#and pen will laugh and roll her eyes and be like oh you bridgertons and your competitive spirit

[agathabridgerton]

colin 🤝 anthony: making an heir in s3

[gogobootz1]

An American in London

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: One of Benedict's old schoolmates enlists his help with wooing his American penpal, but when Benedict (literally) runs into her travel companion, things take a turn

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: blood (nosebleed)

"Why, exactly, have you dragged me here?" Benedict bemoaned, looking around the nearly empty hotel bar. There were plenty of better places to drink in the city.

"Because tomorrow morning we are meeting my hopefully lovely pen pal here," came the arrogant voice of one of Benedict's old school friends. Charles had made no effort to continue their friendship into adulthood until earlier that day.

"We?" Benedict asked, skeptically as they sat.

"Yes, we," Charles nodded, motioning for drinks to be brought over. "You are to help me impress the girl and play chaperone."

Benedict squinted at him, "Why would I do that?"

"Do you have anything better to do?" Charles shrugged. Benedict blinked at him for a minute. The truth was, after dropping out of the academy, he did not. He had actually been rather bored as of late.

"Fine," he swallowed bitterly.

"Excellent!" Charles sprang up from his seat, "I'll be by Bridgerton house at ten tomorrow to pick you up."

"Where are you going?" Benedict asked as the man began walking off.

"I have an appointment," Charles called back, and Benedict rolled his eyes. He polished off his drink before putting some money on the table. Of course, Charles had left that to him. He made quickly for the side exit and frustratedly shoved the door open.

A pained cry drew his attention as he stepped out, and he found a young woman with her hand clapped over her nose. All previous annoyance seeped from him instantly. Guilt and shame flooded into its place as he rushed to check on you.

“Are you quite alright miss?”

“Not quite,” the muffled American accent caught him off guard.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he rushed out, eyes full of earnest regret. He grabbed the handkerchief from the pocket over his chest and reached toward your face with it. You reared back, hand still firmly covering your nose, though he swore he could see deep crimson starting to leak out.

“Will you let me have a look?”

“Oh, no,” you firmly shook her head, laughing without any humor, “I have had enough embarrassment for one night. I will not end my evening by bleeding on some random English gentleman.”

You began walking in the opposite direction, but he was quick to follow.

“Please, allow me to make amends, I feel at fault for-“

“You are at fault!” You stopped in your tracks to fix him with a glare.

He blinked back at you, “Well, yes, but I-“

“Unless you’d like to ram a door into your own nose, I’ve seen more than enough of you tonight, thank you,” you snapped, turning to leave. Before you could, you felt a drip of blood fall from your hand onto your dress. You let out a frustrated groan and turned back toward the stranger, snatching his still-outstretched handkerchief. 

Working fast, you wiped your bloody palm, then your face. All the while, the concerned gentleman looked on in worry. Once you’d wiped the excess, you held the cloth up to your nose to catch any more.

“Perhaps I should introduce myself,” He nervously straightened his jacket.

“Perhaps not,” you shook your head, “if you introduce yourself we might just meet again, and you should pray for that not to happen.”

You might’ve laughed at his expression if your nose didn’t ache like hell. “Goodnight!” You said with faux cheer, as you left him standing in confusion.

“Goodnight?” You hardly registered his weak reply.

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

Benedict woke up on the floor after being violently tugged off the small sofa in his room. He'd been so absorbed with his sketch he hadn't even made it to bed last night.

"Come on then, Bridgerton," Charles' voice taunted from above him, "up and at 'em."

Benedict rolled his eyes as he pushed himself off of the floor, catching sight of the prior night's labors as he stood. A pair of intense eyes stared back at him, and since you'd kept the rest of your face closely covered, a swath of ruby replaced everything below the bridge of your nose. He tried to casually cover the piece before Charles could butt in and ask about it.

"I thought we agreed upon ten," Benedict told the man, stifling a yawn.

"It is ten," Charles snapped, and Benedict winced.

"A moment, then," he requested.

Charles rolled his eyes, "Make it fast, Bridgerton." Benedict rushed to dress in fresh clothing and fix his hair as quickly as possible. Being late would be an early point against him in making both England and Charles seem appealing. Not that those were easy tasks to begin with.

Luckily, he managed a quick turnaround, and a carriage waited outside for them. The grey sky, however, promised rain, yet another factor working against him.

Thanks to a hefty tip to the driver, the men were no more than five minutes late.

"Remind me of her name again," Benedict asked as the two exited the carriage.

Charles glared at him, "I swear to God if you-"

"Just tell me her name," they breezed through the door to the cafe within the hotel.

"Sarah," Charles said, scanning the room, "Sarah!"

A young woman had raced over, and likely would have embraced Charles had she not been held back by the elbow. The woman who prevented the social faux pas was instantly familiar to Benedict when he met the same pair of fierce eyes he'd stayed up too late sketching. Then took the time to examine the rest of your pretty face, though it was marred by a bruised nose. He had to hold back a wince at his own accidental handiwork.

When Charles elbowed him in the ribs, he tuned back into the conversation. Charles not-so-subtly nodded towards Sarah.

"Very fine to meet you, Sarah," he said, hoping he'd assessed the situation correctly. Pleased laughter from the lady told him he had.

"And you," she nodded, "I'd like you both to meet my dearest friend." Sarah introduced you, nudging you forward a bit.

You smiled reluctantly, "Nice to meet you, gentlemen." When you locked eyes again, your smile grew wider yet more mocking. Charles dipped his hat, but Benedict bowed to kiss your hand. Doing everything possible to enter your good graces couldn't hurt.

"Might I ask how you injured your nose?" Charles ventured. Benedict tensed and he saw your jaw clench.

Sarah, however, laughed good-naturedly, "Oh, you'll laugh at this Charles," she turned to you, "go on."

"Silly me, I walked right into a door," you said, tone bordering on teasing. To anyone else, it might’ve come off as humorously self-deprecating. Anyone else might’ve thought you clumsy or perhaps a little ditsy, but Benedict knew better. Benedict could see the threat behind your eyes.

"Well, that's not funny," Charles admonished Sarah, "I'm sorry you're hurt." Sarah seemed surprised but mildly impressed. You, too, seemed content with his answer. One point for Charles.

"Are you in much pain?" Benedict asked, hoping the answer would be no.

You blinked at him, mischief sparkling in your eyes. "Only when I breath," you nodded, deadly serious, but he saw the way your mouth fought a grin.

"That's awful," Charles said, sympathetically. "You couldn't find some medicine or some powder to cover the bruise?" He asked that to Sarah, and Benedict saw your expression shift. One point against Charles.

"I wear my wounds with pride," you challenged. Benedict was once again reminded that your wound was his fault while Charles seemed to struggle for a reply.

"Shall we sit?" Your well-mannered question seemed to Benedict to be the first victory of inevitably multiple challenges to Charles. He wondered if that was your purpose in accompanying Sarah from the States- to determine if Charles was up to snuff.

The four of you were nearly finished enjoying tea and scones when you pulled out the handkerchief you'd taken last night. It was pink, presumably from you trying to wash out the blood. Benedict choked on his sip of tea as you wiped the crumbs from your lips with it.

"When did you buy that?" Sarah asked.

"Oh, I'm only borrowing it until I get the favor I'm owed," Benedict gulped at that. You weren't kidding last night when you said he should hope to never run into you again. Though he did have trouble agreeing at the moment, and somehow, even still.

Sarah easily dismissed your comment and reengaged Charles in conversation. Benedict's attention remained on you, however, and you cheekily tilted your head at him.

Your eyes remained locked with his before you started speaking, "Perhaps you two would like to take a stroll of the hotel gardens before we leave for whatever plans you've made for the day."

Charles nodded at this, "An excellent idea." He walked around the table to offer Sarah a hand. When the two were out of hearing range, Benedict turned back to you.

"Will this favor earn me your forgiveness?" He asked, "Because I really do feel terribly about-"

"Stop," you said, "It's fine. Sarah had no problem believing I still have sea legs and tripped into a door."

Benedict's shoulders drooped as he breathed in relief. "But are you in pain? I couldn't tell if you were serious earlier."

Your expression became softer, "Only a little." He was relieved by that answer. "But I wasn't kidding about the favor," you reminded, sternly.

He froze, "And what favor do you require?"

"I'd like a full report of Charles' background, personality, what he does in his free time," you listed off, "anything of the like."

The questioning glance he gave you encouraged you to elaborate.

"Look," you said with a huff. "Sarah's mom is over the moon about this. Marrying her daughter off to an English lord will boost her social status by leaps and bounds. Her father, however, is not so convinced. Mr. Du Pont has always been kind to me, so when he asked me to assess this potential marriage, I gave him my word."

Benedict nodded, "And you'd like me to inform you on Charles, so you can inform Mr. Du Pont on Charles."

"Exactly," you said simply.

"That's rather funny, you know, Charles asked me to help woo Sarah and convince her he's worth a permanent trip across the Atlantic," he said, and you raised a brow.

"Are you trying to repent for hitting Charles in the face with a door?"

Benedict blinked, "What would you do if I said yes?"

"Help me," you snarled.

He raised his hands defensively, "All right! How am I meant to do that?"

"Have pertinent information sent to my hotel suite," you shrugged.

"Fine," Benedict assented after a minute.

"What's fine?" Sarah asked, having just returned with Charles. Her tinkling voice took him by surprise, and he laughed nervously.

"These biscuits," he said, standing, "they're very fine, I may even take some to go." Benedict stuffed two of the shortbread biscuits into his pocket and regretted it soon after. He regretted it even more after catching Charles' nasty glare at him.

Taking a sharp breath, he turned to offer you his arm, "Shall we?"

You politely took his arm, repressing your laughter. As Sarah and Charles walked on ahead, you leaned in, "Save one for me." Benedict lightly snorted before catching himself, but you seemed pleased at his laughter.

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

As weeks began to pass, notes from Benedict began to pile up. They were originally only about Charles, but as you started sending replies, the notes grew more conversational.

Sarah certainly only grew more besotted with time, and you were beginning to worry she'd rubbed off on you. The more time you spent with Benedict by way of monitoring Sarah and Charles, the more you found him positively charming.

His good looks were apparent from the beginning and made the door incident all the worse for you, but you'd recently grown fond of his personality.

Last week's art gallery found you admiring him while he spoke passionately of the use of light in one of the paintings you'd come across. You'd only snapped out of it was he asked your thoughts on the piece. The most you could muster up was that you absolutely agreed.

As the two of you chaperoned countless walks and lunches, you conversed about any and everything. Benedict told you of his artwork and promised to eventually show you some of it after you asked a few times. You told him of your own passions, and how they were often trampled by society's expectations. He confessed that since both his older and one of his younger brothers had been recently married, his mother had been nagging him about finding someone.

"I think it's important to be comfortable alone," you'd told him on one particularly breezy walk. "You shouldn't make do with someone else's life when you can't be content with your own."

"Come again?"

"I only mean it's unfair to put certain expectations on a spouse," you shrugged, "No one is who anyone else wants them to be, and trying to force people to be what they are not leads to unhappy marriages."

"In that case, I'm glad no one expects a thing from me," Benedict said.

You laughed a little, "I don't think people expect much of me either. At least we won't let anyone down."

"Setting the bar low," he nodded, smiling, "I like it." Your laughter drew a smile to his face.

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

A few months had gone by, and Benedict was overjoyed when Charles proposed to Sarah. He was happy for the two of them, sure, but mostly, he was glad your stay had been extended. You'd become such a fixture in his life that he struggled to imagine a time after your visit.

Your return tickets were canceled. Instead, Sarah's parents had booked their spots on a ship sailing over to England. They wanted to plan their daughter's wedding and see her well-adjusted in her new homeland.

"What will your first report to Mr. Du Pont entail, then?" Benedict asked you. The two of you had been tasked with greeting Sarah's parents upon their arrival, and you sat opposite each other in a carriage.

"What makes you think this will be my first report?" You raised a brow at him.

"You've been exchanging letters across the Atlantic about Charles? He's nowhere near interesting enough for that," Benedict told you, inspiring a grin.

"They're mostly about mine and Sarah's time here. She's not great at staying in touch- yet another reason they sent me along," you said. "But you're right, I have yet to form a full opinion on Charles. I go back and forth, but I trust your judgment."

Benedict's eyes widened at the admission as you pulled up to your destination. He exited the carriage first to helpfully offer you his hand. To his displeasure, you pulled away all too soon when you saw the Du Ponts.

Mrs. Du Pont cheerfully called your name as you rushed excitedly towards them. Benedict smiled as he watched you greet the older couple. They were clearly quite fond of you.

It took a minute before they registered his presence.

"Where is Sarah? And who is this gentleman?" Mrs. Du Pont asked you, trying to lower her voice for the latter question.

You perked up, "This is Mr. Benedict Bridgerton." You grabbed his forearm and pulled him closer to the conversation. "He's a friend of Charles. They've both been showing us the best of England!"

"So this is Benedict!" Mr. Du Pont said happily, "I've read a lot about you."

Benedict shot you a questioning look as he shook the older man's hand, "You have?"

"Oh yes," the man nodded despite you shaking your head at him. When Benedict turned to you again, you stopped and let an angelic smile grace your face. His smirk told you you'd been caught. Oh well, if he asked, you'd simply tell the truth. He was by far the most interesting part of Great Britain.

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

Wedding preparations had been running smoothly, and soon enough Benedict was out with a group of high society men to celebrate the impending nuptials.

The men were a few drinks deep when Charles made a toast, "Soon, lads, I will no longer be a free man, so you best believe I will enjoy it while it lasts."

Benedict was not sure he appreciated that sentiment, but let it pass as his other companions gave cries of, "Here, here!"

Drinking eventually turned to debauchery, and Benedict soon felt crowded at the table slowly attracting more women of the night. He excused himself to find another drink. Upon his return, however, he found Charles happily skipping off with one of them.

"Charles?!"

The man's attention turned to him, "Don't wait up, Bridgerton!" Charles laughed, and Benedict felt his face drop.

"Don't tell me..."

"Oh lighten up mate," Charles shrugged, "it's not like it counts."

Benedict blinked as his old school friend sauntered off with the woman. Every time he drank with men of the ton, it became more apparent that Violet Bridgerton's parenting methods were not widespread.

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

When he woke up in the hotel suite the next morning, Benedict spent a few blissful moments without the memory of the prior night. When he did remember, he tried to brush it off as a drunken illusion. Only, logic won out in the end. He hadn't drunk that much, and he had very clearly seen the scene with his own eyes.

Why did Charles have to go and make a mess of things? Everything had been going swimmingly. Now, just because the man couldn't keep it in his pants, countless hours of wedding planning would go down the drain. Sarah would be inconsolable, her parents would be furious, and they'd all be going back home. You'd be going back home. Shit.

He agonized over the situation, pacing the floor for an hour before Charles waltzed in.

"Are you only now getting back?" Benedict asked him, taking in the disheveled clothing Charles had been wearing the night prior.

"What can I say? I certainly enjoyed myself," Charles said smugly. He walked off, presumably to freshen up, but Benedict called after him.

"Charles?" The man turned, "You wouldn't... engage in that sort of behavior as a married man?"

Charles chuckled a bit, "Bridgerton, prostitutes don't count," that was concerning, "That sort of revelry was a one-time thing." That was... a bit better? Benedict let out a miserable groan.

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

Your bright eyes at the wedding rehearsal made him briefly forget his troubles. Once you were both in the proper position, Benedict didn't bother to pay attention. In fact, he pretty much just stared at you from across the altar. You looked good up there. He liked seeing you at the altar. He liked being across from you at the altar.

He was in trouble.

You whispered to him as he escorted you back down the aisle when the faux-service was over. Being best-man did afford him some benefits. "Guess what?"

"What?" He smiled down at you.

"The Du Ponts are thinking of staying indefinitely," you said, secretively, "they bought a house here. They've invited me to stay with them."

"Oh," he said, sense suddenly knocked back into him.

"It's looking like I might be in your hair a while longer."

Benedict quite nearly told you to stay in his hair as long as you cared to but felt it might be too forward. He also felt you'd make a lice joke at his expense. Your sharp sense of humor was one of the many things he found charming about you and one of the many reasons he did not want to let you go.

But if Charles and Sarah were getting married, you were staying. The Du Ponts were staying.

Just how bad was some debauchery at a stag party, really? In the grand scheme of things?

"Oh, how was the gentlemen's party?" You asked, excitedly, "I hope none of you behaved too poorly."

A nervous laugh bubbled from his mouth, "No. No, just the usual level of poor behavior." Fuck.

"Glad to hear it," you nodded. "Was Charles drunk out of his mind?" You laughed a bit.

"Quite possibly," Benedict said, smiling uncomfortably. The man was definitely out of his mind. Whether it could be attributed to the drink Benedict wasn't sure.

"Well, thanks for keeping an eye on him," you said, giving his arm a squeeze.

He was in big trouble.

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

On the morning of the wedding, Benedict was jittery. In a hallway of the church, he kept nervously adjusting his collar. A steady pair of hands pulled his away, and he looked up to find you fixing his collar.

"Stop touching it," you told him as you worked, "it looks good."

"Right," he breathed stiffly.

"And try not to look like you're attending a funeral," you reminded him, smirking. "Oh! I have something for you," you pulled the handkerchief he'd given you when you first met out of a small bag. Pressing it into his hand, you smiled up at him, "favor complete. Consider us even."

He could only nod at you as you began to retreat.

"I'm off to help Sarah. See you soon!"

Benedict gazed after you, guilt creeping in.

"I'm relieved she's kept such a close eye on Sarah," Mr. Du Pont suddenly appeared beside him, "but I should've expected it. The two have been like sisters ever since..."

"Since?' Benedict asked him curiously while straightening his bow tie.

"Well, we took her in some years back when her family passed," the older man explained.

As much as Benedict thought he'd gotten to know you, it seemed you'd yet to feel comfortable enough to tell him that, "I hadn't known."

"No," Du Pont shook his head, "she doesn't like to talk about it. Hates having to bear people's pity."

That, Benedict could understand. He had found that to be one of the worst parts of the aftermath of his father's death.

"But it's been a pleasure to have her in our family. I'm only happy it's expanding! Hopefully, she'll have nieces and nephews soon," Sarah's father looked around before leaning in a bit, "I'm hoping for lots of grandchildren. I'll be perfectly happy when both my girls have good, loyal husbands at their side. It seems we're almost there!" With a pat on Benedict's shoulder, Mr. Du Pont walked off, "I'll see you in there."

Benedict nodded absently. Oh. He had mucked things up. He had really, really mucked things up.

Benedict paled a little. In his bid to keep you by his side as long as possible he'd neglected all other considerations. Including the life and happiness of your sister in all but blood. This wedding was very real and very imminent. And despite the time he dreamt it was the two of you getting married, his feelings were not nearly the most important of those involved.

Sarah was about to marry a man who had cheated on her only two nights prior.

But Charles had said it was a one-time thing. A last hooray before settling down. He'd said that prostitutes do not count anyway and- oh.

Benedict sharply inhaled when he realized his own foolishness. How had he not seen this? The bars they'd visited in the past months were all down the street from the one they'd entered two nights ago- the one next to the brothel. Each time he would excuse himself to retire to his home, Charles had stayed.

A fool, indeed. He'd been so enamored and distracted with you that his spy work on your behalf was entirely lackluster. Worse yet, when he did find pertinent information out, he had lied.

He had to make it right.

Benedict raised his fist to knock on the door of the room Sarah had taken over. Before he could, it swung open. You smiled at him, a little confused.

"You know you're only supposed to escort me down the aisle," you joked, "You don't have to start this far back."

He shook his head grimly, and your face fell. "I need to talk to you," he looked up to find Sarah behind you, "both of you."

You stepped aside and let Benedict in, nervous at his shift in attitude.

"You cannot marry him," Benedict had summoned all of his nerve to say the words and looked Sarah square in the eye when he did so. She deserved that much. She deserved the truth.

"What?" Sarah asked skeptically. She was already in her wedding gown. She had no idea what was happening.

"Benedict, what are you talking about?" Your question was quieter, but you were deadly serious. As soon as he said it you knew something was wrong, and he was right in bringing it to Sarah.

He swallowed when he looked into your eyes, "I lied to you." You felt like he'd just slammed a door in your face again. "Charles did behave poorly the other night. In fact, I think he's been behaving poorly for months and I've been too blind to see it."

"What? He was drinking?" Sarah asked, "I knew that would happen."

"No," Benedict shook his head, "He was with- with other women."

And with that, Sarah was out the door. You, however, could not bring yourself to follow. You were frozen to the floor, looking at the man you'd trusted with glassy eyes.

"You lied to me," you whispered.

"I'm sorry."

You shook your head, laughing a little. The sound was sad, "I guess I broke my own rule." His eyes pleaded with you, but it was far from enough, "I expected too much from you. You couldn't help but let me down." His heart sank.

Finally, you turned to race after Sarah. Benedict was hot on your trail, "Please-"

"Oh, this is not over," you called over your shoulder, "but we have more pressing matters to deal with."

You stopped dead in your tracks after rounding a corner. It was so abrupt that Benedict could not slow his own pace enough not to bump into you. You both stumbled a bit but recovered in time to see Sarah slap Charles in the face. She then marched out of the church with her head held high.

Mrs. Du Pont followed her straight away. And Charles rushed after them both. Mr. Du Pont stopped only to briefly speak to you, "Would you both be so kind as to handle-"

"Consider it done," Benedict said. You sent him a sidelong glance before begrudgingly nodding at the man who had taken you in. Mr. Du Pont left to chase after his wife and daughter, leaving you and Benedict to dismiss guests and try to cancel vendors.

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

A long and tiresome day of working to undo weeks of wedding planning and avoiding the sad blue eyes that followed your every move ended in your hotel's garden. More specifically, eating the wedding cake that could not be returned in the hotel garden. You had very generously given most of it to the hotel staff. But you saved the top tier for yourself.

Draped across a bench, you stabbed into it with a fork. As you did, the charming figurine of Sarah and Charles fell from its place. You did not hesitate to grab the miniature and toss it into some shrubs.

"Rather harsh, don't you think?" A familiar voice drew your attention. You huffed when you saw who it was.

Benedict Bridgerton slowly made his way over to your bench. He gestured towards your legs, silently asking you to make room for him on the bench. When you didn't move, he simply sat himself parallel to you on the gravel floor.

"I am sorry," he said after some silence, looking straight ahead.

"I know," you nodded, not yet looking at him, "I suppose I am too."

"Whatever for?" Benedict's surprise broke the quietness of the moment, and he gazed at you questioningly.

You shrugged, still not looking at him, "I should have known better than to think you'd prioritize me over him. Charles is your friend."

"Maybe," he spat defensively, "but you're-" He cut himself off.

"What am I? To you?" You asked, now looking intently into his eyes, trying to discern his thoughts.

Benedict inhaled a large breath before telling you the God's honest truth, "When I realized what Charles was doing, I also realized that you would leave England with Sarah almost as soon as you found out. And I wanted you to stay." He paused, " I want you to stay."

Your lips parted as if to say something in return, but he barreled on, "I behaved selfishly, and I am a beast for it, but you were always my priority. Do not dream of thinking otherwise."

You swung your legs off of the bench and leaned forward towards him. Stabbing a bite of cake with your fork, you stuck it out to him in a gesture of peace. He cautiously ate the cake from your fork, waiting for you to say something. You took another bite before you did.

"A ship sets sail tomorrow," you said lightly, "back across the Atlantic." And with it, his hopes would sink. "I secured three tickets on it this morning."

Benedict blinked. That didn't add up right. "Is Mr. Du Pont stay-"

You quickly shook your head, and things started to click in place for him.

"Mrs. Du Pont?"

Your smirk started to grow.

"Sarah?"

"Now you're being deliberately obtuse," you mocked.

He grinned up at you, "Then...?"

"The Du Ponts need someone to mind their new manor in the English countryside. Who better than their favorite non-daughter?" You shrugged happily.

"Will you not get lonely in such a large estate out in the country?" Benedict asked teasingly.

You smiled playfully at him, "Then I should hope someone will be kind enough to call on me." Benedict looked rather self-satisfied at that. "I should only hope they clean up before they do."

His confusion was answered when you took a handful of cake and smeared it down the left side of his face. He stuck his tongue in his cheek to try not to laugh. It was well-played and deserved.

"Now we're even," you whispered close to his face before standing and walking away.

"Jokes on you," he shouted after you, "it tastes better like this!" Your laughter filled the night air, and he was happy to have made such sweet amends.

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

I love Benedict sooo much!!! I wrote this super quick after watching the new season, so sorry if anything didn't make sense

Thanks for reading <3

(also sorry for any historical inaccuracies or whatever but this is Bridgerton we're talking about )

[weirdmorefics]

Can you make a fic where the Bridgerton sister gets high or drunk, and Colin and Benedict try to get her out of trouble???

A/N- Yes I can! I love this idea especially since I am the little sister with an overprotective big sister.

Readers' Pronouns- She/her

Word Count- 1292

Summary- Reader sneaks a few too many drinks at Daphne's debut ball.

An Average Bridgerton Ball

"Can this ball get any more dreadful," Eloise groans.

Benedict points to Daphne, "That is going to be you soon so I'd say these events soon will get even more dreadful."

Mother approaches the pair and worriedly asks, "Has anyone seen Y/n? I don't want her to miss Daphne's debut! I am sure she is going to be crowned the diamond of the season the way the queen has been eyeing all night!"

"I do not know Mama, we are not her keepers," Eloise moans.

"I do not envy any man who wishes to court you," Violet's face tightens but Eloise pays no attention to the reaction and Benedict stifles a laugh. "Let me know if you see her, I'll be with Daphne and Anthony," she sighs and walks away.

Shortly after Penelope joins the pair of siblings dragging a giggling Y/n behind her.

"Y/n you must regale to us what is so humorous," Benedict looks at Y/n bemused.

"I regret to inform you but I don't think Y/n even knows why she is laughing," Penelope frowns. "You have to get her out of here before she ends up the headline of Lady Whistledowns next piece."

Colin arrives at the tail end of Penelope's sentence, "Mother wanted me to help you two look for Y/n but it seems you two beat me to the punch... oh my god. Is she sloshed?"

"It appears so," Benedict's smile grows.

"Well, this ball just got a lot more entertaining," Eloise smirks.

"Sloshed, is such a funny word," she giggles. "We should get sloshed more so we can say sloshed all the time," Y/n slurs. "Next round of drinks on me!"

"Y/n sweetie, it's an open bar," Penelope treats her like a child.

"One she clearly made good use of," Benedict raises his glass in awe. "My little sister is growing up."

"I am so grown, you are so right," she slurs. "Mother she doesn't see that, she thinks I'm so immature," she whines. "It's always be more like Daphne, men like well-spoken girls and well-rounded girls, not girls who spend all their days in the horse's stables," she mimics their mother's voice. Y/n points her hand to the sky in declaration, "I'll show her, I'll gather more suitors tonight than Daphne will the entire season."

"I do not think sober Y/n would agree with that decision," Colin rationalizes.

"Sober Y/n is no fun, she lets Mother walk all over her," Y/n frowns. "Sober Y/n needs to learn a lesson or two from Eloise and not care what Mother thinks, but she needed some liquid courage."

"Why is drunk Y/n talking in the third person," Eloise smiles.

"Dissociation my darling sister," she squishes Eloise's face as Eloise rolls her eyes. "You should try it sometime. Like right now I am going to tell Mama that I wish not to be married but horseride competitively and I am not even nervous."

Y/n turns to walk away but drunkenly stumbles nearly falling to the floor.

Benedict luckily catches her arm before she face plants onto the floor, "I have to say I am quite fond of drunk Y/n."

"Well, I am certainly not! Anthony will kill us if he sees Y/n in this state," Colin says worriedly.

"Oh, I do hope so!," Y/n smiles. "Drinks and a show would be fabulous!"

"You've had enough drinks for a lifetime," Colin groans.

"As much as I hate to admit this, Colin is right Anthony and Mother will kill us if they see Y/n in this state. Pen is also right if Lady Whistledown gets wind of this we will never hear the end of it and will be held prisoner in the house until we are to be wed," Eloise frowns.

Colin and Benedict shiver at the idea of being grounded to the house. Y/n is completely unaffected by the conversation and her eyes follow the appetizer plates the servants walk around with. She tries to walk away yet again from her siblings to indulge in the variety of savory foods but is tugged back to Benedict's side with a grunt.

Colin sighs, "There's no way we can get out of here with her without causing a scene. I mean look at her," he gestures to Y/n who is currently trying to see how loud she can belch.

Penelope smiles, "I may have an idea."

"Yes, Pen for the win! I will always be superior in smarts and friends," Eloise quips.

Colin groans, "Now is not the time Eloise. What's the plan Pen?"

"Men can never resist a damsel in distress-" she is quickly cut off by Eloise.

"No Pen where is this going?"

She sighs, "As I was saying men can't resist a damsel in distress and your sister is about to be crowned diamond which makes you a jewel yourself Eloise." Eloise groans in response but Penelope continues on in stride, " Just do some light swooning on the dance floor and the suitors will come flocking."

"Maybe being trapped in the house with Mama forever is better," she grimaces.

"No, no, no. Eloise just think of all those forced piano and etiquette lessons with Mother permanently on loop," Benedict annunciates.

Eloise takes a deep breath and looks Y/n straight in the eyes, "Sober Y/n owes me big time!"

"She makes no promises," Y/n giggles.

Eloise sighs enters the crowd of dancers and makes a big show of fanning herself and loudly announces that she feels very faint. Men of course flock to her offering her a hand or handkerchiefs to fan herself with.

"She is oddly very good at that," Benedict admires.

Colin rolls his eyes, "Come on help me get Y/n out of here she is a lot stronger than she looks."

"I want to watch the show," she whines making herself as heavy as possible as Colin tries to drag her by the arm.

Benedict laughs and throws her over his shoulders since everyone is too busy watching Eloise be uncharacteristically charming.

Y/n kicks her feet wildly, "You are no fun!"

"I pride myself on being the most fun sibling actually but it seems you are taking the crown right now I do think that hangover in the morning will make you give the crown back though," he smiles wickedly and Y/n huffs in response.

"Less bickering more escaping," Colin chastises.

"He's definitely never the fun sibling, " Y/n shakes her head.

Colin growls, "At least I got you out of the ball unnoticed."

"Hate to break it to you but that was all Penelope," Benedict smirks as he sets Y/n down.

Colin rolls his eyes for the millionth time that night but is interrupted by Y/n running off.

"Look pretty flowers," she swoons.

"Man she is fast," Benedict watches.

"Aren't you going to catch her!" Colin points.

"I carried her out here," he defends.

Colin sighs and has to chase Y/n around the garden for a good ten minutes until they successfully push her into the carriage. She passes out shortly after getting into the carriage.

"Well that was certainly one way to perk up tonight's boring ball," Benedict smiles.

Colin shakes his head still out of breath from chasing her around the garden, "You are carrying in the house."

"Am I now? Care to wager? How about an arm wrestle match?" Benedict bargains

"You're on!" Colin says determined. He of course loses the first round and declares best of three and still loses...

Safe to say, Eloise, Colin, and Benedict got their revenge on Y/n by making her torturous hangover ten times worse.

[crescentcampbell]

Wouldn't You Like to Know, Ch. 15

AO3 LINK HERE| WATTPAD LINK HERE

Fifteen

There were times where Penelope still felt like a seventeen-year-old girl. Her last years of high school had been particularly rough. First, because of her father stealing money, and then because of Eloise finding out about the Whistledown Blast account. Her senior year was also the same time Colin started acting, going on auditions, and met Marina.

She still remembered when he got his first movie with her. The two of them had gone out to a club to celebrate. Penelope wasn’t really a clubbing kind of girl, but they were teenagers in New York and it was the practically a staple of their social life at the time. “I don’t dance,” she remembered telling him for the millionth time in the back of an Uber.

“Oh, come on, Pen! You’re my oldest friend. I just got offered a part in a big, fucking movie. You’ve got to celebrate with me.”

Penelope winced. “People are going to stare.”

“Of course they’re going to stare,” he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, making her blush, “we’re hot.”

She laughed nervously. What was it about Colin Bridgerton that made her feel so unraveled? He was handsome and had the kind of smile that made you want to smile too, and had perfect hair. If she had been smart, she would have hated him. But the Bridgerton’s had that special shine of wealth and celebrity that made people want to be around them and want them to like them.

Penelope’s family had money, but not Bridgerton money. That didn’t even include Violet Bridgerton’s YouTube empire. The homemaker had become the modern Martha Stewart that everyone wanted to know every detail about the lives of the eight siblings and always had.

Daphne dating a prince had only escalated things this past year, and now, Colin was going to be in the movies. He had the whole future for.

They got into the club without even waiting, and when they were inside, Benedict Bridgerton was waiting for them in the VIP area with Eloise. “There you two are!” Eloise said. “Honestly, what took you so long?”

“Colin insisted on getting food,” said Penelope.

Colin grinned at his sister. “I can’t very well consume alcohol on an empty stomach, can I?”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “You just like watching girls lick their fingers after they eat.”

He smirked. “I’m a man with very particular tastes.”

Benedict snorted. “Brother, you are hardly a man. Although, you are going to be a movie star from what I’ve heard. You got the part?”

Colin nodded. “I’ll start filming this summer, but my agent says there’s some promotional stuff that they want me to do.”

“What, like fake dating your co-star?” Eloise joked.

Colin laughed. “Not a chance. I’m not that desperate for fame. I’m going to do this the honest way.”

“Through nepotism and Mommy’s fame?” his sister said.

Penelope laughed. “Come on. He has talent.”

Eloise rolled her eyes. “You always say that about him, because he’s your favorite Bridgerton. Even compared to me.”

Benedict shot a look over his shoulder at Penelope. “Oh Pen, I’m hurt. I thought I was your favorite.”

The redhead blushed, and Colin took her hand in his.

“Benedict, she likes me better. Always has, always will,” he said, “come on Pen, let’s go dance.”

He dragged her out onto the floor and Penelope was aware of how short the dress she’d put on was. It kept riding up as she moved. They got to the center of the dance floor where a fast song was playing. Colin came up behind her and placed his hands on either side of her hips. “I don’t know what I’m doing!” she shouted over the music.

Colin laughed. “I do!” he shouted back.

He gripped her hips and moved her from side to side against him. Penelope found herself getting more into it, swaying along side of him. She felt something hard, pressing against her backside, and she realized that it was Colin’s cock. Penelope kept on swaying, trying hard not to think about it. But then one of Colin’s hands was on her left breast, and the other was inching its way up the skirt of her dress.

One finger went inside of her, stroking her, and Penelope found herself holding onto Colin around his neck as she was unable to focus. She was lost in the feeling of him touching her in the most intimate of places, something she had never expected to have Colin Bridgerton of all people, do.

Colin Bridgerton was finger fucking her in the middle of a night club, and his cock was hard against her ass. Colin Bridgerton was desperate for her. “Penelope,” he murmured, his face close to her ear so she could hear him.

His fingers hit at exactly the right spot and he covered her mouth to keep anyone from hearing the little noises that she was making. When he pulled his hand out, he turned her around and looked at her, his gaze darkening.

Penelope’s heart pounded against her chest.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s go.”

They snuck out of the club, and neither one of them told Benedict or Eloise they had left.

[fallinfor-youreyes]

You Took Me By Surprise

His words are not working, his brain just screaming her name on a loop. His entire being just in awe of her. In awe of how long it took him to realize that he wanted Penelope to be his. His. “Don’t marry him.” Or Penelope ends the lessons and Colin finally realizes he can't let her go.

Ao3

Something, Colin thinks, is decidedly off.

He has been known to make mistakes in his past, but usually, he doesn't realize they are wrong until he is thoroughly encompassed in them. Like his unfortunate fling with Mariana, or when he decided to follow some local boys in Greece to a ‘super secret’ hidden cave, or when he was 11 and Anthony and Benedict told him they hid his birthday present in the coat closet on the 3rd floor, only to leave him locked up there for hours.

But recently, he thinks he has been doing a better job. He made it home just in time for Franny's debut. He had surprised his family, started flirting with eligible ladies, started making something of himself among the ton.

The only thing he had slightly messed up was his relationship with Penelope. But he fixed that! They are friends again, possibly closer than ever, and he is useful. To his family, to himself, to Penelope. And in exchange for the lessons, Pen is helping him edit his journals. He has a plan to meet with an editor next month about publishing, and everything is looking up.

Penelope is smiling again, brighter than he has ever seen, and well, seeing her happy made him happy as well.

So why does everything suddenly feel off?

He's not used to feeling so uncertain. It makes him restless.

Colin wants nothing more than to go to Penelope and ask her her opinion, to see if she has any ideas of what he could have done wrong, but...

Ah, the but.

The main reason he cannot go to Penelope is Pen herself.

Pen.

Penelope.

Penelope Featherington.

His friend, his wallflower turned talk of the ton, thanks to his lessons. His... well, his Pen.

Not really his Pen anymore. Never really his anything, if he is honest with himself. Colin likes to think himself an honest man, but the thought of Penelope being just his sister’s friend does not sit right with him.

Just that afternoon, she found him walking in the park, attempting to plan their next lesson. And she told him she no longer needed his help.

“I think we should end the lessons…. They’ve worked wonderfully….

You've been a great friend.…"

Friend.

Full circle moment really.

She shook his hand and smiled at him, lovely as a the first blossom in spring, and then she walked away.

Away from the lessons, away from their time together, away from him.

And Colin could not think of anything else since. Except for the fact that somehow, along the way, he made a mistake. But he still could not put his finger on exactly what went wrong.

"Oh, how exciting!" Franny plops down onto the couch next to him, stirring him from his thoughts.

"What is?"

Franny slaps his shoulder, rolling her eyes. "Do you ever listen? We've been invited to Lady Danbury's ball."

"Why is that exciting?" Colin asks. They've been invited to so many balls this season, he had lost count.

"Well, I suppose because Lord Debling might finally propose." Lady Bridgerton says, settling into her chair across the room, pouring a new cup of tea. "Are you feeling okay, dear? You've been out of sorts all afternoon. I’ve called for more biscuits.”

Colin waves his mother off. "Fine. Who is he proposing to? Has he been courting you, Fran?"

All of the Bridgerton women in the room laugh at him. Even Eloise, and she is pretending her hardest that she is not listening to any of them.

"No, you idiot," Hyacinth says, throwing part of her own biscuit at him. "Penelope."

"Penelope? Featherington?" Colin sputters. He tries to keep his voice, calm, even, free of any sort of emotion, but something terrible and ugly grows in his chest. The minor off feeling tingling the back of his brain grows into something closely resembling dread.

"Who else? Gosh Colin, you really are out of it." Fran attempts to place a hand on his head as if testing his temperature, but he shoos her away and pushes himself off he couch. He cannot sit still any more. His entire body feels tense, stressed.

He doesn't like feeling this restless. The last time he did, he sailed halfway across the world and disappeared for several months.

"But it's barely halfway through the season? What of her other suitors?"

Everyone stops talking at once, an odd quiet falling over the drawing room.

Violet stares at him, a moment too long, before her face softens. Colin doesn't like that look. He's never liked pity from anyone, especially his mother. "My dear," she says softly, placing her teacup down almost too gently. "While I very much admire and adore Miss. Featherington--"

Eloise scoffs, saying something under her breath that makes Colin wonder once again what happened between his sister and Pen, but he doesn't have the time to think about that right now.

"No matter was my daughters have to think about it" Violet continues, sending Eloise a sharp look that has her sinking further down into the couch and silencing her snide remarks. "As I was saying, I don't think Miss. Featherington has any other suitors. And Lord Debling is everything one could wish for in husband."

"But we'll never see her again!"

The little feeling in Colin’s brain lights up like a candle, as if proud that he finally figured some part of the issue out.

"Good riddance," Eloise scoffs, again, and it takes everything in Colin to not run over and push her out of her seat like he used to do when they were kids.

Violet takes Colin's hand, and for just a second, the world falls into a more peaceful state. His mother will know how to fix this. She has always fixed everything.

"Dearest, I think this is a fine match for Penelope. I know you are good friends. You should want what is best for her."

The ugly feeling rears up again, larger and more terrible than before.

He's jealous.

Being a third son in a family of eight, Colin learned early on that jealousy was not something he wanted to participate in. He became the easy-going one, the charming one.

Jealousy is not something he is used to. Being jealous over Penelope Featherington, well, that is just something he never saw coming.

Violet squeezes his hand, once again bringing him out of his thoughts. "Colin. This was always going to happen, eventually.”

He kisses his mother's hand and then let's her go. Sometimes, a mother cannot fix everything.

Sometimes, he has to fix things himself.

He can fix this. He has to fix this.

How, he doesn't know yet, but, he knows he cannot do it sitting in his mother's drawing room.

"I'll see you later." He says, ignoring all of his surrounding siblings and stalking toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Hyacinth calls to him, and if he knew any better, he would say she sounded delighted.

"Out."

XXX

He needs to walk. His brain is in overdrive, thoughts full of Penelope.

Penelope.

Penelope kissing Debling.

Penelope being married.

Penelope never answering his letters.

Penelope leaving.

PENELOPE.

His body is restless, so he walks.

Colin doesn't have a plan. Or even an idea at this point, but he needs to do something other than just stare at the wall, letting the terrible, off feeling take over his entire being.

So he walks. And walks and walks and walks, not having a destination in mind, or a thought on which turn he should take until he has already taken it.

He walks until the sun starts to set, walks until his legs are tired, walks until he realizes the only thing he can think about, or probably will ever think about again is Penelope.

He's not sure how he didn't realize it before now, but the thought of never seeing Penelope again, of not being able to hear her laugh or see her smile, or send her another letter, or not being able to call her his friend, is just unacceptable. He’s been thinking about her all season, he realizes. Even when he wasn’t thinking about their lessons, his thoughts would turn to her, to the dress she wore to the last ball, to the way she would laugh at his jokes, to how she would find his eyes in the crowd, even when dancing with another man.

He can't just let her go. Which is how he assumes he ends up outside the garden gate of the Featherington's house. He didn't plan to be here. But apparently, this is where his mind decided he should be.

It's dark. Colin knows he should not be here. He had snuck into the garden several times over the past few weeks for lessons, so he knows how to get in. Before he even has a chance to think of the consequences he is marching through the gardens, intent on… well….

That's the part he has not figured out yet.

She told him she no longer needed him. Called him a good friend. Just friend.

Was that not what he had said to her at the beginning of this foolish deal. Friend.

Friendship in marriage was rare, his mother had said, but wonderful.

Friend.

Her hand in his, bare, warm. Her smiling up at him, happiness exuding from her very soul.

Dancing, laughing, talking...

She isn't just his friend.

Penelope is his world.

And now, he's going to lose her because he might have taken too long.

The sounds of the carriages making their way to the balls for the night spurs him into action. Colin's running before he knows exactly what to do, but he has to find her. He has to stop her from going, stop her from marrying someone else, stop her from leaving London forever.

He needs to tell her she isn't just his friend. She's everything he has ever wanted.

Colin knows the way to her room, which is scandalous in itself, but before he can make it to the servants door, a different door opens.

And like a goddess walking out of paining, Penelope is there. Beautiful as ever, her skin glowing in the firelight.

She looks nervous. Wringing her hands and tugging on her dress, and he's moving again, slower this time but still moving, toward her, toward his best friend, toward his Penelope.

But his thoughts are still out of control, his brain and his body having trouble connecting like they should.

She is all he could think about all day, but now that she is here, now that he realizes that he wants her as more than just a friend, he doesn't know what to say.

It is all too new, all too mixed up and he doesn't know how to be eloquent.

He watches her take a steadying breath, one he has seen her take all season every time she enacted one of their lessons in public, and before she turns away from him again, he calls for her.

"Penelope.”

She startles, and within seconds he’s right next to her, close enough he can smell her perfume, close enough he can see the uncertainty in her eyes.

Close enough, that he could kiss her with almost no effort at all.

His eyes drop to her lips, and he can hear the sharp breath she takes.

“Colin what are you doing here?”

He wants to reach for her, but she is still startled, still poised to run at a drop of a pin.

“I- um.” His words are not working, his brain just screaming her name on a loop. His entire being just in awe of her. In awe of how long it took him to realize that he wanted Penelope to be his.

His.

“Don’t marry him.”

Penelope’s body tenses, and tears instantly fill her eyes. “Why not?"

Colin is still struggling with the thoughts and the urge to hold her and the confusion in his own head that he just stares at her, mouth open.

“Why, Colin. Give me on reason why.” Penelope pushes past him, putting distance between them with every step. "Why do I not deserve to be married to a kind man, who will take care of me, who will let me move out of my mother's house, away from the stupid antics of the ton. Just because you do not want to court me, or find me marriageable doesn't mean another man can't." Penelope pushes the tears angrily off her cheeks, and crossed her arms in front of her, closing her off from him.

"I never said i didn't find you marriageable." Colin says, finally finding his words. "And I only said I wasn't courting you, at that time, not that I wouldn't. Fife is bloody idiot, and he saw us sneak away together to confront your cousin. I was trying to protect you."

"I don't need you to protect me, Colin. I don't need you."

Her words sting.

He has been thinking of nothing but her all day, hell all season. Colin doesn’t need her to need him.

He would just like her to want him at least half as much as he wants her.

And if she doesn’t, then he needs to know.

He knows it's his fault, that he really has no right to ask for anything from her, but he needs to know. Know that he is not losing her for nothing.

"Do you love him?

Penelope freezes. The tears are still falling down her cheeks, and she look beautiful. He hates that she is crying, but her eyes are glittering in the firelight, and the moon is making her skin glow, and Colin Bridgerton realizes, he wants, no, he needs to kiss Penelope Featherington.

He takes another step closer to her, and she does not back away.

"Tell me, Pen. Do you love him?" Another step. Penelope's breath catches in her throat.

"Because if you tell me you love him, I will turn around right now, and I will watch you marry him, and watch you leave, and I will let you go." Colin swallows, and slowly closes the distance between them, reaching out for her hand. "But, if you do not love him, do not marry him." He takes the final step toward her, until she is close enough that he can see the freckles dotting her nose. "Do not marry him and I promise I will spend everyday for the rest of my life making up for how stupid I have been, Penelope."

Colin lets his fingertips brush against her cheek, and Penelope leans into his hand, eyes fluttering closed, tears stuck like diamonds on her eyelashes.

"And if you still do want to marry him, I have just one request."

Penelope's eyes snap open as his thumb dances over her bottom lip. "Just one kiss. One kiss for me to cherish for the rest of my life, to remind me how utterly daft I have been when it comes to you."

Penelope takes a step closer to him. "What do you mean?"

Colin lets his fingers tangle in her hair, doing his best to be gentle. "You, Penelope Featherington, are my world. The thought of you leaving, and me never being able to see you again has led me to a point of near insanity. I walked all over London, for hours, after I heard that you might be engaged. I walked and tried to clear my head, but all i could think about was you. All I can think about is you. I do not know why it took me so long to realize, Penelope. I had no idea where I was going until I ended up here. Looking for you."

She bites her lip, and it's takes everything in him to not push her against the closest wall and kiss her until she forgets about all other suitors and potential husbands.

"I don't love him. We’ve talked about it. He know I do not love him, and I know that he does not love me, but we could be happy together." She looks away from him, and his entire heart shatters. "I cannot be in this house any longer, Colin, and no one else has even thought to court me, let alone marry me.

"Let me court you. Let me show the entire stupid ton that I want you, Penelope. We can marry before the end of the season, and I will buy us a house, and you can come with me when I want to travel, and-"

She's crying again, but this time she is smiling, and then before he knows what's happening, she pulling him down and her lips are on his.

Colin is kissing Penelope Featherington, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, months, hell, maybe even years, his brain slows down. There is a quiet that fills his soul, a happiness that radiates from the spot where her lips are on his. The feeling that has been hovering over him all day disappears.

Pen.

Penelope.

Penelope Featherington.

His Penelope.

Colin lifts her up and spins them around, and she's laughing, the most wonderful sound in the world.

"Okay," Penelope says, her cheeks flushed, and eyes glittering, this time with happiness. "Okay, I won't marry him."

Colin kisses her again, sneaking his tongue out to taste her, and she's giggling again, pushing him away.

"I still have a ball to go to." Penelope attempts to brush her hair back, but it's come completely undone from his hands. "There's a lot to do, and there's bound to be talk and-"

"I don't care about the talk." Colin says, wrapping his arms around her.

"I know, I know, but it will happen, and I don't want Debling to be hurt by a scandal..."

He kisses her again, because he can, because she is not going to marry Debling, because he woke up in time to realize that what he was looking for has been Penelope all along. She sighs into him letting herself enjoy the kiss this time.

“We’ll figure it out.” Colin says, wrapping a stray piece of her hair around his finger before tucking it behind her ear. “Together.”

"I have loved you since the first moment I saw you, Colin Bridgerton."

"And I am going to make sure you know I love you every day going forward."

Penelope smiles.

And Colin is home.

[weepingfromacedartree]

Ten Milestones (Interlude): Aubrey Hall

Hi friends!

Here to share the first interlude chapter for this fic!

Interlude 1: Aubrey Hall

August 2nd, 2010

Monday

“Shotgun!”

“In your fucking dreams.”

Mere seconds before Eloise can wrap her fingers around the handle, Colin steps in front and leans his entire backside against the passenger door. 

“Hey —”

“Children in the back,” he says, nodding his head towards the door to his left. 

“Children?’” she scoffs. “You are two years older than me. And for what I lack in age, I more than make up for in intelligence and maturity.” 

Again, Colin shrugs. 

“Age before brains — or whatever it is you kids say these days.” 

Exasperated, Eloise turns to their older brother. 

“Ben?” 

While clearly amused by the situation, Benedict does not want to get involved in it. He shrugs in an even more dramatic fashion than Colin had a moment ago. Before anyone can get another word in, he opens his own door and slides into the driver’s seat. 

“Pen?”

The last thing Penelope wants to do is get involved. She mouths “Sorry,” and takes her seat behind Benedict. 

After a miffed moment of consideration, Eloise determines that her brother has grown too tall and too sturdy for her to physically extricate from his spot (without resorting to scratching or biting, of course). Begrudgingly, she takes the high road. Rolling her eyes and sliding into her usual spot next to Penelope. 

“This whole family is against me,” she grumbles to no one in particular. Her mood doesn’t lift until they get out of the city. 

This is the fourth summer in a row that Penelope is accompanying the Bridgertons on their summer trip to Aubrey Hall. It started when she and Eloise were twelve; Eloise had threatened to throw a screaming fit all the way to Kent if she was unable to bring her best friend along for the ride. Violet had not appreciated her daughter’s dramatics, but obliged nonetheless. 

By now, Penelope is used to car rides like this one. She’s used to Eloise’s little utterances and jabs. She’s used to Benedict’s giddy laughter and quick comebacks. She’s used to the way Colin smiles and bounces his knee and hums along to the radio, all while the sun seems to point through the window and shine on him and him alone. She’s used to sitting in the backseat and feeling as though she’s observing them all from somewhere far in the distance. 

She likes car rides like this.

Right now, the three siblings are discussing their croquet strategies for the annual family tournament. Penelope is looking out the window, watching as the trees go by — until she hears her name called out. 

Colin is glancing at her from over his shoulder in the passenger seat. He has an expectant look on his face. Clearly, Penelope’s attention had been lost somewhere in the treeline, because she has no idea what it is that he is expecting from her. 

“Hmm?”

“Which mallett do you plan on wielding?”

“Oh. Um… None, I suppose.”

“Sitting out the game another year, Pen?” Eloise asks, a dissatisfied crease in her brow. 

Absolutely.

Under most circumstances, Penelope finds croquet to be a rather tedious and boring game. But whenever the Bridgerton siblings get involved… 

Stressful and unpleasant would be more accurate words to employ. 

Her main reason for not wanting to play in the tournament is simply that it is far more enjoyable as an onlooker than it is as a participant. However, she doesn’t think that answer would go down very well with her current audience, so she only voices a secondary reason aloud. 

“Are there not only eight mallets to choose from? I wouldn’t want to intrude and leave someone else without a stick.”

“We can always share,” Colin tells her.

“In fairness to Penelope’s point,” Benedict interjects, “our family does not have much of a reputation for sharing.” 

“I meant that I can share with her, dimwit.”

“I don’t seem to recall you being very good at sharing, either.” Eloise laughs maniacally. “Or am I misremembering an incident between you and Daphne and a certain box of Christmas cookies.”

Colin unbuckles his seatbelt just so he can turn around far enough to look his little sister in the eye as he sneers at her. 

“You do misremember. If I recall correctly, you —”

“Your recollection has about as much credibility as your penchant for sharing. I, on the other hand, would be happy to share with my best —” 

“Oh come off it, El. In the last game, you nearly took poor Gregory’s eye out. Do you —” 

“It’s not my fault he didn’t duck.”

“— really think Pen wants to share a mallet with —”

“Will you two knock it off?” Benedict would sound stern, if not for the laugh caught in the back of his throat as he scolds them. “Wait two minutes and we’ll all be free from this vehicle. You two can ignore each other from opposite ends of the estate — or get into a proper fist fight on solid ground. Up to you.” 

Moving her head to the left about an inch, Penelope peers into the spot between Colin and Benedict’s heads. Sure enough, there it is. The estate that has been in the Bridgerton family for hundreds of years. The palace on the hill. The gardens and the ponds. The intricately trimmed hedges and the ivy-lined stone. The living quarters that could fit hundreds, but typically only houses a handful of people once or twice a year. 

Aubrey Hall, in all its glory. 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Tuesday

It’s a warm, albeit slightly damp afternoon in the country. Penelope is spending it in the sunroom with Eloise. (And Gregory and Hyacinth, who are obnoxiously ignoring each other in the opposite corner.) 

She’s sitting on the couch by the window, her best friend perched on the opposite end. They both have books in their laps, but the farther Penelope gets into hers, the harder it becomes for her attention to stay put. Her eyes keep drifting upwards. To the scenery outside, to the robin egg blue window frames, to the centuries-old lamp on her left — to anywhere except the book in her hands. 

Eventually, her eyes randomly settle on a potted miniature orange tree on the other side of the room; it grows fuzzy in her vision as her mind continues to wander. 

Like most people in this world, there are things missing from Penelope’s life that she longs for greatly. Small things, like a puppy — or that powder blue sundress she saw in a window on Dover Street. Bigger things, like a louder voice or a few additional inches of height. Monumental, fundamental things, which Penelope would do absolutely anything, just to be able to say were hers.

Living her entire life in such close proximity to a family like the Bridgertons — a family that loves each member so fully, so unconditionally — one might expect Penelope to be consumed by envy at the ripe age of fifteen. But she isn’t. She can’t. 

It’s difficult to be envious of a family that seems so willing to extend that love to outsiders — even if it is only temporary. Even if it’s always a few steps removed. Even if it’s never real.

“Penelope dear.” 

Nails digging into the deckled edges of her book, Penelope turns her gaze towards the doorway. Violet is standing there with a soft, expectant look on her face. 

“I just wanted to double check — you take your tea with milk and honey, correct?” 

“Yes!” She quickly stands from her spot and places the book down. “I can assist you with afternoon tea.”

“Oh, thank you dear,” says Violet, a soft smile still hanging on her lips. “But you sit, I can handle the rest.” 

Already stepping closer, Penelope glances over to the copy of Little Women she had left behind. 

“I could use the distraction. I just keep reading the same line over and over again.” Which is true. 

I do think that families are the most beautiful things in all the world.

One final moment of pleasant doubt crosses Violet’s face, before ultimately accepting the offer. 

There are two kettles on in the kitchen, and about a dozen teabags scattered around the counter next to the stove. On the island lies a silver tray and an assortment of food. Penelope attends to the latter as Violet readies the tea. 

She barely lifts a finger before the older woman calls over her shoulder, “Are you excited for the school year to start up again?” 

The question catches Penelope a little off guard. 

Parents usually ask the opposite question. They ask about summer. They assume summer is the topic a teenager would wish to discuss — especially now, when the holiday is still fresh and the school year feels like a lifetime away. 

Belatedly, she answers, “Yes. I’m really excited to start co-editing the paper with Eloise.”

“Well, that’s certainly something to be excited about. Although,” she laughs, “I fear my daughter is too busy fretting over your end-of-year exams to enjoy anything in the meantime.”

Penelope feels her lips unwittingly twist together. Though she may enjoy and appreciate her schooling, she isn’t completely mad — she’ll never smile at the mention of the GCSEs.

Violet laughs again, soft and warm. “I know they can be daunting, but I’ve had four children sit their exams and they all survived. I have no doubt you girls will be just fine.” 

In response, Penelope can only smile and nod (and think about just how not fine both of her sisters did on theirs).

When the tea kettles start to whine and Violet turns back around, Penelope turns her attention back to the arrangement in front of her — fresh-baked biscuits, honey, jam, clotted cream, milk and sugar. She places them on the platter in front of her, tins and jars in the middle, biscuits going ‘round. She stacks each one with careful fingers, fearing the perfectly circular crusts will flake off beneath her thumb. 

Biscuit after biscuit after biscuit after —

“Penelope dear.” 

Her head whips around at the sound of her name. Violet is leaning against the counter again, tea seeping behind her. There’s a cautious smile on her face. 

“Is something on your mind?” 

Yes. Always.

In truth, Penelope’s mind has never been a particularly quiet place. Growing up, her primary school teachers would describe her as “thoughtful” on report cards and in conferences with her parents — which had seemed like an odd attribution to her at the time. After all, everyone is always thinking about something; her capacity for thought is no different than anyone else’s. 

It wasn’t until she got a bit older that she finally started to get it. With time, her proclivity to over-analyze and over-worry and over-think about her every action, opinion, and impulse only grew. With such a constant, tangled web of thoughts hanging in the back of her mind at every moment of the day…

With time, it’s become obvious. That not everyone is quite as full of thoughts as she is. That, while seemingly intended as a positive attribution from her teachers, being “thoughtful” isn’t always a good thing. Or, at the very least, not always an easy thing.

But while Penelope generally considers Violet an easy person to talk to (easier than with her own mother, at least), there are some truths that she simply cannot bring herself to voice aloud. To say one word would risk untangling the entire web, and no one has time for that. 

“Um… No, I —”

“Pen! There you are!”

Once again, she whips around at the sound of her name. Not that she needed to, to know who had called it. 

Colin is walking into the kitchen with his hands in his pockets, typical charming smile on his face. 

“I didn’t realise I was missing,” she tells him, her voice coming out the tiniest bit flustered. 

He doesn’t say anything in response to that. He simply walks around the island to stand beside her. When he lands there, he playfully bumps his hip against hers — which, due to a recent growth spurt on his end (and a stagnation on hers), lands closer to her rib cage than her hip bone. 

“Preparing tea?” he asks, picking up a single sugar cube from the dish in front of them and plopping it into his mouth. 

“Yes. Still take yours with four sugars?”

Biting back a laugh as he continues chewing, Colin shrugs. “I suppose I could limit myself to three this afternoon.” 

“A noble sacrifice,” Penelope teases. 

His eyes suddenly point away from her, looking over to the spot where his mum was standing just a moment ago. Violet must have walked into the pantry or somewhere else down the hall, because she is nowhere to be seen. 

“You missed all the fun outside,” he whispers, leaning in a bit closer. 

“F — fun?”

“Yeah,” he says, smirking. “Daphne’s off to Cheltenham in a few weeks. Ben, Ant, and I couldn't let her leave home without a few self-defence lessons.” 

“Self-defence?” she echoes again, evidently losing all conversational skills past that of a parrot. 

“Yeah. You know, making sure she knows how to throw a punch or kick someone where it really hurts. Thank god Benedict volunteered to be her test dummy, or else I might have been showing up to Eton next term with a black eye.”

Penelope’s mouth drops open into an astounded gasp, picturing Daphne’s fist colliding with Benedict’s face. 

“Oh my —”

“Colin,” Violet interrupts, suddenly reappearing from wherever it was that she disappeared to. She has a look on her face that tells Penelope she caught at least some of Colin’s last few words. “What are you talking ab—”

“Nothing, mum.” With his face the picture of innocence, he picks up another sugar cube, throws it into the air, and promptly catches it in his mouth. “Just helping Pen with tea.” 

“Well, that’s very… nice of you.” Penelope has never heard Violet sound so sarcastic before. Clearly, her son’s attempt at charming misdirection had no effect. “And Daphne? Your brothers? Will they be joining us for afternoon tea as well?”

“How would I know?”

Face settled into a faux-pleasant smile, Violet’s eyes turn to Penelope again. 

“I’ll take the tea out. Penelope dear, can you do me a favour and keep my son out of trouble in the meantime?”

Automatically, Penelope’s head turns up and to the side. To the boy who occupies such a vast space of her tangled up mind at any given moment of the day. He’s looking down at her, blue eyes peeking through brown curls. 

In truth, Penelope doesn’t think she can keep Colin out of trouble, if trouble is what he wants. She doesn’t think there’s a single thing she can convince Colin of that he hasn’t already made up his mind about. 

Cheeks suddenly a light shade of pink, she turns her gaze back to Violet. 

“I’ll do my best.”

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Wednesday

It’s hot today. It’s the type of hot that feels sticky against your skin. The type of hot that infects your brain as much as it does your body. The type of hot that draws your footsteps towards the nearest body of cold water. 

At Aubrey Hall, there are several bodies of water to choose from. 

Almost everyone is in and around the pool situated in the back garden — which also just so happens to be situated directly under the sun at this time of day. After spending approximately an hour in the water, Penelope is now sitting off to the side under the safety of a big blue umbrella. Her hair and bathing suit are still damp. Her skin still prickles like it’s burning. Her oversized sunglasses sit as close to her skull as physically possible. There’s a book in her hands, but her eyes won’t let her get through a single line before they inevitably start to wander. 

Colin is still in the water, surrounded by the majority of his siblings. He’s throwing Gregory an inflatable basketball. He’s picking up Hyacinth and throwing her three feet in the air. He’s splashing Eloise. He’s wading through the water. He’s laughing. He’s running a hand through his hair, his bicep growing taught with the motion.

It’s unfair, Penelope thinks, forcing her eyes downward again, how Colin can live under the sun and never sweat beneath its heat. How the sunlight follows him wherever he moves, eternally shining down on him in glorious reflection. How in a space brimming with other people, the light appears to fall on him and him alone. 

After reading the same line for the sixth time in a row, Penelope abandons her dreams of lazily enjoying a book by the pool. She stands from her spot, throws on a white cotton dress, and tucks her copy of Sense & Sensibility under her armpit. 

At Aubrey Hall, there are several bodies of water to choose from on hot days like this, so Penelope ventures deeper into the estate. As she steps forward, she cannot help but think about the things that have changed since this summer and last — since the last time she walked down this very path.

Last summer, she wasn’t alone — she was walking arm and arm with Eloise while Colin and Benedict trailed closely behind. Last summer, Colin was about to leave for Eton and Penelope could think of nothing else but his leaving and whether or not their friendship would survive it. Last summer, she knew her feelings for him were growing stronger with each passing day, and she knew that momentum would not halt once he was out of her view. 

Last summer, Penelope was two cup sizes smaller. Last summer, Colin was two inches shorter. 

Last summer, her footsteps did not seem so predestined for the shadows. Last summer, she had not been so keenly aware of the way in which the light reflects off of Colin.

Last summer, she felt like a kid. This summer, she feels like a kid with a lot more shit swimming around her brain and body. 

Last summer —

Her footsteps (and her train collision of thoughts) stop short when she reaches her intended destination. It’s a small swimming pond, shaded by elm trees and outfitted with a little wooden dock. Positioning herself on the edge, Penelope lets her feet dangle into the tepid water. Then, she looks down. 

Free from any visual distractions, she almost makes it through an entire chapter uninterrupted. Almost. 

She knows it’s him long before she turns her head to confirm, but when she does…

Colin is walking down the path by himself. He’s wearing sandals and his navy blue swim trunks. And nothing else. 

Once he gets close enough, Penelope says, “Hi.” Or, she tries to; the word comes out more like a soundless breath of air.

He plops down beside her with a smile on his lips and a glint in his eye. “I was wondering where you disappeared to.”

“Sorry. I, uh…” She closes the book that was previously sitting open in her lap and displays it for Colin to see. “I was having trouble focusing back there. Thought I would enjoy the quiet for a few minutes.”

“You want me to fuck off?” he asks, a hint of cheekiness to his voice as he smirks and nods his head towards the path from which he came. 

The quickness with which she answers “No” is a bit embarrassing, even for her. But Colin doesn’t seem to mind. Or maybe even notice. 

“Alright.” He leans back from his sitting position to lay against the dock beside her. “You go back to your book. I’ll lay here and enjoy the silence.”

Penelope, who would do just about anything Colin asks her to, does as she’s told and reopens her book. But as determined as she is to keep her eyes focused on the text, she can’t stop herself from continually glancing sideways. She can’t prevent her mind from lingering on the smell of him — the soap and the sweat and the chlorine all radiating off his body. She can’t help but curse the few inches of distance that separate their bodies. And then, when he has the gall to drift off to sleep on a goddamn wooden deck, she can’t hear anything except those soft, even breaths. 

Through all of it, she desperately tries to read — to continue forward. But yet again, she’s stuck reading the same line over and over and over again.

If I could but know his heart, everything would become easy.

If I could but know his heart, everything would become easy.

If I could but know his heart, 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Thursday

It rained today. All day. 

It’s the type of rainy day that makes you forget that the sky was ever blue — that the sun still exists somewhere high above you, out of sight from where you stand on the ground. 

Everyone spent the day inside. Around 3:00, Daphne suggested that they all watch a movie together to pass the time. By 4:00, she and most of the other Bridgertons had abandoned that plan. 

They had drawn cards in order to determine who would pick the movie. Eight-year-old Hyacinth had drawn a Queen, and was thus named the winner. Inspired by the current weather, she had plucked Singin’ in the Rain out of the box of DVDs. 

No one was particularly enthused by her choice. Not even Hyacinth, who has since fallen asleep and is now curled up in the armchair in the corner of the room. 

Sixty-eight minutes into the movie, the only people still present, awake, and watching it are Colin and Penelope. Well, they’re awake and present — to say they’re “watching” the movie is a bit of a stretch. Penelope’s attention is mainly focused on the notebook in her hands. Colin’s is mainly on his phone. It isn't until the music picks up again and Gene Kelly starts dancing around in the rain that he focuses his attention on the TV. 

From his spot on the other end of the couch, Colin nudges Penelope’s knee with his foot. 

“When was the last time you ran around in the rain like that?” 

Looking up from her notebook, Penelope glances back and forth between Colin’s expectant face and the TV screen. Gene Kelly continues to dance around, skipping in puddles and twirling around lamp posts. 

“Never.” 

“Never?” he echoes, brows furrowed. 

Once again, Penelope’s eyes dart back and forth between Colin and the fantastical scene playing out on the screen. Then, she shrugs. She’s not quite sure where his confusion is coming from.

“Do you have a habit of singing and dancing in the rain, Colin?” 

“No.” He quickly throws a glance over his shoulder to confirm that Hyacinth is still asleep in the armchair. “But come on,” he continues, his voice a bit lower than it was before. “There wasn’t a single time in your childhood that you ran out in the rain and let loose?”

Penelope barely considers the question. She could wrack her brain for hours, searching for a memory of a time when she had “let loose” and would come up empty. 

“No.” 

Just as Colin opens his mouth to say something else, she continues. 

“Does anyone really do this,” she uses a ballpoint pen to point to the TV screen, “outside of fictional characters who just so happen to live inside a musical?” 

Colin laughs. 

“Well, not this exactly. I never expected little Penelope Featherington to have broken out into song on a street corner. But come on — at some point, you must have had the desire to dance around in the rain.” 

You don’t know what I desire, she wants to say, but doesn’t. 

“No,” she says instead. “Dancing in the rain is just silly.” 

Colin’s jaw drops in exaggerated horror. 

“How is it —”

“Dancing without music is silly. In a movie, dancing in the rain might make for a good musical sequence, but in reality, there is very rarely music accompanying a torrential downpour. Save for a poorly timed outdoor wedding, I can’t think of many scenarios in which I would want to dance in the rain.” 

Still looking a bit horrified, Colin crosses his arms in front of his chest. 

“I would argue that dancing in the rain is one of the few times when one would want to dance without music.” 

“You can’t dance without music,” she insists, crossing her own arms.

“Yes you can! If you have feet and rain — which, in case you forgot, we have plenty of in England — you can dance in the rain.” 

“Why would you want —”

“Because it’s fun, Pen,” he interrupts — evidently a bit too loudly. Hyacinth darts her head up from the side of the armchair. 

“Where is everyone?” she asks dazedly, rubbing a fist across her eyes. 

Colin sighs, throwing Penelope one last over-exaggerated eye roll before turning his attention towards his sister.

“Nowhere, Hy. You’re still dreaming.” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Friday

It’s raining again. Penelope watches streams of water rolling down the window beside her, ignoring the book in her lap. She’s also trying desperately to ignore the scene unfolding a few metres away from her in the center of the room, but that proves to be a more difficult task.

The annual croquet tournament was meant to be held this morning, but when the rain didn’t let up by noon, the siblings dispersed to different ends of the property to entertain themselves by other means. Currently, Colin and Eloise are in the library on the east wing, engaging in another family favourite pastime: argument. 

Penelope has lost track of what it is they’re arguing about. It had started with Eloise attempting to offer Colin unsolicited advice on his croquet technique, then Colin offered his own advice on Eloise’s “perpetual lateness,” then the Christmas cookie incident got brought up again, then —

Suffice to say, Penelope has since lost the plot. But whatever it is that they’re currently arguing over doesn’t even matter. After sitting in on so many of these sorts of encounters over the years, Penelope has come to accept that the Bridgerton siblings simply love to argue. It’s like a sport for them — one just as blood thirsty as a casual game of croquet. 

Sinking deeper into her chair by the window, Penelope casts her eyes downward and lifts her index finger to the page, tracing it across every word until her mind starts to actually register what it is that she is reading. She nearly makes it through the chapter before her ears unconsciously perk up at the sound of something all too familiar. 

“Penelope is my best friend. Your need to encroach on everything I hold dear is ridiculous. I suggest —”

“Oh, come off it Eloise. At least I don’t speak about Pen like she’s a piece of property I own. And —” 

“I do no such thing!”

“— we both know who she prefers to spend her time with. Of course I’m her —”

“Bullshit.”

“— best friend.”

As they continue down this path, Penelope tears her eyes away from her book and towards her supposed best friends. 

This debate started up a few years ago (around the time that she and Eloise started secondary school) and hasn’t let up since. While some might think this a complimentary position for Penelope to be in, in reality, she has always found it quite exhausting. 

From the beginning, she has taken the stance that she usually takes when thrown into the middle of a Bridgerton argument: neutrality. In her experience, that tends to lead to the least amount of bloodshed. 

But while Penelope may insist upon not taking sides in this particular debate, the answer in her mind and in her heart is far more decisive. 

In truth, Penelope has always seen Eloise as her best friend — not Colin. Not because the two of them were closer first. Not because she cares for Eloise any more or less than she does Colin. No, Penelope’s feelings for Eloise are simply uncomplicated. 

In truth, to call Colin her best friend is difficult for Penelope. The term is just so final. Best friend — there’s nothing that comes after that. To call him that feels like an admittance that a friend is all she’ll ever be to him. Even if she always — always wants more. 

“Pen?” 

Penelope blinks several times before focusing her attention back on reality. She’s not 100% sure which of them had called her name, but Colin and Eloise are both looking at her expectantly. 

“Sorry — what?”

“We’re gonna go into town — to that ice cream shop with the cows out front,” Eloise says. “You coming?”

Penelope nods, throws her book to the side, and stands fromthe chair. She smooths out her skirt and looks over to her friends. They’re still staring up at her from their spots on the rug. 

“Of, uh — of course.” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Saturday

Having spent her entire adolescence in London, there are many things Penelope has to adjust to while on these brief trips out to the country. The hardest to adjust to, she has found, is just how peaceful it all is. 

In the country, the loudest noise you’ll hear on a Saturday morning isn’t a horn blaring or a disgruntled drunk stumbling home from a late night. It’s birds. 

Every other day this week, Penelope had been jolted awake by the unexpectedly deafening sound of a dawn chorus. Most mornings, she had been able to turn over in bed and get another hour or two of sleep in. This morning was different, though; her eyes were already open and alert by the time the birds began their song. 

Thirty-seven minutes after her wake up call, Penelope now walks along a bizarrely peaceful path on the edge of the property. She looks up, to a pair of bluebirds dancing in the wind. She looks down, to the grass silently being crushed beneath her trainers. She looks to the side, towards a pond so still that its tepid surface looks as though it’s been frozen over. 

That is, until Colin skips a pebble across it. 

When exiting Eloise’s bedroom door this morning, Penelope had planned on taking a quick trip around the ponds alone. But when she found Colin in the kitchen eating a “pre-breakfast,” suddenly it became a walk for two. 

“Why were you up so early?” Colin (a perpetual early bird) asks her now. He does not miss a step as he doubles over and picks up another pebble from the path beneath them. 

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Is Eloise’s snoring really that loud?” 

“No.” She laughs. “Well, yes. But I’ve gotten used to it over the years.” 

And that’s true. Penelope has long since overcome her inability to sleep through disruption. (Save for the birds that have been tormenting her this past week.) 

“Just your usual bout of insomnia, then?” 

“Yup.” 

Also true. And an increasingly common occurrence in her life. 

“Is something on your mind?” 

“No.” 

Less than true. Colin looks as though he’s about to press her further, but before he can, she searches her mind for something to blame for her restlessness. Anything other than her own overworked mind.

“I think the quiet here is starting to unnerve me.” She laughs quietly, a forced breath of nonchalance. “I’m so used to falling asleep and waking up to the sounds of traffic and yelling. The birds chirping in the morning are starting to feel a bit…” 

“Antagonistic?” Colin finishes when her voice trails off, looking up to the sky with a slight grimace on his face. 

She laughs again, softer and more genuine now. 

“Yeah.”

“I know what you mean.” Colin reaches down for another pebble, but doesn’t immediately dispel it like he did the others. He turns it over and over in his palm as he continues speaking. “I’m used to how Aubrey Hall sounds by now, but Eton took some getting used to.” 

His mention of “Eton” causes Penelope’s ears to perk up. 

After growing up in posh all-boy schools in London, Colin had left the city to attend Eton College for his A-Levels last fall. When he did, for the first time in Penelope’s life, Colin Bridgerton had not lived across the street from her. To Penelope, this change had felt monumental (to phrase it nicely). But to him…

Well, she doesn’t exactly know how he feels on the subject. He never seems to want to talk about it — with her, at least. 

“What does it sound like?” she asks him. “At Eton, I mean.” 

“Uh… Well it’s quiet, mostly. But loud in its own ways. I think it’s because the halls are so archaic and winding — noises carry differently there than they do here or at home.” 

“Are you excited to go back?” she asks when he doesn’t expand any further. 

“I…” He chuckles, then finally gets rid of the pebble in his hand. “I would prefer not to discuss the school year during my summer holiday.” 

“Fair enough,” she mutters, shrugging her shoulders in acceptance of the brevity of this particular conversation. In its absence, a familiar quiet falls between them. (Save for the wind and the birds and the twigs snapping beneath their feet.)

Unconsciously, Penelope’s fingers pull at the hem of her skirt. It was probably not the best choice for an early morning walk around the ponds, but in fairness, she thought the air would be a bit warmer by now. 

As the quiet continues, Penelope’s eyes dart all around, pointing everywhere, except to the person walking directly beside her. She looks down, noting how the whites of her converse are starting to turn brown. She looks up, curious about the colour of the sky, but unable to make out much between the trees. She looks to the side, to the nearest pond; she watches as the still surface begins to sputter.

“We should head back,” she murmurs, voice soft as she feels the first few drops of rain hit her bottom lip. Colin nods his head, then alters his footsteps accordingly. 

The very moment that they step out of the cover of trees and into the open field, Penelope wonders if it was the right call to make. Her head swivels back and forth, from the wooded area behind them to the house ahead. The latter is about an acre of land away, but looks much farther from her current position. 

Before she can make a decision, Penelope’s eyes settle on Colin. She does so looking for some sort of guidance forward. The only problem is that he isn’t looking at the woods or the house. 

He’s looking at the sky.

He’s smiling. 

“Should we —” Penelope starts, but stops after realising her tentative words aren’t quite audible above the rainfall.

Colin finally looks down, moving his attention away from the sky and directly onto Penelope. With a smile still plastered on his face, he tells her, “I think this is what some people would call a sign.”

“What —”

“Ready to let loose, Featherington?” 

He extends his hand towards her, though Penelope cannot even begin to fathom why. Then it hits her. 

There wasn’t a single time in your childhood that you ran out in the rain and let loose?

“No,” she answers for the second time that week. Which may be a new record for her. 

“Oh, come on Pe—”

“This is silly.” 

With a huff, she lightly slaps away his offered hand. Realising she needs to make this decision on her own, she starts walking in the direction of the house. Unfortunately, Colin’s footsteps are quicker than hers; he gets in front of her, blocking her path forward within seconds. 

“How is it ‘silly?’” 

There are many extensive, reasonable answers Penelope could give in response to his question. But due to the rain beating down on them — quick and gaining speed by the second — she defaults to brevity. 

“No music.” 

“I thought we already refuted that point.”

“Colin —”

“But if music is really so important to you, I could always sing.” 

No. No no no no no no no.

Penelope feels her eyes go wide and her body go rigid as her brain briefly short circuits. In some universe, she could maybe — just maybe — handle dancing in the rain with Colin without having her heart explode. But there is simply no chance in any universe she could survive him serenading her while doing so.

“No,” she says again. Definitely a record. 

“Pen —”

“No singing. That’s far too silly.” 

“Okay, okay, okay…” A goofy, albeit expectantly charming smile graces his lips. “Fair enough — no singing. Out loud, at least.”

“What are —”

“Just sing a song in your head. I’ll sing one in mine.” 

Again, there are a million questions and objections she could voice aloud. The one she lands on is: “What song?”

“Whatever you want. It’s your head.”

“But what if we sing different songs and our footsteps are all mixed up?”

“Then the world will end.” Colin tilts his head back as he laughs. “Nothing! Nothing will happen — other than a bit of fun.”

Once again, Colin offers her his hand. And god — for all her consternation on this ridiculous, utterly absurd offer, she can’t bring herself to deny him any longer. 

Unsurprisingly, the dance begins with an awkward start. Their hands interlock with gripping fingers, continually adjusting to the rain slipping between them. All other points of their bodies remain separate; their arms form an oval shape as their feet pick up speed. 

At first, they swing around each other like two little kids playing Ring a Ring o’ Roses. And while Colin laughs like this is the most fun he’s had in years, Penelope can’t help but bite at her lip; she feels even more exposed and awkward and utterly silly than she had expected. Just when she thinks they’ll follow the nursery rhyme and fall into the muddy ground beneath them, Colin alters their movements.

Dropping one hand, he raises the other to twirl her around — twice. By the second time, she actually has a smile on her face. 

“This isn’t too bad, is it?” 

“Oh! Uh, no — I —” 

She doesn’t get the chance to finish that sentence before Colin spins her around again, this time out and away from his own body. When her arm extends fully and she’s as far away from him as she can get with their hands gripped together, she once again fears that her feet will give out from underneath her and send her crashing downwards. But just as the Earth tilts and she feels herself falling, Colin pulls her back in. 

Her right shoulder hits his sternum with a bang — hard enough that she fears either one of them could leave this encounter with a bruise. “Sorry!” she yelps, but suspects that Colin can’t hear her over the rain still pouring down around them. 

She moves her feet just enough to extract herself from Colin’s center. She then finds his left hand and interlocks it with her right so they’re in a similar position to where they had started. This time though, their arms hang lower and their bodies aren’t so far apart. 

As a low rumble of thunder starts beating in the distance, the two of them continue dancing. Their movements feel less awkward to her now, but just as silly. Which, Penelope finally realises, isn’t necessarily a bad thing. 

Feeling lighter and freer than she has all morning, Penelope’s head tilts backwards with laughter. Unfortunately, such lightness is short-lived, for Colin misinterprets her unconscious movement as an attempt to dip backwards. 

Following her unintentional lead, Colin’s left hand leaves her grasp and shoots to her lower back. The movement inadvertently pulls her pelvis right up against his leg. 

“Fuck!” she yelps, too caught off guard to stop herself. This time, Colin can easily hear her above the raging storm.

“Pen, are you o—”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish that sentence. 

Caught off guard not just by Penelope’s expletive, but also by the way her body went rigid in his arms and against his middle, Colin loses track of his own footsteps. His left foot trips over his right ankle. He barely manages to let go of her before tumbling unceremoniously to the ground. 

Still frozen in the position he had just held her in, Penelope can only watch as he falls into a particularly muddy patch of grass. His entire right side is instantly caked in mud. 

“Oh my god!” she finally manages to get out. “Colin!” 

She gets down on his level just as he rolls onto his back. As he opens his eyes and looks up at her, she expects them to squint in annoyance — the fall was her fault, after all. At the very least, she expects them to go wide, in shock or in pain. 

What she does not expect is for them to crinkle. For his entire face to light up with humour as his head falls back even deeper into the mud and he starts laughing. 

 Laughing. 

“Colin?” she repeats, tentatively this time; she fears he might be suffering from a concussion. 

“That’s what I get for trying to show off,” he mutters, still laughing. Still laying in the mud. 

Mouth opening and closing several times, Penelope takes in the state of him. Every inch of his back and right side — from the tip of his white trainer to the crown of his head — is coated in a murky brown sludge. 

“I — I’m sorry,” she finally manages to say. 

“For what?” He finally sits up, wiping his hands against the little bit of clean fabric left of his shorts. “I didn’t expect you to catch me before I hit the ground. No offence, but I think that could have only resulted in both of us covered in muck.”

She opens her mouth again, but before she can say anything, lightning strikes directly over their heads. A deafening boom follows less than a second later. 

Though not at all a religious person, Penelope has to assume that flash of light was a message sent directly from God, telling her to keep her mouth shut. 

What could she have said, anyway?

Sorry. I can’t get that close to you without losing control of all bodily functioning. 

“I think that’s a sign to cut our dance short,” Colin announces. When he fruitlessly wipes at his brow and peels his legs from the Earth, Penelope lets out a semi-forced laugh. 

“Was the mud caked all over your body not enough of a reason?”

Now standing above her, he shrugs. 

“Eh. It’s just a bit of mess,” he says. “The rain will clean me off before we get back to the house.” 

With that, he extends his hand down to her. And god — how could she not take it? 

They run back to the house together, feet sinking deeper and deeper into the grass as they go. Just as they land on solid ground, Colin halts both of their footsteps by placing a hand around her elbow. 

“I forgot to ask,” he starts, his voice warm but still raised. They’re technically out of the rain and under the cover of the back terrace, but the storm is so loud that they may as well be in the middle of it. “What song were you singing?”

“What?” she asks, genuinely not sure if she heard him right. 

“When we were dancing — what song were you singing in your head?”

Like a lightning bolt, it hits her all at once that Colin was right. That she did not, in fact, need music to dance in the rain and have a bit of fun. 

She didn’t sing a song in her head before, but he’s looking at her so expectantly with that goddamn smile on his face… 

She can’t bring herself to admit the truth, so she says the first thing that pops into her head. 

“Yellow. You know, that song by Coldplay.” 

Tearing her eyes away from his, Penelope looks down to her dress — a chequered yellow and white sundress that flows down to her knees. It’s one of the few unsolicited pieces of clothing from her mother that she actually likes. Loves, even. 

Though it hadn’t been her intention when looking down, Penelope can’t help but take in the state of her attire. Every inch of her is dripping with rain. And though it’s nothing compared to what Colin’s sporting now, there’s mud speckled all over her. Her dress is probably ruined, but truthfully, she couldn’t care less. 

Turning her attention back to the blue eyes already fixed on hers, Penelope laughs. 

“Funny how that song always gets stuck in my head.”

Colin laughs too. She can’t quite make out what he says next, but she thinks she hears the word “good” somewhere in all that noise. 

He turns away from her slightly, body pointed towards the nearest entrance into the house. But before he can step away, Penelope taps him on the elbow. 

“What song were you singing?” 

Though his lips part immediately, he does not answer her question right away. Just when Penelope wonders if he forgot the answer, he leans in closer.

“Your song was better,” he insists. “That’s the song.” 

Before she can muster up a single word in response to that, Colin turns and walks towards the door, his backside very much still painted brown. Penelope stays behind for a moment, feeling stuck in her place on the edge of the terrace, heart beating in her ears and raindrops pelting into her sideways. 

 ꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Sunday

“Do you think time moves faster in the country?” 

Penelope looks over and up, catching a glimpse of Colin’s face in the sun. It’s unusually sunny this morning — not a cloud in the sky. 

“Don’t people usually say the opposite? That the days are longer in the country than in the city.” 

“Yeah, I know that’s what ‘people’ say,” he mutters, rolling his eyes down at her with a smile still pressed into his cheeks. “But doesn’t it feel like we just got here?”

While her feet continue forward, Penelope looks over her shoulder, towards the building not so far in the distance behind them. 

Aubrey Hall was built in the 17th century and has remained relatively untouched ever since. Thus, any 21st century cars have to be parked in the garage hidden behind a cluster of trees, about a quarter-mile away from the home. Eloise and Benedict are making the trek with them, walking about five paces behind them. (Although the pair seem so engrossed in conversation that they may as well be a hundred steps behind.)

Turning back to Colin…

“Isn’t that how all vacations go? Each day feels long, but then when you look back it’s like the whole week was a blur.” 

He considers this a moment. 

“That’s very apt, Pen.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she mumbles. “That’s just another thing people say. Honestly, I don’t have that much experience with vacations, other than a few trips to see my family in Ireland. And here, of course.” 

Looking up towards the sky, Colin sighs. 

“Yeah, I don’t have much experience with those, either. I’ve never travelled much farther than here.”

All at once, it strikes Penelope how true and how surprising his statement is. Since they were children, Colin has talked at great length about the places he dreams of travelling to one day. Paris, Vienna, Athens, New York, Venice… 

The list is long, to say the least. But at seventeen, the number of countries Colin has visited is rather brief. For most teenagers, she would attribute that disparity to limitations in money or freedom — but neither of those are in short supply in the Bridgerton household. 

“Why is that?” 

Colin quickly throws a glance over his shoulder before answering, “Dunno. Probably has to do with the guilt that comes with owning such a massive estate. I mean, it barely gets used as it is. To spend our holidays somewhere else would just be… wasteful.” 

Penelope also looks over her shoulder. She steals one last glance at said massive estate before turning the corner that leads to the hidden garage. 

“It is a rather nice place to spend your time,” she remarks. “But there are a lot of amazing places out there in the world. Aubrey Hall will always be here to return to.”

It takes Colin a moment to respond to that. Though his footsteps continue forward, he turns his attention down and to the side. To her. His eyes squint softly in those last few fleeting seconds before he voices his response.

“Very apt, Pen.” 

Though not a religious person, Penelope thanks God that Colin’s eyes flick forward just as a blush bursts up her skin and paints her cheeks bright pink. She opens her mouth, feeling a sudden urge — a need to say something to fill the air between them. But before she can, someone else’s voice fills it for her. 

“Shotgun!”

She turns her head just in time to catch Eloise running up from behind them; her eyes are fixed on the car sitting a few metres away. When Penelope turns back to Colin, she expects to see him manoeuvring himself in front of his sister, just as he did when she pulled this same trick earlier in the week. 

(Knowing the Bridgertons, she half-expects him to stick his foot out and trip her.) 

But no. Colin’s footsteps remain even as Eloise rushes past. When Penelope throws him a questioning glance, he smirks. 

“Sometimes, you have to let her get a win in,” he explains. “Otherwise, we’ll all pay.” 

“You’re incorrigible,” Penelope mutters, doing her best to conceal the smirk forming on her own lips. Before either of them can say anything else, she quickens her pace and closes what little distance is left between herself and the car. 

Mere seconds after she takes her spot behind the driver’s seat, Colin slides into the spot beside her. When their eyes catch, Penelope remembers what they were discussing before Eloise had interrupted them. 

Leaning over the middle seat by a few inches, Penelope asks in a hushed tone: “If you had to jump on a plane right now and spend a week-long holiday anywhere in the world, where would you go?” 

Colin smiles before answering, “Greece.” He raises one eyebrow before asking, “Where would you go?”

“Paris,” she says, not realising how true her answer is until about a second after it leaves her lips. 

Both of Colin’s eyebrows lift. He looks like he’s about to ask another question, but before he can, the ignition kicks on and Eloise turns the radio all the way up. 

During the remainder of the trip home, Penelope resists the urge to dwell on the events of the past week — to recall how Colin looked beneath the sun or how he felt in the rain. She also resists the urge to fester on the future — on the upcoming school year and the absence of Colin from her life again. 

She does her best to focus only on the now. On the music. On the treeline. On her friends. On Colin, sitting beside her, humming a tune and bobbing his knee and smiling in that way that will always make her stomach flutter. 

Now is good. 

[sweetbuckybarnes]

All This Time, It Was You 7/10

Summary: Colin speaks to Penelope at a ball about her secret.

Tag list: @josephine-waters

Masterlist

It had been over a week since Colin had found out the identity of Lady Whistledown, and he has avoided every ball - which had been noticed by Lady Whistledown. No, Penelope.

His mother had already cornered him, asking him what he was doing as he has avoided going to every ball and the musical over the weekend.

Colin didn't say anything to Violet about Penelope's secret, as far as he knew he was the second person to learn Penelope's secret.

This is how he found himself back at the Featherington ball and unlike last season, he was going to speak to Penelope.

"Colin, please, dearest. Tell me what you are thinking?" Violet asked her son, almost clinging onto his sleeve to stop him from running away.

"I just need to speak to Penelope, mother," Colin says, looking around the garden and trying to find Penelope.

Violet looked up at her son, confused. What was going through his head? Who was he looking for?

"Excuse me, mama," Colin said, pulling away from his mother and over to where he could see Penelope eating a cucumber sandwich. "Miss Feathrington, I must speak to you in private. At once," he tells her as soon as he is stood at her side.

"Not right now, Mr. Anderson is coming over for his dance," Penelope replies.

Colin stares over the top of Penelope's head to see Anderson walking their way. "He's not dancing with you. I am," Colin says, taking her hand in his and leading her out onto the floor.

"Mr. Bridgerton? What on earth are you doing?" Penelope questioned, as Colin held her in place ready for the waltz. "I had promised this dance to Mr. Anderson."

"And now you are dancing with me," Colin said. He watched as Penelope rolled her eyes at him, but made sure to allow him a dance - so she wouldn't make a scene in front of the ton. "But, after this dance, I need to speak to you. In private."

With the final note, Penelope curtsied and Colin bowed - he muttered into her ear. "Meet me outside in two minutes," and he walked outside.

Penelope watched him go as her eyebrows crinkled in confusion. It was something important he had to speak to her about.

A few minutes later, when everyone was focused on the next dance, Penelope made her escape to speak to Colin.

There were only two people who saw Penelope leave. Violet and Eloise.

"What is it you would like to speak to me about, Mr. Bridgerton?" Penelope asked, folding her hands in front of her.

"Penelope, there is no one around, you may call me by name, like you always have," Colin says, taking a step closer - almost too close for proprieties sake.

Penelope doesn't say a word, as she took a small step back.

"Ok, if this is how you are going to be," Colin mutters, looking over Penelope and into the ball - seeing that no one has noticed that they have left, he takes his Pen's hand in his. "Penelope, I know."

"You know what?"

"Penelope, I know," he emphasised his last word.

Her folded hands turned to crossed arms. "There is no need to speak in rhymes Mr. Bridgerton. You know what?"

Colin took her by the elbow and further away from the door. Her surprised shout of 'Colin Bridgerton!' he ignored as he said. "I know you are Lady Whistledown."

Penelope looked at Colin with surprise. "What on earth are you talking about? I'm not Lady Whistledown."

"Yes, you are. I overheard you talking to Eloise last week," he admitted.

"So, you decided to eavesdrop on my private conversation with your little sister?" Penelope asked, crossing her arms, and taking a step back.

"Pen."

"No! I don't want to hear it!"

"Pen, just listen to me!"

"Why would I listen to Eloise's older brother, who has made it quite clear than do not see me as a woman. Only as the little girl who clung to Eloise. I was always more of another sister to you."

"I have never thought of you as my sister!"

Penelope laughed at his statement.

"It's true!"

Penelope continued to laugh and shook her head.

"Oh, for the love of God"

Colin reached over to the laughing Penelope and kissed her.

She was stunned. As soon as Colin pressed his lips to hers, she raised her hand to his face to smack him, but her hand faltered as her heart started to beat faster. Her hand started shaking in time with her heart.

And she sunk.

Penelope wrapped her arms around his neck and shuffled a little closer. Colin wrapped one arm around her waist as the other slid up the nape of her neck and came to rest along her jawline with his thumb resting on her cheek.

Suddenly, she pulled away from him. Penelope blinked repeatedly, raising her fingers to her lips.

"What did you just do?"

[sea-owl]

OK I'm gonna throw you a curveball. My prompt is falling in love with someone's mind (their work) before realizing you're in love physically too and the couple is Benelope (Benedict and Penelope)

Huh, you know as much as the fandom loves using Penelope as the Bridgerton bicycle (I'm sorry Pen. I love you. You're my favorite but it's true.) I don't think I've really seen this one done as a serious couple. Which is saying something because I've read throuple Anthony/Kate/Penelope fanfiction before.

Alright let me give a crack at it.

Penelope was in love.

Not actual love per say. She wasn't in love with a person, more so she was in love with someone's work.

Their was a painter that the Bridgertons favored, so much so that he had at least one painting in almost every room in the house. It was his art that Penelope loved.

They were mostly landscapes but Penelope got a sense of longing, and searching from each one. Each stroke of paint brought life to the painting as a whole. Hidden object littered each painting this artist did, and there was one constant in each one.

Hidden among each painting was a red haired nymph. Often tiny and far away. If the viewer didn't look closely they would miss her red curls and curvy figure.

In a way these paintings reminded Penelope of her writing, every small piece fitting together to create a beautiful piece and in weird way they both made her feel seen.

"I take it you like the painting?"

Penelope jumped. "Oh Mr. Bridgerton, I'm sorry I didn't see you there."

Benedict Bridgerton gave a laugh. "It's alright Miss Featherington."

"And yes I do. The painter your family hired is quite talented. The paintings are beautiful."

Benedict fully faces her. "You think they're beautiful?"

Penelope nodded. "Yes. I especially love the little nymph in each one. It's too bad she's always so far away."

Benedict bit his lip, glancing back and forth between the painting and Penelope. "He has a painting of the nymph he's currently working on. I can show you."

Penelope's eyes widened. "I wouldn't want to intrude. And wouldn't it be rude if he hasn't finished yet?"

"He wouldn't mind."

Ten minutes later Penelope found herself in a studio in the Bridgerton home. Canvases of finished and unfinished paintings littered the room. In the middle was the unfinished painting of the nymph.

Penelope stared at painting of the nymph. The nymph herself was painted, all it needed was the background. But the thing that took her breath away was that it was her, or inspired by her at the very least. The nymph sensually laid out in a meadow of flowers with nothing more covering her than a scrap of green cloth. She looked peaceful, her red curls splayed around her head like a halo. The way Benedict painted the light around her gave the nymph an almost angelic glow.

"Benedict did you paint all of these?"

Penelope looked back at Benedict, who was shyly not looking at her. One arm, half exposed from him rolling up his sleeves, held her attention. To be honest she has never really thought of him like that before. Oh yes she knew he could be a rake, had heard the whispers in the ballrooms, and has written about it multiple times in her column, but to actually have those thoughts yourself -

Huh. Maybe Penelope was in love.

[morewonders]

I asked for prompts and @spurlunk said “Bridgerton sports AU,” which my brain immediately interpreted as “Kate/Anthony Pitch AU.” Sorry about it. This is just a part of it because I somehow wrote like 3k of this today? So maybe I’ll finish it at some point? IDEK.

“I’m not worried about some upstart pitcher barely out of the minors, are you kidding?”

Kate hears the rest of the team laugh. “Right, right,” one of them retorts. “Scared of a girl, Bridgerton?”

“Gender has nothing to do with it,” the first player says. “The MLB doesn’t discriminate and neither do I.” 

Huh, she thinks. That was almost enlightened.

“It’s about experience. This is my team, and no rookie is going to take that away from me.”

On second thought - fuck this guy.

–

“You could have told me who you were,” he says.

“I didn’t know who you were!” At his yeah, right scoff, she rolls her eyes and says, “Contrary to what your inflated ego might have you believe, an over-the-hill catcher with a .260 batting average who spends six months of the year in a mask, playing for a team that hasn’t been to the playoffs in three years, isn’t exactly recognizable off the street.”

Anthony crosses his arms. “You do know who I am, then.”

Cocky piece of shit.

The thing is, he’s not wrong. Oh, she’s not lying about the night before - she genuinely had no idea that the guy with the stubble that she made out with for a good fifteen minutes was Anthony Bridgerton, veteran catcher for the San Diego Padres. 

Because yes, she knows Anthony Bridgerton. She may or may not have had his rookie card on the corkboard above her desk in college. But the mental image of that boy - baby faced, warm brown eyes, unfortunate sideburns that did him no favors - is almost irreconcilable with the scowling man in front of her.

Almost. Now that she knows, she can kind of see the progression. She just hadn’t caught onto it in the shadowy corner of San Diego’s seediest dive bar after three margaritas. They hadn’t even exchanged names, she remembers with a mental groan. What had started as a friendly game of pool had ended up with them next to the ancient jukebox with his thigh between her legs and his tongue in her mouth.

-

“I’m too drunk for this,” he says.

Kate nods. “Me too.” She reaches for him again.

“God, we can’t, we can’t,” he groans. “Consent is key, and all that.”

Drunk Kate very enthusiastically consents, and would demonstrate just how much in a heartbeat. But, fuck, maybe that means he’s got a point.

Leaning into him, she kisses his stubbled cheek. “A gentleman, huh.”

“Trying to be,” he says, hands skimming over her hips.

“AB, come the fuck on,” one of his buddies yells from across the bar.

He sighs. “Are you in town for a while?”

“A while,” she agrees. God willing and the Giants choke.

He holds up a wait here hand and jogs to steal a cocktail napkin and a pen from the bartender. He scribbles his number and hands it to her. “Please call,” he says. “Let me make it up to you when we’re sober.”

Then he’s ducking out the door, sheepishly waving goodbye as his friends loudly give him shit.

She saves him as Brown Eyes Dive Bar in her phone and texts him in the Uber back to her hotel, still tipsy and feeling brave. 

Make it up to me, huh? You better.

–

“Gotta say, when you said you’d ‘make it up to me,’ insulting me in front of my new teammates was not what I pictured.”

“I didn’t know you were the rookie pitcher Danbury called up. But let’s be clear, this is my team, and whatever this was,” he gestures between the two of them, “isn’t happening.”

“That will not be a problem.”

[patheticdarling]

Best Friend

  Summary: Reader is the second Featherington daughter so naturally she’s acquainted with the Bridgerton family, one key difference is that they actually all enjoy her company. In fact, her and Benedict Bridgerton have been best friends since youth. But now that they’re older and she’s in season, will Benedict see her as more than a friend?

   Warnings: a little bit of heated kissing/coarse language/teasing/friends-to-lovers/guys harassing reader/fighting/mentions of blood & bruising/made-up character

   Word Count: 2507

 “This corset is far too tight,” you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. 

   Your mother tapped you on the wrist with her fan causing you to stop your movements, “Stop fidgeting!” she snapped. 

   “Oh, my apologies. I thought one needed breathing in order to stay alive but perhaps I’m wrong,” you groaned. 

   “You look like a proper young lady. Besides, you would get used to it quicker if you stopped thinking about it so much,” she explained. 

   You sighed, “Why don’t men have to wear such contraptions?”

   “Suppose we’re just the lucky ones,” your father cleared his throat as he fixed his cuff-links. 

   “Bastard,” you grumbled. 

   “Y/N!” your mother snapped, “That is enough! Now you are to act like a mannered young lady tonight, is that understood? It’d do you good to actually play nice with the young suitors.” 

   “But, Mama, they’re either dreadfully boring or have vile tongues,” you explained.

   “Welcome to the world of men,” Prudence snickered, earning her a scornful gaze from your mother. 

   “As a Featherington woman, you should put more effort into finding a suitable husband for yourself,” she raised a brow. 

    You scoffed, “You don’t think I’ve tried?”

    “Last suitor you introduced her to she threw lemonade all over him,” Philippa snickered. 

   “Oh shut it, you twit,” you snapped at your older sister.  

   “Someone should’ve told him to mind his tongue in the presence of a lady then,” Penelope added, “Y/N told me what that buffoon said to her. Revolting.” 

   “Thank you, Pen,” you sighed, “At least someone in this family has my back.”

   “But that does not mean every man is like that. You need to at least put some sort of effort into finding a husband,” your mother explained. 

   You rolled your eyes, remaining quiet for the rest of the carriage ride. Soon enough you arrived at tonight’s designated ball.

   “Come, Sister,” Penelope offered her arm, “Let us find you a husband.” 

   “Great,” you groaned as you took her arm, following behind your parents and sisters into the hall. The room was full of the usual suspects, the same lords, and ladies from every other ball. 

   “Remind me again why I couldn’t just fake an illness and not attend?” you asked your little sister. 

   “Because you were not leaving me alone with these people for hours on end and leave me to our wolf of a mother,” Penelope explained. 

   “But don’t you have Eloise to keep you company?” you asked. 

   “Lady Bridgerton thought it do her good to spend some time with Daphne so she may learn how to be in her place one day,” she answered. 

   “As if that’ll ever happen,” you rolled your eyes, Penelope looked almost offended on her best friend’s behalf, “Oh please, Sister. You know I have no real issue with Eloise’s choices. If anything, I wholeheartedly agree with her.” 

  “Oh come, Sister. This is what being a true lady is,” she teased. 

   “You’re a pain in the arse, you know that right?” you quipped. 

   “My goodness,” a voice came from behind you and your brother. 

   You turned to see Anthony, Benedict, and Colin Bridgerton, all three brothers smirking, and what one can only assume was not their first glass of champagne in each of their hands. 

   “Is that any way for a young lady to talk?” Anthony teased. 

   “Have you no shame?” Colin added. 

   “Speaking of pains in the arse,” you rolled your eyes, “My Lords,” you curtsied. 

   “Miladies,” they all smiled, bowing. 

   “Oh, shut it with the formalities,” you giggled before giving them all a hug.

   They laughed, “It is good to see you, Y/N.” 

   You blushed, “You too, Benedict.” 

   “Can I just say I’m genuinely surprised to see you here,” Anthony commented, “Didn’t think husband-hunting was something that interested you?”

   “Trust me, it’s not,” you sighed, “But my mother has convinced my sisters and me that we should be putting more effort into finding a suitable husband.” 

   “Lady’s responsibilities and such,” Penelope shrugged. 

   “Ahem,” someone cleared their throat from behind the five of you, “Miss Featherington,” a young lord bowed to you before turning nervously to the Bridgerton boys, “Lord Bridgerton, Lord Bridgerton, Lord Bridgerton.” 

   “Lord Ficus,” Anthony greeted the gentleman. 

   “Pardon my interruption,” Lord Ficus smiled, “I was just wondering if Miss Featherington would do me the honour of accompanying me on the dance floor?”

   “Oh, Penelope would be delighted,” Benedict answered quickly, as you nudged your little sister towards the gentleman. 

   Lord Ficus smiled nervously at Penelope, “Apologies for the misunderstanding, Lord Bridgerton. But I was actually referring to the older Miss Featherington.” 

   You looked over at the boys, begging for them to make up some sort of excuse to get you to stay with them. Your eyes pleading. 

   Benedict moved to speak before Penelope cut him off, “My sister would be delighted.” 

   “Marvellous,” the young lord grinned, extending his arm. 

   You smiled politely before taking his arm, sending your little sister a deadly glare as Lord Ficus hauled you out onto the dance floor. 

   “I’m off to find my Mama, excuse me,” Penelope excused herself from the Bridgerton brothers.

   “Looks like you’re running out of time,” Anthony spoke as soon as you were out of earshot. 

   “What’re you talking about?” Benedict asked, his eyes not letting you get too far out of his sight. 

   “You love her,” Anthony answered. Benedict gave him a confused glare, “Don’t try to deny it. We’ve all taken note of it. Well, everyone besides the Featheringtons and Y/N that is.” 

   Benedict cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly next to his older brother. All three of them watched as you looked rather bored with Lord Ficus’ conversation skills as he made a poor attempt at dancing. 

   “Why haven’t you just told her already?” Colin asked. 

   Benedict spun the liquid in his glass, “Never seemed like the right time. And anyway, Y/N has no interest in marrying some high-born lord. She has no interest in marrying at all as far as I’m concerned.” 

   “Maybe she’s not interested in marrying some random man. Maybe, just maybe, she feels the same way about her childhood best friend,” Anthony concluded. 

   Benedict scoffed, “Don’t be silly.”

   “I’m perfectly serious, Brother,” Anthony explained, “You better get on that. Lady Featherington is pretty keen on seeing all four of her girls married before the end of the season. Maybe save her the trouble before Y/N gets shipped off to the next drooling lord who fawns over her.” 

   “Like you almost did with Daphne,” Benedict quipped. 

   “That was an error in judgement,” Anthony explained. 

   Benedict downed the last of his cup, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Brother.”

   Anthony scoffed, “You’re a Bridgerton, she’s a Featherington. It’s not the worst match-up. And besides, we’re all lucky she looks nothing like a Featherington.”

  “Pen is a nice girl,” Colin interrupted. 

   “Of course Penelope is a nice girl. But we all know we see her as yet another little sister,” Anthony explained. 

   “Fair enough,” Colin finished off his wine, “Still, nobody deserves to be alone like that,” he nodded over as Penelope clung to your mother, “Gentlemen duties.” 

   The two eldest boys waved off their younger brother before shifting their focus back on you yet you weren’t where they’d left you. 

   “Where’s Y/N gone?” Benedict asked. 

   Anthony shrugged, finishing his drink off. “I hope you’re not planning on standing there twiddling your thumbs.” 

   “You’re a bastard, sometimes, Brother,” Benedict chuckled before rushing off to find you. 

  “Lord Ficus, please-” 

   The young lord continued to back you into a corner, figuratively and literally. You had told him that you needed some air, expecting him to be a gentleman and leaving you be. How wrong you were. 

   “Oh come on Miss Featherington,” he smirked grotesquely, “We all know that you yearn for attention like this.”

   “Excuse me?” you scoffed. 

   “I have never seen a woman who shows off her body as you do,” he explained, “The way your breasts heave in your dress and the way the fabric clings to your body,” Lord Ficus bit his lip. 

   “I will not tolerate this,” you spit, “Get away from me!”

   You attempted to shove him but he caught your wrist, bending it slightly, “Did you genuinely think you could overpower me?” 

   You winced as he twisted your wrist, “M-My lord, you’re h-hurting me.” 

   “I don’t care,” Lord Ficus spat, “You will give me what I want Miss Featherington or I’ll go tell the whole ton just how much of a disgusting whore you truly are.” 

   “Please,” you whimpered. 

   Your eyes squeezed shut as Lord Ficus drew back his hand, you flinched in preparation to be struck. When suddenly you heard a loud grunt and the grip on your wrist was gone. 

   “Benedict!” you gasped as he had tackled Lord Ficus to the ground, planting multiple punches across his face. 

   “You bastard!” Benedict grunted as he fought the other young lord; though Lord Ficus wasn’t putting up much of a fight. 

   “Benedict stop it!” you tried to intervene. 

   “Fucking hell, Benedict!” another voice came running out into the hall. 

   “He’s not worth it!” you turned to see both Anthony and Colin running to stop their brother from nearly killing Lord Ficus. 

   They struggled as they peeled Benedict off of Lord Ficus, Benedict fighting harshly against his brothers’ grips. 

   Colin struggled, “Calm down, Brother!”

   “I will kill you! If you ever so much as look at her, I swear-” 

   “Take him outside!” Anthony demanded as he and Colin dragged their brother from the hall. 

   You looked over at Lord Ficus who was nearing unconsciousness. You knelt down next to his bloodied face, “You ever come near me again, I won’t let them stop him from killing you.” 

   “Please,” he whimpered before drifting off. 

   “Pathetic,” you struck the man across the face quickly before rushing outside. Anthony scolding Benedict, who was paying little to no mind as steam practically came from his ears. 

   “Why would you do something so idiotic?!” Anthony shouted. 

   “He was hurting Y/N! Was I supposed to sit back while that prick-”

  “Benedict, you are a Bridgerton. You cannot be so careless with your action-”

   “I don’t give a damn!” Benedict cut his older brother off, “I would not have done anything differently. I would’ve killed him if the two of you hadn’t come along.” 

   “Benedict, a man like that is not worth the dire consequences,” Colin sympathized. 

   “But a woman like Y/N is,” Benedict answered. 

   “You’re wrong,” you interjected. All three Bridgerton brothers’ attention shot over to you. 

   “Y/N,” Benedict rushed to your side, embracing you softly, “Are you alright?” 

   “I could be better,” you spoke shakily. 

   Benedict gently took your wrist, trying his best to avoid the already darkening bruise, “Sick bastard.” 

   You took your wrist back, “I deserved it.” 

   “What?” Benedict gave you a puzzled look.

   “Everything Lord Ficus said. It’s true,” you explained, “I’m just a desperate girl who flaunts herself in search of some sort of attention and I finally got what was coming to me.” 

   Benedict’s jaw clenched as Lord Ficus’ words replayed in his head, “Anthony, Colin, please give us a moment.” 

   Anthony moved to protest. “Of course,” Colin nodded, pulling his eldest brother with him, not giving him the chance to start another argument. 

   “Y/N, look at me,” your gaze stayed on the floor, “Look at me,” he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling your gaze to meet his soft blue eyes, “You are not desperate. Even if you were to dance stark naked in the street, it gives no man the right to look at you, let alone touch you.” 

   “Benedict,” you chuckled, tears falling from your eyes. 

   “It’s true,” he cupped your face, “Y/N, you are the most perfect woman I have ever met. Not only are you incredibly beautiful but you are also kind, witty, caring.” 

   “Benedict,” your voice barely above a whisper as your eyes shifted from his to his lips. 

   “Y/N,” his eyes doing the same. And before you knew it, his lips were on yours. A soft yet passionate kiss that made your heart flutter. 

   You pulled away; a soft whimper leaving your throat at the loss of contact with Benedict’s pillow-soft lips. 

   His forehead rested on yours as you both smiled softly, “Marry me.” 

  Benedict’s softly spoken words brought you to pull yourself away, giving the tall brunette a puzzled look, “What did you say?”

   His hands held yours, “Marry me, Y/N. Be the mother of my children. Be my wife. Please.” 

   “Benedict,” you took his chiselled face in your hands, “Of course, I’ll marry you.”

   A proud smirk splayed across his face, “You will?” 

   You nodded once again, “Yes,” you whispered breathlessly. 

  Benedict pulled the two of you into another passionately soft kiss, the bruising force of it made you weak in the knees. 

   “I love you,” Benedict muttered as you finally pulled away. 

   “I love you,” you whispered back. 

   “So, shall we go tell our families that we’ve finally made their dreams come true?” Benedict joked, offering you his arm. 

   “We shall,” you giggled, linking your arm with his as he led you both back to the ballroom. 

   “There you two are!” Lady Bridgerton spotted us first, accompanied by her other two eldest sons, “What is going on-”

   Before you two had the chance to answer Lady Bridgerton’s question, you heard your mother’s booming voice, “Y/N Featherington!” 

   You turned around meekly, “Hello, Mama.”

  “Where on Earth have you been, young lady? I’ve been worried sick!” her voice shrill as she lectured you. 

  “Mama, if I may-” 

   “No you may not, young lady!” she cut you off, “What is going on with you? First, you try to weasel out of another ball then you run off to go do God knows what! We are supposed to be finding you a suitable husband and you are doing anything but helping..”

   Her voice fading as you and Benedict began to snicker between yourselves. 

   “And what pray tell is so amusing, Y/N Featherington?” her hands resting on her hips. 

   “I’d also like to know what in God’s name is going on,” Lady Bridgerton added. 

   “Mother,” Benedict cleared his throat, “Lady Featherington. Y/N and I have decided to marry.” 

   Both of the older women’s eyes widening at your fiancee’s words. 

   “I beg your pardon, my Lord,” your mother muttered, “You wish to marry Y/N?” 

   “Yes, Lady Featherington. If it please,” he smiled. 

   “O-Of course, it does,” it was rare your mother was at a loss for words like this. 

   “Mother?” Benedict turned to Lady Bridgerton. 

   A smile splayed across her warm face as she took your hands, “I’ve been waiting for the day you officially join our family, Y/N.” 

   “As have I, Lady Bridgerton,” you smiled back. 

   “Well, this is wonderful news,” your mother could hardly contain herself. 

   Just then your now future brother-in-laws meandered back over, “So,” Anthony sipped his glass, “What’d we miss?” 

   “Oh, Brother,” Benedict smirked at you, “You have no idea.”

[poedamneron01]

B. Bridgerton x F!Cowper!reader pt 2

summary; after the unexpected meeting of the eldest Cowper daughter and Second eldest Bridgerton at Lady Danbury’s ball, the ton is beaming with the prospect of the new couple. benedict is overcome with an odd feeling he only feels when he is in his element of doing what he does best; his art, while Y/N is quietly settling back in at home.

benedict bridgerton x f!cowper!reader

Warnings; colin being a wee bit of a dick.

benedict bridgerton masterlist.

A/N ok sorry this isn’t as good as part one, but i promise they will get better!

“Benedict, you look as if you haven’t slept.” Violet Bridgerton frowned as her son joined the rest of his family in the drawing room of the Bridgerton home, “It is because I haven’t, mother.” Benedict responded as he fell down between Colin and Eloise on one of the comforters.

“He was busy fantasising about a Cowper.” Colin sneered at the mention of the retched family who have been the cause of many issues within his family “She is not just a Cowper, Colin.” Benedict responded with a grumble as Eloise closed her book from beside him “Have you forgotten about all the horrible things that family has done to Daphne, Pen and Eloise?” Colin exclaimed and Benedict’s jaw tightened.

“No I haven’t brother, and last I remembered they were the doings of her mother and sister, not her.” Benedict replied as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Well I do hope you don’t plan on courting her, because I certainly do not approve.” Colin muttered and Benedict turned to look at his oaf of a brother.

“Where did you two come from at the ball the other night?” Eloise asked with a smirk “You both reentered the ball arm in arm after we had not seen you for sometime.” Benedict sent his younger sister a pointed look “She was looking for some wine, I simply helped her find some, that is all.” Benedict pushed himself off the comforter and faced his family “Besides, she is different and nothing like her family at all.”

Violet Bridgerton stood by the piano where Hyacinth was playing a sweet melody, her eyebrows raised in shock at the words coming from her son, before he stormed out of the room. “No one knows anything about her Colin, give the girl a chance.” Violet asked of her son and the man shrugged “Not after the things her family has done mother.” Colin stated and Violet sighed in frustration.

#

Y/N Cowper had been on Benedict Bridgerton’s mind since they met at Lady Danbury’s ball, something he would be forever grateful for. He could not forget the image of how perfect she was in that dim lit room. His fingers twitched and flexed as he felt the need to draw her once more as he spent the past days doing so.

He was walking down the busy street, mind very obviously elsewhere as he was stopped by a smaller body colliding with his with an oof “Oh my-” the voice squeaked as they stumbled back a few paces. Benedict reached for the petite frame, steadying them on their feet and he felt his heart speed up.

“Benedict!” It was her.

Benedict grinned “Y/N, my apologies I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking.” He reluctantly dropped his hands and Y/N smiled, a small laugh leaving her lips “Your mind was elsewhere, there is absolutely no need for an apology, these things happen!” His heart was beating at a wild pace as the two stood in the middle of the pavement.

Benedict breathily laughed “Would you like to join me? I was going to promenade, it’s the perfect day for it.” Y/N asked him as passerby’s stared intently at the two of them. Benedict smiled and nodded “It would be my honour, my Lady.” He smirked, remembering her distaste for the title at the ball a few nights before.

Benedict offered the woman his arm as she rolled her eyes “If we weren’t in front of prying eyes I would have spoken some choice words.” She commented and Benedict raised his eyebrows with a grin “Doesn’t sound very ladylike.” He teased as the two began walking together “You will soon find out I am far from a lady, Benedict.” She responded.

The two had fallen into comfortable conversation, topics flowing freely, no limit or barrier to what they were discussing, it was quite comforting for Benedict. “So I have heard that you are somewhat of an artist.” Y/N smiled as the two continued their walk.

Benedict nodded “Could you teach me?” She asked him suddenly and the pair stopped walking “I have always wanted to know how to draw, I think it would be quite enjoyable and very calming.” After hearing those words, he had definitely fallen head first in love with this woman before him.

“I would like nothing more than to teach you, but how are we to do so?” He asked curiously and Y/N chuckled “We are both adults are we not? The idea of having to hide is quite preposterous to me, maybe it’s because I have been away for so long and tasted such freedoms.” She explained, head tilted slightly to look up at Benedict.

“Since we are both adults,” he began, though lowering his voice slightly, cautious of those around them “every Friday, we meet and I can take you to a studio I frequent and we can do lessons. But on one condition,” he added on as Y/N nodded her head “you tell me stories of your travels.”

The woman nodded “You have yourself a deal Bridgerton, but I also have one condition.” Benedict nodded for her to continue “That you bring wine, lots of it… oh! and save me a dance for each of the upcoming balls… so really it is two conditions.” She giggled and shrugged her shoulders.

“You have yourself a deal Y/N.” The pair turned and continued their promenade under the glistening sun, they truly looked like an elegant couple.

#

“There you are Y/N! Where have you been all day?” Lady Cowper exclaimed in shock as her daughter waltzed into the drawing room, which was full of suitors with bouquets of flowers, and boxes that held some type of irrelevant present in them. “Sorry mama, I was out enjoying the sun! Are all these fine gentlemen here for Cressida?” Y/N asked with a kind smile and her sister scowled “They are here to see you sister.” Y/N swallowed and her smile faltered “I must apologise my Lord’s, but I am not seeking a husband this season, I-” she was cut off by Cressida “But I am seeking a husband!”

Y/N curtsied and left the room, where countless groans of frustration were heard and multiple footsteps as the men left her home. “May, will you draw me a bath please, I need some time to myself.” Her maid nodded with a kind smile as she set off to prepare Y/N’s bath. She could not keep Benedict Bridgerton off her mind, he was so incredibly handsome. The man was the definition of tall, dark and handsome. He made her feel normal, in a world full of false narratives he helped her feel grounded and alive.

Y/N was no child, she understood the act of pleasure that a man and woman would do, as a woman she understood her body far better than many of the women in London and she could tell that Benedict was a man well experienced. This only excited her as she entered her bedroom and began to undress slowly and carefully as the maids prepared her a bath, she could not wait for Friday’s.

“Y/N dearest.” Her mother’s sickening voice cut her out of her trance as she stood in her underdress, waiting for her bath to be filled patiently. “Yes mama.” The older lady sat at the foot of her eldest daughter’s bed, “Why did you return home?” Her mother asked and Y/N’s head snapped to look at her.

“Is my presence troubling for you?” Y/N asked in shock and her mother remained still “Why come home if you seek not to marry?” Lady Cowper asked and Y/N cleared her throat “Maybe my heart is already set on someone, but why does it matter? I am home after five years and you could not care for the life of me!” Y/N spoke in a small voice and her mother understood.

“That Bridgerton boy.” She came to a realisation, and her daughter stayed silent, mind flashing images of the handsome man. “Did something happen between you two?” Lady Cowper sternly asked and Y/N shook her head “Nothing you need to concern yourself about, but I care deeply for him.” Lady Cowper nodded and stood up, brushing her skirts out “Very well.”

#

Benedict arrived home after his eventful promenade with Y/N, a pep in his step and large smile on his face. “Brother, where have you been all day?” Anthony asked as Benedict entered the foyer of his family home “Out.” Benedict stated as he sped past his brother and sister-in-law and up the staircase. “He was out with Y/N Cowper, the whole ton is talking about the two.” Colin answered for his brother and Benedict came to a halt halfway up the stairs.

“How was that?” Kate asked with a smirk and Benedict nodded “It was eventful, we enjoyed ourselves very much so.” Colin shook his head in distaste “Benedict save yourself the trouble with her.” The second eldest narrowed his eyes at his younger brother “Maybe if you got to know her like myself, you would find she is a kind hearted individual, unlike her sister and mother.” Benedict responded, staring into Colin’s soul after the words he spoke this morning “Yes I am courting her, and I do intend to propose.” Colin scoffed at his brother’s words “How are you so certain you will be happy with her?” Colin pushed.

“Because when we spoke at the ball the other night, she took my breath away, she made my heart speed up in a way it has never done before! She is unlike any woman I have met in my lifetime thus far, she appreciates the real me, the Benedict who prefers being alone and in a studio making art, to the Benedict who shows up at ball’s and parades around like it is some great thing to be a Bridgerton!” His voice raised with each word he uttered and left Kate and Anthony with shocked but understanding looks, while Colin stood stunned.

“You will understand one day brother, I assure you. But when I am with her I am simply Benedict, and she is simply Y/N.” The speech had brought out the entire family, where Violet, Eloise, Francesca, Gregory and Hyacinth watched on from the balcony above “May I be excused.” He whispered, earning a nod from Anthony.

Everything was happening so quickly, but Benedict had never been so sure of something in his life.

taglist

@nao-cchi @woodyandbuzz20-01

[newtonsheffield]

Imagine if I just dropped a little teaser for From The First Old Fashioned

Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, November 2021

“Kate, can we stop fucking around and get out of there please?”

Edwina’s voice was dry in the intercom, and Kate could almost see her sister’s eyes rolling from her position in the van, still three streets away.

Kate chuckled, backflipping over the final trip laser. “So I added maybe a few more flips than necessary, but I have to give my admirers at Interpol something to fuss over.”

“You didn’t have to go through there at all. You literally could’ve just walked round.” Sophie sighed, the keyboard clicking in Kate’s ear, loud from the office building on the other side of the street, “Yes, what would it be without your little signature?”

Kate hummed, as she took out the screw driver. “Have we got the heat sensors off?”

“Yep, they’ve been off for 15 minutes while you did your little acrobatics.” Sophie tutted while Edwina hummed.

No doubt watching her carefully carve her moniker into the wall beside the Degas “Why are you the way you are?”

Kate turned towards the security camera and did a little bow before she got to work, gently removing the screws holding the painting in place, her mind wandering, “Did I tell you guys What I got Anthony for his birthday?”

“If it’s more lingerie I really don’t want to know.” Sophie sighed.

Kate rolled her eyes, smirking a little at the look that always spread across her husband’s face when he saw his auxiliary birthday gifts, her body wrapped in tight lace, his voice excited. Off. Take them Off Mrs Bridgerton! “Other than that.”

She’d met Anthony five years ago, in Monaco of all places, his eyes burning across the hotel bar at her, sunglasses on, a handsome smile tossed her way while her stomach had burned, even as she chastised herself, slowly watching him make his way over. Don’t Kate, Don’t make this messy. You’ve done this job, you’ll get the money for Edwina to go to university and now you can get back to your real life.

“Hey, this is going to sound like a line: But I couldn’t help but notice you over there.” His voice was smooth, rich, deep, his hand running confidently through his dark wavy hair, but his eyes were kind when he slid his glasses up, and something about him had tugged at her.

“That’s your best line? I’m a little disappointed. You looked like your were thinking so hard about it when you came over.” She’d hummed, her legs crossed on the stool.

“So you noticed me too.” He’d caught her out, grinning a little too charmingly. “You wanna hear my best pick up line?” He’d leaned in conspiratorially.

“Of course I do, and if I like it, you’ll buy me an old fashioned and you can ask me what you really came over here to ask.”

He’d chuckled, the sound warm and thrilling, his hand snaking confidently around her waist, burning at the skin there. “How long did you lose your driver’s license for when you drove me crazy?”

And despite herself, despite the anxiety she’d felt in the pit of her stomach from the moment she’d taken this job, she’d thrown her head back and laughed. “Buy me a drink pretty boy.”

“Anthony, I’m Anthony.” The hand he’d held out towards her was warm, inviting and she couldn’t help herself.

“I’m Kate.”

She’d fallen into his bed a few hours later, and before she’d known what she was doing, she’d left her name and number neatly penned on his bedside table.

“Foul.” Edwina said distastefully, and then, “The same car’s driven by me three times, black sedan, I’m going round the block to follow.”

Kate hummed, not perturbed, “Anthony, appreciates my acrobatics.”

Sophie made a disgusted noise, and Kate could almost see her face, screwed up in distaste, staring at the monitor. “Anthony is an accountant. The sex cannot be that good.”

“Oh a Ballet Dancer Ben is so creative? Aha! Victory ladies!” Kate crowed as he tugged the painting from the wall, and then she heard it… a very faint click.

Panic whirled in her chest, her mind racing, “Fuck! Soph, there was a pressure sensor behind the painting.”

“Fuck!” Sophie hissed, tapping at the keyboard furiously, that wasn’t listed in the security brief, it must be new. Fuck!”

“Oh We have a bigger problem than that.” Edwina hissed, the engine revving in the back ground as Kate raced through the museum the same way she’d come in, boots skidding on the floor, fingers fumbling with the case as she locked the frame in, securing it to the pulley.

“How much bigger?” The adrenaline was pounding through her veins, sweat sinking into the knitted mask she wore, and still she couldn’t help but smirk when she looked back at the wall, Much Love,

Viscountess

Etched there.

“Fucking huge. That Car just pulled up outside, a man just got out in a fucking Interpol jac- Oh What the FUCK?!”

It was racing through her veins now, the adrenaline, the panic the fear, as she tugged on the rope sending the painting soaring up through the ceiling, flipping across the floor to avoid, the sensors, seeking her own exit.

“Painting’s out, Soph, get the drone, I’m nearly there.”

“Kate, just get out, just get out right now. Holy Fuck, Holy Fuck. It can’t be him.” Edwina’s voice, usually so calm, so carefully controlled was full of panic, as Kate made it to the stairwell, footsteps thundering behind her.

“Bring the car around, I’m about to descend.” Kate spat quickly, her legs burning as they carried her faster and faster up the stairs, lungs on fire. She’d made it, made it to the edge of the building, forgoing the climbing harness, wrapping the rope tightly around her arm, “Is the drone at the pick up?”

“Yep.” Sophie’s quick calm voice came.

“Kate-”

“Put your hands up or I’ll fucking shoot!”

Kate went cold, the wind knocked out of her as the voice she’d know anywhere rang across the rooftop, with more authority and venom than she’d ever heard it. It couldn’t- It couldn’t be him.

“Kate, It’s Anthony. The Interpol agent is Anthony.”

“I mean it. Fucking put them in the air.”

Kate slowly lifted her hands, her mind racing, confusion sweeping over her, her stomach churning. What the Fuck was-?

“Okay, not turn around and slowly, take off the mask.”

Kate turned, as slowly as she dared and there he was. Anthony Bridgerton. Her husband. The man who slept beside her every night, the man who made her eggs in the morning, and held her when she cried, the man who kissed her on the cheek every morning as they left for work. Anthony the accountant. Well. Apparently not.

He was dressed in a dark suit, a bulletproof vest with Interpol splashed across the front, his hair whipping in the breeze, that same crease between his brows that she’d run her fingers over so many many times, his eyes hard as he stared at her unblinkingly down the barrel of a gun. A .45 she thought. Not that it mattered. And what choice did she have?

Kate raised her hands slowly, and tugged her mask free, her own hair swirling around her for a moment as their eyes locked together.

Anthony’s mouth fell open in shock, his gun dropped to the ground, as she cleared her throat. “Well, I think dinner’s going to be a little late tonight, Honey.”

And without warning, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he dropped to the ground.

[rubysunnday]

orion and pleiades

Request by Anon - prompt #2 just screams Colin Bridgerton to me “Don’t say a word, just dance with me.”

A/N: I hope this is alright, anon! These requests (and the few in my inbox) will probably be the last few I write for sometime x

Colin was enjoying himself.

He’d found a nice spot in the far corner of the ballroom where he could drink and watch the dancing without being cornered by the mamas and ladies. Anthony and Benedict had been apprehended by their mother and were currently being paraded around the room like dresses in the modiste. Colin was trying not to take too much pleasure in the discomfort of his brothers but it was actually a very difficult task.

Benedict kept sending him glares and looks of hope at being rescued but Colin was strategically ignoring him. 

Penelope Featherington weaved through the crowd, in the direction of what Colin had named ‘Colin’s corner’.

“You alright, Pen?” Colin asked as Penelope walked up to his corner.

“Mmhmm,” Penelope hummed, nodding as she poured herself a drink. “Why do you look so pleased with yourself?” She asked, side-eyeing Colin suspiciously.

“My mother has accosted Anthony and Benedict,” Colin said, chuckling as Penelope glanced over at where his brothers were and tried not to laugh.

“I feel for them,” she said. “Mama has just dragged me around the ballroom for most of the night.” Penelope paused. “Have you seen Y/N at all tonight?”

Colin shook his head. “No. She said she was coming, however. Perhaps she’s been held up.”

“Or perhaps she’s running in your direction right now?” Penelope suggested, gesturing to the left.

Colin turned and saw Y/N running towards him, looking increasingly panicked.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” He asked as she all but collided into him. He caught her by the arms and caught her as she skidded to a sudden halt, her balance off by her sudden halt.

Y/N grabbed his hands. “Don’t say a word, just dance with me,” she said, dragging him towards the dance floor.

Colin let himself be dragged through the crowd and, to his credit, said nothing. He noticed that Y/N didn’t relax until they were well ensconced in the middle of the crowd and were well into the dance.

“Do I get the pleasure of discovering why I was accosted and dragged onto the floor?” Colin asked, his eyes glinting with delight as Y/N groaned and dropped her head onto his shoulder.

“My mother,” she said, dragging out the last word to add more emphasis. “I have been dragged around this room all night, being forced upon every single eligible man within a five mile vicinity - including your brothers.”

“That would have been the highlight of the evening for them, I guarantee you, Y/N,” Colin laughed. “There are far worse people they could’ve had forced upon them.”

“Including Philippa Featherington? Because I saw Anthony dancing with her when I was trying to escape my mother’s clutches.” Y/N looked at Colin’s terrified expression and giggled. “The terror on behalf of your brother is very amusing, Colin.”

Colin twirled Y/N and then dipped her. “What can I saw, I know how my fellow soldier feels.”

Y/N laughed and the sound was like music to Colin’s ears. “Are we really that bad?” 

“Your mothers are,” Colin replied. “The ladies... depends. You, Miss Y/L/N, are a goddess.”

“Do I have a halo?” Y/N asked, letting Colin lift her up. 

“A beautiful, sparkly, golden one,” he replied. “And a beam of sunlight follows you everywhere you go, lighting up the entire room.” 

Y/N smiled, entirely unfazed by the shower of compliments. “Ok, what do you want?”

“Nothing!”

“Colin, you only ever compliment me when you want something,” Y/N replied, giving him a raise of her eyebrows and an unconvinced stare. “So, what is it?”

“Well, I did save you from your mother by dancing with you,” Colin countered, realising he had leverage against her.

Y/N paused and sighed, cursing softly. Colin heard her curse and, whilst his eyes widened, he just snorted. He'd grown use to hearing her curse, even if it was extremely un-ladylike. 

Y/N was just like his sister, Eloise - a woman who didn’t conform to society and didn’t, particularly, care what people thought of her. Colin liked her for her honesty and for the fact she didn’t spend the balls sucking up to men and pretending to be something she wasn't.

“Ok, fine,” Y/N said and Colin blinked, trying to remember what they’d been talking about moments earlier. “I owe you. What do you want?”

Colin smirked. “For you to be glued to my side the entire night.”

Y/N stopped dancing for a split second. “Have you been talking to Hyacinth?”

“No, why?”

“Because the girl is obsessed with the word glue and all connotations that go with it,” Y/N muttered, shaking her head. “Glueee. Anyway, so, my challenge is to not leave your side, is that it?”

“Well, it’ll keep my mother off my back,” Colin said, smiling. 

“Oh, and here I thought you just enjoyed my company, Colin,” Y/N said, pouting. 

The dance came to a grand finish and Colin bowed to Y/N as she curtsied to him. 

“So, glue,” she said, grabbing his arm and allowing him to lead her off the dance floor. “What, precisely, does being glue entail?” 

“Oh... well, it mainly entails not leaving me alone with my mother,” Colin replied, leading them over to where Anthony and Benedict were hiding from Violet. 

“Well, there’s all sorts of things I could do to be glued to your side all evening,” Y/N said, making great effort into looking like she was thinking hard. “I could fake swoon -”

“We both know you’re better than that -”

“ - I could take you for a turn around the room -” 

“Please don’t -”

Y/N stopped, turned, and looked up at him. “Or, I could just say I twisted my ankle dancing with you and since you feel like it was your fault, you don’t want to leave me alone and that my wellbeing is your top priority.” 

Colin raised his eyebrows. He’d known Y/N for many years and also knew when he teasing was also partly true. “Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Did you twist your ankle?”

Y/N avoid his gaze. “No.”

“Y/N.”

“Ok, I rolled it a bit,” she said, meeting his gaze. “It was when I ran into you, I had a little too much momentum and went over on it.”

“Of course you did,” Colin muttered. “Come on then, my little invalid, let’s sit you down.”

“I’m not a child, Colin,” Y/N grumbled. 

Despite her complaint, however, she still allowed him to guide her across the room and to the safety of the terrace outside. 

It was a beautiful evening and the stars were visible up above. Y/N sat down on a nearby bench and tilted her head up at the sky, her hair falling over the edge of the bench the further she titled her head. 

“I wish we could see the stars from London,” she said softly. 

Colin sat down next to her - his leg brushing hers. “Have you ever heard the tale of Orion?”

Y/N turned her head to look at him, eyes filled with curiosity. “No.”

Colin smiled and looked at her. “Well, as the legend goes, Orion was a great hunter who fell in love with the seven sisters.” Colin put his arm around Y/N’s shoulders and took her hand. “He was after them for twelve years. For twelve, long years, he chased after these sisters, trying to gain their favour and affection, However, Zeus, king of the gods, found out about Orion chasing after them and turned all of them into stars.”

Y/N was too enamoured with the story and looking at Colin’s beautiful face to sat anything.

“Orion can chase the Pleiades - the seven sisters - forever, but he can never catch them. He'll follow them across the sky and beyond the horizon in his attempt to catch them.”

Y/N smiled softly at him. “Well, isn’t it a good job I don’t have any sisters, then?”

Colin chuckled. “Isn’t a good job we’re allowed to be together.”

Y/N said nothing. She smiled and felt her cheeks grow hotter. “Colin -”

Colin leant forward and kissed her on the lips. He moved back, shot her a beautiful, mischievous smile, and then kissed her on the cheek. 

Colin stood up and sighed. “I’m hungry,” he announced to no one in particular. 

Y/N tried not to glare at him as she stood up. She huffed out a laugh and followed after him. “Colin, if all the food in the world was turned into stars, you would turn into one and follow it all around the skies.”

Colin paused and turned to look at her. “If you turned into a star, dear Y/N/N, I would follow you no matter where you went.”

[apparently-impalas-go-to-heaven]

*Bangs fist on table* Okay, OkAy hear me out.

I’m looking at you writers/directors/creative team/ Ms. Shonda Rhimes herself!

Bridgerton season 3-

After he finds out Pen tells Collin about how she single handedly saved their family from finical ruin without anyone noticing.

Collin goes to ask Portia for her blessing there’s a debaical argument much like there is in the book, but it ends with them leaving instead of Pen and her mom making up at their estate.

Okay cut to their engagement party Pen is obviously distraught still but keeping a brave face. His family is comforting her and all that.

Anyways so now it’s time for their waltz and the music is a Regency version of… *drum roll*

Matilda by Harry Styles.

Though I thought of this because the lyrics are so perfect for Pen, just the music itself would be amazing much like Kate and Anthony dancing to Wrecking ball.

And they’re dancing and dancing and then they’re twirling and the Bridgeton family is coming around them to dance with them, but like people are switching up partners because it’s cute and fun. Even Eloise is dancing because at the end of the day Pen is her best friend and no matter what they’re soul mates. And she’s who brought Pen into the family to begin with.

And Simon is dancing with Hycainth because cuteness overload, Benedict is with Kate, Eloise and Francesca are with Gregory. Anthony is dancing with their mother and Daphne. Just smiling like idiots at their sweet hopelessly in love Collin and the family around them.

And they’re dancing they’re laughing they’re dancing — BOOM — slow motion!

They’re dancing they’re dancing a twirl here and a spin there and the music starts to fade Pen bows to Collin only to look up and find Portia at the edge of the dance floor with tears in her eyes. She and Pen reconcile by this I mean she apologizes to Pen and though it’s not fixed it’s better.

Shonda Rhimes please give me a call I just want to help.

Anyway Here are the lyrics to Matilda so you can understand what I mean -

You were riding your bike to the sound of "It's No Big Deal"

And you're trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels

Nothing 'bout the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming 'til now

So you tie up your hair and you smile like it's no big deal

You can let it go

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

And not invite your family 'cause they never showed you love

You don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up, mmh

Matilda, you talk of the pain like it's all alright

But I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead insidе

You showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days

It's none of my business, but it's just been on my mind

You can let it go

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

And not invite your family 'cause they never showed you love

You don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up

You can see the world, following the seasons

Anywhere you go, you don't need a reason

'Cause they never showed you love

You don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own

You're just in time, make your tea and your toast

You framed all your posters and dyed your clothes, ooh

You don't have to go

You don't have to go home

Oh, there's a long way to go

I don't believe that time will change your mind

In other words, I know

They won't hurt you anymore

As long as you can let them go

You can let it go

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

You can start a family who will always show you love

You don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own

You can let it go

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

You can start a family who will always show you love

You don't have to be sorry, no

[disasterofastory]

Disaster of the season Part 1 (Colin B. x Reader)

Disaster of the season Part 1 Colin Bridgerton x Reader Warnings: none

Four times when you embarrass yourself in front of the ton and one time when Colin decides you are the one for him.

I.

Colin stands beside his brothers, looking around the ballroom. Everybody tries to show their best self to impress the Queen, who sits at the end of the ornate hall with a stoic, unimpressed face. They can feel the tension as the man next to the great door reads the debutantes’ name clearly and loudly.

The Featherington girls look like lost chicks with big feathers on the top of their heads. They are paler than usual, and their mother tries to adjust them like an angry mother hen.

Colin tries not to smile at the thought, and the next moment, he forgets to breathe as one of the young girls falls over fainting. Her thin body meets with the floor with a thud, and everyone gasps at the scene. The poor girl doesn’t even have time to gather herself because of her fretting mother.

The next debutante is the Bridgerton boys’ sister. She is beautiful and flawless, as the Queen said a few moments ago. Colin glances up at his big brother, who watches their sister with a proud smile on his face. Daphne’s face is tinted with red from the praise as she curtsies before the Queen.

The last debutante of the season is you.

You stand behind the door as you hear the man reading your name. Your mother squeezes your hand one last time before the door opens before you. People look at you with interest and judge in their eyes, while the only thing you can focus on is the heavy feather in your hair. It pulls on your tied-up locks as you start to walk.  Your chest moves up and down by anxiety, and your knees weaken when you stop in front of the Queen with a curtsy. You keep your posture for what feels like long hours before you straight up, looking at the woman.

And the disaster happens.

You feel warmth above your painted lips, and you can smell the typical, steely scent of blood.

Oh God, no!

You can hear the gasps around the room, and you can see the disgusted expression on the Queen’s face as she notices your state. Your eyes burn with tears, and you stare at the floor in front of you while your mother stands next to you with a comforting touch and a handkerchief. You grab the soft fabric with a quiet thanks as you try to hide your embarrassment.

Colin watches you the whole time. He knows you since childhood. Your family was there for them when their father passed away. He knows you hate the attention, and he can see the shame in your eyes as you turn around with your mother’s arms on your shoulder. Mrs. Y/L/N’s lips move as she tries to comfort you without success.

“Poor Y/N,” Anthony says quietly, watching you leave the room.

“She is pretty despite the… blood,” Colin replies sympathetically.

II.

Lady Whistledown's sharp-tongued report about the debutantes leaves no hope in you for visitors.

You sit in the drawing-room with the paper on your lap, trying to hold back your tears. It’s not like you want to get married immediately to the first person who shows interest in you but still. Sitting alone in a room while the other girls probably bask in the flowers while the suitors line up in front of their house is heartbreaking.

“My poor girl,” your father sighs, sitting down next to you. “You shouldn’t be so sad about this.”

Without answering with words, you shrug, holding back your sob as you stare at the paper on your lap.

“It’s not the end of the world, you know?” He tries again. “Your mother and I met at the last minute. Both of us give up the hope to marry out of love and now look at us. I bet we are happier than a lot of couples of the ton.”

“Thank you,” you sigh, looking up at him with a small smile.

You are lucky if it comes to your family. Of course, they always make sure their name and honor are pure, but they know they are only people. Mistakes happen, and your parents definitely don’t want you to marry anybody who doesn’t make you happy.

“We should go to have a picnic,” he says, patting your knee. “I’m sure Daphne and Eloise would make you feel better.”

“It sounds good, dad,” you nod, standing up from your seat to get ready.

The weather is sunny and warm, and the park is full of people. Men talk with each other about the season and business while families sit around on their blankets and little kids run among them, playing and laughing. You see the Bridgertons as soon as you enter the park, and soon you and your family join their company.

Violet smiles at you comfortingly, squeezing you as you hug her as a greeting.

You look around fearfully while your parents start to talk with Mrs. Bridgerton, enjoying the clear air and warm sunlight.

“Y/N,” You hear your name from Eloise’s lips.

“It’s good to see you,” you smile at her, still busy with the others of the ton.

“You don’t have to worry,” she says when she notices your fidgety demeanor. “Everybody talks about Daphne and Simon Basset.”

“What?” You look at the brown-haired girl with surprise on your face. She nods, pointing not far at the walking couple. “Oh,” you gasp, relieved and a little bit jealous. Of course, the diamond of the season has no problem finding a worthy suitor to her liking.

It’s not like you are jealous because of the Duke, you don’t know the man, and your heart already found the person you want the most. It’s more about that Daphne has every chance to get a husband while you couldn’t be farther from it.

Speaking of…

“Y/N,” Colin mentions your name, stepping out from next to his brothers’ company to greet you with a kiss on your hand. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” you smile. “And how are you?” You ask him, looking behind him to his brothers. “What mischief you got into?”

The smile on your face becomes cheeky as they laugh.

“I think Miss Y/L/N knows us as rascals,” Anthony says with a smirk on his lips. He is happy you seem better after the unfortunate encounter with the Queen.

“I hope not,” Colin murmurs, but you don’t understand him, and you don’t even have time to think about it because his sister grabs your arm to pull you with herself.

“Come, Y/N,” Eloise says. “Walk with me. I want to talk with Penelope.”

The mentioned girl seems uncomfortable in her pink, flowery dress. She rolls her eyes at something her sister said when she notices your approaching form. She stands up to excuse herself before she joins your small company for a walk.

“I’m sorry about what happened at the ball,” she says, and you smile at her.

“It’s okay, Pen,” you tell her. “It’s in the past.”

You walk with the two girls beside the lake, chatting and laughing under the bright sun. Your mood changes fast as you listen to their words, and soon you don’t even think about the horrible event, doesn’t matter if the others look at you judgingly or not.

Colin stands next to his mother, listening to your parent talking about your sorrowful days without visitors. You don’t deserve it, he is sure of it, you are funny and smart and beautiful. Any man would be lucky to court you.

He looks around to find you, walking with his sister and Penelope next to the small lake. The smile on your face is much happier than before, and he can almost hear your laugh at something Eloise said. The light dress on you slowly waves as the wind rises.

At the corner of his eyes, he sees his younger siblings running around on the green grass. Hyacinth chases her brother, who laughs at his sister’s fury.

Colin straightens up as he stands, seeing his siblings running to your way with unchanged speed.

“Gregory,” he shouts warningly, and his younger brother looks back at him, confused, but it’s too late. His small body collides with your unprepared form. A small shriek leaves your mouth as you reach for Eloise, who tries to grab you without success.

You disappear under the water as you fall into it with a splash. The Bridgertons already run your way with your parents in their heels.

“Gregory Bridgerton!” Colin hears their mother's angry voice and the others’ gasps at the scene.

“Y/N!” He says your name in sync with his brothers, reaching for you to help you out of the water.

Your face is surprised as if you still can’t believe what happened. Your hair is ruined, and your clothes stick to your body, so your father takes off his coat to hide you.

“Are you okay?” He asks you worriedly.

Colin still holds your arm, and he can’t decide about the wetness on your face.

Are you crying?

[pensbridgrton]

Polin soft prompt: how about something like it’s the morning of their wedding. Penelope is feeling nervous and Eloise is trying to calm her down. Colin forgoes the no seeing the bride before the wedding rule and comes to be with her 🥺

HELLO I FINALLY COMPLETED THIS!

read on ao3!

Penelope bounces her knee and chews her lip and Eloise sighs beside her. “I don’t get why you’re so nervous. It’s you. And Colin.”

“I don’t know why either.” Her lip may be bleeding, or she might have bitten her tongue, or maybe Penelope doesn’t actually taste blood at all and all the pressure and nerves have led to hallucinations too.

At the knock of their changing room, Penelope jumps in her chair. Her white dress flutters around them before settling again.

“Who is - ” Eloise frowns, her hand still rubbing Penelope’s back in gentle circles. After sending a glare at the door, Eloise turns to face her and smiles encouragingly. “I’m going to send them away but you have to promise not to cry, okay? You will ruin your makeup and Daphne will be incredibly mad at me.” Penelope can’t help the half-shrug, half-snort at her words. Eloise stands, straightening her own blue dress, and moves to the doorway.

Meanwhile, Penelope concentrates on breathing deeply - inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale - trying to calm her scattered thoughts. She doesn’t want to suppress them - the moment is too important to completely ignore this nervous, anxious feeling rolling through her gut mere hours before her own wedding - but she does want to control her emotions enough to be able to walk down the aisle.

Because while her heart races and her breathing falters and her hands shake because she’s clearly nervous and anxious - logically, Penelope knows this is all… silly. 

“What are you doing here?” Eloise hisses at the open door, glancing back her way. She blocks the entrance with her body and seems to push the visitor out. “Go away! It’s bad luck - ”

But of course, there is no way to stop Colin Bridgerton from seeing his wife, even on the day of his own wedding. Maybe especially then. 

“Colin?” says Penelope, almost surprised, but she does note her stomach seems to calm and her heart seems to steady when he crosses through the room, determined, and sinks to the floor at her feet. 

“Pen,” says Colin, studying her face. She must look like a wreck, red eyes and spotted checks and nerves drawn all across her face. Penelope isn’t sure she wants her future husband to see her like this - but then again, if he isn’t deserving of her at her most vulnerable, does he deserve her at all?

Colin takes her hands in his, leaning closer. “What’s wrong, love? Is it the wedding? It is too soon? Or your mother - has she said something to upset you? I will take care of it immediately - ”

“No, nothing like that.” Penelope wonders why her chest aches, not in pain, but in desperation - a need to rest her chest against his own, aligning their hearts together.

“If it’s me - if it’s too soon, we can wait. If I pressured you or anything - ” His voice cracks, just a little, enough that her heart might just crack too. “If you’ve changed your mind, that’s okay. I love you but that if this isn’t what you want - ”

“Oh, Colin - ” Penelope laughs, her heart soaring and crying and laughing too, as she falls to her knees and sinks to the floor on top of him, practically straddling his legs. In the back of her mind, she registers the opening and closing of the door, of Eloise slipping away, of them being alone together. But mostly she thinks of her future husband, the love of her life, embracing her and drawing her closer. Her own hands slide up his arms and wrap around his neck. “I love you and I absolutely want to marry you.” She rests her forehead against his. “I was just - having a moment.”

“You’re allowed to have as many moments as you want or need.” He kisses her shoulder, her cheek, her nose. “What you need from me?”

“Just hold me? For a little while? Until our mothers realize you’ve snuck in here and fated our marriage to ruin and bloodshed.”

Colin squeezes her tightly, but also kisses her lips gently. “I cannot have ruined anything if you still love me.” His eyes darken, just a little, that easy switch from casual to intense so familiar to her now. “I will love you forever and always, for however long you will have me. And even if you don’t want me - I will respect that choice, and love you even more, but let you go too.”

“And I love you even more for it.” She nuzzles his neck, a gentle kiss on his shoulder. “But don’t ever let me go.”

“Then I won’t.”

And so they sit in each other’s arms on the floor, her in a wrinkled wedding dress and he in his wrinkled bridegroom suit, until Eloise returns and hisses at them to make themselves presentable for their own damn wedding before all the guests leave and she is the one at fault. Colin kisses Penelope in front of his sister without shame and when Penelope blushes and Eloise groans in distaste, Colin laughs loudly.

And it’s the sound of that laugh that echoes through her ears when Penelope walks down the aisle towards him and becomes his wife.