggle romance music on it.

“harry and ron are out of our hair…well for now anyway. i told them to go look for anything that could be useful, i just wanted to have a nice 3 months you.”

“you kicked them out for me?” you asked, disbelief leaving your throat.

“well yes — and i know it’s not much but-” the brunette would’ve continued if you didn’t interrupt her, and she gives a slight pout because of it.

“but it is much, it is something ‘mione! it is because i love you.”

“i- uhm. repeat yourself, please?”

“i love you, hermione.”

draco l. malfoy…

who said it: him

when: 6th year

“isn’t that right, ms. (y/n)?” the barely human wizard, voldemort, said, looking at you from the other side of table.

you gulped quietly, your shoulders stiffening. “yes, sir.” you murmured, glancing at the platinum blonde boy next to you before averting your gaze.

you and draco grew up together - as your mothers were very close in their teenage years, your fathers, not so much. but they got along okay.

when draco first became part of the death eaters, his mother decided it’d be easiest to have you there, to make it a little less hard on him.

“excuse me for a moment.” draco mumbled, somewhat abruptly, as lucius and the lord were in the middle of a conversation. draco stood up within the blink of an eye, and sped walked out of the room.

“would you be a dear and check on him for me, honey?” narcissa leaned over and whispered in your ear, as you were seated between draco and his mother.

you gave a small half-smile with a nod, as you politely excused yourself, afraid of what voldemort could do if you had done it in a way of which he didn’t like.

you went around the halls of malfoy manor, the walls of which most of your childhood memories took place, as sad as that is.

you saw a crack in the door of draco’s room, and you opened the door a tad more

draco said there, looking down at his folded hands, not saying anything.

“are you okay?” you asked, even though you already knew the answer.

“those meetings…get to me, sometimes.” the blonde mumbled, his voice cracking slightly.

“me too..” you answered, rubbing your hand up and down his back, as you sat next to him.

“thank you, for always being here. i’ve spent my whole life with you, i never want to let you go.” draco said, giving a small smile.

“i won’t ever leave you behind, okay?”

“this is exactly why i fell in love with you all those years ago.”

“wait…what?” you denied, your voice quiet.

“you heard me, i love you (y/n).”

ginevera m. weasley…

who said it: her

when: 5th year (well 4th year for her)

“hey (y/n)!” a familiar, high, squeaky voice called out to you, sounding a bit distant.

“oh, hi, ginny.” you half smiled, looking down at the younger girl.

“i need to talk to you, now.” ginny asked — well demanded, but she meant to ask.

you’ve known ginny long enough at this point to know sometimes, when she wants to ask a question, it can accidentally turn into a demand. especially, when she’s nervous.

“okay, no problem.” you reported, knowing exactly what she was going to say.

she grabs your wrist with a firm grip — but not firm enough for your to be hurt. and walks you down to a more empty side of the hogwarts express.

“i love you. and quite frankly, i hate it when you spend more time with my brothers and less time with me because it’s not fair, i fancy you!” the smaller ginger insisted, with a small stomp of her foot to show she meant what she said.

“i love you too, don’t worry, gin.” you spoke, as you tucked a string of hair behind her ear, that was before in the middle of her face.

she gave a lopsided grin before happily skipping off and giving a sing-songy goodbye.

seamus d. finnigan…

who said it: him

when: 4th year

the yule ball of the 1994 school year was slowly coming to a close, but you were unable to find where your date had ran off to, one moment he was with his best friend, dean thomas — and now you have no bloody clue where he is.

there was only one placed you hadn’t looked yet — the astronomy tower.

you begin your walk up the tower of many staircases and you hear some intense coughing the higher and higher you reach.

before your eyes, you see your boyfriend — or date, or technically boy friend, as the relationship between the two of you is a bit complicated, with a cigarette between his fingers.

“hey seamus.” you say, as you sit down next to him, leaning into his touch.

“hi doll.” he says, grinning as he puts an arm around your waist.

“can i smoke with you?”

“absolutely not, angel!” seamus gasps, shocked, putting a dramatized hand to his chest, his mouth open a gap.

“huh? why not?” you asked, now just confused.

“because! i love you! i’m not letting a gorgeous goddess inhale that shit!” seamus replied, now tossing his cigarette away into the distance.

“you love me?”

“with every inch my body stands.”

fred g. weasley…

who said it: him

when: 5th year (3rd book/movie)

“i don’t know how you could even do this, i don’t know what half of this is supposed to to mean..” your ginger boyfriend said, cuddled up into your side, as the two of you studied for the following potions exams.

“well, to make it’s quite simple, it’s just seeing it on paper is the hard part.” you said, nudging him slightly, to make sure he wouldn’t fall asleep again.

“oh, how so?” he asked.

“well actually you take the-”

and before you could get any further, your boyfriend pecked you on the lips.

“sorry, at first i was interested and then i just didn’t care anymore.” fred said with a chuckle.

“fred gideon weasley!!”

“i’m sorry, i love you, does that make it better?”

“i… yes.”

george g. weasley…

who said it: him

when: 7th year (5th book/movie)

i mustn’t make mistakes any longer.

i mustn’t make mistakes any longer.

i mustn’t make mistakes any longer.

i mustn’t make mistakes any longer.

i mustn’t make mistakes any longer.

the words on your arm continued to ring in your ear, like the tangy feeling on your tongue after eating spicy foods.

none of this would’ve happened if you didn’t snap at the new d.a.d.a teacher - dolores umbridge.

the torturous (literally), cruel woman put you through so much pain in one detention.

don’t get me wrong, you’ve gotten detention once in 2nd year, but this could never compare.

the words on your arm were the ones that made you cry terrifying sobs as you had to continue to write and write and write - thanks to your low physical pain tolerance and somewhat sensitive heart, you just couldn’t bare it.

sprinkles of raindrops began to form in your eyes, they ground onto the table you were sitting at, as you tried to rub your eyes before anyone happened to notice.

“hey, love, are you okay?” george weasley - your boyfriend asked, scurrying over to you.

your arm was angled in the correcting lighting and point of view to where the taller ginger could see your scars perfectly.

“blimey!” your boyfriend shouted, pointing, before madam prince gave him a stern shooshing.

“what happened?”

you clung onto him immediately, sobbing quietly,

“hey love — it’s okay, i love you, i’m here and i always will be.”

[ithebookhoarder]

It's completely fine if you don't do this but I loved your Colin one, so can you do how the other brothers would react if they found out you were pregnant??!?!?!?!

Unexpectedly Expecting (Anthony / Benedict Bridgerton x AFAB!reader):

A/N: Thank you for sending this in! I'm combining this with another request - I hope that's ok? 👇 As both were on a similar track, but I can always do more later on this because who doesn't love imagining the Bridgerton boys with little ones?! 🥰

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, mentions of childbirth, references to doctors and medical professionals, pregnancy symptoms like nausea and morning sickness, mentions of trouble conceiving a child, sex references, swearing, blood (let me know if I missed any!).

Masterlist:

Anthony Bridgerton:

As Viscount Anthony would likely be expecting to have children and heirs of his own and yes, it would be a concern if you weren’t falling pregnant as a couple. However, I think it upsets him more than anything because of how upsetting it is for you. He loves you and seeing you beating yourself up and making yourself sick with worry is heartbreaking. 

He has so many siblings and they have children so the Bridgerton estate and line will continue, he soothes, hoping it would take some pressure off of yourself. If you fall pregnant then that would be a blessing, but you weren’t a failure. In fact, for all he knows, he could be the issue. It’s impossible to be certain either way and he would never let you take that on yourself. Any arguments you’d have would be about that and nothing else. 

“If you think I will sit here and allow you to abuse yourself in such a way then you are sorely mistaken, my love-“

“-You don’t understand, Anthony! This is my fault. Even if you do not agree. To society, to the rest of the world, the blame will lay solely on me! That’s all that matters!” 

“No! You are all that matters and I will not allow you to keep torturing yourself this way. We will stop, do you hear me? No more talk of heirs or blame or anything to do with the subject. Let us just enjoy our life as it is for now. The future is unimportant.” 

Violet would side with Anthony, as would all his siblings. They love you too and want you to be happy - even if Violet does offer some tips and insights on ways one could assist with falling pregnant, but only at your request.

Still, when you’re not with child months later you start to lose hope. 

It gets worse as more of the Bridgerton siblings start getting married and falling pregnant. They would never rub it in your face, but it doesn’t make it any less painful when you see them or their partners caressing their bumps or discussing what names they could choose.  

You’d wish them well, obviously, but inside you feel like you’re dying. Even Anthony holding you close and pressing a comforting kiss against your cheek does nothing to raise your spirits. 

With each passing day you become just a little more certain that you’re not destined to have a child… which is why you’re utterly stunned when you miss your monthly bleed - not once, but twice… 

You didn’t say anything at first, obviously worried that it was just delayed from your recent stress. However, when it happens again you start to dare to hope for the impossible and you’re all but racing to get a physician to confirm the diagnosis. 

As soon as you do, you’re racing straight back to your husband to share the good news. You don’t care if he is in a meeting, at his club, with his family or even in the middle of the street. You still sprint to his side and blurt the news for everyone to hear.

The tears are instantaneous, as is the cheer of delighted disbelief he gives, throwing his arms about you and spinning you around until you’re both dizzy. “This… this is the greatest blessing we could have received, my love. I’m so happy… we’re going to be parents? We’re having a child?… oh, lord. We’re having a child.”

This man has been acting as a father to his siblings for so long you have no problem imagining him taking to the role like a duck to water. That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be scared out of his mind to think of the responsibility of raising a child of his own. 

You can expect this man to be badgering his mother with a never ending list of questions - heck, he’d even swallow his pride and ask Simon and Daphne for advice if it came to it. After all, ‘if Hastings can do it, it can’t be too difficult’.

You’re laughing too hard to even try and correct him.

This man would be so protective of you whilst you were pregnant - especially after the troubles you’ve had getting to this point. 

“I really think you ought to have a maid accompany you when you journey to and fro. I should hate for something to happen to you."

“Anthony, I’m only going for a walk around the garden!”

“But still-“

Anything you could possibly need he has already bought three of them. No expense is spared for you and your unborn child - including summoning doctors from their beds in the middle of the night if you even think something might be wrong with either you or the baby. 

Speaking of doctors, he would fight anybody who tried to banish him from your side when the time comes. He and his mother, should you wish her there, would be at your side the whole time. They would be your biggest cheerleaders and would do whatever they could to ensure you were cared for and supported, whether it be mopping your brow, holding you as you pace around, or advocating for you against any doctor who tries to violate your wishes about the birth. 

And when you are finally handed a crying, wrinkled, cherub with Anthony’s eyes… well, it’s all worth it. You have never felt a love as pure as this, except for when you met Anthony, and nothing can ruin such a perfect moment. 

Benedict Bridgerton:

Benedict would be so calm about possibly having children with you. If you do have children, then they will be loved and adored - obviously. But if you don’t? Then that doesn’t matter. It means you two can continue your adventures together for a while longer, travelling wherever your heart desires, visiting galleries and indulging in your bohemian lifestyle with all your friends.

You have your freedom - even more so now that you’re married. Society doesn’t care what you do now that you’re no longer on the marriage mart. It’s liberating, and any pressure to produce heirs comes from only you or your loved ones, so it’s non-existent.  

However, if you did want children then Benedict would be more than eager to help create them… and get creative about doing so. 

“Benedict! That is not how a child is conceived… no wonder you’re a student of the arts. The academy of science would never admit you with such a lack of understanding about basic anatomy!”

“You’re right, my dear, but you have to admit - this is a hell of a lot more fun.” 

He would be nothing but supportive of you and so gentle every time your monthly bleed approached, especially if nothing happens. He understands how your hopes rise and how hard it hits you when you realise it hasn’t yet worked. He’d never insult you or diminish your feelings. 

If anything, he would be quick to shoulder any possible blame, refusing to let you even begin to suggest that it has anything to do with you or your body. You are perfect. End of - and he’ll fight anyone who suggests otherwise. 

“You can’t rush things, angel. After all, the best things are worth the time and effort. Michelangelo took over four years to finish the Sistine Chapel, and Da Vinci sixteen years to paint the Mona Lisa. Some things are worth the wait… and if it doesn’t happen how we wish, then we’re already creating something so beautiful between us. Our family will be perfect, no matter how it looks, how it comes about, or even when it does.”

And when it does? Well, then you’ve never seen him look so happy, tears pouring from his eyes as you confirm the good news.

You also fear for a moment that he’s about to swoon, he goes so pale and he even starts to breath heavily as he paces back and forth, muttering ‘I… I’m going to be a father? A father? Me?’. His imposter syndrome would hit him with full force and it would take several weeks for him to process it enough to calm down and be excited rather than terrified. However, he’d never have been anything other than positive towards you. You know it’s his love for your unborn child that makes him panic about being a good father.  

Also, he would be SO supportive once you are expecting. He would be there holding your hair back if you felt nauseous and bringing you endless cups of tea without you even asking. 

He wouldn’t complain in the slightest about staying in with you, rather than going to whatever social events his family had organised. As he argued, it gave him ample time to finish whatever piece he was working on next and he got to keep you company in the meantime. 

I just feel he’d paint something for the baby, whether it be a piece to hang on the wall of the nursery, or the wall of the nursery itself. You’d find him stood in front of the nursery wall, covered in paint, but beaming ear to ear. 

“It’s beautiful, Benedict.”

“Well, our baby should be allowed to enjoy the full beauty of a spectrum of colours, rather than just ‘white’ on the walls - and the sooner they begin to understand the art of composition, the better in my opinion.”

You would also be receiving gifts from all your artistically minded friends, which is heart-warming. They’d crown them their newest ‘little liberal’ and would devote themselves to ensuring your off-spring would have a well-rounded eduction about the higher arts of life - something Benedict is keen to endorse.  

“When are they not ‘too young’ to have an art tutor?” 

“Maybe wait till they can hold a paint brush first, Benedict.” 

“What about poetry?”

“Again, I think they should probably learn the alphabet before we try them on Wordsworth or Donne.” 

Given what he says in his book I know he’d secretly want a girl but you know that as long as it’s happy and healthy then that would be enough. After all, it would be yours, made from your love in a living, breathing creation greater than any painting or sculpture. 

He would be awe struck when you hand them to him, afraid he might break them somehow. He would just sit and stare at them for hours, admiring them like the finest sculpture.

“I promise to be the best possible father you could ever want, my love. I will do whatever I can to protect you and make you, and your mother, feel cherished. I won’t let you down… even if you turn out like most of your Uncles and have no idea what the difference is between a sonata and a sonnet.”  

[permanentswaps]

New Tricks Pt. 3

Inspired by needsastory. Read Part 1 and Part 2 first!

Ben’s POV

Dad in my body burst back in through the door less than an hour later, his expression a mix of frustration and disappointment. I raised an eyebrow, curious about the sudden return.

"You weren’t gone very long, what happened?" I asked, confused.

Tom let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Kim's parents came back from their vacation early. She wasn't expecting them, but she told me I couldn’t stay the night anymore."

"So, does that mean … ?" I started to ask.

Dad, frustrated, said. "Yeah, we made out a bit, but... we didn't get to fuck," he admitted, a bit frustrated.

"Thank god," I said

Tom shot me a curious look. "Why? You worried I was gonna set expectations too high for when we swap back?"

I hesitated for a moment before explaining, "If you had fucked with her, it might have made the swap permanent. We'd be stuck like this forever."

As I verbalized the thought, a strange mix of emotions washed over me. Despite the initial shock and frustration of being trapped in my dad's body, I was definitely coming around to the idea of staying like this. The prospect of embodying the masculinity and strength I had always admired was strangely appealing.

Dad seemed to sense my conflicting emotions and raised an eyebrow. "You sound almost disappointed," he said, amused.

I chuckled nervously. "Yeah, well... I guess I am.” I admitted, scratching the back of my head awkwardly.

To my surprise, Dad didn't seem fazed by my confession. Instead, he leaned back against the door frame, crossing his arms thoughtfully. "You know, even if this isn't permanent, maybe we should consider staying like this for a bit," he suggested, his tone surprisingly earnest.

I stared at him in disbelief, caught off guard by his proposal. But as I mulled over his words, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within me.

"Yeah," I replied slowly, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Maybe we should."

Tom’s POV

Over the next week, I found myself surprisingly at ease in Ben’s routine.

I really liked hanging out with Ben's friends. They were a cool group, each with their own quirks and personalities. One of his friends, in particular, stood out to me - Colin. We chatted a lot at school, sharing jokes and stories between classes. It was easy to see why Ben enjoyed his company so much.

"So, you coming to watch the game tonight?" Colin asked, tossing his backpack over his shoulder as we walked to our next class.

I nodded, a smile playing on my lips. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. You ready to crush it out there on the field?"

Colin grinned, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "You know it, man. We're gonna dominate!"

Later that day, Colin and I stood on the sidelines, watching the girls' soccer team play before the boys went on. I couldn't help but admire Kim. She was a force to be reckoned with on the field, her determination evident in every move she made.

"Damn, she's really good," Colin said, nudging me with his elbow.

I quickly looked at him before shifting my attention back to the field and grinning. "Yeah, she's something else, isn't she?"

But my attention didn’t stay focused on the field for long. Stealing another quick glance at Colin, I began to admire him too. His hair tousled from his earlier warm-up run, a faint sheen of sweat glistening on his skin - he was undeniably cute.

"You okay, man?" Colin asked, noticing my distraction.

"Yeah, just... admiring the view," I replied casually, hoping he wouldn't pick up on the sudden shift in my thoughts.

As the week progressed, I couldn't shake the realization that Ben might be a bit of a repressed bisexual. It wasn't a problem for me - I had already come to terms with being gay and was out and proud. But I made a mental note to ask him about it when we switched back.

Despite the newfound comfort in Ben's life, there was still a lingering sense of sadness. I missed the muscles I had worked so hard for, the physical strength that had become a part of my identity. But as I looked around at Ben's friends, at the camaraderie and laughter they shared, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to take a walk in his shoes, if only for a little while.

Ben’s POV

Over the next week, I found myself reveling in the virility of my new body. It was a strange sensation, feeling the raw power coursing through my veins, the result of years of dedication and hard work that had sculpted my dad's muscular physique.

I indulged in activities that I had only dreamed of before. With each passing day, I spent more time in the gym, pushing my body to its limits and relishing in the sensation of strength and vitality that surged through me.

But despite the exhilaration of my newfound physical prowess, there were moments when the tension built up, the strain of unfamiliar muscles protesting against the strain of my workouts. It was then that I decided to treat myself to a massage, hoping to alleviate the knots and tightness that had accumulated over the week.

As I entered the massage parlor, I was greeted by a super attractive guy, somewhere between my current age and my old body’s age. His warm smile and soothing demeanor immediately put me at ease, and I couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in my chest as he led me to the massage room.

"So, what brings you in today?" the masseur asked, his voice gentle and inviting as he prepared the massage table.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the nerves that fluttered in my stomach. "Just feeling a bit tense lately. Thought a massage might help."

He nodded understandingly, motioning for me to lie down on the table. "Don't worry,m you're in good hands," he reassured me with a wink, causing my heart to skip a beat.

As his skilled hands began to work their magic, kneading away the tension that had built up in my muscles, I couldn't help but relax into the sensation. It was like all the stress and worries of the past week melted away under his touch, leaving me feeling lighter and more at peace than I had in ages.

"Wow, you're really good at this," I murmured appreciatively, my eyes drifting shut as I surrendered myself to the blissful experience.

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "Just doing my job," he replied modestly, though there was a hint of pride in his voice.

As the massage continued, lost in the sensation of his hands moving over my body with practiced skill. Eventually, his hands made their way down to my waist and torso. Quickly, I felt my cock start to harden and peak through the towel he had laid across my lap.

“I am so sorry.” I apologies profusely, my cheeks turning red.

“No worries at all.” He said, trying to hide a smirk. “Happens all the time”

“Should we stop.” I ask.

He hesitated. “Normally I would say that we should take a break, but,” he winked at me, “that's not really want I want to do with a guy like you.”

He swiftly to grasped my dick before taking it all in his mouth and continuing to rub my muscles with his hands. As he sucked me off on the table, I arched my back and raised my arms up to flex towards the ceiling. In that moment of ecstasy, I thought to myself.

“There is no way I am ever giving this body up.”

I gently stroked his chin with my thick fingers, guiding him up to kiss me. Then, whispering in his ear, I said. “How about I make you feel good too.” Before grabbing his ass.

He quickly took off the rest of his clothes and straddled me over the table before we started making out again. As he lowers his ass, I begin teasing his hole with my cock. He feels up my biceps again and moans, “oh you’re so sexy daddy.”

That's all the confirmation I needed. I thrust upwards, holding onto his waist with both hands, and feel my thick cock enveloped by his warm hole. Immediately I feel a bit dizzy, but as quickly as the feeling comes, its replaced by a sense of incredible clarity. In that moment I knew, I was Tom, forever.

Tom’s POV – Epilogue

Three years had passed since my dad made the swap permanent, and while I was initially upset, I couldn't deny that I had lucked out.

Sure, I no longer had a super muscular physique, but my new body was undeniably cute, and that counted for something.

Once I knew this was my life to live, I made some changes. First thing was I decided to break up with Kim. It wasn't an easy choice, but as I came to terms with my evolving identity, I realized that my heart belonged elsewhere. Despite this new body being bisexual, I found that my preferences leaned heavily towards guys. I also, began to update my style, since, unlike dad, I didn't care about what the other guys at school would say.

About a year after the swap, I met my boyfriend, Zander. He was everything I had ever dreamed of in my old life- kind, funny, and super super romantic. With him by my side, I felt like I could take on the world.

In a twist of fate, I also found unexpected success as a model in my new body. While Dad had always complained about his delicate features – in the model industry they were actually an asset. And besides, he was always concerned that people thought he looked gay, but now, with me in control, this body was gayer than it had ever been.  

Now I make an absolute killing, and I get  to enjoy the perks of fame and fortune while still in my twenties. Even though I didn’t choose this body, I now can’t even imagine living my life any other way.

Ben’s POV – Epilogue

I know what you're probably thinking - I must be crazy for giving up my old body. And yeah, maybe I am a little crazy, but it's a decision I don't regret in the slightest.

Since the swap, Benji - as he now prefers to be called - has thrived in my body. It's like he's living out the life he always wanted but never had the chance to before. And I have to admit, seeing him so happy and fulfilled brings a sense of warmth to my heart.

As for me? Well, I've found myself exploring a whole new side of life that I never knew existed. I’ve kept on hitting the gym, and I think it looks even better than when Benji was still controlling it.

Dating guys might not have been something I ever imagined myself doing, but there's something undeniably freeing about it - like shedding the expectations and constraints of my old life and stepping into something new and exciting.

While Benji may be going steady in my old body, I haven’t slowed down at all. There’s constantly a new twink in my bed, begging to be railed by me. Even though each twink is cuter than the last – I still regret that I am related to my old body, otherwise I would’ve fucked him a long time ago. That said, he would never do the kinky stuff I’m into now. Now, every Grindr hookup we experiment with leather, bondage, BDSM … and I always go in raw so that I can fill their insides with my seed. After all, with a body like this, life is too short to play it safe.

[mschievousx]

now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc, anthony bridgerton x ofc (platonic)

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she love her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

i. one: when we were together

"i look funny."

raine grumbled as she turned to her father who just arrived earlier from god knows where after being away for months. she's not complaining though. she loves her father dearly. that and the fact that her mind is preoccupied at the moment. eloise was right. this does look like being presented for sale, and she hates it.

"you look beautiful, my love." her father reassured, pulling his own fit to compose himself as they are next in line.

"the headdresses are too much."

he laughed at the continuous rant of his only daughter, offering an arm, "don't we just love being too much?"

both stood up straight, back arching and head facing the closed doors, "they'll think we're crazy."

raine exhaled twice, the silence defeaning befor she turned once more to her father.

"are we crazy?" the patriarch only gave out a smirk as he nudged his daughter and whispered 'right face'.

"viscountess loraine silva, presented by her father, the right honourable and gallant, lord silva!"

the doors opened, revealing the very first surprise of the season. as the initial shock set in and the pair walked forward, the ton immediately turned to each other with whispers they did not bother to hide.

"they're insane!" anthony whisper-yelled to his family on the side at the sight of the pair.

"lord silva, good god." colin muttered in disbelief with a laugh.

"i thought it would be lady danbury since it's not mother." voiced out eloise with a grin as she watched them walk, certainly carrying an air of elegance and valiance, very fitting for the pair.

benedict smirked in reply, "well, we should've known really."

upon reaching the queen, both bowed with respect—which, one can argue is lost at what they just did.

"i should have you know you can both be beheaded by this... stunt." the ton held their breaths in anticipation of what will happen next. on the contrary, the concerned pair stood up straight, their smiles borderlining to smirks never leaving their faces. raine definitely took after someone.

"oh, my queen," lord silva began with a chuckle and familiarity dripping in his tone, "i ask you let me savor the very few days i have left in this world."

the queen narrowed her eyes at them before ultimately speaking with a sigh, "go on. i do not want two souls to haunt me tonight."

small gasps can be heard at the mention. lord silva only chuckled as he and his daughter walked to the side, ending their turn of presentation.

"yes, my love. we are crazy."

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

"armand!"

the man turned to them and opened his arms for a light hug. the act could have been scandalous, really, yet the ton somehow chooses to brush off anything that the quirky silvas do. surely two widows are not worth the gossip, are they?

the presentation to the queen has ended, thankfully, and everyone finds themselves enjoying the rest of the day outdoor.

"oh, loraine, you look beautiful, my dear." the debutante neared the woman for a hug herself as she said her thanks.

"violet, i see you have your hands full this season." raine's father greeted with an observation.

"well, i do hope i can manage two daughters."

"and of your sons?"

lady bridgerton laughed at that as she took the arm that the man is offering.

"would you really like to involve yourself on that matter of our children?" she replied as they both share a chuckle before strolling away.

francesca and raine have chosen to stroll themselves with linking arms, "eloise told me what happened. i wish i was there to see it."

she went out first before the silvas, missing the earlier show. raine, however, was able to take a glance of her before she went out.

"you were perfect earlier, francesca, and do not fret. you will see quite a lot of my mischiefs this season. my debut means the debut of my antics on a higher level."

the kind girl took a hold of her hand with her eyes full of concern as they continue to walk, "raine, i fear you will get into something you cannot get out of."

she smiled warmly at that. raine is close with everyone in the bridgerton family, but she did interact the least with the girl beside her. francesca is quite reserved, but that was definitely not enough to stop loraine in forming a friendship with her as well when they were still children.

"then i will just stay there."

she sighed upon hearing her response, but ultimately smiled, "we are polar opposites."

raine nodded in agreement with a grin, "yet here we are, arm-in-arm."

"such flawless debutantes, spending the day with each other." lady danbury appeared in front of them with narrowed eyes.

"one would think you're shy, which i presume must be true with miss bridgerton but an utter lie with you, miss silva."

the younger lady turned to her with mock surprise, "i am shy, lady danbury. this is my first season after all."

the woman rolled her eyes as she got in between the two debutantes, turning to francesca, "have you talked with the other ladies? they are good company and might share an interest or two with you."

francesca nodded and smiled as she spot the ladies who seemed to be eager to make her acquaintance. lady danbury turned to loraine this time as the latter whined.

"why did you do that? i am good company. we both share an interest in the pianoforte."

"you have enough of socializing with the ladies. now, it's the men's turn."

she said as she guided the silva with a seemingly friendly walk. raine's eyes, however, opened wide as she realise the group she's being guided towards.

"lady danbury," she began, immediately stopping in the middle of their walk as she wasted no time to speak, "i will wipe the floors of your house, lower and upper, inner and outer, do not send me to them of all people."

the older woman tried to give a push at her lower back but her feet did not move an inch. damn this child's upbringing, she thought.

"you have not spent enough time with other gentlemen, that is why you are still so keen on violet's second born."

"i'll include the walls." she threw that in, hoping it will change the woman's mind. raine turned to her to make her point clear, "i have spent enough time with them to know i don't like them."

"the bridgerton boys are rakes." despite the dowager's love for violet, and by extension, her family, there was no lie in what she said at all.

raine did not miss a bit in replying, "i know. i grew up with them."

"and the said rake would like to steal a moment of your time, miss silva." she turned to see benedict with that familiar smirk again before the man turned to the elder woman in greeting, "lady danbury."

"mr. bridgerton, quite the coincidence." she sighed, yet her words were said as if she knew something.

"it must be fate." he corrected with a grin as he offered an arm for raine to take.

"we'd like to excuse ourselves. mother and the viscountess are on the left turn." he said, both of them bowing—quite in mockery because they're little shits, but they will not admit that—before taking a new path.

"i never thought you can be more charming." she turned to her right and grinned.

benedict chose to play humbly as he replied, "i try."

"you don't even have to."

he smiled at that. it always amuses him how she never seems to run out of things to say to him, "quite a show, what you did earlier."

raine laughed, remembering the ton's faces when the grand doors parted, revealing her with her father, "oh, the look on everyone's faces!"

"i must say, your father's looking better now."

"he jests he wants to pull a lady this season. i will seriously shoot him in the leg if he introduces someone my age to me."

thinking a few years back, benedict chuckled as he can totally see that happening now if ever, "your skills will finally come in handy."

raine turned to him genuinely as they continue to walk, "how about you? i am completely asking this in curiosity. are you marrying this season?"

"mother would collapse in joy of having three successful weddings in one season."

once more, there was no lie to that at all. francesca will wed this season. colin, with his newfound personality and interest in the ladies' interests in him, may marry as well. if he adds on top of that, violet will faint. he loves his mother dearly, so he will have to pass for now. that and the fact that he has really no interest in marriage.

he continued, "besides, i'm perfectly in love with my art these days. now that anthony is back, i can pour my time on painting again."

"are you going to enrol in the royal academy again?" she asked, beaming hopefully for a positive answer.

"i might."

"you must." she insists.

"perhaps."

raine narrowed her eyes and slapped his arm lightly, "stop playing coy, ben. it doesn't suit you."

the man turned to him again with a teasing smirk, "everything suits me, as you have said multiple times in the past."

"have i grown your ego too much for your head to contain?" she deadpanned at him before turning to face where they're walking toward again, "but touché."

he laughed at her admission. she was direct and bold, but there were times she's simply comedic. his laughter didn't last long though, as he spot the father of the lady in his arm quite exactly on their path. benedict looked around to disguise his rapid muttering, "your father is burning a hole through my skull with his eyes. i sometimes forget he can enforce a siege on the entirety of mayfair and beyond."

"lord silva... sir," he greeted as they finally reach him, acting as if to raise his right hand, and down again, and up, and—well, honestly, he has no clue what he's doing.

raine laughed at him. she turned to her father, "see, you have been away for so long that everyone believes they must salute to you."

lord silva raised an eyebrow, his gaze still at the bridgerton son but addressing his daughter, "and why should they not? i am a maj—"

"yes, father, a major general," she rolled her eyes at him and dugged even a greater hole, "and above all else, this is your son-in-law."

both men immediately turned to her that she thought they would snap their necks. well, they agree on one thing—their facial expressions of utter shock and betrayal were similar.

benedict, lips parted and mouth still agape with wide eyes, mouthed to her silently, "do you want me to die?!"

raine grinned, turning to her father again who has the same expression and dugged the greatest hole ever, "i jest. he does not like me."

the eyes of the concerned 'he' grew wider than they were before, which he didn't know they could even grow wider than that, as he immediately turned to armand to resolve such misleading implications.

"i—you—i... uhm, you—your daughter is delightfully wonderful... in all aspects! and... i am fond of her a great deal!"

raine snickered from his side as he stutter, while lord silva spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, "she is."

"i most certainly agree." bridgerton nodded with no problem at all, trying to regain his composure.

"has edmund taught you well with guns?"

benedict turned to raine in pure confusion as to where the conversation is going, "i believe so. although, i find myself lifting brushes, sir."

"oh my—stop scrutinizing him." she stated, taking a hold of her father's arm, "you both act as if you've never met each other, went to hunts, and spent leisure time on the backyard," her eyebrows suddenly raised as a thought entered her mind, "or gentlemen's clubs."

"how do you know that?" armand turned to her, shifting his inquiring and quite strict look from ben to his daughter.

rain chuckled at the memory, completely forgetting the supposed secrecy of what she's about to say, "i have snucked in a brothel before. is knowing about clubs above that?"

"you have what?!"

"oh, uhm," realising it now, she laughed awkwardly and let go of her father's arm slowly. she turned to benedict for help, but by the look of it, he was currently not on her side.

seeing the two ladies upfront, she thanked the heavens promptly, "it seems like lady danbury and lady bridgerton wants me to meet other bachelors. we must go."

raine took hold of benedict's hand at once, slowly walking away as armand spoke in a low voice, one she has taken to call as his 'military voice'.

"loraine silva."

her eyes widened, her grasp on his hand tightening. raine did nothing but simply call back to her father, hoping that it will still do the trick.

"i love you, papa!"

she wasted no time to dash, pulling benedict with her towards the safety of the society's mothers.

and to think this is only the first day of the season.

[sexy-sapphic-sorcerer]

1: Magic is a Metaphor < 2: Morgana is a Lesbian < 3: Merlin is Gay > 4: Arthur is Bi

Again with the whole metaphor thing, Merlin's entire character is about having to hide his identity and wishing that he could be free to be himself so that he wouldn't have to lie about how much Arthur means to him. So that's all very gay, but he's also just very queer-coded generally. There are so many jokes about him being more effeminate or wearing women's clothing, most notably in this episode where he dresses in full drag and then takes the opportunity to shamelessly flirt with Arthur. Unhinged.

Basically every other character seems to just assume that he's gay, at least towards the end, because Gaius and Arthur are in utter disbelief that Merlin would be 'seeing a girl'. And of course he isn't, he's actually sneaking around with that druid guy, leading Arthur to question how courting a girl would leave him 'walking with a limp.'

I also think it's very interesting how often Merlin has to pretend to be attracted to women to avoid people discovering his secret, like with Gwen in Series 1 or Morgana in Series 2. Or this scene, where Gwen and Merlin are the only people not affected by the Lamia's seduction charm and they're trying to figure out why. And Merlin says, 'it doesn't affect you because you're a woman'. And firstly, Gwen is like, 'so what?' So, bisexual queen. And then Merlin says, "it only affects men," and Gwen says, "so then why haven't you fallen under her spell?" And Merlin is just like, 'oh shit, I don't know. I can't think of any reason why I wouldn't be seduced by a woman.'

Now, you might be saying, "but Merlin is attracted to women! what about that one female love interest he had for literally one episode who immediately died?" Oh, you mean:

I'm sorry to all of the Freylin shippers out there, but this was so clearly just the writers' last-ditch attempt to make Merlin straight. If you think about it, Freya also 'has magic' if you catch my drift, and that is the only thing that she and Merlin have in common, and the only thing that they talk about. And if you look at their dialogue out of context, it really doesn't seem like it's magic that they're talking about. It's just gay/lesbian solidarity. Also, never forget when Colin Morgan accidentally referred to Merlin's potential love interests as "him or her." So who else could he have been thinking of?

Merlin definitely had a crush on Lancelot. From the moment that they first meet, he just keeps going on about, 'omg, isn't Lancelot so strong and brave and chivalrous? God, I hope he becomes a knight, he would look so good in a suit of armour.' And then he says to Gwen, completely unprompted, "so just for the sake of argument– Arthur or Lancelot?" Why are you thinking about that Merlin? Then that scene ends with Merlin and Lancelot getting drunk and stumbling home together and waking up the next morning having shared Merlin's single bed. So take from that what you will. I don't necessarily think that anything happened between them, not because I think Lancelot is straight, don't get it twisted, just because I think he's a fucking virgin.

But certified pansexual manwhore Gwaine on the other hand, oh they definitely fucked. And it's a very similar situation to Lancelot, Merlin's only flirting technique is just to find some buff guy who's just saved his life and be like, 'oh my god what can I possibly do to repay you? Maybe you could come back to my place and I could tend to your wounds and then we could go down to the tavern, have a few drinks'.

And it works. Merlin literally used his job as apprentice physician to the Knights of the Round Table as his own personal Grindr, and i love that for him. But, of course, these are just side hoes to Merlin's main bitch, Arthur.

You can deny everything else that I've said, but you cannot deny that Merlin was in love with Arthur. And don't even try to say, 'but it's just because it was his destiny'. Because, yeah, like that's any less gay. They're two sides of the same coin, destined to be together, Merlin 'uses magic only for Arthur'. Come on.

Also, it's pretty clear that Merlin cares about Arthur more than he cares about his destiny, throughout the entire show. But it culminates in this scene in series five where, because of very contrived plot reasons, Arthur has to choose between legalizing magic and saving the life of Mordred. And Merlin convinces Arthur not to legalise magic so that he will let Mordred die. He literally enables the genocide of his own people and condemns himself to a lifetime of suffering just on the off chance that he can spend a bit more time with Arthur.

And if that isn't heartbreaking enough, of course, every action that Merlin makes only confirms Arthur's fate. And after he very platonically dies in Merlin's arms, as dudebros do, what does Merlin do? does he go back to Camelot and live a full happy heterosexual life? Of course not. No, he spends the next one and a half thousand years just waiting at Arthur's resting place, waiting for the day that Arthur will be resurrected and they can be together again. What the fuck kind of Greek tragedy, Achilles and Patroclus level shit is that? That is fucking gay.

[polinluv]

i know almost everyone is annoyed with eloise rn with that clip but 😭 good heavens claudia jessie is such a great actress. the way she stares in disbelief and pain and then the way her voice breaks when she compares debling with colin 😭

i know she is in the wrong rn but she is so in pain and probably feeling SO betrayed. also fearing for her brothers reaction and feelings and probably worrying about pen at the same time 😭

i just love how claudia is portraying all of that in only a few seconds 🥺 i really need them to resolve this and be my happy peneloise again 😭😭😭😭

[its-time-to-write]

I love your writing! Can I request a Jamie tartt x reader where the reader is a famous actor or musician and it’s like the team meeting them or the media finding out? Thank you!!

I loved this! Thanks for requesting!

you know, you’ll always know me

“Jamie Tartt has been spotted around Manchester with lead singer and songwriter from band Room 17,” Isaac reads aloud. He snaps the paper shut and looks at Jamie. “Oi, when did you have time to go to Manchester?”

Jamie shrugs. “I dunno, mate, two nights ago?”

There’s a clamor of disbelief from the team throughout the locker room. 

Colin’s voice cuts through the din. “Mate, that’s a four-hour drive. You drove eight hours to hookup with a famous singer?”

Jamie grins. “No.”

Isaac: “Elaborate.”

Jamie replies, “Nope,” popping the “p” sound at the end. 

The boys chorus, “Aye, c’mon man, what the fuck,” right as Ted and Beard walk in. 

“What’s all the hubbub?” Ted asks. “Usually that level of resignation is reserved for one of my many, specially-tailored puns.”

“Jamie hooked up with someone famous,” Sam answers. 

Beard looks at Jamie. “Saw the papers. You’re way out of her league.”

Jamie puts his hands up. “That’s not what she said Tuesday night.”

“So you did hook up with her!” 

“Look-” Jamie replies, “she said I ain’t allowed to talk about it in the locker room and I ain’t allowed to tell just anybody. She likes things private and I don’t blame her because you lot are a load of animals.”

Ted makes a mock offended face while Beard shrugs like yeah, that’s true.

Will looks up, thoughtful expression on his face. “Jamie, she said no locker room talk?”

Jamie says, “Yeah, why?”

“I mean, we could just, I dunno, go… somewhere else?”

“Will, you fucking genius,” Colin says, and Isaac gets up to go shake Will’s hand while saying, “Everyone, boot room, now!”

Less than a minute later, everyone is crowded into the boot room. Including Trent, Rebecca, and Higgins, who are never ones to miss a good story. Roy is the only one not present, with a short “fuck off!” at Ted’s extended invitation. 

They’re all huddled around Jamie, whispering quietly amongst themselves until Isaac holds up a hand. 

“Alright! Jamie’s going to tell us how he managed to pull the lead singer from Room 17, and then he’s going to apologize to,” Isaac checks a note on his phone and reads, “Dani, Sam, Richard, and Jan Maas because he knew they had a crush on her, and then to Colin because that’s his favorite band and you didn’t say shit to him.”

“Eh? That ain’t fair! We all had equal opportunity, I’m just the only one who took it,” Jamie replies indignantly. 

There’s a “WHAT,” in unison from at least half the team followed by more clamoring. 

“Oi, oi!” Jamie says. “Pipe down, and I’ll tell ya.

It was when we went to that club last month. I was gettin’ drinks for me and Dani, and there was this absolutely gorgeous girl sitting at the bar, scribbling somethin’ on a napkin. I was gonna introduce meself, but right as I went to say hey, she stood up and knocked both drinks out of me hand. One got on me and the other got on her napkin and I said ‘sorry about your napkin,’ and she said ‘nah it’s shit anyway. Sorry about your shirt,’ so I said, ‘it looks better on the floor.’ Guess she liked that, ‘cause that’s where it ended up.”

“That was a month ago, Jamie,” Sam interjects. “How did you end up in the papers this morning?”

Jamie grins and sticks out his tongue. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Isaac smacks the back of his head and Jamie yelps. “Ok, ok, I’ll tell ya!”

The team crowds closer. Rebecca is farther in the back, and she’s seemed strangely uninterested this whole time, typing on her phone. 

“So. Turns out, she’s fit and funny, and she starts telling me she writes her own songs. And she say it ain’t a big deal, just something she does for fun, and I say I play football and it is a big deal, but she already knew who I was. Anyway, didn’t figure out who she was till after I asked her on a proper date, and I guess she thought that was cute or some shit. We’ve been sneakin around ever since.” Here Jamie smiles angelically. “I am cute or some shit.”

Ted, Beard, and Trent nod in assent and just before the team can bombard Jamie with questions, his phone dings then rings. Rebecca finally looks up from her phone in the back as Jamie checks his. 

You’re calling him, so he makes a pipe down motion and answers.

“Hello Jamie Tartt,” you say. “What are you doing right now?”

“Hey babe!” he replies, team saying silent oohs and making kissy faces. “Not much, just with the lads. Did you see the papers?”

You laugh. “Yes, I saw the papers. I suppose it was only a matter of time before it got out, and I know I’m a little late to the party, but you can tell the team now.”

You can hear Jamie’s smile through the phone as he says, “Thanks babe. Y’know they’re like my family.”

Even though he can’t see you, you nod. “I do know. That’s why I’m not upset that you’re in the boot room right now and have already told them everything.”

Jamie is stunned into silence as the team whispers, “what did she say, what did she say?”

“You can put me on speaker,” you say.

Jamie does and then asks, “How the fuck did you know where I was and what I was doing? Are you psychic?”

Jamie looks up around the room and Rebecca of all people catches his eye and winks as you say, “Oh, well, Rebecca Welton and I have been close for ages. She started texted me the moment she heard you were going to the boot room. She’s known about you and me since the first night.”

The room erupts into “WHATs,” and “Holy shits,” while Jamie goes to speak again. 

“Babe,” he tries, but you can’t hear him above the noise. He pushes his way through the throng and out the boot room, Rebecca patting him on the shoulder as he goes past her. 

“Babe,” he says again, “you sure you ain’t mad?”

Now he can hear your smile through the phone. “Yes, I’m absolutely positive. You could have told them sooner. And I think it’s funny that you went to the boot room to talk about it. Rebecca says it smells worse than shit.”

Jamie sighs. “Good. Good, yeah. I’m glad.”

“Actually,” you continue, “this got me out of my writing slump. I’ve been writing like crazy every time you leave. Got half an album in the works already.”

“Fuckin mental.” Jamie shakes his head. He’s great at football, sure, but your musical talent is something else.

“Jamie?” you ask hesitantly. “I- you know I- I mean-”

He cuts you off mid sentence with, “I love you.”

You’re holding your phone with both hands now. “How did you know what I was going to say?”

Jamie shrugs, then remembers you can’t see it. “Just your voice, I guess. Didn’t want you to feel awkward about it. Know we haven’t said it yet, but I do. And now that it’s out, maybe you can come down to Richmond for a proper football game, meet the lads.“

“I’d like that,” you smile. “Oh shit- my food’s burning. I’ve gotta go. I love you!”

“Love you too,” he replies. He hands up, slides his phone back into his pocket, and turns to see the entire Richmond team crowded around the boot room door, faces pressed to the glass. Jamie rolls his eyes, flips them off, and walks away, laughing. You’re going to love them. 

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [23] - Peonies

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: Every marriage has its first argument.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of sex, slow burn.

Word Count: 3500

Series Masterlist

There had been multiple moments in your life where you actually saw red because of anger but this?

This was something else.

You more or less threw yourself out of the carriage the moment it came to a stop in front of the Bridgerton House, Lottie rushing after you as you started climbing the marble stairs.

“Y/N, this is exactly why I left because I was very angry as well,” she said in a haste, trying to keep up with your fast steps. “I think perhaps you should take a breath and calm down—”

“I don’t need to calm down,” you said through your teeth and she heaved a sigh.

“Judging by the look of your face I’d disagree.”

“What look is that?”

“Bloodshed?” Lottie said as you walked through the front door, then turned to her.

“Where is he?”

“Maybe you could—”

“Lottie,” you said. “Where is he?”

She licked her lips and took a look at the foyer you were standing in, then pointed at a closed door at the end of it.

“Tony’s study I think.”

“Wonderful,” you said as you made your way to the door, then slammed it open with such force that it hit the wall behind it, the chatter inside the room coming to a stop at once. Benedict was leaning against the desk but as soon as he saw you, a look of realization dawned on his face while Colin sat up straighter and Anthony stole a look at Benedict.

“Hello gentlemen,” you said, leaning sideways to the doorframe. “I’m not interrupting yet another life-and-death situation, am I?”

“…Uh oh,” Colin said, grinning slightly as he looked from you to Benedict. “You’re in more trouble now than a couple of hours ago Ben.”

“Leave the room,” you said and Colin downed his drink, then stood up, making Benedict frown.

“Colin!”

“I’m not putting witnessing manslaughter back in my plans today,” he called out as he walked past you and you snapped your fingers at Anthony.

“You too. Leave.”

“This is my study,” Anthony said, his voice full of disbelief and you opened your mouth to retort but before you could say anything, Lottie’s head popped around the doorframe.

“Tony?”

The look on Anthony’s face changed the moment he saw her. “Charlotte.”

“Could I have a moment with you?”

“No—”

“Yes,” Anthony cut Benedict off, making his eyes widen.

“Anthony, don’t you dare.”

“This is a marital dispute, I have no place here.”

“I risked my life for you earlier today, now is the perfect time to pay back that favor—”

“You’ll be fine,” Anthony said and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. You crossed your arms as you leaned back to the wall, your eyes narrowing into a death glare.

“Good morning Benedict.”

The eerie calmness of your voice seemed to make him shift his weight.

“Good morning,” he said. “How—how are you?”

You arched a brow, not even answering that.

“I almost forgot how murderous you can look when you want to—I was joking by the way,” he added, motioning at the door where Anthony had just left. “About risking my life earlier.”

“Oh,” you said, feigning cluelessness. “You weren’t at a duel then?”

“…I was.”

“So you were risking your life,” you pointed out and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“It actually depends on how you look at it—”

“I’m looking at it as your wife!” you snapped. “Have you gone insane? Is that it? Are you insane?”

“Anthony needed me.”

“Oh well,” you said, throwing up your hands. “Then that changes things.”

“Does it?”

“No!” you exclaimed. “What were you thinking?!”

“Well—”

“After I specifically asked you not to die? Hm?”

“In my defense—”

“You go off to a duel and not even bother to tell me about it?”

“Can I speak?”

“No!” you pointed at him. “No you cannot!”

He held up his hands, repressing a small smile.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll just stand here and wait for you to finish yelling at me then.”

“That’s the least you could do,” you shot back and he leaned back to the desk, crossing his arms. You shook your head, pacing in the room.

“I cannot believe you went off to a duel,” you said. “And kept it from me.”

“It wasn’t that dangerous.”

“If I’m not here tomorrow morning,” you mimicked his deep voice. “You knew exactly how dangerous it was.”

“Everyone is alright, me included.”

“For now,” you growled. “May I remind you that I have a knife that you gifted me? Has that escaped your notice while you were so ready to die in a duel?”

“Well it would kind of go against the idea if you threatened me with a knife because you are worried about my wellbeing.”

“I didn’t say I was worried about your wellbeing,” you defended yourself almost immediately and Benedict bit back a smile.

“No,” he said, trying to keep a straight face. “Obviously not. I don’t know what made me think that.”

“You should have told me,” you insisted and he heaved a sigh.

“You would have told me to stay.”

“Of course I would have!”

“That’s why I couldn’t tell you,” he said. “Y/N, if you told me to stay…”

A silence fell upon you, your heart skipping a beat at the implication but you tried to focus.

“I could’ve been your second.”

“Seconds don’t have seconds.”

“Well this time they’d have to make an exception because I don’t want to risk my life for goddamn Anthony of all people!”

“But you’d risk it for me?” he asked with a knowing smile and you pulled back slightly, then scoffed.

“I don’t have to answer any of your questions,” you said in a haste, shrugging your shoulders. “That, and—and I take my apology from earlier back.”

He blinked a couple of times. “Why?”

“I’m not going to waste my apologies if you’re going to end up dead in a ditch!” you snapped and motioned at him. “I’m going home, try not to die will you?”

“Y/N…”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you said and pulled the door open, then turned to him when he took a step. “No. Don’t come after me.”

With that, you left the room and passed by the foyer, then walked out of the house to approach the carriage by the stone road.

“Where to ma’am?”

“Back home,” you said as you got in the carriage. “Thank you.”

                                                  *

You made yourself busy for the whole day until the evening, and apparently Benedict had decided to give you your space to at least calm down a little. You weren’t in the mood to have dinner, so you retrieved to your bedroom to lose yourself in a botany book and you managed to do so until a knock on the door made you lift your head from the book.

“Yes?”

The door opened and Benedict peeked his head in, making you narrow your eyes.

“May I come in?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “If you must.”

He stepped inside, the bouquet of tuberoses in his arms capturing your attention in a second but you managed to control your expression, raising your brows.

“For you,” he said, approaching the bed to give you the bouquet and you took it from him, reminding yourself that you were still angry at him.

“Thank you,” you said. “I can put them on your grave if you end up dead like you’re trying to.”

“…And I’m sorry?”

“Your apology is heard but not accepted,” you said, putting the bouquet in your lap, enjoying the lovely scent as you grabbed your book again and Benedict rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight.

“If it makes you feel any better I am already being punished by the universe.”

You lifted your eyes from the page again. “Hm?”

“You will not believe what happened,” Benedict said. “And it will come as a shock—”

“Even more of a shock than you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Let’s just take that off the table for a moment because trust me, you want to hear this,” Benedict said. “Anthony and Charlie—”

“Are in love.”

“Are in lo—wait what?” he asked, his jaw dropping as you turned the page absentmindedly. “Did you know?”

“Yes.”

“You knew and you didn’t tell me?”

“Could’ve been worse,” you said, fixing your gaze on the page. “I could have gone off to a duel and not tell you.”

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Are you going to live is the better question here.”

“Y/N.”

“Benedict,” you said with the same tone and he let out a breath.

“How long have you known?” he insisted. “Anthony says he’s been in love with her for years! And he didn’t tell me, and Charlie didn’t tell me and she tells me everything and now my wife—”

“Whom you almost left as a widow.”

“Has kept it from me?” he finished his question as if you hadn’t interrupted him while you hummed, still playing with the petals of the bouquet.

“I’m not to blame if you and all your family are blind,” you said. “It’s not like they were being subtle.”

“They were!” he said. “And—I don’t know how I feel about this. A bit betrayed to be honest.”

“Wonderful, we can form a club together,” you stated. “Like gardening. Only with more backstabbing, which you’re quite familiar with.”

“Anthony and Charlie though?” he asked, shaking his head as he started pacing in the room. “Why would they not tell me?”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to criticize people not sharing things with you.”

“One of them is my best friend, the other one is my brother,” he insisted, then made a face. “Oh God, it just feels wrong. She’s like a sister to me.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Not a sister to Anthony though.”

“Y/N!”

“Am I lying?” you asked and he ran a hand over his face.

“They wouldn’t get married, would they?”

“Of course not,” you deadpanned. “Because who would want to get married after loving someone for years and keeping it a secret, believing it’s impossible only to finally find out they return those feelings?”

“I think I need a moment,” he said as he sat down on the side of the bed while you raised your brows. “So all these years he has loved her but thought me and her would end up married?”

“Oh don’t worry,” you mused. “I have a feeling they’ll make up for the lost time once they—”

He recoiled, grimacing. “Please don’t finish that sentence.”

“I will finish whatever sentence I want because I’m angry at you,” you hissed through your teeth, leaning in to stress your words, “And you can sit there and think about how your brother and your best friend are going to get married and consummate soon enough, day and night!”

He let out a noise of disgust and you ignored him, returning back to your book, playing with the bouquet in your lap nonchalantly. He stole a look at you, and licked his lips.

“Y/N?”

You raised your glances to shoot him a glare and he took a deep breath.

“Do you want to go to a party tonight?”

“No.”

“We could go see that new garden tomorrow if you—”

“No.”

“Or maybe we could go to this knife shop—”

“No,” you said, looking up from the book again. “I don’t want it.”

His eyes searched yours. “I know you’re angry but I assure you, I wasn’t in that big of a danger.”

You scoffed a bitter laugh. “That would’ve been very convincing if someone from my family didn’t actually get killed in a duel years and years ago so whatever lie you’re selling, I’m not buying it.”

He pulled back slightly. “Who?”

“Does it matter?” you asked back and he swallowed thickly.

“I didn’t know.”

“No you didn’t,” you muttered, turning a page and Benedict ran a hand through his hair.

“Can we—”

“Thank you for the flowers Benedict,” you cut him off, that familiar burning behind your eyes coming back so you quickly blinked back the tears, keeping your gaze on the page. “But I think I’d like to be alone now.”

“…Of course,” he said after a beat and stood up to walk to the door connecting your room with his. “Goodnight.”

You didn’t reply, still looking at the page without even paying attention to the words printed on it, and Benedict left the room, closing the door behind him. You let out a breath, ignoring the way your eyes were still burning with tears and hugged the flower bouquet tighter to bury your face into it, inhaling the pleasant scent.

                                                      *

The next morning you decided to go outside, not only to meet Lottie but also to congratulate Daphne on her engagement. Josie had sent a reply to your letter, saying she and Bess and Andrew would join you in the park later on, and it gave you enough time to get the details from Daphne.

Although, something told you she was holding back a couple of details from you since Lottie was there.

“And mama is taking me to the modiste tomorrow—enough about me, I cannot believe you didn’t tell me that you had feelings for Anthony!” Daphne told Lottie and she gave her a shy smile.

“I honestly didn’t think Tony would ever return my feelings.”

“We’ve been blind all these years, thinking you would marry Benedict…” Daphne said and stole a look at you. “No offense, Y/N.”

“None taken,” you said. “Perhaps if Lottie married Benedict, he would have thought twice before going to a duel.”

“Oh don’t say that!” Daphne said and heaved a sigh. “I tried to stop them, I swear.”

“And you did,” Lottie said. “I don’t blame you at all Daph.”

“Mm hm, I’m blaming a specific someone who’s not you Daphne.”

“And I don’t know if I should say it but I’m kind of glad that duel almost happened,” Lottie said, making you and Daphne turn to shoot her a look of disbelief. “No I mean—obviously I’m still angry at Tony about it and I’m glad no one got hurt, but now albeit some complications along the way, Daphne is marrying the love of her life and I’m in a courtship with the love of my life which I thought was impossible! All’s well that ends well, as they say.”

“That’s one way to look at it I suppose,” you muttered and Daphne pressed her lips together.

“Yes, exactly.”

“Love is the most beautiful thing in the world.”

“Or the most annoying,” you pointed out, making Daphne pull her brows together. “Because one moment someone says he loves you and the next minute he rushes off to a duel, very eager to leave you a widow.”

Daphne and Lottie exchanged glances.

“Y/N, is everything alright between you and Benedict?”

“Sure,” you deadpanned. “What makes you think otherwise?”

“Um—”

“You know what?” you said. “I’m thirsty, I’ll just go and get a lemonade from the vendor. Do you two want anything?”

“No thank you.”

“No I’m fine,” they both said and you got up from where you were sitting under the tree, then made your way through the park to approach the vendor’s cart and got in the line. After only a couple of minutes, it was your turn and you ordered a bottle of lemonade, but before you could take out some coins out of your reticule, you heard a familiar voice beside you.

“Hello Y/N,” Anthony said as he handed the coins to the vendor, then took the bottle from him and held it out for you. “Lovely to see you here.”

You gritted your teeth and eyed the bottle in his hand. “I can’t say I share the sentiment.”

“A word?” he asked and you grumbled under your breath, then took the bottle from him and started walking beside him.

“Is Benedict around?”

“How should I know?” you asked back and he pulled his brows together.

“You two live in the same house.”

“It’s a big house,” you pointed out and he raised his brows, nodding his head.

“I take it things are still not completely alright between you two?”

“Anthony, you know I love nothing more than talk to you about my marriage,” you snarked. “That being said, let’s not this time hm?”

“Well, you did kick my door down the other day.”

“You almost got my husband killed,” you replied, looking down at the lemonade bottle before shrugging your shoulders. “Perhaps it’s not a good idea to point fingers here.”

“Simon is an honorable man and the duel was going to be just us, his second wouldn’t have fired a shot at—”

“You seem to confuse me with someone who wants explanations from you.”

He heaved a sigh. “Y/N.”

“What?”

“I wouldn’t put him in danger.”

“Clearly,” you said. “That’s why you made him your second at a duel. Only logical action to take when you want to keep somebody safe.”

“Are you able to hold an actual conversation without any sarcasm?”

“No,” you said with as much sarcasm as you could have in one word and he shot you a look.

“I wouldn’t have taken him there if I thought for one moment he’d be the one to get hurt instead of me.”

“Do you want me to tell you how a duel works, Anthony?” you growled at him. “Stray bullet, ambush, someone’s aiming being less than perfect…”

“And none of those happened.”

“Because Daphne stopped you,” you spat. “Not because of you or Simon thinking logically for a second. It’s thanks to Daphne.”

“I know that,” he said. “But Benedict is alright.”

“By luck,” you shot back and he took a deep breath.

“If you’re being like this because you worry about your situation in case of his death, he has you covered.”

Your head shot up, anger slowly spreading through your system as your jaw locked in its place.

“I beg your pardon?”

“He put it on your marriage settlement and his will before you two got married, you get everything in case of his death,” he said. “You’d be taken care of even if you became a widow, not to mention you have my family’s su—”

“You know,” you cut him off. “I leave every conversation with you completely convinced that I can’t like you any less, and every single time you somehow exceed my expectations.”

He shot you a look. “No one would blame you if it crossed your mind, Y/N.”

From a completely objective stance, he had a point there, what your financial situation along with your status would be if you were a widow was something you and every married woman in the ton were expected to worry about.

But somehow, you couldn’t even bring yourself to think about that, not when that scenario included Benedict’s death—

The pang in your chest was so sudden that it had you ball your hand into a fist, trying to focus on the reality.

“You think I care about money?” you asked him and he heaved a sigh.

“I think anyone in the ton would want to make sure they were safe,” he said. “It doesn’t make you a bad person if you are worried about that.”

A bitter laugh climbed up your throat and you shook your head slightly.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve looked into my family before Benedict and I got married,” you said. “So I shouldn’t have to tell you that the difference between everyone else in the ton and I is that I know how to survive without all this money and status and luxury just fine, I grew up without any of it.”

“That was before,” he pointed out and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Either way, that was never my priority no matter what you or anyone else thinks of me,” you pointed out. “Even before I got engaged, the only promise I was interested in when it came to marriage was that I would eventually be left alone.”

He tilted his head. “And yet, you are way too angry about this situation to enjoy the promise of being left alone.”

“Plans change.”

“I can see that,” he said and you swallowed thickly, biting at your tongue, trying to focus.

“You wanted to have a conversation without any sarcasm did you not?” you asked, locking eyes with him. “Here it is. The next time you put my family in danger, I will make sure you wish you died in that duel and even Lottie won’t be able to save you. Have I made myself clear?”

He looked almost impressed, a small, proud smile curling his lips before he bowed his head.

“Crystal.”

“Good,” you said and took a sip of your lemonade. “Well, I’d better go before the girls wonder where I am. Congratulations on your courtship by the way, don’t mess it up.”

With that you shot him a forced smile and whirled on your heels, then walked away from him, leaving him there quite dumbfounded.

Chapter 24

[moments-on-film]

The door closed softly, mere feet away but tonight, somehow an ocean apart. She sat on their bed, tired, and confused. She looked at his pillow on his side of the bed which would remain unslept on tonight. In the sitting room he sat on the settee in disbelief. Upright, alert, and with red rimmed eyes full of unshed tears.

They had quarrelled, the kind of quarrel where parts get revealed that are rarely seen. Parts that remain hidden, unless provoked— leap to the surface with such urgency and truth they cannot be denied.

It was late. The ticking of the mantle clock and ever present reminder. Had it ever been this quiet? They were both exhausted. He listened intently until her heard her get into bed and blow out the candle. His worry for her wellbeing was consuming him. He truly hoped she would be able to fall asleep.

Sleep, however, would not find him tonight. Worry burned in his chest. As much as she may protest, he promised himself he would look after her. The urge to protect her and keep her safe so overwhelmed him that he pushed the settee back several inches to be closer to the door, closer to her. She may be upset, but he would ensure nothing, not one thing, would be able to get close enough to hurt her. Not tonight. Not ever.

Shortly after the clock struck 1, he heard the unmistakable sound of the coverlet, starched and heavy, shifting on the bed in the room. He could swear he heard her call his name. He froze and turned his head to the door and listened with held breath. The sound of soft cries sent a chill through his spine. She was crying. He had seen her upset but never heard the sounds of her crying before. His stomach dropped. The sounds moved the very ground beneath him. “Colin…Colin…COLin.” She choked out his name in a strangled whimper and in 2 quick strides he had flung open the door and rushed to her side.

She was having a terrible nightmare. The bedding wrapped around her body and her tangled hair splayed out on the pillow. The light from the moon cast a white triangular shaped glow on the bed, which only served to highlight her tear stained face and pained expression. He sat on the bed ever so gently and picked up her hand and held it in his. “Pen, shhhhh, Pen, Pen, I’m here. I’m here now”, he whispered softly.

They may have gone to bed upset but all of that had vanished the instant he realized she was in pain and he felt his heart break seeing her in such distress. It pained him beyond belief.

Again she thrashed and moaned and whimpers escapes her lips. “Shhhhh, shhhh, shhh. It’s alright my darling, it’s alright.” Colin steadied her with the lightest touch on both her shoulders and gently shook her.

“Shhh, my love. It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. Wake up now—-I’m here. Follow my voice back to me, my love.”

She fluttered her eyes open and choked out a sob. “Colin, oh Colin..”

He leaned down to her face, gently picked up and held her, rocking her in his arms.

“I’m here. Colin’s here. It’s alright my love, you are alright. Shhh shh shhh”, he murmured softly into her hair.

She held onto him tightly and cried. He kissed her hair and rubbed in slow motions up and down her back, shushing her and whispering soothing words in a low voice and rocking her gently. They stayed like this, covered in starry moonlight, for several minutes as she cried, while he used his body, his hands, and his voice to comfort her and help calm her down.

Her choked sobs wrenched at Colin’s heart. Worried tears filled his eyes. His brow set in a tight grimace as clucks escaped his lips every time their bodies both swayed with a new wave of cries. “You are being so nice to me”, she cried. “I know you are mad and yet you are being so nice to me.”

“Shhhh my darling. Hush now. I’m not mad at you. Not now. Not ever. You had a nightmare. I’m here to look after you. I told you..I will always look after you—no matter what.”

This set off a fresh wave of tears.

“CoLin…”

“Oh Penelope, oh, my most precious angel. Whatever could have happened to pain you in this way?”

“I cannot tell you”, she sobbed.

He pulled back so he could see her face. He pulled a handkerchief out of his waistcoat and wiped and patted away her tears and under her nose. Then he held her face in both hands.

“Yes, you can, my love. You can tell me and you can give it to me to share with you. You’re not alone. I am here. Your pain is my pain. Please, Pen, whatever it is, let me help you. Let me bear it with you.”

[bosbas]

Chapter 10: even my daddy just loves him

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 3.5k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, small part of the dialogue in French, period- and class-typical views about the economy, idiots in love being idiots in love, heavy on the idiots, heavy on the in love

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: the first TTPD chapter title :,) also no interaction between reader and colin in this one IM SORRY it'll come soon i promise

June 23, 1816 – In the wake of yesterday's lackluster ball, one can't help but lament the dreary fashion choices on display, particularly the Featheringtons' blinding ensembles in shades of yellow. Sadly, the absence of Lady Y/N Montclair was acutely felt, as her impeccable gowns and Parisian flair were sorely missed. However, tonight at the Ashbury ball proves a wonderful opportunity for her to dazzle us with her sense of style.

“Well, don't you look gorgeous tonight,” gushed Eloise upon seeing you, kissing your cheeks in greeting. 

Your heart soared, delighted that your best friend had taken to your French customs so easily. 

“I didn’t particularly have a choice after Whistledown’s column today,” you joked, smoothing out your skirts. 

Of course, it was flattering to have the ton’s most trusted source speak about you in such a positive manner, but at times it did build a fair amount of undue pressure. Though you supposed you preferred feeling pressure to dress well over pressure to marry someone as you had with Lord Barlow.

“Either way, you look stunning. I’ve caught more than a few gentlemen staring at you already. You’d think they would have been able to pick up their jaws off the floor by now,” Eloise teased, linking arms with you, and leading you toward the far end of the ballroom. 

You politely covered your laugh with your hand, shaking your head as you assessed who was present at the ball today. More accurately, you were assessing whether Colin Bridgerton was present. 

It had been two weeks since you’d even seen him, and you were exerting more mental energy than you cared to admit pretending that you were unbothered. You supposed you couldn’t blame him. You were the one who had asked him not to speak with you anymore, and he’d listened to you better than you could have hoped. 

Secretly, you’d been hoping he would still have shown up and tried to talk to you. It was an absurd desire, you knew, but you couldn’t help it. Apart from balls like these where all you did was speak with Eloise, you had to admit that arguing with Colin was the most fun you’d had in England, and perhaps everywhere else, too. 

You hated him, you reminded yourself. And he hated you, too. Worse, actually. He had no respect for you. Or any woman in general. Which only brought you back to the shameful burning at the top of your ears every time you searched for him in a crowd.  

But you were only human. And there were times when you couldn’t help but give in to your self-sabotaging. “Is the rest of your family in attendance tonight?” you asked Eloise, trying to seem casual and uninterested. 

“Anthony and Kate are,” she responded brightly. “Benedict was able to weasel his way out of this one, I’m afraid. But it’s all for the better. He was being quite irritating at dinner last night.”

You turned to her, eyebrows raised. “I assumed you’d stay home if Benedict stayed home, too. I thought you hated these things.”

“Oh, not at all! Now that you aren’t being swarmed by suitors at every moment and I have you somewhat to myself, the balls are far more enjoyable.”

Shaking your head at her fondly, you laughed in disbelief. She was truly the only reason you hadn’t gone completely mad these past two weeks. 

Lady Whistledown, whoever she was, had proven to be quite perceptive. As she had reported, you effectively had laid your parents’ dreams of marrying you off to an Englishman to rest. You’d only told Pen and Eloise about your disillusionment, but you supposed it was rather obvious to everyone else given that you barely danced with anyone anymore. 

You looked through the crowd once again searching for the face you knew would not be there, and you felt your gut twist, but you couldn’t quite tell if it was in relief or disappointment. 

“And what about Colin?” you asked, internally cringing at not being able to help yourself. “Has he left the country again?”

Eloise looked at you carefully, noting your barely hidden grimace and shifting eyes. She would’ve laughed at how obviously painful the question was for you if she didn’t completely understand what was happening. Eloise still had no idea why you hated Colin in the first place, but she could tell that it was tearing you up inside anyway.

“No, he’s still at home, believe it or not. He just doesn’t particularly enjoy these kinds of events anymore, I suppose. It must be the ambitious mamas wanting to auction him off to their daughters,” Eloise finally responded, trying to keep her tone light. 

Although that wasn’t the whole truth, Eloise couldn’t just come out and tell you that her brother was completely in love with you and that you had broken his heart enough that he had no desire to come to ton events anymore. It would have been unusually cruel for her to do so.

Besides, she could tell you had been feeling the same way. The only difference was that your parents were not as forgiving as Violet Bridgerton, and you had to come to most balls whether you wanted to or not.

“Oh, that’s a shame, I guess,” you said, not particularly knowing how to respond. In a pathetic attempt to make it seem like you truly were unbothered, you added, “It’s rather nice when he isn’t here, though, isn’t it?”

Eloise stared at you suspiciously. Though she always thought it easier to stay away from your conflict with Colin, the curiosity was killing her. And she could only go so long before she went insane trying to figure it out.

“Why do the two of you hate each other so much, anyway?” she asked, hoping her disinterested tone would make you more likely to open up.  

No one seemed to know why you hated Colin. You weren’t particularly forthcoming with the information, but Eloise could sense that it wasn’t something trivial. Having grown to know you fairly well over your time in England, Eloise was still perplexed by this specific detail. 

Next to Eloise, you were tactfully avoiding eye contact and staring intently at the floor in front of you. You couldn’t tell her. You simply couldn’t. It wasn’t that you were worried about your reputation. You knew Eloise well enough to know that she wouldn’t spread rumors that would sully your image. 

But if you told her the truth, she’d be heartbroken. If someone were to tell you that they hated one of your brothers for the same reason you hated Colin, you would crumble. You were incredibly close with them, and knowing that they thought of women that way would crush you. And you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same to Eloise. 

Luckily, some man you’d never spoken to before asked you for a dance right at that moment. He had barely finished speaking before you placed your hand on his elbow and rushed him to the ballroom. Dancing with someone was far easier than having to figure out what you were going to say to Eloise. 

Eloise stared silently as you were whisked away to dance. She let out a small laugh in disbelief, amazed that her question had been what finally propelled you to start dancing at balls again. 

But her work tonight was not done. Shaking her head, Eloise looked around the ballroom, looking for your brother. Unsurprisingly, he was by the refreshments. 

“Hello, Louis,” greeted the Bridgerton. “I believe you might have some information that would be of interest to me.”

“I do?” asked Louis, confused. 

Eloise nodded over to where you were dancing and smiling politely and turned back to your brother with an expectant look. 

“Oh,” said Louis, catching onto what your friend was saying. “I don’t, unfortunately.”

“Are you serious?” she responded, exasperated. “She would rather dance with that…man than tell me why she hates Colin!”

Louis shot her a sympathetic look. “She won’t tell me either. But she’s never been this upset over someone, so I wager it must have been something serious.”

“Colin doesn’t even know! And he only hates her because she hated him first! It’s terribly unreasonable.” 

Having overheard the conversation about you and Colin from a few paces away, Carlos quickly joined Eloise and Louis with a knowing smile. He considered himself to be somewhat of an expert when it came to matters of the heart, having found a true love match after falling completely head over heels for your sister.

“Yes, but Colin is completely in love with Y/N,” he said. “So, I suppose he doesn’t hate her that much.”

“We know,” responded Eloise dejectedly. “That’s why I need to know why she hates him.”

“Excuse me, we? We know?” scoffed Louis. “I most certainly did not know this. What do you mean Colin loves Y/N? I should think that I would know if someone was in love with my little sister.”

Eloise looked at him, unimpressed. “I fear you only have yourself to blame, then. Colin came to every single event on the social calendar until your sister told him to stop talking to her, and he hasn’t come to another one since. Why exactly did you think that was?”

“I don’t know! I suppose I thought… I don’t know what I thought! But it doesn’t matter. He does not love her, Eloise. I know because Y/N is the exact same with Colin as he is with her.”

This time Carlos looked at Louis in disbelief. “Yes, Louis. Precisely,” he spoke slowly, nodding to make sure your brother understood.

Louis furrowed his eyebrows, eyes widening as he came to grips with the realization. “What do you mean? Does this mean that…”

“Yes,” confirmed Carlos. “Y/N loves him too.”

“What? How did I miss this?”

---

Colin was standing in Anthony’s study, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he glared at his eldest brother. 

“I won’t go,” he said defiantly.

“You will, and you will be the perfect gentleman while you’re there.”

“Why do I even need to be there? It’s not like I know what I’m doing when I hunt, anyway,” Colin huffed, uncrossing his arms and fiddling with a quill on Anthony’s desk.

Watching his brother, Anthony sighed, exasperated. “Because it would be impossibly rude not to go. And the Bridgertons, especially Colin Bridgerton, if I recall correctly, are never impossibly rude.”

Colin groaned. “It’s one hunt without me! Please-”

“Y/N won’t be there if that’s what you’re worried about. She and Eloise went to the modiste and won’t be back until later.”

“But what if-”

“She won’t be there,” assured Anthony firmly. He had an inkling about why the Montclairs had suddenly invited the Bridgerton brothers on a hunting outing, and he was not about to let Colin ruin what were most likely some very well-laid-out plans.

Colin blinked and licked his lips, still considering whether being rude to your family was worth the risk of running into you. Resigned, he sighed and turned away from his brother.

“Very well. But this is the only time I’m doing it. I’m not particularly eager to have a run-in with the woman who wishes I didn’t even exist.”

Not seeing you for two weeks had proven to be an extraordinarily difficult challenge. But it was better than having to look at your face and know that he would never be in your good graces. You wanted nothing to do with him, and it was more than he could take. 

Even though Colin had relatively successfully convinced himself that the only reason he was upset at your rejection was because he wanted to maintain his status as the best-liked member of the ton, he’d still barely been able to get out of bed since he’d last seen you. His heart ached too much when he thought of seeing you at any events. Yet it also ached when he thought of not seeing you. So he was confined to his chambers night after night, pacing as he thought of you laughing with someone else while he sat in agony at home.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. She can’t hate you that much,” said Anthony, rolling his eyes as he patted his brother on the back, leading him out of his study.

“You’d be surprised,” muttered Colin lowly.

---

“Frères, il nous faut causer,” announced Louis upon entering the mudroom (Brothers, we need to talk).

Seeing Edward preparing for the afternoon’s upcoming hunt alongside Philippe and Jacques, Louis cleared his throat and tried again. 

“Brothers, we must have a chat. And Edward too, I suppose.”

Philippe and Jacques looked up at their younger brother in surprise.

“A chat about what, pray tell,” asked Jacques, fiddling with his hunting boots as he placed them on his feet.

“It has come to my attention that our dearest sister Y/N might be in love with Colin Bridgerton. I thought it best to discuss the matter between us before we go out and hunt with him.”

Philippe shot his youngest brother an amused look. “Well, yes, Louis. That’s why we’re having this hunting trip.”

Louis’ face contorted into an expression that was a funny mixture of disbelief and annoyance. He most certainly did not like to be the only one out of his siblings who didn’t know something. “How does everyone know this except for me? Am I truly that clueless?”

Laughing, Jacques clapped his younger brother on the back. “I suppose it’s a certain sensibility that comes once you’re married, Louis. Don’t feel too badly about it.”

“A sensibility that comes from your wife telling you that the man is obviously in love with Y/N, is what you mean, Jacques,” Philippe quipped, looking even more amused. 

“I would’ve been able to tell!” argued Jacques. “If Chiara hadn’t told me within five minutes, I could’ve figured it out. Probably. In a few days. Who cares! We still have an advantage over Louis because we’re married, and our wives are more attuned to those things than we are.”

“Carlos was the one who told me, actually,” commented Edward. “Charlotte would have been the one to do it, but she thought it was so obvious that it wasn’t worth mentioning. I doubt I would have been able to tell on my own, anyway.” 

Louis laughed, not feeling so bad about how oblivious he was anymore. “I suppose you’re right. But I still want to be included in the scheming! How is our little hunting trip going to help Colin and Y/N come to their senses?”

Philippe sighed deeply, and Louis got the impression that he had aged about ten years in the making of this plan. “Y/N has been spectacularly miserable these past couple of weeks. That is certainly no secret. And as much as it is not in my nature to meddle in her affairs, I don’t take any joy in seeing her like this.”

Jacques nodded in agreement. “Especially after what Nigel Berbrooke said to her, we think it would be nice for her to get a love match. Something that has been made much easier by the fact that she is already in love, even if she doesn’t know it.”

Although it had been two weeks since you’d told the rest of your siblings what Mr. Berbooke had said, Louis still felt a surge of anger rise in him when he remembered his words. “He’s worse than Barlow, that one.”

“I was at Eton with Berbrooke, and I assure you it was torture,” agreed Edward, crinkling his nose as he recalled his younger years alongside Nigel. 

Sending his brother-in-law a sympathetic look, Louis continued, “That still doesn’t solve the main problem. Even if Y/N does love Colin, she still absolutely hates him. Despises him, actually.”

“Actually, the main problem is that Father wants his daughters to marry a title and a fortune. No offense, Edward.”

But Edward, ever agreeable, waved Philippe’s apology away. “Not at all. It was an advantageous match for me, too. I’m just lucky we grew to love each other. But I do recall your father being quite insistent that she marry nobility.”

“Precisely,” agreed Jacques. “I’ll wager that Y/N will realize she loves Colin quicker than Father will come around to the idea of her marrying for love.”

Louis hummed thoughtfully. “But what if it goes wrong? What if Father hates Colin, and this hunting trip only makes it more difficult for him and Y/N?”

“Not a chance.”

“Absolutely not.”

“That won’t happen.”

Louis just stared at the three men in front of him, looking entirely unconvinced. “How can all three of you be so sure?”

“Because it’s Colin Bridgerton!” said Edward. “Everybody likes Colin. He’s the ton favorite.”

“Y/N doesn’t like him,” argued Louis, still unsure about how effective the plan would be. 

“But she loves him, so that’s different,” said Philippe, smiling brightly. “Don’t worry, Louis. Father will surely like him and it’ll be a step in the right direction. Now, are you ready? I believe the Bridgertons should be arriving shortly.”

---

All in all, Colin was having a lovely time this afternoon. As Anthony had assured, you were at the modiste when he arrived at your home, and he was barely there long enough to spend time looking for any trace of you. It was just as well because he feared what would have happened if he did find anything that reminded you of him.

Hunting, and specifically shooting, was not Colin’s greatest strength. As a result, he’d been mostly hanging toward the back of the group, chatting pleasantly with Edward, who didn’t seem to be very enthusiastic about hunting either.

That is until your father started talking about his travels. Truly, Colin’s biggest weakness was the opportunity to talk about his time abroad. That and you, he thought longingly. 

Colin jogged to catch up to your father, Anthony, and Jacques so he could join the conversation.

“You and Chiara are settled in Tuscany, then?” asked your father.

Jacques laughed. “More than settled, I think. Hello, Colin! Lovely afternoon out, isn’t it?” 

“Quite,” Colin agreed. “You would think it would make me a better shot, but I think this just proves I’m completely hopeless.”

Lord Montclair laughed, and Jacques felt an internal sense of pride as he saw their plan progressing. 

“My sons tell me you’ve traveled a lot,” said your father, turning his gaze to the younger Bridgerton. “Have your travels taken you to the Persian Gulf, perchance? I am contemplating investing in pearl diving there.”

“Indeed, I have,” confirmed Colin. “However, if you seek pearls, might I suggest Ceylon instead? I visited last year and witnessed firsthand the expanding pearl industry.”

“Really?” said Lord Montclair, immediately immersed in the conversation. “But wouldn’t the Persian Gulf offer the most promising returns?”

“It certainly would right now, but trust me, Ceylon holds vast untapped potential.” Colin was in his element. This was practically all he did, and he was glad it was proving useful, and interesting, for once. “The industry there is on the precipice of greatness. In five years' time, mark my words, it shall surpass all others. I've even noted down a particular lagoon in my journals that I think will be particularly successful, based on what the locals have said.”

Impressed, Lord Montclair arched an eyebrow in interest. “You have my attention, Colin. Shall we meet next week to explore this further? A partnership between us could prove quite lucrative.”

Colin’s eyes widened, momentarily taken aback by your father’s offer. “Absolutely, my Lord. It would be my pleasure.”

“Please, call me Philippe,” he replied, clapping Colin on the back. 

Turning to Jacques, your father spoke softly, “Je suppose qu'un titre n'est pas tout” (I suppose a title isn’t everything). 

—

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crushed 16

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, cheating, sleazy behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your next door neighbours hook up, bringing to surface deep-seated feelings.

Characters: Colin Shea, Jonathan Pine

Note: Surpreez!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like my dog loves belly rubs (that’s a lot). Take care. 💖

All dread washes away as you're swept up in the rush. The drive home quickly becomes a fleet, entangled scramble to the front door. Jonathan pushes you against the front door, crushing his lips to yours as you desperately search your bag for your keys.

“Please,” you rasp as you turn your head, “I can't–”

“Sorry, darling,” he pulls away breathlessly, “I can't help myself.”

“Just…” you can barely tell him to wait. Adrenaline courses through you, you really think it’s going to happen. This is real, someone really wants you.

You grasp your keys and pull them out, jingling them in victory as Jonathan steps back. You turn to shove them in the slot as his hand tickles up and down your back. A shiver rolls up your spine and radiates across your muscles. You open the door and he grabs it above your head, trailing you closely as you hurry inside.

You giggle, unable to withhold your brimming giddiness. You scurry to the stairs as he follows, tugging at you, touching you any chance he has, like a game of cat and mouse. You can’t get a few steps ahead before he’s on you again.

As you approach your door, he covers your hand with his. He takes the keys from you gently and unlocks the door himself. You look up at him as he nudges the door open, flush to your back as he urges you inside. You turn to face him as you enter, pulling him in by the lapels of his suit.

He stumbles with you, the keys hitting rhe floor in a jangle as he kicks the door shut right before he scoops you up. You squeak and let him, giving a little hop before wrapping your legs around him. Your lips lock onto each other again, your hands roving over his shoulders and around his head. Your fingers comb into his hair as you’re desperate for more. More of him. All of him.

He staggers against the wall, shielding you with his arm around you. He crushes you against the platter as he moans into your mouth. A fire scourges over you. Not just your own need, but his. You can feel how much he wants you. A wholly intoxicating sensation you’ve never known before.

He parts, leaning his forehead against yours, breathless as his blue colour your existence.

“Darling,” he keeps you aloft as he nuzzles your nose with his, “shall I go on?”

You bite your lip and nod, drawing him back to you with a hum. He chuckles as your mouths meet once more. He moves you away from the wall, continuing his slow but deliberate advance into your apartment.

He carries you blindly with him, grunting as his leg hits the end table, jostling you as he angles around, entwined in you fully. He sidles along the couch and lowers you onto the cushions. You land with a gasp, pulling back from him again.

You gaze up at him as he holds himself over you. You keep your legs around him, your hands feeling the tension in his neck. In that moment it's as if you're both trapped in the same cloud of disbelief. You flutter your lashes and look away shyly, the words crawling from your throat without permission.

“I never…” you swallow as your cheeks burn, “oh, gosh, I'm sorry, but I've never…” you rolls your eyes back against your embarrassed tears and laugh at yourself, “Jonathan…” you murmur, unable to force the confession out.

“I don't mind if you don't,” he slides his arm under your neck, holding himself up on his elbow as he tilts his body over yours, “we don't… tell me if it's too much, fawn, I will hear you.”

You flick your hot eyes and look at him. His irises blaze as he admires you, his fingers tracing along your cheek. He leans in, his breath dancing on your lips, “I am in no hurry,” he assures you before closing the distance.

You dissolve into him as he coaxes you easily. His hand tickles along your throat, thumb pressing just so to elicit a razing heat across your skin. He delves further, plucking open the front of your blouse.

You tremble and his lips drag along your cheek. You hold your breath as he bares your chest, button by button. His lips graze your ears as his timbre rises in a silty rasp, “is that alright?”

You can only let out a squeak and nod. You swallow the lump in your throat and run your hand down his arm, “yes.”

He purrs and lets his fingers dance beneath the fabric, shyly exploring the thin pad of your bra, “and this?”

You hum and eke out another affirmation. He kisses your cheek and your jaw as he follows your encourage, gently cupping you as his thumb feels the tender flesh along the top of the cotton. You arch your back as your hand trails up his arm and you pull at the strained fabric of his jacket.

“What is it?” He nibbles your earlobe between words, “what do you want?”

“Off,” is all you can manage.

He laughs again. It isn't mocking or mighty, more so endearing. He slips his hand from beneath your shirt and lifts his shoulder. He raises himself on one elbow, awkwardly freeing one arm then leaning over to shed the other sleeve. His jacket drops to the floor as you eye his throat above his shirt collar.

“All of it?” He goads and you look him in the face as he winks.

Your breath escapes you as your lust mingles with horror at being caught, “your shirt…”

“As you wish,” he sits up on the edge of the couch, unbuttoning his shirt and stripping it from his broad shoulders. He lets it fall with his jacket.

He comes to face you again, lowering himself onto his side next to you as you roll to meet him. He balances on the edge as you hover a hand before his chest, marveling at the muscle. You feel suddenly very inadequate.

“Are you sure?” You peer up at him.

He smiles and strokes his finger under your chin, “are you?”

You close your eyes and take a breath, giving permission not only to him but yourself, “yes, I'm sure.”

He presses his lips to yours and you quickly sink back into the moment. You feel the world shift as he subtly moves you over him, laying flat beneath you. Your stomach meets his bare skin as your shirt slumps down your arms, restraining you.

You move your legs to straddle him and sit up, irritated by the shirts flapping tails. You shrug it away and swipe it over the coffee table. As you look down at Jonathan, his fingertips brush up your stomach as his eyes drink you in.

That look! It drives you crazy. How can he look at you like that?

You let your deepest yearning get the best of you. The years of longing, of loneliness, of curiosity. You run your hands up his torso and back down, taking in every inch of lean muscle. His hands frame your hips as he watches your exploration.

“I must insist,” he sits up suddenly as you slide your hands up to his shoulders, “ladies first.”

Confusion sparks but can't catch as he lurches you suddenly onto your back. He's on you again, his mouth following his hand as he dotes on you; cheek, jaw, neck, chest, a steady but patient descent. Your stomach clenches as he lingers along your chest, his hand crawling beneath you, swiftly, almost expertly unhook your bra.

You gasp as he lifts his head. You let the straps slacken and nod at him. Yes, please, keep going. He doesn’t need more than that. He frees your arms one at a time from the straps and unveils your chest. You resist the urge to hide. He’s the first to see you.

He bows his head and goes back to his worship. That’s exactly what it feels like. As if he’s enshrined in some sacred mission. He kisses between your tits, fondling one side, then the other, pecking along the soft skin, teething, teasing. You feel the plucking as the pressure pinpoints between his lips, drawing on your nipples.

You look down at his head, bent as his shoulders hunch. The sight is electrifying. He purrs as he drags his lips lower, down your stomach, once more nipping and kissing along his path. He gets to the top of your pants and bites the fabric with a growl. He tilts his head to peek up at you.

You watch him. He picks open your fly as you lay enshrined in his delight. He eases the fabric down, sliding his hand beneath your ass as he urges your pants lower and lower. He sits on his heels as he untangles your ankles, knocking your flats off as he does.

He’s quickly back to his mission. He buries his face against your pelvis, nosing your cotton panties as he feels along the scalloped trim. You shiver as his breath dampens the fabric and seeps through to your skin.

“More?” He asks, the movement of his lips stealing a moan from you.

“Please,” you gulp and brace the back of the couch, fighting to rein in your nerves. As much as you want it, you’re scared. What if there’s something wrong with you? What if you don’t taste right?

He rolls down your panties, peppering kisses along your pelvis as he uncovers you. You squeeze your thighs together. He lets his fingers wander down your legs and prods with his thumbs, easing them apart as you surrender. He hums as his eyes fall and he pushes himself back on his knees, bending to hover his head above your pelvis.

He kisses the tuft of hair and you wince. He does it again and you let out another moan. A third time and he lets his tongue glide down between your folds. You squeal at the cool sensation. It’s so different and new and strange, but wonderful. What’s more, you feel yourself, wet and wanting for him, mingling with him as he delves into you.

A growl rolls up his throat and through you as he tastes you. His tongue swirls around your bud, setting a new fire alight. You arch your back further, gulping as your arm shoots down unthinkingly. You tug at his hair, clutching a silky shank as you beg him wordlessly.

He laps you up. Slowly at first, then faster, more fervently, as if he is just as desperate as you. He breathes into you as his fingers tickle up your thigh. Your other leg falls over the edge of the couch and you’re splayed completely. Your hand drifts down and you grip his shoulder as you curl and whine.

You puff out as a sudden wave of hot and cold swallows you up. Your body quakes as an orgasm unlike any you’ve had before sweeps you into a tide of spasms and twitches. Your voice drones out of you uncontrollably as you succumb to the sheer pleasure coursing from him into you.

He edges along your lips with his fingers, poking and rubbing, spreading your ecstasy around. He prods a single finger at your entrance, dipping in just a little, then pulling back. He repeats the motion, in and out, each time a little further till he's buried to his knuckle.

He turns his hand, tongue still diligent, matching his own pace as he finds another knot to untangle. You moan and pant, shaking as another climax crashes down, muscles vibrating and veins fiery. You drift into the afterglow, eyelids fluttering as your head swims with joy.

He reluctantly drags his hand away from you and raises himself on his knees. You watch him dreamily as he grins and bends over you again. He kisses you on the mouth, leaving your own flavour on your lips. He groans, his hips jerking as if not of his own volition. He cradles your cheek and rests his forehead on yours.

“More?” He repeats.

You whisper, “yes” and pull him to kiss you again. A long, needful kiss to say ‘never enough.’

When you part, he rises over you. He stands, eyes stuck to you as he works at unbuckling belt. Once it's undone, he seems to disemble. He fumbles with his fly and staggers as he tries to untangle his feet. He laughs at himself as he stops to untie his shoes and kick them off. He peels away his socks before finally stepping out of his rumples trousers.

You can't help but giggle too. The thought of him being just as excited, even as nervous, as you is comforting. He stands in only his briefs, bulging with expectation as he looks down his body. Wow.

He hooks his thumb under the elastic and pulls it out. You watch, spellbound as he rolls them down and he springs free unrestrained. He's unabashed by his own desire as he lets the fabric fall free.

He kicks away his briefs and comes closer. You're surprised as he takes your hand, moving it to his dick as it bobs above you. It's not so much lewd as it is assuring. He lets you feel him, guiding you up and down as he shudders in response. You squeeze and shift on the cushions.

You let him go and he kneels between your legs. He brings his hand to your pelvis, rubbing your cunt, spreading your lips, stoking a new flow. He angles his body down over yours, keeping his fingers along your folds.

He looks you in the eye as as he tilts his hips, pausing as you stare back wideyed. He kisses your lips and lingers just above them, “still sure?”

“Yes,” you answer a bit too quickly.

He moves closer and presses his tip along your folds. He drags himself up and down, wetting his head before stopping at your entrance. You hold your breath as he pushes, just a little. He does just as he did before, inching in then rearing back, then deeper, not to much. Patient but fervent.

He sinks into halfway. You groan at the strain in your walls. He presses his lips to your forehead as his voice rumbles in his throat. He rocks, further and further. You bend yournlegs around him, an arm draped behind his neck as you stretch the other down, touching his hip as he bottoms out.

You hiss out and he tries to pull back, “less?”

You shake your head and grit your teeth, reaching further to grope his ass, holding him deep even as tears prick. It's not pain, though theres a dull weight in your core, it's something else. Fear. Of losing this moment. Of never feeling this way again.

“More,” you moan, “please, more.”