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Barón Tovar Takes a Wife

Third Movement (Presto agitato)

11K / Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero Tovar x fem!reader, a childhood best friends to lovers story

Summary: What do you do now that you realize you have feelings for the Barón?

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Pining and Angst. Semi public kissing, groping and sex. Someone comes in his breeches 🤷🏻‍♀️. F!oral, fingering, thigh riding, unprotected PiV. Pet names (spanish), Pero catches reader and gives her a little twirl once.

A/N: I'm sorry for the word count 😅😅 I feel like the pacing of this final part is kind of like season 1 of Bridgerton where it was like 5 episodes of flirting and then SMUTSMUTSMUT 🤭🤭 Just wanted to give our Spaniard and his Dulce a HEA, that's all! Please please correct my Spanish!! Google won't be offended! Thank you for reading along and hope you're looking forward to Season 3 of Bridgerton next week!

Series Masterlist

The following morning you wake to your ladies’ maid gently shaking you and a massive headache. Barely able open your eyes, so puffy from crying, you’re sure you gave her a terrible fright. After asking for and drinking some water, you try using the cool glass to depuff your eyes and alleviate the pounding in your head, but no difference is made; you continue to feel positively awful. Daphne comes into your room at the behest of the maid and immediately sees you’re much too unwell to entertain visitors today; it’s an easy decision to send all your suitors away and have them come back when you’re better. When you start to apologize for causing a fuss, she immediately shushes you and insists you get rest - she will have the maids bring up some soothing tea. You lay back down, exhausted, and drift off in the middle of telling her how much you love her.

---

Pero steps into Bridgerton House just as several young men are leaving; as they brush past him, he spots Colin speaking with a maid in the main foyer.

“Tovar! It’s been ages – how have you been?” Colin beams when he sees his friend.

In truth, Pero is here to see you; he can’t quite get over the look of distress on your face when you left him last night. Not for the first time, Pero silently curses Lord Ridlington for having sent over women to his house unsolicited last night, his apparent idea of a prank. Leaving the women to themselves in a waiting room, Pero had been discussing with his butler the next course of action when you had surprised him beneath his window. After you left, he made the proper arrangements for the women to leave discreetly, and had gone to bed thinking of you as usual.

“I’ve been well, thank you. Hope things have been going well here? Have today’s suitors started their visits earlier than usual?” He gestures to another three men now descending the stairs and making towards the exit in an orderly line.

“No, my Lord,” the maid explains, “Miss is ill today. Her suitors have been sent away and asked to return when she has recovered and is ready to receive visitors again.”

“Ill?!” How could you have taken ill when he just saw you? Instantly Pero admonishes himself for having kept you standing outside last night - the night chill must have disagreed with you. “Please,” he begs, “take me to see her.”

The maid looks panic stricken. Surely this Spanish nobleman must understand the impropriety of a man being let in to the bed chambers of an unmarried woman.

Colin diverts her attention, “Marie, it will be okay. Barón Tovar is an old family friend of the Count’s. There is nothing improper afoot. The door will remain open and you and I shall both be but a step away.”

With Mr. Bridgerton’s assurance, Marie the maid leads the two men to your door and opens it wide before stepping back to wait outside with Colin. Pero walks into darkness, the curtains still drawn to help you sleep and ease the pain of your headache, but your magnetic pull leads him to you with no issue.

Kneeling by your bedside, Pero says your name softly, but you do not stir. He goes to push aside some hair that’s fallen across your forehead and is alarmed when it feels hot to the touch; using the back of his hand to check your forehead and cheeks, he finds you clammy and feverish. Shouting for Marie, both Colin and the maid rush in to Pero’s call, “Please find the Duchess! Her friend is running a fever and a doctor needs to be called. And please bring me a basin of cold water and a clean washcloth at once!”

Daphne rushes in minutes later to find Pero dabbing your forehead with the wet cloth that Marie procured, “Oh no! I saw her this morning and knew she was unwell, but I did not think to check for a temperature!”

Shaking his head softly, Pero entreats the Duchess, “Do not blame yourself, your Grace. Likely this morning she was not feverish when you saw her. Please, has a doctor been called?”

The Duchess nods tearfully, grateful for Pero’s kind words and feeling a kinship with this man who clearly shares her tremendous concern for your well being.

When the doctor arrives, Daphne stays in the room and gives Pero a nod of reassurance; he leaves begrudgingly though he knows you are in safe hands with the Duchess. Hovering impatiently never more than a step away from the door, Pero breathes a sigh of relief when he overhears the doctor say that your temperature is no longer increasing, and that if kept cool and comfortable, your fever should easily break over the next day or two. He vows to ensure both conditions are met to the best of his abilities until the moment you awake.

After the doctor leaves and Daphne has gone in search of a servant to fetch your father, Pero stays by your side, continuously stroking your hair gently and dabbing your hot skin with a cool cloth. Every time Daphne passes by the open door of your room, she looks in to find Pero watching over you, brows furrowed, eyes full of concern and worry. Sometimes the Duchess will see Pero’s lips moving, speaking gently to you - though she never hears the words he says, she can tell they’re heartfelt. It becomes crystal clear to her that two weeks ago she had simply asked the Barón the wrong question; instead of “Do you intend to court her?”, she should have asked Pero: “Do you love her?” The answer obvious.

Pero never leaves your side, not when the Bridgerton women visit, or even when your father comes. He just tucks himself into the corner of the room until their visits are over, as if afraid to leave you. When it’s just him and you alone, he tries his best to make sure you’re comfortable, arranging your blankets nicely and propping up your pillows so that your sleep is restful and serene. He requests that cool water and clean cloths are at his constant disposal, and makes sure to dab your face, neck, and decolletage at consistent intervals in order to keep your temperature down. And while he does so, Pero continuously talks to you, encouraging you to get better, coaxing you back to him.

He calls you carino, hermosa, princesa, mi reina, mi amor, and all the other endearments he doesn’t ever let himself call you save for in his head. He lavishes you with compliments and words of praise that he's never allowed to slip past his lips - how perfect you are, how sweet and smart, that he doesn’t know anyone else like you and that your cheerful demeanor and melodic voice are the only things that can ever make him smile. He tells you how he hasn’t smiled as much as he has since he reunited with you at the Danbury ball in years. He confesses that every time he holds you while you dance, he has trouble letting go when the music ends, and when he sees another man take your hand and spin you around the room, he has to hold himself back from physically stepping in and pulling you back into his arms. He tells you that he finds you beautiful and intoxicating, and describes every last inch of you that he can’t stop dreaming about, but lingers the longest in his description of your eyes and the richness of expressions they make that leave him breathless. He tells you all these things because if he doesn’t say them out loud, he thinks he will burst from having to hold his feelings in all the time. He tells you these things because he knows you will never hear them.

As the doctor predicted, the fever breaks late the following day and you start to stir shortly after. Blinking your eyes open slowly, they come into focus to your father’s worry lined face and you watch as it cracks with relief, “Welcome back, dearest. How do you feel?”

Not sure you can trust your voice right now, you give your father a small smile and nod when he says he needs to get the doctor. In the few minutes you have alone, you try to get your bearings; the last thing you remember is waking to a terrible headache and falling back asleep after Daphne told you she would be sending your suitors away. You swear you have vague memories of Pero’s voice and soft touch, but that couldn’t have been real. Pero. Oh. You remember now the reason for having woken up before feeling empty and sad, but you don’t have too long to linger on it because your father returns swiftly with the doctor.

After declaring you well on your way to a full recovery, the doctor leaves you with your father; the Count, looking like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders, hugs you tightly and clasps his hands tightly over yours, “I am so glad you are better, dearest. Now, will you please tell your suffering father what is troubling that heart of yours?”

You’re shocked. How could your father know about your feelings for Pero when you only realized them a few nights ago? Your surprise must be written all over your face because the Count gently explains, “My dear, in the entirety of your life, you have only ever had such a fever twice, both times due to crying yourself sick from heartbreak. The first time was when you were a young girl and I read you The Little Mermaid - the ending saddened you to tears. The other was when we were leaving Portugal and I didn’t let you keep the stray puppy you had been feeding for a month. This is how I know something ails your heart terribly. Please. Tell your father so he can help you.”

Your heart swells with affection for your father - he has always been the most loving and caring man, attentive to your feelings and understanding of your nature. There is no one on this earth who you trust so whole heartedly and with whom you feel so safe. Except for Pero, you suddenly realize.

You tell your father everything. You tell him about how Pero lets you be yourself without reservation, and that with him you don’t need to temper down your enthusiasm for your interests or make your experiences seem smaller than they are. How he encourages you in everything you do and makes you feel like you’re capable of anything and everything. He respects you and approaches you with kindness, always making you feel safe and taken care of. That he makes you laugh all the time. And that you’ve taken Pero and his wonderfulness for granted, not realizing just how rare and valuable all his amazing qualities are because if you had you would have figured out earlier that you’re completely in love with him. You cry softly and confess to your father that your heart is broken because you’re in love with a man who will never see you more than a childhood compatriot, and that you may never get over this sad truth.

The Count listens to you sympathetically, and when you’re finished, he simply tilts his head thoughtfully and asks, “How do you know he does not care for you in the same manner?”

You can hardly tell your father that you snuck out of Bridgerton House and interrupted Pero when he had company over, so you have to cite another reason you’re so certain of how Pero feels about you. But you find yourself struggling to come up with any concrete examples or reasoning that satisfy even yourself; all you can say is, “Because he wishes for me to find a husband. He encourages me to do so. I’m simply the daughter of his father’s friend.”

Something like bemusement dances over your father’s face, “It seems to a me that a man who thinks of you as simply the daughter of his father’s friend would not have purchased my shares in the fleet.”

You’re absolutely stunned. Pero purchased your father’s shares? But why? There was no inherent income from the investment, the dividends benefitted you and your future children only, “Why would Pero do that?”

“You will have to ask him yourself, dearest. It shouldn’t be too long before he visits himself now that he’s likely heard you’re awake. He had not left your bedside for nearly two days and it was only at my insistence that he let me sit vigil so he could go home and change his clothes.”

Again, you’re astonished; is it possible that your vague recollections of Pero’s voice and gentle touches while you were ill are real?

“I will say, when I asked him the same question of why, his answer was that he did not want the hard work you and I put into our happy venture to be squandered. He said he knew that would break your heart.”

It’s true, it would.

“With his experience, I know the fleet would be in good hands.”

Nodding, you have to agree.

“… and you would be in good hands.”

You look up to see your father looking at you with an expression you can’t quite place. You’re about to ask him about it when you hear a quiet knocking and you look over to see Pero standing in the open doorway, as if you had summoned him with your conversation.

“My apologies, I do not mean to interrupt. I thought I heard your voice and wanted to see if you were awake,” Pero looks tired, but hopeful.

The Count waves him in and gets up, whispering in your ear, “Be kind to him, dearest. The man has been in anguish and has not left your bedside for more than a few minutes these past two days.” Kissing you on the cheek, he tells you he will go and find the Duchess to give her the good news of your recovery if the doctor has not yet done so himself. After he pulls away, you notice for the first time that your room is filled with peonies, every flat surface covered with the most splendid displays in the prettiest pastel colours – your heart soars at the sight. When Pero takes your father’s place in the chair across from you, neither of you notice that the Count closes the door behind him.

“Dulce, how are you feeling,” asks Pero with as much feeling as you’ve ever heard from him.

You tell him you’re much better, and that although no one has said so explicitly, you suspect that much of your recovery is due to his diligent care and watch over you.

“It was nothing, Dulce. I was worried about you. I am glad you are okay now,” he says, relief evident in his voice.

“Thank you for taking care of me. I really don't know what I have done to deserve your kindness, Pero. And not only these past two days when I’ve taken ill, but over the entire course of this season – I do not think I have ever properly thanked you for being there for me, supporting and encouraging me, and bringing me such peace and joy so that I did not buckle under the pressure of my debut. Please allow me to do so right now. Thank you, Pero,” you look at him with adoration and admiration, pouring all your feelings out and disguising them as simple gratitude.

“It has been my absolute pleasure, truly. I am so very proud of the woman you have grown up to be: beautiful, smart, funny, and so, so very caring. You are one of kind, Dulce – and the lucky man who marries you needs to know just how special you are. There isn’t anyone else who has your vibrant spirit, your sweet disposition, your fun-loving heart. He needs to know and nurture all these wonderful qualities so that your light never goes out,” Pero espouses your virtues and merits with eyes fixed upon yours, wishing he could express just how deep his admiration truly runs.

To say you’re affected would be an understatement, and it makes you bold and brave.

“Pero, I cannot tell you how much your kind words mean to me. I have never known a man to be more genuine and earnest that you; when you say something, you mean it. I find you so very thoughtful this way. And in other ways as well – I know, for example, it must have been you who filled this room with my favourite flowers.” Pero nods indulgently and you carry on, “… and I know you purchased the shares in the fleet from my father. Thank you, Pero.”

Pero is surprised, although he had not asked the Count to keep the sale from you, he didn’t expect you to know already.

You’re looking at him with an expression he won’t let himself name, eyes soft, almost pleading, “Why would you do something so generous, Pero?”

Pero remains quiet, as if wrestling with how he wishes to answer and you wait patiently, not sure what to expect.

“The owner of the shares has custody of a great gift. The fleet is an impressive venture - it has potential to do considerable good in this world, and much of that is thanks to you and your father’s dedication and contributions – the holder of these shares cannot squander that opportunity; he needs to honour you and your father’s legacy by carrying on the good work you’ve started together. But that in and of itself is not the gift. The man who holds these shares is also given the gift of being able to take care of you, to have a small hand in ensuring a prosperous future for you and your children. I… could not take the risk that someone who did not understand the honour of this charge would hold these shares. I hope you can understand and not think it imprudent of me.”

You don’t know what to say. Pero is so generous and considerate – how could he ever think you would view his gesture as anything but deeply caring? Unsure of your silence, Pero attempts to lighten the mood, “This way, I can still be in your life. I can come to see you when I need to discuss matters of the fleet.”

“Pero, you’re my friend! You do not need to have a business pretense to see me.”

He shakes his head sadly, “You will be married, Dulce. Your husband would not like a man like me visiting his wife frequently.”

“A man like you?” you’re not sure what he means.

“A man who looks at you the way I look at you.”

You inhale sharply, hardly allowing yourself to breathe, “And how do you look at me, Pero?”

“Like you are the sun, Dulce. Like everything you touch is made brighter and better from the light of your smile and the warmth of your sweet laugh. As if under your care and attention, everything and everyone, including me, grows – stronger, brighter, better. I look at you like I dream about the graceful notes of your voice every night and wish to hear your melody of thoughts and opinions on all things. I look at you like I am hypnotized just by the sway of your hips and even the lilt of your fingers. Everyday, I’m ever more enchanted with the tilt of your head and curve of your mouth. I look at you like I could never get enough.”

“And what if I don’t want that?”

“Then I will stay away, mi reina. Anything you wish,” though crushed, Pero knows that he would do whatever you asked.

“No, Pero, you misunderstand. What if I don’t want a husband who does not want you looking at me like that? What if I want you to look at me like that? What if I do not want a husband who isn’t you?”

“Dulce…” Pero’s heart has leapt into his throat, he can hardly allow himself to believe what he’s hearing, “… you do not know what you’re saying. You would not want me for a husband.”

You smile kindly, “And why not?”

Pero looks at you so sadly it breaks your heart, “You would not wish to separate from your friends and leave England to be mistress of a lowly Barón’s estate in a foreign land where you know no one and do not speak the language. Not when you have suitors with much grander fortunes, with estates nearer to your friends, and where you and your children would grow up in the style befitting the daughter of a British Count. You would not want a husband who is never home and spends more time on the seas and in far off lands than he does on home soil; one you never see and for whom you would worry all the time, not knowing where he is or what he is doing.”

“Would you not be willing to take me with you on your travels, Pero?”

“Of course, I would,” Pero never second guesses his answer.

Heart still aflutter at Pero’s romantic declarations, you press ahead, determined. “Well. It seems then that no one would be better suited to be my husband than you! You must know me well enough to know that I do not care for grand fortunes and estates, and my dear father and now you have made sure that I will never be financially dependent on any husband. What I care for is freedom and adventure! And exploration and not being kept from the joys this life has to offer because I am a woman, or just somebody’s wife. As for my friends, I can always visit! And I am fortunate enough that the strength of our bonds is not dependent on having to see each other constantly. Honestly! This would not be the first time in my life I have gone to live in a foreign country where I do not speak the native tongue – it’s practically second nature to me now! But I can see how it would be useful to be able to fluently converse with servants and locals - I suppose I would just have to commit myself to learning Spanish. That is,” you’re suddenly embarrassed upon realizing that Pero hasn’t actually asked you to be his wife, and instead, you’re espousing all the reasons you find the match to be agreeable when he himself hasn’t expressed any desire for it, “if you would wish to have me.”

“Dulce, all I have done since the moment I laid eyes on you at the Danbury Ball is wish to have you. Do you know how hard it was for me to see you entertaining all those suitors when I was certain none of them could ever appreciate you for even half the wonderful person you are? None of them had any idea what a smar-“

You crash your lips to his, and after the initial surprise, Pero kisses you back with the fervent need that’s been building in his soul the past few months. Throwing your arms around him, you open your mouth to his just as his hands pull you flush to his chest; it’s the warmest, hungriest first kiss to have ever been kissed. Your mind having only recently caught up to your heart, and Pero’s constrained feelings finally being set free, your tongues press together over and over, spilling all the unspoken words between the both of you. On instinct you fist Pero’s shirt and pull him down with you onto the bed, Pero’s eyes darkening as he climbs on top of you, placing one knee in between your legs while keeping the other on the ground. You finally run your hands through his soft curls and it feels as incredible as you had imagined two nights ago; you both moan softly at the sensation.

“Dulce, you make the prettiest noises…”

You purr softly at Pero’s praise, leading him to groan deeper into your mouth and you feel the hand that isn’t braced on the pillow next to your head start to skate up your side, landing near your breast and tentatively drawing circles on the underside of your plush curves with its thumb. You arch into Pero’s hand to encourage him to touch you, and he responds as he always promised he would if he had the chance which is to give in to your every desire. Groping your breast and finding your nipple between his fingers, Pero rolls and pinches so expertly that you can’t help but writhe beneath him. He shifts to kiss down your neck as he continues his attentions on your peak and when his knee brushes your throbbing centre, you gasp loudly before covering your mouth with your hands. Still breathing heavily, the two of you giggle and smile stupidly at each other in the tender moment. Pressing his forehead against yours, Pero whispers, “Mi reina, we should stop, I still need to ask your father for your hand. Tomorrow, I am sure he will come here for breakfast and I will ask to speak with him after.”

Looking deep into is eyes, you nod; you know Pero’s right, though there’s a warmth radiating from your very being that wishes to invite scandal and tell him to never stop touching you, knowing by the way he’s making you feel right now that it would be worth it.

Not without regret, Pero pulls himself off of you and stands; after he helps you sit up, Pero tips your chin with his finger so you look at him squarely. A seriousness takes over his face, an expression he usually reserves for others, “Are you sure you want me, mi amor? You have so many suitors, so many options.”

Your eyes shine with sincerity and so much softness for this man that does not seem to understand just how much you love him. You vow to spend the rest of your days showing him, “There are no options when there’s you, Pero.”

You can’t help but shriek a little in laughter as Pero falls on you and crushes his lips to yours, pinning your body to your bed with his large and solid frame. Kissing you over and over, Pero punctuates his affection with barely strung together words of love - So perfect. So perfect. Can’t believe it. How. How did I get so. Damn. Lucky. Beautiful. Perfect girl.

Right before your giggles can turn into moans, a knock on your door freezes you both. The noise is quickly followed by the Duchess’ slightly amused voice, “Is everything okay? We have brought up dinner. Please let me know when it is decent for us to come in.”

Giving you one last peck on your lips before chuckling lightly, Pero pulls you up and whispers, “Tomorrow,” before going to open the door for Daphne.

The next morning you find Pero waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs when you come down. Checking quickly to make sure there aren’t any lingering servants, you step off the third to last step and fling yourself into his arms. Pero catches you easily and gives you a twirl before placing you gently on your feet, then places a less gentle kiss to your lips. With a few hurried murmurings of devotion - I missed you. You look beautiful. I still can’t believe you’re mine - you break apart and head to breakfast.

When the two of you enter the dining room, you’re greeted exuberantly by your friends congratulating you on your recovery and expressing their delight that you’re well enough to rejoin them. Your father hugs you and you think you detect a knowing smile gracing his face, but you’re too soon seated with platters of food being offered and pushed towards you for you to be sure. It’s a happy occasion but also slightly awkward – you’re seated next to Pero, but you have to pretend that nothing has changed between the two of you. Trying to cheerfully chat with your father and friends, you find yourself unable to give the conversation your full attention because you trying with all your might to hold in the most wonderful news of your life, and with it, your overflowing happiness. It doesn’t help that Pero finds increasingly mischievous ways to secretly touch you throughout breakfast: foot reaching over to playfully nudge yours, gently squeezing your thigh under the table. When he purposefully brushes his hand down your arm and over yours in order to reach for the butter dish, you gasp in surprise - his touch out in the open sending a warm thrill through to your heart. In response to your friends’ concerns, you have to lie and say you may still be feeling fatigued, and Pero, ever the menace, pats your shoulder affectionately and reminds you not to overexert yourself before buttering his scone with a smirk.

After your father finishes his meal, you nervously watch Pero hastily shove his last piece of food into his mouth before asking the Viscount for use of his office, and entreats your father for a word. Finishing your own breakfast as quickly as you can without drawing suspicion, you find your way to the closed office doors and pace outside impatiently. Try as you may, you cannot make out any of what is being spoken in the office, even when you press your ear up to the door. After what feels like an eternity, the door opens and Pero exits; not the least bit surprise to find you outside, he whispers in your ear as he walks by, “Your father wishes to see you now, Dulce. Come find me afterwards. I will be upstairs writing a letter.”

The Count welcomes you into the office with open arms and you immediately fly into your father’s loving embrace. As he continues to envelope you in the warmth of his joy, he chuckles, “Well, dearest, I think your old father deserves some acknowledgement for being right.”

Pulling away from him, you look at the face that’s so much like your own, eyes crinkled in mirth and a smile big enough to rival yours, “I concede, Father - you were right. And I have never been so happy to have been wrong!”

Your father’s already expressive eyes shine with an extra brightness, “All I have ever hoped for is your happiness, my dear. Pero is a good man, like his father before him and he has given me every assurance that he will cherish and take care of you the way you deserve. I shall rest easily knowing that you will be in his capable hands… and he in yours.”

What did you ever do to deserve such a brilliant father who has given you the most wonderful life? You ponder this as you walk up the stairs after telling your father that you love him and saying goodbye for the day. You suspect you’ll never discover a satisfactory answer, but can only hope you can one day bestow the same unconditional love and support upon your own children.

You find Pero sitting at the corner desk in the drawing room where some of the Bridgertons are relaxing: Eloise and Colin reading, Francesca tinkering at the piano forte, Daphne looking over some correspondence of her own. Approaching him silently, you look over his shoulder and whisper, “Mi rey, to whom are you writing?”

Smiling at your Spanish endearment of choice, Pero responds without looking up from his task, “I am writing my king, Dulce, and asking him for his permission to marry.”

Ah right, you consider that the Count could very well be penning a similar letter to the queen at this same moment, “What happens if he refuses, Pero?”

“Then I abscond with my new bride and we live like pirates on the run,” smiles Pero, still not looking up.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you grin.

Pero finally sets his soft gaze upon you, “Nothing can be so bad if you are by my side, mi reina.”

He looks at you with such devotion and affection, you can’t help yourself - you cup his perfect face in your hands and bend down to kiss him. Pero returns your soft, gentle kisses with his own, nothing urgent, nothing hurried – just a moment of tenderness that couldn’t have been restrained.

You don’t break apart even when you hear the successive gasps of your friends or even when Colin cheers, unable to part from Pero’s lips even a moment sooner than you need to. When the two of your finally look up, it’s to the sight of the Duchess standing with her hands on her hips and a beaming smile on her face, “Do you two have something to tell us?”

You and Pero attend all of the remaining season events as a happily engaged couple. Pero, no longer scowling all by his lonesome against the wall, but standing tall and proud next to you; his hand laced through yours or comforting and firm on your lower back as the two of you receive congratulations from the ton. He drinks in the jealous looks from your former suitors and inwardly chuckles a little at the conceding grumbles from the mamas who proclaim with surprise that they didn’t know he had been looking for a wife. His stoic countenance cracking just a little at their poorly concealed scandalized faces when he replies that he hadn’t been. For your part, you don’t notice any of this; you only have eyes and ears for Pero. Your face hurts from smiling so much – it’s all you can do to tear your eyes away from your handsome fiancé in order to respond politely to the questions you receive from curious members of the ton.

You still dance every dance, floating on air as you traverse the floor in the strong arms of your dashing Spaniard; now that there is no danger of some other man whisking you away from him for the next dance, Pero quite enjoys the dance floor. He holds you closer than he probably should, chests touching and faces so close that the gentle fan of your breath curls over his lips; his hands find themselves placed low on your back during the waltz, dipping scandalously close to where he really wants them to be, itching to squeeze the plush globes of your ass. If anyone was to make a comment to you about it, you would giggle and simply say that your fiancé is a passionate man.

And he is. A passionate man, that is. Under his grave and steely visage, Pero is a man who yearns for and craves the woman he loves, hungry for you at all times. Such a man is not made of infinite restraint - the limits of Pero’s self control having already been sorely tested for the past few months. As such, whenever an opportunity to escape the rigid formality of these events would arise, Pero wasted no time whisking you away for himself.

At the Grand Picnic, he steals you away to a secluded spot in the gardens where he proceeds to kiss you so fervently and passionately that you actually get dizzy. He presses you against the base of some winged sculpture and hungrily licks and sucks down your neck, all while you cover your mouth with your hands, hoping against hope to contain your moans and soft whimpers. The stone angel watches from its perch as Pero trails his mouth down past your collar towards the swell of your breasts, already rapidly rising and falling. Pressing feather light kisses to the tops of your breasts, Pero drinks in your breathy giggles when his scruff tickles you, before diving in devilishly, lapping at your ample curves and the valley in between. As you start to pant from arousal, Pero finds himself most ardently wishing that your tits would break free of their fine silk confines and spill into his mouth.

A la mierda, he thinks and glides his tongue into the sliver of space between your dress and skin, dragging it across your chest until he hits your hardened nipple; having found his prize, Pero dives in, straining with his tongue to stroke your peak harder and faster. When he leverages enough space with his chin to wedge in between your soft skin and the fabric of your dress, Pero takes your breast into his mouth and sucks while groping your other breast with his hand, finding the twin nipple already straining against your gown, aching to be played with. The combined sensation has you grabbing at Pero’s hair and pressing him closer to you; with your hands now otherwise occupied, your gasps and moans spill unfiltered from your open mouth. The obscene sounds Pero pulls from you must start to carry, because soon you hear voices getting nearer to where you and Pero have now frozen, his mouth buried in your chest; he places one last chaste kiss to tops of each of your breasts before the two of you giggle and run hand-in-hand out of the gardens.

At the Opera, Pero secures a box on the second mezzanine for the two of you. With most of the ton preferring the orchestra seats or boxes closer to the stage, you find yourselves alone in the secluded alcove nearer to the house balcony. Once the lights dim and the overture starts, Pero takes your hand in his and you lean on his shoulder, relaxing into his closeness. By the time the audience is enjoying the soprano’s heart-breaking aria in the third act, Pero has his left arm thrown around you and the knuckles of his right hand are ghosting over the front of your panties where he finds them already damp from want.

“Keep your eyes on the stage, Dulce,” he whispers in your ear as his thumb draws slow circles over your clit. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out, trying with all your might not to let your whole body react to Pero’s teasing lest it draws the attention of the opera house attendees sitting on the balcony or in the boxes on the opposite side of the hall.

Pero is patient. And thorough. He takes an inordinate time exploring the shape of your pussy - running his thumb then fingers over the outline of your slit and the hardening form of your clit, eventually cupping your mound and letting you grind down on his palm to give you some of the friction you so desperately seek. He toys with you over the fabric of your underwear for the remainder of the 3rd act until your panties are completely soaked through. Only once the 4th act is underway does he slip his hand down the front of your underwear and start to run his forefinger through your folds.

“Pero…” you sigh, spreading your legs wider to allow him more freedom of movement.

“Doing so good for me, mi amor,” he whispers back, continuing his smooth, teasing strokes, dragging your sticky arousal through the valleys of your seam and trailing it up to your clit, spreading it over and around your bundle of nerves before returning his fingers to your wet core. He repeats this over and over, alternating the speed and pressure of his fingers, never letting you settle into a complacent state. Quite the opposite – you feel like your body is on fire.

Willing yourself to breathe through your nose as evenly as you can, you focus on the soprano’s finale song before the ensemble gathers for the finale; just as the singer hits the high notes of her solo with a warm vibrato, Pero pushes a finger straight into your heat and you whine in harmony with her. Slowly he pumps his finger in and out of your tight hole, nearly losing control with the way you clench as he drags along your warm warms; Pero feels you hum around him as pleasure you’ve never felt before radiates throughout your entire body. The squelching sound of Pero working your cunt are thankfully masked by the musical drama unfolding on the stage, and Pero uses the opportunity to ask you if you’re ready for another.

Seeing you nod as subtly as you can, Pero murmurs, “Good girl,” before adding a second finger to join the first. Oh. You’re so full. It’s a stretch, but the sting pairs perfectly with the devastating pleasure now coursing through your veins as Pero slowly drives his fingers into you. Staying with a slower pace until you start dripping down his wrist, Pero’s fingers now start to thrust faster, keeping tempo with the musical build that the ton in the orchestra is enjoying, clueless to your lascivious activities above them.

When Pero presses his thumb to your slippery clit, you surge forward and grab onto the balcony banister for stability, nearly in danger of drawing the attention of unwanted eyes. Refusing to ease up in his efforts on your cunt, Pero continues to push you closer and closer to your high, his fingers never faltering from their punishing pace until you come and cry out in tune with the finale’s final chorus. While the rest of the audience applauses when the curtain falls, Pero’s praise is only for you - purring that you did so good for him and kissing you gently as his slips his slick covered hand back into his glove.

At the Hastings Ball, you’re the one feeling bold. Having arrived at your friend’s estate a week prior to help the Duchess with preparations, you familiarize yourself with the grounds and all the intimate, secret corners perfect for intimate, secret things. Once all the guests have arrived and the festivities have begun in earnest, you sneak off with your fiancé, leading him down a hidden staircase into the Duke’s impressive wine cellar. With all of tonight’s refreshments having already been pulled from inventory, you know no one will be coming down here during the ball; you’re free to touch, feel and love on Pero in all the ways you desire. Once Pero realizes the amount of privacy you’ve been afforded, he’s like a dog unleashed, stalking and cornering you into a wall with a growl, sniping at your neck with his teeth and lips, pawing at your soft curves already on display for him in your pretty ballgown.

Here in the cellar, while you still cannot be loud, but you don’t have to be quiet – the cavernous room echos your quiet moans and Pero’s deep grunts like a soundtrack of pleasure that’s percussed by heavy breathing as the two of you drown in one another. Lips attached to yours, but eyes kept open to take in your lustful expression, Pero spies an unopened crate out of the corner of his eye and smiles against your mouth, “Come here, Dulce. Let me show you something.”

After letting him lead you to the crate, you allow Pero to help you on top before scooting you back so your legs no longer dangle over the edge. Grinning, you ask playfully, “What, pray tell, do you wish to show me, Barón?”

“Want to show you how I’m going to make my pretty wife feel good every day we are married,” Pero looks at you, eyes dark, as his starts to ruffle up the many layers of your dress. You giggle as his pushes through the yards of fabric with a feigned annoyance, bunching it up for you to hold against your chest like an overstuffed pillow. Once Pero is satisfied with his unfettered access, he gently pushes you to lean back on your elbows, hands still laid prettily on your pillow of dress skirts, eyes watching your handsome fiancé’s movements. Pero leans over the edge of the crate and rubs your silk stocking covered calves with his big firm hands as he starts kissing up your leg starting from where your stockings end mid thigh. Every kiss he leaves on your skin gives you a shiver as the cool cellar air hits the imprint his lips leaves behind; then, as he gets closer to your heat, he starts to open mouth kiss where you’re the most sensitive, dragging his tongue back and forth over these tender spot and leading you to throw you head back and close your eyes in heady desire. When he repeats this fog inducing pattern on the inside of your other thigh, you start begging, “Pero, please… please, my Lord, ple-pl-please!”

Nipping at your sensitive flesh with his teeth, Pero smirks against your leg, “What do you need, mi reina?”

Opening your eyes, you nearly buck into his face when you see Pero’s roguish expression peeking up at you from between your wide spread legs, “Touch me please, mi rey.”

“Here?” he asks, with pretend innocence before he dives in and starts devouring your pussy over the fabric of your underwear without waiting for your answer. This feels different. So much like his fingers but even more sensual, intimate, wild. Pero mouths and nuzzles your cunt with a precision only rivalled by that of his tongue; his tongue has a mind of his own, gently prodding, exploring, reaching where his lips can’t. Pero's hands reach up your legs and hook under the band of your soaked panties and you catch him look at you before he murmurs “May I?” directly into your cunt. The vibrations of his question run through to your chest and it’s all you can do to nod quickly before you watch him pull the frilly undergarment down your legs and have them drop to the ground. Already completely wrecked, Pero takes in your glistening folds, wet and primed, and growls, “Look at this perfect pussy. And she’s all mine.”

You run one hand through his soft curls and grip his hair so he’ll look at you, smiling lazily, already unbelievably blissed out, you promise, “All yours.”

“Mine,” Pero repeats, and then he buries his face into heaven.

The sensation is overwhelming in the very best way. Pero is eating you, no, devouring you like a man starved; every press of his lips to your pussy somehow deeper and hungrier than the last, as his tongue licks every crest and wave of your core and marks them for his own. Your slick pools from you, down your backside and dampens your gown beneath you; the wet noises from Pero’s mouth against your folds echo obscenely around you and your voice cannot help but try to add in its own harmony. All of this makes you feel like a worshiped goddess about to ascend her alter and simultaneously like a wanton whore who knows that true heaven lies in the bodily pleasures of this mortal realm. Then, as Pero’s mouth closes over your clit and he starts to flick your throbbing nub with his tongue, you realize in your daze that no, what you are is something better than either of those two things: you’re the woman who is marrying Barón Pero Tovar. That’s the thought that overflows from your thumping heart and pushes you over the edge, coming on Pero’s face as you chant his name in a grateful prayer.

After the Ball, you’re positively exhausted from purposefully overdoing the socializing after returning from the wine cellar so no one would recall your long absence. Yawning, you’re giving your hair a final brush when you hear a soft clink against your bedroom window, followed shortly by another, then another.

Confused, you approach your window with slight trepidation, and upon looking out, you think at first that your tired eyes must be deceiving you. Below your window, gazing up at you, is Pero. He looks devastatingly handsome; yet to undress – Pero is still in his formal breeches, but his white shirt has been unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, exposing his smooth, tanned skin to your admiring gaze. You might lick your lips at the sight. Giggling as you tiptoe down the stairs, you walk out onto the terrace that hangs off the sitting room directly below your bedroom, greeted by Pero’s blinding smile, “Barón, what are you doing here?”

It's an easy climb up the side of the wall to the terrace level for Pero and his long legs; once he’s standing directly in front of you, he answers, “I could not sleep without seeing you one last time, Dulce.”

Where did this man who adores you so openly and without reservation come from? You throw your arms around his neck and pull him in for a gleeful kiss; you adore him too, after all.

Still grinning, Pero jokes, “And as I recall, it is my turn to call upon you in the dead of night from beneath your window in order to rouse you from the comfort of your bed chamber.”

Although he has no such intent, Pero’s words immediately transport you back to the night you realized your feelings for him… and how you had left his house, devastated upon the discovery that he was not alone. Stilling in your movements, you shrink away from Pero a little; none of this goes without notice.

“Dulce, are you okay? I’m sorry, I did not mean to imply there was anything wrong with these late-night meetings, but if you prefer to go back inside, I understand.”

You shake your head to let him know you’re not upset by that, but still your expression remains slightly sad and hurt. Pero bends at the knee to meet your eye, “Mi amor?”

You’ve never lied or kept anything from Pero in all the time you’ve known him, and now that you’re his fiancé, you’re not about to start. Looking at the ground next to you, you mumble, “I’m sorry, I was just remembering the night you’re alluding to; when I interrupted you… with those two women.”

When Pero doesn’t answer, you wonder if he’s upset with you for having disturbed him that night, and you look up to meet his eye finally, trying to give him a brave smile, “Please do not be upset with me. I did not know you had company, which would have been entirely your private business, to which I know I am not entitled. But if I must be honest, I do not particularly enjoy imagining you with other women.”

Pero has to stifle a laugh; if only you understood the war that raged in his chest every time a suitor placed his hand on your waist for a dance or when you would laugh at their jokes with that twinkle in your eye he loves so much – then you would not feel as if you had to hide these feelings from him.

Stroking your jaw gently, Pero tips your face to his, “Dulce, I could never be upset with you. Firstly, you are entitled to all my business, private or not. Secondly, the women to which you refer were not there by my invitation – Lord Ridlington had sent them to my house that evening as some sort of prank. In his words, maybe if the Barón got laid, he would not be such a stick in the mud. Nothing happened with those women, I promise, mi amor. When you arrived, I was right in the middle of arranging for a carriage to take them home. And thirdly,” Pero walks you backward until your back hits the wall; he braces an arm above your head, and towering over you, grips firmly onto your waist with his other hand, “how could I ever even think of another woman when there is you? You with your pretty face, and your sweet smile, and your heavenly laugh. You with your witty quips, and your melodic voice that says the smartest things, and this gorgeous body…”

Pero’s voice trails off as he starts to kiss down your neck and his strong hands start to move up and down your sides in unison, then separating so one can reach up to massage your breast and the other down to grope your ass. Your head tips back to allow Pero more access as you melt into his touch - he’s everywhere at once, overwhelming all of your senses. Kissing down to your breasts, Pero finds them available to him in a way he has yet to experience, your thin night dress much flimsier than the gowns you wear during the day; he can already see your nipples poking up through the fabric, hard and inviting. Without warning, he ducks and takes one in his mouth, teasing and sucking in tandem with your loud gasps and moans.

“Oh Pero, right there, oh- nghhh, please that feels so good!” you cry out breathily. Spurned on by your praise, Pero frantically rucks up the skirts of your nightgown and slots his thigh between your legs, pulling you down to sit. The pressure and friction on your cunt sends a wave of pleasure through you, amplified and extended by Pero’s tongue and lips laving their attention on your breasts. He encourages you to rock against his thigh, using his grip on your waist to help you find an enjoyable rhythm, and once you’ve found one that catches your clit on the flex of his leg, his hands leave you to your work and travel up your body to pull down the front of your night dress, exposing your tits to the cool night air and Pero’s darkened gaze.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, as he leans back to admire everything before him: your naked curves, your hardened peaks begging for his attention, and the sight of the woman he loves getting off by rubbing her pretty pussy all over his thigh. He thinks he’s minutes away from combusting.

Instead, he dives right into your chest, mouth and tongue licking, kissing and nibbling, hands groping, pinching and pulling all your delicious parts so that he can bring you to your second orgasm of the night. While tugging at your nipple with his teeth, he hisses low, “Were you jealous, Dulce?”

Half out of your mind from pleasure you gasp back, “Yes!”

Growling, “Good,” Pero sucks in a mouthful of your breast and kneads what he can’t fit into his mouth with his hands, panting out words when he should be taking in breaths of much needed air -

Now you know how I felt.

When some other man would touch you.

When you would smile at your suitors.

When you didn’t know I would burn the world for you.

You cry out at his confessions, gripping the back of his head and pulling him closer to you still; increasing your rocking, you’re chasing your own high when your knee brushes up against something hard, something big. When it jumps at your touch, you use your knee to stroke Pero’s length with every pass of your pussy over his thigh.

Your breasts now wet from Pero’s mouth, the cool night air’s chill against your skin causes you to tighten in Pero’s arms as he continues to electrify you with his hands, his mouth, his tongue, his words -

Never need to be jealous ever again, Dulce.

There’s only you.

Never want anyone else.

Don’t need anyone else.

You’re my everything.

Mine.

You come to his loving and possessive declarations, singing back your own - Yours, yours, yours. Body violently seizing and shuddering, Pero holds you close as you ride out your high. As you continue to buck against him, he crests to your desperate whimpers and breathless panting – his eyes never leaving your face, mesmerized by the sweet blissed out expression that he pulled from you. Finally opening your eyes, you grin lazily at the sight of your lover smiling at you, calming down from his own summit; and when you feel the dampness of his trousers against your bare knee, you giggle in pride and pull Pero back to you lips for a flutter of happy kisses. As he walks you to the door to the waiting room, you hardly give him a moment without a light peck on his lips, cheeks, neck – not sure you’ll be able to stand being apart from Pero for even a few hours of sleep.

Before he leaves you, Pero cups your face in his large hands, whispering against your lips, “I’m yours,” and you smile back and press your mouth to his before returning, “Mine.”

You marry at the end of the season in late June with the blessing of the Spanish king to do so in England. The ceremony itself is wonderful and your gown is gorgeous, but you hardly remember anything save for how handsome Pero looks waiting for you at the end of the aisle and how he and the Count both had tears in their eyes for most of the wedding. What you remember much more vividly is the fun you and your friends had when preparing for the nuptials. Days and nights filled with laughter, play fighting over flower arrangements, tearful promises to never let distance impact your friendship – you thank the Bridgertons over and over for their love and support during this season and bringing you to Pero; you can never repay them. When you board the ship to your new home, it’s not without tears as you say goodbye to your friends and father; everyone sends you off with mirroring sentiments and promises to visit soon.

If the Tovar estate servants had any concerns or misgivings about having a foreigner as mistress of the house, you soon win them over with your kind and gentle nature; your cheerful and easy-going demeanor overriding any language barrier, which with their help and your dedication, you were overcoming more and more every day. And if there were any remaining whispers, be they among the members of the Spanish court, villagers, or any one else, they were quickly quieted once the concerned party bore witness to the ferocity of your love for your husband and his obvious and complete devotion to you. The older house staff observed quite readily that they hadn’t seen the Barón smile as much as he did since he was a boy. The newer servants declared that prior to his marriage, they had not seen him smile at all.

One morning, only two months after landing in Spain, you wake to find yourself alone in bed for the first time since you and Pero got married. Deciding it unnecessary to ring for your ladies’ maid (Lucia, a delightful woman whose English was improving as much as your Spanish), you throw on a dressing robe over your night dress and pad downstairs, sure you’ll find your husband in the dining room having breakfast.

As usual, you’re right; for a few minutes you remain standing in the doorway, admiring your handsome hulk of a husband as he shovels the remainder of his breakfast into his mouth. You love the way he eats… everything - with voracity, unabashed hunger, like he can never get enough. Strolling in only when you see him push aside his empty plate in favour of a pile of letters and paperwork to begin reading, you thank the footman who had already seen you and plated you a warm breakfast, before you approach Pero’s chair. Dancing your fingers across his broad shoulders, you slide onto your husband’s lap before laying a soft morning kiss to his lips, “Buenos días, mi rey.”

“Buenos días, mi reina,” Pero kisses back, turning his full attention to you as he always does.

“Te echo de menos esta mañana (I missed you this morning),” you pout, although you’re not really upset with him in any way.

Pero smiles at you indulgently, “I thought you might like to get some extra sleep.” He nuzzles your ear and you can hear him smile, “Considered you might be tired after your activities last night, Baronesa.”

You giggle and pull him in for another kiss, your cheeks get hot just thinking about the multiple orgasms that Pero pulled from you with his talented fingers, mouth and cock; you purr back and pepper his scruff with kisses, “Very thoughtful of you, Barón.” Your eyes soften, “No me gusta despertar sin ti, Pero (I hate waking up without you, Pero).”

Pero kisses your temple, “My apologies, Dulce. How can I make it up to my pretty wife?”

You squirm in his lap; a thrill still runs through you when you hear him refer to you as his wife, and you start to plant breathy kisses to the spot right behind his ear that you know drives him crazy.

“Already? Is my wife so insatiable?” chuckles Pero, though his voice his has dropped to that low baritone register that makes your stomach flip. You nod into his neck and start to run your fingers through his soft curls, tugging impatiently at the ones at the base of his neck.

“Déjanos por favor (leave us please),” Pero calls out politely. The servants in the dining room leave at once and close the doors, some smirking - all the servants having gotten used to their master and new mistress’ voracious appetite for one another. The younger servants were mainly amused and some even found it romantic; the older servants acting scandalized, but secretly pleased to see such a happy marriage on the estate after so long.

“Sit up here, mi amor,” Pero pulls you off his lap gently and directs you up onto the dining room table; you move his papers aside and push his flatware out of the way. Teasing him, you quip, “I thought you already had breakfast, my lord?”

“I’m ready for seconds,” growls Pero as he pulls up his chair and seats himself between your legs. Licking his lips greedily, he unties your robe and peels it open to reveal your lacey nightgown underneath. Lifting up the skirt to reveal your already wet and waiting naked cunt, he murmurs, "Delicious," before lowering himself to meet you where you already need him so desperately. Aware that you might still be sensitive from the previous night’s sex, Pero is careful with you – his licks and strokes to your folds are gentle and slow, he mouths and sucks your clit with tenderness and reverence, and when he presses two, then three fingers into your tight hole, he does so with restrained worship. It’s only when you cry out for more, more, more, that he quickens his pace and fully presses his mouth to you, tongue tangling with your sensitive bud before nibbling it between his teeth. Your moans and debauched sounds of rapture have never been restrained in this house, your house – and you come with a desperate and enchanting scream befitting the blinding pleasure now electrifying your body.

Kissing up your nightgown and planting loving open mouth kisses to your breasts before letting you taste yourself, Pero licks into your mouth and whispers, “Te amo, mi reina,” before standing back to unlace his pants.

Your mouth waters as you watch your husband free his cock; no matter how many times you’ve taken him in your hands, your mouth, your cunt, you’re still in awe of its size and the things that Pero’s length can do to you. Whenever you feel the stretch of him entering you, you always recall the first time and how gentle he was as he pushed in. When you remember the tenderness in his voice and face as he made sure you were comfortable, putting your pleasure before his – your heart always blooms with overflowing love for this man. How did you get so lucky? Pero would of course always say that he’s the lucky one, and then show you just how deep his affection for you runs by thrusting with intensity, punching that spot inside that makes you see stars, over and over – the exact way he’s doing so now. “¡Cómo te amo, Pero!” you whimper again and again, and by the way he continues to drive into you, you know he believes you. Folding himself over you so that he can bury his face into your neck and nip at the delicate spot at the base, Pero's pants and groans have you arching your back and fisting his hair just for something to hold on to lest you float away.

“I’m close, Dulce. Come with me,” Pero growls, snaking a hand between your bodies and finding your clit with ease. Drawing quick circles over your swollen nub, you feel the coil beneath your belly tighten and tighten until it snaps and you throw you head back chanting your husband’s name as you fall over the cliff. Not far behind, Pero’s pace falters before he spills into you with a long and low grunt in your ear that shoots straight to where you’re joined as one.

Weak, limp and perfectly satisfied, you let Pero pull you into a sitting position and kiss him deeply and sweetly as both of your breaths start to even, the heaving of your chests slowing in unison.

Forehead resting against yours, Pero catches your still dazed eyes and gives a small nod towards the papers that had been pushed aside and forgotten, “Dulce, I’ve been charged with accompanying His Majesty’s naval fleet to Naples, Italy. Would you join me?”

Smiling because you know he already knows the answer, you nod, “Of course, mi amor. I’ll start making the necessary arrangements today.”

Pero tilts his head, eyes soft and reassuring, “Are you okay with leaving? We will have only been home for a few short months.”

Cupping your husband’s face in your hands, you gaze adoringly into his eyes, “My home is where you are, Pero.”

Pero closes his eyes and pulls you flush against him, with him still softening inside you, you’re as close as two people can be. He tips your face to his and whispers, “You’re my home, Dulce,” and all you can do is sigh in unsurpassable happiness as he presses his lips to yours once again.

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#pero tovar #regency!pero tovar #bridgerton au #pero tovar fic #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar smut #pero tovar series #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #no y/n

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cottagecheese1 · 4 months

Text

Unhinged worlds 1

summary: A few years after your father died, your mother marries a new man, to you having a new family meant new begging's, but what happens when your new begging comes spiraling apart just because of the people that made them.

paring: dark stepdad Andy Barber x reader x dark dbf Lloyd Hansen x reader x dark stepbrother Johnny storm x reader x dark bbf Colin Shea.

warnings- (DDLG undertones) stepcest, Johnny is NOT Andy's biological father, he is the adopted son. smut, do not engage if you are uncomfortable with any of the following, spanking, blackmail, p in v, edging, thigh riding, oral, fingering.

Series master list right here

"Mom, you know I've never met this man before, right?", you said with a slightly worried tone, your mother gives you an exasperated sigh and walked her way over to you, gripping your shoulders.

"Honey please, I just got married, I don't understand why you can't be happy for me this once.", you wrapped your arms around her neck and hugged your mother, she was right, you needed to see the best in this situation right now.

"I'm sorry mom, I am happy for you, it's just a lot to adjust to right now.", You gave your mother a slight smile and pulled away from her.

She gave you a smile back and responded, "oh I think you'll be okay; he has a son around your age, he's adopted but I think you two would like each other."

The smile on your face widened a little bit, your mouth opened once again to speak, but came to an abrupt stop as you saw an unfamiliar man stand behind your mother and give her a slight peck on the head.

Your mother giggled slightly and stepped back to stand by the man, "Honey, this is Andy, Andy this is my daughter.", your mother said as she spilled out your name back to the man beside her.

Andy unwrapped his arm around your mother's shoulder, and walked towards you, opening his arms forward to embrace you in a hug. This caught you off guard because for someone you just met, he seemed to be a little too touchy with you, but you thought nothing more of it, thinking it might just be the way your new stepfather expresses his feelings.

"It is so nice to finally meet you sweetie, I've heard so much about you." Andy said with a wide grin on his face, as he held you a little too tight for your own comfort.

As Andy was speaking to you, nodding your head once in a while at his banter. You heard a voice faintly behind Andy come closer.

"Dad, when will you let Colin come over, I'm fucking dying too actually-who is that?", you looked to see a younger guy with a buzzcut, and light blue eyes come out from behind Andy to get another good look at you.

Andy took a deep breath and gave a slight glare to the boy who shoved past him to you "Johnny, this is-", Andy was quickly stopped in the middle of his introduction when Johnny decided to introduce himself to you first.

"I'm Johnny, Johnny Storm, but you can call me whatever you like sweets", Johnny said with a smug grin as he took a step closer to you, and you instinctively took a step back from the muscular man, mumbling out an "okay.." and you adverted your gaze down to your feet.

It seemed a little rude once you actually processed what you just said, making yourself seem passive and unwelcoming, but for some reason you just felt shy around both of these new men, men that are now a part of your family, men that you are now permanently living with.

Johnny chuckled and continued to try to keep the conversation alive, even though his father stood sternly right behind him. Andy quickly shut down his next spill of flirtatious chatter when he saw how visibly uncomfortable you looked.

"Johnny, this is your new stepsister, don't be disrespectful.", Andy said with a warning, but Johnny just nodded and shrugged him off, giving you a playful wink and walking away with a slight skip, boosting himself over the curve of the driveway.

"Sorry about him, he just never runs out of energy ya know?" Andy says with a slight chuckle at the end. You smiled slightly and gave him a nod of reassurance.

"It's perfectly fine, doesn't bother me." You said quietly before adverting your gaze from him once again.

"Well, if he does, just come tell me and I'll go talk to him, I'd hate it if you felt uncomfortable in any way." Andy said with a slightly sympathetic look on his face.

Your mother took an earful of this moment, and decided to express her love for it "Oh Andy, you're too sweet, we both appreciate whatever you do for us."

Andy smiled brightly, still keeping his eyes glued to you, "Just doing what anyone would do" he responded.

💼

After a long day of moving boxes and making conversation, your social battery seemed to run out completely, wanting nothing more than to lay in bed and finally relax. Except it was only 3 in the afternoon.

With a lot of procrastination, you finally got out of bed and decided to dig through the fridge to find something to drink, making your way to the kitchen, until you heard a knock at the front door.

Thats weird? You weren't expecting anyone, maybe it's just one of those people who give out pamphlets about polar bears for no reason.

Making your way over to the door hesitantly, deciding if you really want to stand in the doorway and talk about how you can stop global warming for 30 minutes, but there also was a chance that it was actually somebody important.

Twisting the knob and opening the door to find a decently attractive man who looked to be around Johnny's age standing patiently. He twisted his head towards you and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Well, you're not Johnny." the man said with a slight smile on his face, and you nodded in agreement before responding.

"Um, if you're here for him, I guess you can come in." you responded as you took a step back to let him enter. He chuckled, walking past you to stand next to you as the door shut.

"Thanks sweetheart, I don't think I've met you before, I'm sure I would've remembered a cutie like you", he said playfully as your cheeks heat up slightly at the sudden comment.

"I-um, no we haven't met before, I think Johnny is in his room." You responded quickly before trying to walk away.

"Wait, hold on, I didn't get your name." the man said as he chased after you slightly, and you mumbled out your name slightly, waiting for him to reciprocate the action.

"Oh right, I'm Colin." You nodded once again.

"Nice to meet you, Colin.", deciding to try and end the conversation here so you could continue scavenging for a drink.

"Ok, ok, I can get a hint, I'll see you around sweetheart." He said as he gave you a wink before walking away.

What was weird about that is he kind of acts the same way Johnny does, but maybe that's why they're friends, of course people like other people that are similar to them, you felt stupid once you actually thought about it.

💼

Once you made your way into the kitchen, finally getting one step closer to what you wanted, except Andy was also in the kitchen leaning on the kitchen counter nursing a beer that he put down almost immediately at your presence.

"Honey, you scared me, did you need something?" He said and let out a sigh of relief that it was just you.

"I came to get a drink." You responded simply, just like the rest of you, Boring and simple.

"Of course..but could I talk to you about something honey, I just want to make sure there's no tension between us." He said softly, pushing himself off of the counter and towards you.

You gave Andy a nod of reassurance to continue, settling for a bottle of water as you sat down on the bar stool, right across where Andy was standing.

"I know your shy sweetie, but I want to let you know that you can tell me anything, your mother told me about your father, and I think it's important that you have a man in your life, someone that can take care of you honey, all of your wants and needs." Andy said softly, walking around the counter to stand behind you.

Your eyes widened as he rubbed circles on your back, your mother hasn't mentioned your father in years to you. She knows it's a sensitive subject for you to talk about, you doubt that your mother wouldn't have mentioned that to Andy.

"I-um-I don't really like to talk about my dad." you said with a slight tremble in your voice as you felt your throat get tighter, and your eyes get glassy with tears.

Your father died when you were only 9 but it felt like yesterday to you. Of course, you miss him, but you would rather not talk about it then mourn him every day.

Andy saw your eyes start to water, and your muscles start to tense. He just cooed at you lovingly, his hand moved off your back and moved directly behind you to wrap his arms around your shoulders.

"Oh sweetie, I know it's hard to talk about your feelings, but I want you to trust me, so I can be a good daddy and take care of you, don't you want that?" Andy said quietly while resting his chin on your shoulder.

Lost for words was one thing, you felt dumb, talking to you like a child, but deep down you found it strangely comforting. Andy walked back in front of you and grabbed your chin, tilting your head up softly with his fingers.

"You're my special little girl, I want you to know that honey." Andy added, while stroking your face like it was the most delicate thing in the world.

Trying to avoid eye contact with him was hard because than you couldn't help but feel tears run down your cheeks, maybe you did feel like Andy actually cared about you.

Andy suddenly pulled you closer to his chest while shushing you, pecking the top of your head once in a while. Hearing a faint noise of chatter coming closer to you made your head perk up with warning, you didn't want to anybody to see you cry today, especially over something you should've got over years ago.

"Hey dad I-what happened?" Johnny said as he skipped in the kitchen nosily, Colin standing right beside him, watching the scene unfold in front of him.

Looking from Andy's chest in embarrassment, watching the three men surrounding you, well mostly two in concern. This made more anxiety pump up in your chest and suddenly you darted down the hallway to your bedroom, where you should have stayed all along.

Ignoring the faint calls for your name and shutting the door behind you. Locking it and sliding down against your wall, finally letting all the sobs you've been keeping in until now. Great, now you won't hear the end of it tomorrow. Maybe a new family wasn't such a great idea after all.

A/n: It's been a minute since I posted ya'll, but I also just had a random urge to write a series with four hot men in it. Part two will be coming soon!

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missezramay · 1 year

Text

ted lasso, post-finale thoughts.

I went into the finale thinking yeah, if the writing serves, I can accept any outcome even if it's not exactly what I want. Instead, I was hit with a plethora of mixed emotions I didn't expect to have. Confusion, anger, hurt, annoyance, small bursts of joy in between, and just deep sadness. Almost 20 hours later and I'm still incredibly dissatisfied and processing. For the most part, finales should provide a feeling of celebration and relief. I... don't feel any of that.

I'm just really trying to pinpoint why I'm so sad.

Of course everything inevitably has to come to an end. Of course Ted was always going to reunite with his kid. Of course it's not about winning or losing. Of course Tedbecca can remain platonic if that was always the plan. Of course that's the way life goes, but...

For a show (and this season particularly) that constantly encouraged us to 'believe' and 'hope' in the idea that 'everything will work out', all those 75 minutes did was take me on an unsettling, emotional journey for no concrete reason other than to mess with the audience (the opening scene was just adding salt in the Tedbecca wound I've had since S2). Because everything in a macro sense, "worked out". But the WAY it "worked out" does not sit well with me?? And it's supposed to? For a lot of people (on Reddit/Facebook, lol), it was enough?? Richmond not technically winning and Ted leaving like that without so much as a tear? What am I missing??

When I tell you I'm trying to embrace the good parts, I'm really trying. Yes to KBPR & the women's team, Yes to Colin kissing his fella, Yes to Rebecca & Mae & the guys owning the club, Yes to Roy becoming Manager.

So... why am I still so upset? Hmm, let's see.

The boys' musical number? The cutest. Ted didn't think so.

Nate's apology? Heartbreaking. Ted didn't bat an eyelash.

Rebecca begging twice for Ted to stay? Ted, absolute silence.

Beard staying/getting married in London to his toxic gf? Comic relief, haha, fine. Except Ted wasn't there as Best Man.

Don't even get me started on the huge disservice to the Roy/Keeley/Jamie triangle.

Now listen, I get that he misses Henry & Henry misses his dad. I'm not that cold. A father/son's love is important. It was always the catalyst for this show; for him to work on himself so he can be a better father unlike the one he grew up with. That's fine.

But on this particular week. His last week with his Richmond family. There was NO sense of him being sad to leave them. He can be sad about missing Henry but he can ALSO be sad about leaving. No, he just completely checked out. He let everyone pour out their hearts (Hannah's getting her third Emmy, mark my words) to him, and he just stone-faced the entire time.

THIS DOES NOT MAKE ANY SENSE TO ME.

The argument is that he was internally processing, he was overwhelmed, he was trying to distance himself so it would hurt less. Fair points, okay. But this is a television show, moreover, A FINALE. TV characters, while relatable, are heightened versions of ourselves, there so we can better process our emotions and learn to handle things better in our real lives. Ted deserved MORE dialogue and displaying MORE emotion than whatever this was.

We're never going to see him again. We're over here crying along with Rebecca, Nate & Beard, but he didn't sob once. Even though he spent three years building a family with them. I even thought, hey at least he left his legacy with Trent's book but newsflash, he wanted his name taken off that too! Complete erasure.

I just feel so robbed of better moments. Like there were nice moments here and there. But they could've been BETTER. Honestly, Nate & Rebecca's breakdowns were close to perfection, so much love there. But the lack of dialogue and Ted not reciprocating? Broke ME.

I just cannot. understand. this. choice.

Massive sigh. I'm just truly baffled by the way everything wrapped up and not getting the satisfied feeling that one half of the viewership got. Maybe I'm in the minority, but that means something. It carries weight. Also, for a "three-season arc" that was planned well in advance, why all the rewrites and parallels and fakeouts... it's just cruel. But as the theme says (and maybe this was a warning all along), yeah, I guess this might well be it.

This show has given us so much and the last season flailed for the most part. I don't want to disrespect the show by being negative and cynical (looks like I failed!!) or cast blame on anyone in particular. The cast/crew are amazing people and I'll be grateful for being a part of the journey but I'm just so sad and this feeling sucks and I will never get over it.

Going to miss them. x

#ted lasso #spoilers #thoughts #finale #text post #tedbecca #roykeeley #jason sudeikis #hannah waddingham

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itsclydebitches · 1 year

Note

ted's, "it's not about me. it never was"

and all I felt from trent was, "oh, but it was"

I thought trent was going to stick to his word and tell ted why he was wrong...

but I guess ted just summed up his outlook and something trent so loves him for, so trent couldn't deny ted's wish. but there's got to be a future out there where, while still published as "the richmond way," trent still goes on and tells ted why, for trent, ted was entirely wrong about that.

I feel like in the show I want Ted Lasso to be -- and, crucially, the show I thought it was; the show it arguably should have been based on every other episode that came before this -- Trent would have corrected him. Because this is not an acknowledgement that Richmond doesn't belong to Ted, or even Rebecca, which is a reminder that I like. Ted allowing the fans to sit in on the practices and Rebecca selling portions of the club to people like Mae highlights the heart of the team, that this club "means something" to the community, to quote Trent. However, the book is explicitly, specifically about this particular season of football and how Richmond came to have their Cinderella moment... which is all due to Ted. I get why "Believe" is framed as the fourth factor in Total Football (and frankly I think it would have been a better title for Trent's book if he had to reject The Lasso Way), but belief is only the end result of the work Ted has done. Anyone could have waltzed into Richmond and said, "Believe in yourself!" but it wouldn't have done a damn thing because it was the unique approach of The Lasso Way that taught everyone what belief really means. Ted is the fourth aspect because it is only through his methods that generic concepts like Belief, Friendship, Trust, Compassion, etc. become understood well enough to be implemented despite the obstacles.

So yes, I think Ted is wrong. Trent isn't arguing that Richmond belongs to him, he's arguing that Ted irrevocably changed Richmond for the better... which is true. But the finale doesn't commit to that argument because, frankly, the finale commits to VERY little that the rest of the show lays out.

Ted Lasso spent its whole runtime arguing for Roy/Keeley and then dodged it at the last moment.

The finale argues strongly that Rebecca is already a metaphorical mom to the team and the fans, but then throws in a literal, blonde-haired blue-eyed daughter in at the last second.

The show has consistently framed Beard/Jane as an abusive relationship -- from Higgins intervention to Beard talking to God about his addiction to "pain" -- but the finale irrevocably fames this as true love instead.

Our wonderful queer plot-line made it clear that Colin was too scared to kiss his fellow after a game because that would out him as the only pro, queer footballer... and then he just does it anyway. Which I'm not upset about on its own, to be clear, rather I'm upset that there was no setup for why Colin's feelings changed; why he's suddenly willing to shoulder an understandable, HUGE downside.

The finale argues VERY strongly that Ted should not go back to Kansas. In fact, I plan to write a whole damn essay on that. He's clearly not himself, Rebecca is begging him to stay, Beard is staying and is in tears over the idea of betraying him, they haven't won the whole thing yet which provides a practical reason for him to stick around, Ted literally questions whether he's making a foolish, horrible choice as he's sitting on the plane... and then he does it anyway.

This finale is chock-full of choices that don't match up with what the rest of Ted Lasso has written, or even something from earlier in the finale itself. When Trent says that he's going to push back against any criticisms and explain why they're wrong, outside of the jokey "I'm a passionate writer, an ~artist, who is a little on the arrogant side," it sets up a moment for Trent to indeed correct one of them about their view of the book. After all, he's been the observer all season and arguably has a more objective understanding of what's been happening around him than they do. We've already seen it! Trent stops Ted and (accurately) explains how no, he hasn't changed tactics. You've been doing this for three years. I can see that even when you can't.

The show sets up the moment where Trent will explain that Ted is the foundation of Richmond's success and, presumably, helping him come to terms with staying here.

... and then we never got that.

There were honestly so many parts of the finale that I loved, but most of them were details like the Sound of Music farewell, or putting the "Believe" sign back together. Structurally, one of the few things I really bought into was the team winning the West Ham match and losing the league... which was unfortunately soured after the fact because that now reads as the PERFECT excuse for Ted to stay another season, yet he doesn't. I'm trying so hard not to read the whole thing pessimistically given how many of those details I loved, but when the core plot of the episode has so many problems, damn is it difficult. Other than Rebecca, it felt like the whole cast, Trent included, just gave up on Ted and given my very strong feelings about Kansas I wanted to shake the episode by the shoulders and go, "Stop acting as if this is a good thing just because this is what the writers originally planned! Did you learn nothing from HIMYM??" There are these moments, like with the book note, where you get this sense that everyone is respecting Ted's wishes, but that they thoroughly disagree with them, and the show never hits the point where Ted's viewpoint is appropriately challenged in a way that would make him reconsider. Despite the fact that Ted is a character who frequently needs to be challenged due to limited, inaccurate perspectives brought on by his anxiety (this season gave us "Find out before you freak out" as a big example). I legit had hope for a moment when Sharon showed up, thinking that Ted's therapist of all people would be able to articulate why giving up his family/support system to play his mother's approved version of fatherhood might not be the best decision... but, like so many other aspects, her return didn't amount to anything other than a wholesome callback.

It's a tragedy, frankly. As in, the genre definition. Everyone in the Ted Lasso cast is living the Rom-Com ending of found family, new romantic relationships, and bright, happy, humorous moments... except for Ted himself, staring pensively into the camera as he comes full circle, back to where he began. Back in Kansas. Back (non-romantically) with a woman who doesn't like him very much. Back trying to be a perfect father because that's what's expected of him + that's what his trauma demands of him. And now he's dealing with Jack, no Beard, no American football, no professional soccer, no visits as the rest of his family undergoes major life changes. Just Henry and the reminders from Season One that you're allowed to be a goldfish. After all that growth Ted has gone backwards.

I said before that obviously they were setting up the Kansas ending -- I'm not saying it came out of nowhere, not at all -- but I really don't understand how anyone can watch that and not feel depressed as hell about it. Ted Lasso is a show that consistently left me feeling good and hopeful and nearly giddy with pleasure. It says something that after finishing yesterday I mostly just felt hollow.

#Ted Lasso #Ted Lasso spoilers #mymetas #Trent Crimm

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lapelduide · 1 year

Text

Listen y'all. I love Simon&Daphne, Kate&Anthony, Charlotte&George and Penelope&Colin. I love all of them and I can WITHOUT HUMILIATING ANY OF THEM FOR FLATTERING ANOTHER. They all are good in their own ways. You can love s1, s2 and QC -i do too- and I respect that but I have no respect for those who are bringing down upcoming s3 for praising QC. Saying it can never be as good as QC. Fr why can't it be? It surely can. Colin and Penelope are complex characters playing by wonderful actors.

You may not like Penelope and Colin but as it has been said before s1 Anthony was unlikeable too and it literally takes 2 episodes for people to fall in love with him. So why can't you love Polin too?

I sometimes wonder are we actually watching the same series with those who are saying Pen is evil and Colin is selfish.

Well the reason I felt the need to write my thoughts down was a comment I saw. A fans comment basically saying she/he and most of the fans -you are a single person talk for YOURSELF wtf- will not watch s3 if there will not be Kate and Anthony as much as s2. That Penelope has so much screen time and that's why "most of the fans" don't like her.

First of all I think toxic Kathony fans need to understand that their season was season 2. They can't have the whole series and can't be the main focus all of the upcoming seasons. GET OVER IT. IF YOU WANT TO WATCH THEM AS MAIN COUPLE GO AND REWATCH SEASON 2. If you are going to watch s3 just for them then simply don't watch.

And Penelope having so much screen time? I don't think so but even if she does, it is understandable. Because guess what?- She is Lady Whistledown! SHE IS IMPORTANT. If you are disliking a character because of this shitty reason then don't blame the character. I personally don't think there is something wrong about her screen time, in fact we are understanding Pen's pov. -I mean I hope WE are. At least I do.-

I can't understand why some people can't assimilate s3's main couple? One way or another the explanations I read was nothing more than excuses.

-Pen should have character development through season 3 and Polin season should come after that? She will have this in s3.

-There is so much to solve? Well that is one of the reasons why it will be exciting.

I am not even going to talk about the ones who are saying Penelope should BEG Colin, Eloise and Marina; the ones who are saying Colin doesn't deserve Pen, the ones who are saying Pen doesn't deserve Colin; defending Colin loves Marina, that Polin shouldn't be the endgame etc. Huh, I have seen enough.

Anyways. Nobody can change my opinion about how good s3 will be but I was furious after reading that comment. So thank y'all for reading my little verdantly TED Talk.

Since I am so nervous... here are some gifs for some relaxation. (I wish i could create gifs too...)

#bridgerton #polin #kathony #saphne #queen charlotte #bridgerton s1 #bridgerton s2 #bridgerton s3 #penelope featherington #shondaland

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booboodaddysblog · 2 months

Text

Surprise

Part two

Warnings: smut, dominant Colin, long teasing, fingering, kissing

Words: 4896

Marg woke up alone in bed. She stretched and looked at her watch, it was after ten o'clock. Frightened, she quickly sat up on the bed... and immediately knew that this was not a good idea. She felt nauseous and managed to reach the bathroom at the last minute. She knew she wouldn't like being pregnant. Although from what she once read that nausea is usually only for the first three months, after that it's fine. The worst part is that she has to endure these three months hugging the toilet.

She returned to the bedroom and saw a note on the bedside table. She took it in her hand and began to read:

"Marg,

forgive me for having to leave you alone, but I was forced to go to work. Besides, you were sleeping so sweetly, I didn't want to wake you up. It's a beautiful sight.

I would like to ask you to stay at my house today. Rest, eat well and drink lots of water. Don't worry about being absent from work. I will arrange everything. Ah... and we need to find a good doctor to manage our pregnancy. I want everything to be fine. This is a big news for me. I have a flurry of thoughts. I need to start reading about it. I hope there is a book called "Pregnancy for the resistant". And I apologize to you for my behavior at night... I was, and still am, terrified of becoming a dad. It still doesn't get to me.

Have a great day and see you tonight.

- Colin”

She read the letter several times and felt the tears roll down her cheeks. It had been a long time since she had read anything so sweet. She got emotional, plus the state she was in doubled her weepy reaction.

Suddenly she got a notification of a new message on her phone. She reached for it and saw that it was Colin.

“Hey, my love… I'm thinking, you know how we talked about getting married..., that maybe we should think about it before the baby is born. It will be less of a hassle. I'll get the money somehow. Well, it's probably a little early to think about such things, but my overthinking makes me crazy and I had to write you about it. Just so I wouldn't forget.

I hope you feel better."

She smiled softly as she read the message.

"Hey, sweetie.... I understand you completely. I'm also thinking a lot about it. We only found out a few hours ago, and there are a lot of questions in my head that I don't know the answers to. Focus on your work, even though I know it's not easy. And I beg you not to tell anyone about anything at work. We don't need gossip right now. When the time is right, we will tell them everything ourselves.

I don't feel good, I feel terrible. I need sleep, that's for sure.

Thank you for your sweet letter xoxo"

He answered really quick:

"Okay, we'll talk when I get back. I won't bother you anymore. Rest and remember to drink water, I don't want you to get dehydrated or worse faint when I'm not at home.

See you later."

“See you later, Colin”

She went to the kitchen to get water and returned to the bedroom. Sleep came very quickly.

——————-

Colin was counting down the minutes until he left work. He couldn't wait to see his beloved again. He had a good feeling that everything would be fine between them. That maybe the pregnancy would bring them closer together. He cared about Marg. He loved her and could imagine a future with her. Now not only with her. He hoped she forgave him for his betrayal. They honestly didn't talk about it at night. No... it's not worth revisiting the subject. It's just that Colin needs to keep his dick in his pants and be polite and devoted only to Marg.

- And we are planning to get married.... oh my god... everything is happening so fast - he said to himself and hid his face in his hands, sighing loudly.

He was finally able to return home. He packed his documents and drove home. As soon as he got out of the car, he felt excitement. Marg was at his house waiting for him. It had been a long time since he had felt something like this.

He crossed the threshold of the house with a smile and closed the door behind him.

- Marg? I’m home! - announced his arrival and hung his coat on the hanger.

- Oh Colin - Marg came out of the kitchen. She went up to him and hugged him tightly - I missed you and out of this longing I cooked dinner for us - she smiled broadly.

- That's great - he kissed her on the cheek - I see that you feel better.

- Yes, it's better, let's hope tomorrow is just as good. Go wash your hands, we are about to eat.

- Yes sir - he saluted her and went to the bathroom.

He smiled at his reflection in the mirror. He felt relaxed. The very proximity of Marg had that effect on him.

- Something smells really good. Is it chicken? - he walked into the kitchen. He approached Marg and embraced her from behind, kissing her neck - You also smell beautiful - he closed his eyes savoring it.

- You guessed it, it's chicken. Pass me the plates, please.

- I can see that you feel really comfortable in my house - he laughed, handing her what she asked for.

- You know, I spent almost the whole day in here. I rummaged through every cabinet and drawer - she said with a serious face.

- You're kidding... - he felt himself getting weak.

- Yes, I'm joking - she laughed out loud - geez, I scared you - she laughed even louder.

- Do you think it's funny? I wonder how you would feel in my place?

- I have nothing to hide - she shrugged her shoulders and carried the plates to the table.

- Actually... then I have nothing to hide either.

- Then why did you get so stressed? Suspicious - she laughed again - let's have dinner, I'm hungry.

They passed dinner with pleasant conversation. They really had a lot of new topics to talk about. The pregnancy, the wedding... Colin's work had now faded into the background. He himself felt good about it. He didn't like to talk about his work. It made it impossible for him to relax. Everything that happened during the day came back to him like a boomerang and crushed him to a pulp. The only thing he dreamed of at the time was going to bed. But now he felt free and light. The smile did not come off his lips.

- You know what... I think so, when I look at you now, that you will look really sexy with extra pregnancy pounds - he smiled broadly at her.

- Stop, I don't even want to think about it. I don't want to get fat.

- I think you have no control over it. It's rather natural that your body will change. Certainly for the better - he said with the smirk.

- Don't you like my body? - Marg raised an eyebrow.

- No... that's not what I meant. Your body is perfect, and it will be even better. I love your shapes, especially your breasts and buttocks.

- You are lucky, because I already wanted to be offended - she showed him her tongue.

- Oh, don't show me your tongue. It has a bad effect on me.

- Oh, really?

- Yes, my dirty thoughts are raging.

- Ah, yes... your overthinking... sometimes it's probably not so bad - she said with a smirk.

- But, back to your body. You will always be beautiful, no matter how your body changes after pregnancy.

- You're cute. You will definitely be a good dad.

Colin reached out his hand toward Marg and stroked her belly gently. He looked into her eyes.

- I can't wait to see you with baby on your arms, you're gonna be the best mom - he kissed her softly.

- I hope so - she kissed him back.

- And of course I'm gonna be the best dad, my sweet princess... I want to be here for the baby every step of the way, I wanna be here throughout the whole adventure in our way to becoming a family - he smiled at her - but... can I be honest and ask a question? Would you be offended if I'm too honest?

- Ask what you want - she kissed him again - oh I really love your lips.

- Yeah, I really like yours too, I love how they feel when they're teasing me - he chuckled softly as kissed her back - but anyway, I was wondering.... do you know that I can't wait to see you with a bigger belly? Would you mind if I was very curious about that?

- No, baby, I understand that you’re curious about pregnancy stuff. I’m so curious too. I guess my belly will be way bigger then now. Baby will grow up so need more space - she kissed him again, this time more passionate - oh my goodness, I can't take myself away from your mouth, my hormones are going crazy!

- Oh yes, the baby will grow... oh.... and yes, me too, your hormones and the way you look now.... I’m getting crazy just thinking about it, I really understand why you want more now.

- I need you so much right now, especially your lips… everywhere - she groaned.

- My lips, my hands, my arms, my... everywhere, right? - he chuckled and kissed her again, this time harder and more passionately.

- Yes, everywhere, Colin…

- Oh... now I know you're getting crazy... I think all your hormones have taken over your mind... what if I help you with that?

- How? - she sighed.

He smiled and put his arm around her waist, helping her up from the table.

- I think you'll like what I got in mind...

Colin pressed his body firmly against hers, leaned her against the wall and started kissing her again, making sure she didn't move an inch because he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable.

- What else do you have for me? - she interrupted the kiss.

- Hmm... I was thinking of having some fun, just the two of us - he smiled - and I guess we'd have to make sure that the baby doesn't feel anything, what do you say?

- Our baby is the size of a bean. Don't worry, it won't feel a thing - she laughed.

He laughed as well and kissed her mouth passionately.

- Good answer... so what's your answer on my question? Would you like to have some fun?

- You know my answer - she bit her lip.

- That's what I like to hear... let's not waste anymore time then - he grabbed her hand to lead her to the bedroom and start doing what they love.

- Colin?

- Huh? Yes, sweetie?

- You don’t need to be gentle with me today.

- Oh, you think so? Would you like me to be a little rougher with you? - he smirked.

- Do whatever you want with me - she groaned.

- Now, you’re talking…

- Yes, Colin… I’m all yours.

- Now I definitely love that way you're talking today, let's get to the bedroom, I have something you'll love to see...

- What? A gift?

- Hmm, you know that I love buying you nice presents, but this one is more... intimate, for you and I to have some private fun.

- Okay then, can’t wait to see that - she was really curious.

- Oh, you'll love it, I'm sure of that... - he led her to the bedroom and opened the door.

- Let me see it. What is it?

After letting her in, he closed the door slowly and stood right in front of her.

- Close your eyes dear, and don't open them until I tell you to, can you do that for me?

- Of course.

- Good, I knew I could count on you... now, close your eyes tightly and don't peek at anything until I tell you, okay?

- I promise - she covered her eyes.

- That's the girl I know, you're such an obedient one... are you sure you want me to trust you? - he whispered teasingly in her ear and kissed her cheek.

- Yes.

Colin chuckled softly with a slight sparkle in his eyes.

- Alright then, you can keep your eyes closed, I'll tell you when to open then...

He brought his hands slowly to her eyes to check if she hasn't peeked.

- Good girl…

- Yes, but I'm a good girl just for you.

- Oh, is that so? So if I wasn't here, you'd be a very bad girl... who would you rather be submissive and obedient to rather than me?

- Submissive and obedient.... just for you - she whispered.

- Good... that's the way I like my sweet princess. Now, you can open your eyes.

He smiled gently and put his hands on her waist, wanting to see her reaction to what he had prepared.

- Oh… you are… naked - she smiled broadly.

- Yeah, and just let your eyes slowly go down and see what I've got prepared for you... - he laughed.

- Oh… I really like what I see - she bit her lip.

- I was hoping you'd like it...

He moved his fingers over her shoulder and leaned her body against the bed, then moved a little closer to her face, looking into her eyes.

- But now, my second question…

He paused for a moment as he moved his body close to hers more.

- Would you like to do more than just look?

- I’d love to… oh Colin…

- I hope so…

He chuckled softly and whispered in her ear, teasingly.

- But now, we should have a bit of fun... I think you'll like what I have in mind, you will enjoy this...

- Go on, Colin - she whispered.

Also, he began whispering in her ear, stroking her sides and caressing her body with his fingers.

- I want you to just lay back, relax and let me do all of the work... do you think you can handle that, princess?

- I'll try, but I'm sure I can handle it - she kissed him passionately.

- Good... I was kinda counting on you handling this.

He rested her completely on the bed, then lay down on top of her and began to passionately caress her body.

All she was able to do at that moment was sigh loudly.

- Let me take your clothes off.

- Yes…

He did it very slowly, teasing her.

- I love to tease you…

- Colin…

He pulled her a little closer and pressed his body against hers, beginning to kiss her neck and all over her body, going down and taking his time to enjoy every inch.

- You’re so hungry, Colin - her back arched.

- What can I say? I get really hungry sometimes... you're just too delicious to me - he chuckled.

He grabbed her thighs as his kisses went down, and then he murmured.

- Now, I think I'm gonna take my sweet time enjoying all of you, so stay still...

- It's really hard for me not to move when you give me so much pleasure, but I'll keep trying - she sighed loudly.

- I know it is, but like I said... this is all about you and me enjoying ourselves, so you'll just have to let me handle that...

As he continued caressing her body, he suddenly stopped and whispered in her ear.

- Now, I think it's time for me to take this to another level...

- Do it, Colin… - she groaned.

He smiled gently, biting his lips, became a little more serious.

- Okay, now, I want you to stay still and not move at all, I'm about to do something I think will feel very good.

- Oh, I’m sure about that - she whispered.

He pressed her body tighter to the bed, moving on top of her in such a way that their bodies were completely connected. He wanted her to be completely vulnerable.

- I’m all yours… - she wrapped her arms around his neck.

- Good, now I want you to trust my hands completely, okay?

He grabbed each of her wrists and placed them above her head, leaving her fully vulnerable.

- I trust you and your hands - she smiled at him.

- I'm glad you trust me, because I'm gonna use my hands to make you feel so much pleasure... I want you to let these hands do all the work by themselves.

- I want everything, I’m waiting - she tried to move to get more pleasure.

- No, no, no, no moving at all, you stay still, let your body take all of the pleasure I can give you, okay?

- I’m so hungry, give me that pleasure, please - she moved again under him.

- Oh my god, you're not following my instructions at all... - he grumbled at her - you want me to give you pleasure? Don't move right now, not even a bit, or I'll stop.

- I will now be a good and hungry girl. I'm not moving, I understand - she moaned.

He smirked.

- Good girl... now, I'm gonna take care of you and see if you can handle my touch.

As soon as he finished saying this, he began to put his hands all over her body, exploring every inch of her body with his palms, stroking and caressing her skin.

She moaned loudly.

His hands started to trace little circles on her body, every soft touch feels absolutely divine, he's making sure that nothing is going to distract her.

- Colin! - she moaned again.

He felt heat all over his body when he heard her moan.

- Such a good and hungry girl... are you sure you're still not trying to move?

- I’m sure, I promise to be a good girl and hungry of course - she laughed a little.

- Good... you better not be lying to me.

He continued to let his hands explore her body, starting to go higher up her legs. He did not stop teasing her.

She moaned loudly once again.

The sound of her moans filled him with anticipation, the higher he goes, the more the moans increase... He stopped right at her hips and whispered into her ear with a smirk on his face.

- Now, I think you're finally gonna like what I have to show you, right?

- I already love everything - she moans loudly again.

He bit his lips softly as he continues caressing the sides of her hips slowly and passionately, but then he stopped, because he knew she likes it when she can feel his body heat.

- Colin… don’t stop - she whispered.

- Now I think I want to make you feel something even better... I want to make you feel something absolutely spectacular.

- Give me that, Colin!

He nodded softly and leaned back slightly, his hands slowly moved down her body, reached the junction of her thighs and began to caress her there, slowly and calmly, he took his time. She was so wet there and so soft.

- I'm gonna enjoy teasing you for a while... you can give in right now and accept what I'm going to do to you, or we simply can wait a bit more... - he whispered in her ear, squeezing one of her thighs tightly.

- I give in now! oh Colin I love everything you do to me! - she moaned lightly.

- Good girl... now, you wanna know what I have for you?

- Yes! Yes!

- Okay then, how about I just do a little bit more exploring and I show you that with my hands, would you like that? - he sighed - So, I think I'll start moving my hands towards...

- Yes, Colin I want everything you have for me! Move your hands toward…

He put two fingers inside her. And began to move gently.

She moaned even louder than before.

- Oh I know what you want - he kissed her passionately.

- I’m so hungry, Colin! - she bite his lower lip.

He smirked and then whispered softly as he stroked his other hand down her body.

- Then let me feed you exactly what you're hungry for - he inserted a third finger into her, trying to push them in as deep as he could.

- Oh… I’m so hungry for you! - she screamed.

- Love this answer. I’m so hungry for you, and only you.

- Oh Colin! Faster! - she groaned.

- You know this is what I was building up to...

He began to push his fingers into her faster, massaging her pleasure button with his thumb.

- Exactly there, Colin!

- Oh, yeah?

- Yes!

His movements became more precise and faster, more rhythmic. He liked to make her squirm.

- Oh don’t stop moving your hands and kiss me. I need your lips on mine - she tried to move.

- You're trying to move, sweetie, remember what I said I'd do to you if you didn't keep still? Please don't make me stop what I'm doing to you...

- I’m sorry, but you’re making me squirm - she groaned.

- Good, you're supposed to be squirming and begging for more, don't forget that you asked for all of this... - he smiled - Do you want me to stop?

- No!

- Good girl... Now, how about I just keep these hands going the way they're going right now and they'll never stop... Do you want that?

- Oh my God, Colin! - she screamed.

He smiled and gave her a passionate long kiss.

- Oh trust me... I never will... If it was up to me, I'd keep going until I had no more energy to move - he laughed.

- I know you have enough energy to pleasure me now - she kissed him back hungrily.

He moaned and kissed her back passionately and eagerly.

- I love your hands! - she moaned into his mouth.

- I love knowing that you like my hands so much... I'm sure you'd like them more by the end.

He continued to move his fingers inside her hot insides, while massaging her breasts with his other hand. He sucked on her nipples. He was so hungry.

- Oh! This is what I want! Exactly there!

He returned to gently biting her neck and licking her.

- You’re a master in this, Colin. Don’t you dare to stop - she moaned softly.

- I swear, I won't... I'd never stop doing this to you...

He hugged his body tighter to hers, and then pulled her body closer to his, continuing to touch her there slowly and passionately, his hands never stopping.

- I’m about to…, you exactly know what! - she almost screamed.

- Oh yeah? You're already this close, huh?

- Yes! - she started to squirm, and breathe heavily, she was so close.

- Keep still, let's see if you can stop yourself... - he kissed her - you can't move at all now, okay?

- I promise not to move, but don’t stop, please - she screamed loudly.

- Then don't move and don't make a noise, okay? - he whispered to her ear.

- It’s so hard to be quiet, you’re so good to me - she moans loudly.

- It doesn't matter... keep still and quiet, okay? Or I'm gonna have to use my hands in such a way that won't let you make sounds anymore.

- Oh make me quiet, Colin. It’s so hard to make no noises - she moaned loudly.

- You sure about that? It might not be as fun as you imagine... - he began stroking her lower lip.

- Do it, please! - she bit her lip to be quite.

Once again bent over her body, his face now right in front of hers.

- You asked for it...

He pressed his hands firmly on top of her mouth and started to cover her with his body, stopping her from making any sounds, he pulled back slightly.

- I'm not gonna let you make a sound until you beg me to stop.

She nodded her head as a sign that she understood.

He pulled back a bit and give her a deep and long kiss. He laughed and stooped making out with her for a second. He was breathing heavily.

- Now, we're playing that game aren't we? So, let me hear you, how far can you go without begging me to stop? Be honest with me, okay?

Again she nodded her head to confirm.

- Good girl…

He sighs softly and let's go from her mouth.

- So, what do you think? You can take more of this?

- I’m still hungry, so yes I do - she moans softly.

- Perfect response, that's what I wanted to hear...

He moved his hands back to her mouth again, covered them to shut her up and pulled her body very close to his, his hips are all up to her body now, he's going to move just a little bit more just to get her even more hungry.

She was breathing hard through her nose, her body trembling with delight.

- Oh god, you're trembling, I can feel it through my body... and you're breathing so deeply and quickly... - he whispered.

She sighed deeply and closed her eyes, waiting for more delights.

He leaned forward a bit more, starting to move his hands all over her body again, his hips now pressed against her.

Colin heard a loud moan of delight.

- Let's see how much you can take, before I give you more of what you're craving... - he whispered to her ear.

She looked at him with wide-open eyes and nodded.

Again he began to massage her hot entrance. He pushed her rhythmically and continuously. Again he felt her trembling and squirming.

Her body trembled, she was close to fulfillment. She closed her eyes.

- Oh, you're close again, aren't you? I can tell... I know your body so well by now...

Her body arched as she reached fulfillment. She let out a loud and long sigh. She breathed hard trying to calm down after such a strong sensation.

He moved back slightly, no longer covering her mouth with his fingers, and let her breathe, watching her carefully, waiting.... waited for her to signal him that she wanted more.

Still breathing heavily, she slowly calmed down. She smiled at Colin, seeing the expression on his face.

- Don't look at me like that, so obscene, you made me tired. I don't even have the strength to move - she laughed.

He laughed softly and hugged her, his face has a satisfied look as he smiles softly at her.

- Oh, that was quite the reaction, I'd say I did my job well... do you want more or do you think you've had enough for now?

- That's enough for today. You really made me tired. But... Colin? What about your pleasure? You gave me so much joy, and all you got return was my pleasure - she smiled at him.

- Oh, trust me when I say this... It was worth it, I don't mind not getting much in return if it means that I get to give you what you enjoy the most - he kissed her softly.

- Oh, you are so sweet. I promise to make you happy soon too. You have so much stress at work, you need to relax - she stroked his head.

- I have all of the relaxation I need right here with you... It's always a good de-stresser after a long day at work... How about we just keep relaxing now? - he closed his eyes and hugged her.

- So you're tired after giving me so much pleasure? I knew it! You need rest, my lover. Let's get some sleep. But first, please get off me, you're heavy - she laughed and kissed his forehead.

- Sorry, sweetie... you're right, I do need some rest... and I can tell I'll sleep like a baby because of this...

He slowly moves away from her and lays down next to her. He closes his eyes and sighs deeply.

- I love you, Mr Zabel.

- I love you too, my dear.

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dollypopup · 1 year

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unpopular polin opinions (again)

-Colin honest to God didn't do anything even REMOTELY as bad as this fandom insists he did? framing him as the big bad in a friends to lovers story is deeply unsatisfying and pits him and Pen against each other when the whole POINT is that they're a team.

-Polin is meant to be ride or die. it's meant to be people who see one another for who they are beyond the front. it is NOT meant to be two people who hold grudges against one another with a scorecard of who hurt the other more huffing about how the other is frustrating. their whole dynamic is 'i like you' 'i like you, too'

-BOTH OF THEM have hurt the other without apology. NEITHER of them are actually in love with the other (yet). Both of them are closed off and secretive and neither of them should actually have to beg and cry and scream for forgiveness. they're supposed to be friends

-jealous Colin as we're pushing for it is a shit tier trope. Colin swooping in w/ feelings for Pen only after other people have expressed interest in her would always make her wonder if he wanted her for her or if he wanted her because someone else did first and that's not the dynamic at all. Colin falls for her organically, albeit slowly. He falls for her when she opens up, when she shows him who she is, and only after he shows her that he's a safe place to do so. Likewise, SHE falls for HIM for real when she sees who HE is, too. When she sees that he's imperfect and that his charming artifice is a mask he wears. They're both scared that who they truly are on the inside is unlovable or unworthy of serious consideration, and when they crack open and the other sees, they fall for who they actually are. It's a love made stronger because it's born out of trust and understanding, not out of an ultimatum of 'I could lose her!'

-Penelope ghosting Colin with no explanation after S2 would be her being a really bad friend and deeply hurtful

-Penelope would hate being the unofficial diamond everyone is seemingly rooting for and it makes 0 sense for her to suddenly have a bunch of suitors. it's just lazy storytelling.

-most of the Polin dynamics this fandom has actively rooted for in S3 is just Kanthony or Saphne 2.0. That's very much NOT the point of Polin's romance. and I do not understand why people want the exact same season playing out the THIRD TIME IN A ROW

-Pen's actual character would despise how some of y'all write about Colin. like. . .she's supposed to love him? he's supposed to love her? If someone called him an idiot or undeserving or uninteresting or that he should beg and grovel she would fight

-Polin's characterizations as individual characters as well as a couple have been so completely twisted and deformed in this fandom for the sake of drama and painfully cishet toxic tropes that it makes me legitimately sad. Polin is a great ship. So much of it is beautiful and healing. Two people who care for one another deeply, if with a good deal of confusion, discovering who they are individually and then realizing they're happiest with each other is lovely. Colin being an atypical male love interest in the sense that his primary draw is kindness and compassion and primary struggles being lost and jealous of his LI for her success is INTERESTING. There are a million and one brooding rakes out there breaking hearts and beating their chests howling 'she's mine!' in the middle of a room full of other men gawking. Ship Pen with one of them if you want that dynamic, but that's not Colin and I don't WANT it to be Colin. Colin is great without that

-Penelope is not an innocent lil bab who did everything she did out of good intentions. she is more complex and relatable as someone who fucks up. It is COMPELLING that she did deeply hurtful things not out of saintly altruism but out of jealousy or scorn or desperation mixed with a genuine desire to do well by those she cares for. It is a better story to acknowledge she isn't even remotely perfect and that in wanting to help, she just tangled things up even worse than before. Penelope has plenty of faults alongside her goodness: she's closed off, distrusting, traumatized, jealous. All whilst being funny, sharp, cunning, loving. She wants to be loved and to love those around her and doesn't know how. She hurts the people she cares about and she hurts herself in the process. THAT'S REAL. The idea that Penelope is a perfect bab who should be fawned over and all her ills can be excused away is flat and infantalizing. I understand: there have been a lot of criticisms of Penelope from people who genuinely dislike her character. But the pendulum has swung to the other side to the point where people who DO like her and DO ship Polin point out unsavory parts of her character, it's met with the same rabid defense as if we were haters. Guess what? I like Penelope MORE because she's made those fuck ups. I like discussing how she's hurt others because who of us haven't? Penelope is overlooked and unpopular and awkward and unsure and I LIKE HER FOR IT. I'm exhausted of the glittering, perfect Penelope who everyone else has to apologize to because she's the 'victim'. That makes her so much more unlikable

-speaking of unlikable, most of y'all who say you ship Polin straight up do not like Colin as a character. And it's obvious. Turning him into a character he isn't, wanting him on hands and knees begging for a second chance, considering him only as an extension of Penelope when he has so much richness as a character in his own right. Assuming the worst in his actions and striking out all the good about him in favor of a narrative that deforms Polin into a ship where he is always wrong and she is always right. And it turns a lot of people off to the ship. People who ship Polin already get turned off by how much this fandom hates Colin, let alone peeps just getting into it or outside of it. There are people who despise Polin that discuss Colin more favorably than we do in our own ship and it makes no sense because he is a genuinely fantastic character. He refuses to abide by toxic masculinity, he's gentle and sweet and caring, he's silly and unsure and self-sacrificing, he's putting on an act and he's self-critical and he's got such a big heart. He's the kindest person in Pen's life. He supports her unyieldingly. He's never done anything to purposefully hurt her and he cherishes her as a friend. Why do we so rarely talk about him favorably?

-Polin is NOT Colin vs. Penelope. That dynamic can create some interesting conflict, sure, but it needs to move beyond that because at the core? At the core, it's Polin vs. The Problem. and it's so much more fulfilling that way

#polin #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #bridgerton #bridgerton season three #yeah yeah i know i'm the polin black sheep making yet another super long post about them in a largely dead fandom during season lulls #i just can't help it #i genuinely love the both of them so much and i miss when the polin fandom did too #i miss people discussing their dynamic in nuanced ways instead of the easy 'colin is terrible and penelope is a saint' convos now #i'm sad the fandom misinterpretations of their characters has made this ship lose so much of their sparkle and freshness and beauty #why can't it just be a beautiful ship composed of two people who genuinely care for one another?

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salvawhores-world · 11 months

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Tolerate it - Anthony Bridgerton x Oc

Anthony bridgerton x Emma Norwood

Warnings - Angst, Childhood friends to lovers, Anthony being a bitch.

A/N - This is my first lore from the series Taylor x bridgerton. I was begging for some Anthony angst here we are. Mothers song from her most underrated and favourite album is here.

Do not Steal my work.

Anthony Bridgerton and Emma Norwood, now Emma Bridgerton, had been married for years, their love blossoming since childhood.

Their friendship, nurtured by Viscount Bridgerton and Earl Norwood, their fathers laid the foundation for a deep and enduring connection. Even before understanding the complexities of love, they were inseparable.

While their marriage was far from perfect, Emma devoted herself to being a dedicated viscountess, committed to her family and to Anthony.

Emma expected reciprocation from Anthony. She longed for his complete presence in their marriage and for him to cherish their bond as deeply as she did. Yet, despite her fervent efforts, she found herself wanting. The last two pieces of the puzzle were missing—the heartfelt acknowledgment of her contributions and the unreserved affection that she craved.

“I sit and watch you reading

With your head low

I wake and watch you

breathing with yourEyes closed

I sit and watch you

And notice everything

you do or don't do”

“Eloise has suddenly developed a keen interest in witnessing the race. I thought I might accompany her there. Besides She's also mentioned running out of books to read. I'll check if there's an exhibition where I can get her some," Emma uttered, delicately pouring a cup of steaming tea for herself.

She sat across from Anthony, who remained immersed in his newspapers, brooding in silence, responding merely with a faint hum. It felt akin to conversing with an unresponsive wall.

As the days drifted by, with each morning finding Anthony deep in slumber, his countenance peaceful, Emma would gaze at him, his breath flowing steadily.

In the presence of her husband, she would awaken, yet a chill clung to the bed—a frigidity that mirrored his heart, their union. A silent witness, she would sit, observing the unraveling of everything they held dear, crumbling into disarray.

“You're so much older and wiser and I

I wait by the door like I'm just a kid

Use my best colors for your portrait

Lay the table with the fancy shit

And watch you tolerate it”

"Sister, focus your attention here," Gregory exclaimed, his notebook spread out before him, jolting Emma from her reverie.

Her gaze, fixated on the door where her husband engaged in conversation with Daphne, was interrupted. She had known Anthony since their earliest days, certain that even as a two-year-old, he had attempted to cradle her tender newborn self in his tiny arms. Observing him now, her heart swelled.

He appeared older, wiser, and handsomer than she had ever known him to be throughout the passing years.

"My apologies, Greg. Now, where were we?" she apologized, returning to her task of aiding him with his studies.

Emma sensed Anthony's presence behind them. "How is your Latin progressing, Gregory?" Anthony inquired of his younger brother, who replied with respectful deference.

“Emma, may I have a word with you?" Anthony stated, nodding curtly. The couple excused themselves from the young boy's side.

"How are the preparations for the forthcoming ball progressing? It marks our first grand event since Colin's engagement," Anthony questioned.

Emma reassured him, "Worry not, Anthony. I have personally overseen every aspect. Rest assured, everything shall be executed flawlessly, precisely as you prefer." Emma's countenance brightened.

As she relayed the ball's particulars, Anthony merely responded with nods. No matter what Emma did, it never seemed to be enough. Would she ever experience the same love from him, bestowed upon her as it once had been?

“I greet you with a battle hero’s welcome

I take your indiscretions all in good fun

I sit and listеn, I polish plates until they gleam and glistеn”

“Please, please, PLEASE, Em, what must I do to persuade you? Aren't you my best friend?" Benedict exclaimed dramatically, pacing around Emma with a palette and a few brushes in hand.

“No, Ben, I cannot. I have an abundance of tasks to complete, and besides, I lack the patience to sit idle for hours," she replied, ticking off items on her to-do list as she moved about the drawing room.

“Be my muse, my inspiration!" Benedict shouted, now on one knee with his arms outstretched. Ever the dramatic soul.

“Ah, so my viscountess serves as your muse, I presume, brother?" Anthony interjected rudely, peering up from his newspaper.

Emma rolled her eyes and placed a plate of cakes and a cup of tea in front of her husband. "Your wife happens to be my closest friend, brother," Benedict retorted, his words dripping with resentment.

Anthony's voice dripped with underlying insinuation as he grumbled, "I care not for whatever attachments my wife may hold with you, Benedict, so long as she remains mine."

His words carried an unnerving implication, fueling Benedict's frustration and leaving Emma heartbroken, struggling to hold back her tears.

Benedict was livid. How could Anthony speak of Emma in such a manner, reducing her significance? Being only a month older than Emma and of the same age, Benedict and Emma had been inseparable since childhood. How could Anthony entertain such unsettling thoughts?

The first thing Benedict sketched was Emma adorned in a pristine white wedding gown, with Anthony as the groom and himself as the best man—a depiction of a joyous, harmonious family. It pained Benedict to witness his cherished friend enduring such anguish because of his own brother's actions.

“While you were out building other worlds, where was I?

Where’s that man who’d throw blankets over my barbed wire?

I made you my temple, my mural, my sky

Now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life”

Sitting before the crackling fire, Emma completed the final strokes of her latest letter, sealed with utmost care. It had been a week since Anthony's departure to France, lending his aid to Colin with an investment.

Throughout this time, she had heard little from him about his whereabouts. His sparse correspondence consisted of a mere few lines, informing her of his well-being and the status of his return. As the flames danced, memories flooded her mind.

"EMMA!" Young Anthony's voice reverberated through the verdant hills of Kent as he dismounted his horse and hastened toward his beloved.

Emma immediately abandoned her embroidery, leaving behind a beautiful napkin and her friend Daphne, running into the embrace of her dear boy. "At last, you have arrived," she murmured, her words muffled by the tightness of their hug.

"Being away from you feels like a cruel punishment. I detest Oxford," he grumbled, their gazes locked as they pulled away from each other.

Emma's smile illuminated her countenance. "You cannot fathom how weary I have grown of reading words. Hearing your voice is truly enchanting," she confessed, his forehead meeting hers as he leaned forward to gently kiss her brow.

"I am sorry for leaving you behind. If I had the power, I would abandon my studies or…or find a way to smuggle you in with me," he gasped, his breath still uneven from his exertions.

Emma laughed, a melodic sound that echoed through the air. "It is merely a matter of one more year, Anthony. Soon, you shall be here, And find me waiting for you, and we will be together," she reassured him.

"Together forever," he whispered, their foreheads touching in a tender embrace. "Together forever," she nodded, the young couple venturing forth into the sunset, their hearts entwined.

Overwhelmed by the memory, Emma found herself breaking down, tears streaming down her face as she gazed at the sealed letter and clutched the same old delicate napkin with the exquisitely embroidered "A." It was the sole remnant of so many cherished years.

“You assume I’m fine, but what

would you do if I

Break free and leave us in ruins

Took this dagger in me and removed it

Gain the weight of you, then lose it

Believe me, I could do it”

"I am fearful” Emma whispered softly as the couple prepared themselves. Her mind was awash with countless thoughts, and she felt like she was drowning.

Emma feared that if this torment continued any longer, she would shatter her wretched excuse for a marriage and flee. The burden had become unbearable.

The person she loved more than anything didn't even acknowledge her existence, breaking her spirit day after day.

"Fear not, my love, for it shall be a splendid occasion," Anthony assured her, adjusting his cufflinks before the mirror glass.

The fact that he didn't even inquire about his wife's distress infuriated Emma. In that moment, she entertained the idea of packing her belongings and escaping under the cloak of night, returning to her parents' residence in Kent.

Her father would undoubtedly welcome her with open arms, allowing her to indulge in her passion for reading and sketching.

Would Anthony come to fetch her? Would he realize his grave mistake and rediscover his love for her, prompting a fresh start? If she dared to voice her grievances, her father would surely confront Anthony and defend her honor, for that was precisely what Edmund would have done.

"I shall meet you outside when you are prepared," Emma stormed out of the bedroom, leaving her bewildered husband gazing at his own reflection in utter confusion.

“If it’s all in my head, tell me now

Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow

I know my love should be celebrated

But you tolerate it

I sit and watch you”

Emma pleaded for him to take action, to salvage their marriage, their love, and her very being.

Anthony remained oblivious, trapped in the mechanical motions of life. Emma yearned for it to be a mere figment of her imagination, longing for Anthony to stand beside her, embracing her, easing her worries, and drying her tears.

She wished to scale walls, shatter barriers, and bridge the divide between them, perhaps desiring him to reach out and yearn for the depths of her love. Yet, all Emma could do was watch him tolerate it.

_______________________________________________

Do not steal my work.

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nancynancydrewdrewdrew · 1 year

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Honestly I find the character of Colin/Justin and the way he is handled to be disgusting, especially in a game meant for young girls. When I was a kid playing the Phantom of Venice, I didn't really notice anything wrong with him, and even thought that he might have been there as a cute boy character for the fans to like, like Henry from CRY or Dave from SHA. I never LIKED him, but if you were on the message boards at the time I'm sure you remember how nearly all the Alternate Endings paired Nancy with him, and so I figured that was the function he was meant to serve in the game.

The problem that I'm seeing now playing this game as an adult (and like, honestly I've replayed it when I was an older teenager and didn't pick up on it so yikes) is that that IS what the game is treating him as. Nancy and Helena have a conversation about how he's boring, but cute, and he has an attractive air of mystery. This isn't something I'm reading into, that is literally the text of the conversation. The problem is that is absolutely NOT what he is, and so I've compiled here a list of Yikes (tm) moments that go directly against this characterization. I am going to put it under a read more bc it ended up a lot longer than I meant it bc I don't self edit and I wanna save your dashboards, but I know the clue crew likes to read lol so get ready:

1. LITERALLY your first interaction with him--he assumes Nancy shares all of his same interests because he finds her attractive, and bullies her into going along with what he wants. If she says that she is not interested (like I chose) he gets upset with her, and Nancy responds by placating him and saying that no, she actually WAS interested in tesserae! And he won't be nice until she literally begs him to show them to her. Then, after he gets what he wants, when she understandably says "that's nice but I have to go", he begins to INSULT her and once again she responds by falling over backwards to get him to like her again

This is harmful to young girls for a number of reasons, namely that a) Colin views Nancy as an object to project his own fantasies on to and becomes upset when she is a real person with her own interests, and b) It shows that NANCY is in the wrong for hurting his feelings, and it is her responsibility, not his, to make him feel better. There is something to be said for placating a dangerous situation until you can get out, but that is not the case here and Colin isn't being violent, he's just being a dick 2. He is SO UPSET at the fact that Nancy has a boyfriend! This is a point that comes up multiple times in the game, and was a jumping off point for many people on the message boards to ship him with Nancy. He has known Nancy for mere hours when he starts being pressed about this. This is not cute and romantic. This is very weird. He should not feel ownership over a girl he met so recently, and the game just treats it as a "haha, Colin is so funny" type of situation, when it is super predatory and gross.

3. The whole thing with the sausages--he gifts Nancy tainted sausages (which I fully do admit was not his intention, he was just trying to win her over with gifts which is a whole different thing I'm not getting into), and sends them with a signed card. Then, when Nancy asks about them, he lies and says it wasn't from him. Then, when Nancy points out it absolutely was, he is upset again. This whole thing is just so weird, and he acts like it's Nancy's fault for trying to figure it out rather than his fault for not telling the truth.

4.The absolute shift in his demeanor and tone when the bulb goes out in his microscope is insane. He starts yelling and berating Nancy for something completely out of her control, and when she's like it's just the bulb he's like hee hee sorry lol oopsies! Do this work for me now! And Nancy DOES it! Like that was a totally normal request after a totally normal interaction! This was annoying when I was a kid, but now that I'm an adult and recognize this as an actual abusive tactic that many men use to paint themselves as still good guys while flying off the handle it leaves a really sour taste in my mouth.

5. Why does he leave the note when he leaves the Ca on Nancy's bed??? There are so many other places to put it, like his desk, her desk, the coffee table, etc... that aren't as creepy as "this guy you've known for two days is fucking around with your bed" 6. Okay Helena says he's cute and sorry bro but that is just not the case. I'm being mean here and it doesn't really have a point that aligns with the post I'm making but let me dunk on him for a second--he has fucking Justin Timberlake ramen hair that wasn't a good look when it was popular in 1999 and it certainly wasn't popular at the time the game came out. He looks like he auditioned for N*sync and got cut first round and made it his whole personality As parting thoughts, I understand that there is a degree of Nancy trying to keep her suspects happy and unsuspecting at play. What I don't love, however, is that there are multiple conversations in the game where Colin is treated as annoying, but harmless. Because to me, that sends a very dangerous message to girls about what behaviors are acceptable for men to have towards women, and how they are meant to respond. I might be blowing smoke out of my ass here, because I played this game as a kid and didn't notice anything wrong until I was an adult, so it might not be a problem. But on the other hand, I also didn't see any problem with his behavior other than, like the game says, he was kind of annoying. So do with that what you will.

Also there is a lot of gross "save the children" rhetoric these days where they pick and choose benign things to focus their anger on rather than look at things that are actually harming children, and I hope I didn't come off that way in this post. My point is, even if you take away my points about harmful messaging to kids, I think Colin is a creep lol

#phantom of venice #nancy drew #cluecrewplaythru #clue crew #nancy drew games #her interactive #ven

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a-couple-of-notes · 1 year

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It's the first day of Pride month and I'm not talking about Colin/Deli.

I know the Colin/Deli conversation from Episode 4 has everyone in the tag freaking out, but I'm honestly more interested in the Karna/Amangeaux conversation. While Colin and Deli's argument is often framed as being subtextually about their personal relationship and affection for each other, I think it's actually Karna and Amangeaux's conversation that hinges, ultimately, on affection.

Karna and Amangeaux's relationship has always been colored by class--highborn Amangeaux cannot truly understand how desperately street urchin Karna works for safety and security--and naiveté--Karna leverages Amangeaux's political weakness at court for her own power. Karna has always been aware of these factors, Amangeaux has not. But with the murder of Queen Pamelia, Amangeaux has had these facts quite literally blown in her face, and is now able to meet Karna (ironically) on her level.

Karna, who is frantically trying to go back to the way things were, tries every trick in the book to get Amangeaux to yield. She tells her they have a plan with Tomaté, but Amangeaux is no longer naive; she's the one who points out to Karna that Candia entering the war will topple Tomaté's weak leadership. Karna mocks her for only now caring about the war, about the unfairness and superficiality of power structures, but Amangeaux is no longer blind; she kneels to Karna. She begs her.

Every time Karna makes the argument about Count Tomaté and politics, they both know it's not feasible. Every time Karna makes the argument about how weak or silly or unfair Amangeaux is being, Amangeaux says yes, I am weak; I was silly; I was unfair to you, and I'm sorry. You have the power now. Please, please, I'm begging you.

And Karna, who spends this whole exchange trying to hold onto that image of the cunning, threatening spymaster, who defaults to calling their relationship transactional and threatening Amangeaux's child when she feels too vulnerable, is completely broken down by Amangeaux's utter surrender. Karna can't make this about morals or politics or even some form of comeuppance for class blindness; Amangeaux isn't engaging with her on that. She's simply begging Karna the chili pepper.

And for all her defense mechanisms, Karna the chili pepper loves Lady Amangeaux.

I guess that's the parallel between the separations that I find heartbreaking and interesting. Deli tries to argue with Colin as though it's a personal rejection, but Colin's reservations are (just as he says) about principles, morals, and leadership. Karna tries to argue with Amangeaux as though it's a question of principles, morals, and politics, but Amangeaux (at that moment) only cares about the personal.

#the ravening war #lady amangeaux epicée du peche #karna solara #trw spoilers #okay - for as dramatically as I wrote that I do think #that karna is also disgusted by how quickly amangeaux surrendered/knelt to her #as much as I'm sure her little chili pepper head enjoyed having that power #and that she thinks there's a certain amount of foolishness #in amangeaux saying she won't lose her #of course she'll lose her!#but that doesn't take away the love #trw meta

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quotergirl19 · 2 years

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I could see a Polin season 3 situation similar to the Amy & Laurie story from Little Women. They knew each other for years and he thought he loved her sister Jo and proposed but she didn’t love him romantically and it crushed him. Years later when he and Amy reconnect, she’s older, wiser, more confident and not the young girl he once knew. She’s beautiful and desirable but she doesn’t treat him the way other young ladies do, she really sees him and knows who he is, knows his family and his heart and he doesn’t even realize it’s happening until he’s faced with the reality that he may be too late to win her.

Colin will come back from his travels to a very different Penelope. She’s no longer so eager for his attention or approval. She used to have him on a pedestal but now he’s just Colin and she’s determined to focus on other men, not him. Penelope 2.0 is on a husband hunting mission.

Colin won’t like that Penelope is being courted by a man she admits she’ll never love but she reminds him that she doesn’t have the luxury of waiting for a love that may never come and unlike Eloise, she has always wanted to marry and have her own family. Colin is the only person in Penelope’s life to tell her she deserves to be loved deeply by her husband and that she should not marry for any other reason. Even if it takes forever to find, even if nobody understands. Her happiness is too important to him for him to watch her settle.

Emboldened by his blunt honesty about her life choices, Penelope will call Colin out on his drinking, self destructive behavior and the way he uses his passion for travel as an excuse to avoid taking chances with other women to find his own happiness. He used to be someone who believed in love so much he would risk anything for it but now he plays games and guards his heart at all costs. She tells him she wants more for him, because he deserves to be with someone who truly loves him but he’s determined to let the actions of a woman who did not love him alter the course of his life forever.

Colin will finally admit that Penelope makes him happy because she understands and appreciates him. She takes him seriously, encourages him and inspires him to be a better man and follow his heart. Once he realizes how important they are to each other, and how good they are for each other, he finally admits to himself that he belongs with Penelope.

Colin will decide he wants Penelope to be his wife but he doesn’t word his proposal well and she thinks he’s settling for her because he can’t be with Marina so she refuses him because she wants to be someone’s first choice. When Colin tells Penelope she is his first choice because he finally sees that his feelings for Marina were nothing more than childish infatuation, Penelope doesn’t believe him. Instead she doubles down and accuses him of being cruel, pretending he wants her because he pities his plain, undesirable little friend but she won’t let him fool her into believing he actually wants her because she has always loved him and he has never wanted her love before. She’s known it since she heard him laughing at the idea of courting her with his friends. She tells him to stay away from her.

Penelope’s suitor plans to propose and because everyone knows how protective Colin is of his childhood friend, the man seeks Colin’s blessing. Her suitor clearly adores Penelope so Colin assumes he’s lost her forever.

Everyone is shocked by news that Marina has died (they don’t have to make her depressed/suicidal like the books, maybe she just got sick or there was an accident) and Colin calls on the Featheringtons to pay his respects and it’s the first time he & Pen have seen each other since her rejection and she tells Colin life is too short to let things come between old friends. She’ll tell him she declined her suitors proposal because she decided he was right and she should wait to marry for love.

Colin shocks her by kissing her and pouring his heart out to her, begging her to reconsider and be his wife because he’s desperately in love with her and didn’t know how to make her understand that she’s not some woman he’s settling for, she’s his oldest and best friend, and no other woman could ever compare to, or compete with her in his affection because she’s the great love of his life and he’s willing to wait forever if there’s a chance she would ever agree to be his. Penelope agrees to marry him.

#bridgerton #i love parallels #bridgerton season 3 speculation #quotergirl random thoughts #amy x laurie #laurie x amy #friends to lovers #she fell first he fell harder #penelope x colin #colin x penelope #Penelope Featherington #Colin Bridgerton #Polin #polin AU

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thollandx · 2 years

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Misunderstanding

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Angst to Fluff

My eyes followed the dancing couples at Lady Danbury's ball. Secretly I wished that I would be one of those couples and dance with Benedict all night long.

But he was unfortunately not present today, his little brother Colin told me earlier that he would not come. Benedict was at the university today and therefore could not appear. But he sent me a message.

Amused, I read the note over and over again.

"My dearest, it hurts my heart that I cannot be by your side at the ball tonight. But I beg you to leave your dance card blank. All the dances are only for me and here with I reserve them. I promise you that we will dance all these dances together. I carry you in my heart tonight and forever. With love Benedict Bridgerton"

Happy that he was still thinking of me despite his studies, I smiled and continued to watch the couples.

"Ah, look who we have here...All alone like this....Where is Mr. Bridgerton?",

Confused, I turned slightly to the side and caught sight of Cressida Cowper and her mother.

Both looked at me spitefully as they were.

I knew they were jealous of my connection with Benedict.

"Good evening, Mrs. Cowper and Cressida. An extremely beautiful ball isn't it?", I asked them both, smiling.

"Oh it is indeed my dear. But why aren't you dancing? Where is your faithful fiancé Mr. Bridgerton?", Mrs. Cowper asked me curiously.

"Benedict is at the university studying for his degree. He therefore has no time tonight and is indisposed," I explained to her and saw Cressida laughing in the corner of my eye.

Confused, I looked at her.

"Then what is there to laugh about?", I asked her therefore.

"Oh I get what Mr. Bridgerton is learning so exactly," she expressed bluntly.

Frowning she didn't look at me and I didn't understand what she was trying to say.

"Oh dear, best we tell you before it gets too late and you are standing at the altar with Mr. Bridgerton," now Cressida's mother spoke.

These words now confused me even more and I looked at her questioningly.

"From my spouse, his nephew is also studying at the same university as Mr. Bridgerton and he told me some things about her fiancé. Your fiancé is studying there not only the arts but also something else...He is studying there the charms of special women and not just once my dear," Mrs. Cowper explained to me, grinning nastily along with her daughter.

No...Benedict would never do such a thing. They both say that just to hurt me and make me feel insecure!

With a smile I said goodbye and then quickly went to the balcony in the mansion.

I desperately needed fresh air and I needed it now!

Unsettled, I leaned against a wall in the balcony and looked out into the night. My mind was wandering around Benedict and even though I didn't want to believe it, I kept thinking about what the Cowpers had told me.

It just couldn't be true. My Benedict would never do something like that to me. He only ever promised to love me. I was going to tie the knot with him....

Sad and insecure I began to cry. Alone for imagination hurt me incredibly.

The idea that Benedict held another woman in his arms and loved her.

No...no...I was not allowed to believe the stupid gossip!

It was Benedict!

My Benedict!

The Benedict who promised me eternal love.

Sadly, I lay in bed that night, constantly trying to push the negative thoughts aside, but it just didn't work.

My heart ached terribly and the tears found their way out of my eyes.

I knew that Benedict was very popular with the women and I was not such a beautiful woman...I was not a diamond.

Even though I didn't want to admit it to myself, my mind realized that maybe it was all true what they had told me.

Why should Benedict love me? I was not beautiful and had no special talents. Nor was I worthy of the name Bridgerton. I'm sure I bored him and he wanted to break up with me anyway. I'm sure he just didn't want to hurt me and kept it from me....

With tears and a broken heart, I fell asleep in sorrow.

The next day, I was really tired from the sadness, I went down to the hall and caught sight of Benedict talking to my father. At the sight of him, I bit my lower lip and tried not to burst into tears again.

How could I have let this man go? I really loved him, but it wasn't me he loved....

Heartbroken, I walked up to them and Benedict noticed me first. He smiled at me and my father said goodbye when he saw me.

Benedict hugged me when my father left the hall, but I could not return the hug.

I kept wondering if there was another woman in his arms and now he was hugging me.

"Stop it!", I suddenly shouted and quickly moved away from Benedict.

My fiancé looked at me confused and wanted to take a step towards me, but I raised my hand, making it clear to him not to come closer.

"What's the matter, dear? Is it because I didn't go to the ball yesterday?", Benedict asked me confused.

"Why...", I asked him, my voice trembling.

"Why, what? Dearest, what's wrong?",

"Why am I not good enough for you? Why do you have mistresses? What's wrong with me? Am I too ugly for you?", I asked him and cried.

My whole body began to shake and Benedict immediately pulled me into his arms.

"Who told you such crap? I would never cheat on you! My heart and soul love only you and belong only to you. No other woman will ever be as special to ever take your place in my heart. You are my true love and I only count the days when I can finally call you my wife. Please believe me and don't leave me! I could not live without you! We belong together my darling. I don't know who told you that and I don't want to know, but I want you to know that there are no other women! There is only you and me! Only the two of us! Forever!",

Benedict looked me in the eyes full of sincerity and love and only now I understood what I had done. I had doubted our love! How stupid I was!

I really believed that he would cheat on me and only because of the stupid talk of the cowpers!

"I am so stupid! I'm sorry that I doubted your love and insinuated that. Please forgive me...". I whispered and put my head on his chest. I was ashamed to look at him.

"You don't have to apologize and also you are not stupid. You were just told something to hurt you. But I will not let this happen. I made you a promise that I would always make you happy and we'll start with that right now. Would you give me this dance?", Benedict said and gently moved away from me.

My fiancé smiled at me and held out his hand.

"I told you that I would catch up on all the dances from yesterday," he explained to me, winking.

I started to laugh unintentionally but took his hand.

Benedict pulled me close to him and I knew then that I would never doubt him.

He would make me infinitely happy.

He was the love of my life.

#he is so cute #he is my everything #he is so beautiful #perfect #imagine bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton brothers #luke thompson x reader #luke thompson

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cleolinda · 1 year

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Varney the Vampire: Chapter 11

Chapter 10: A wild Charles Holland appears!

A brief unexpected hiatus there for a week or so. Onward!

If you're just joining us, an ancestral vampyre has been victimizing fair maiden Flora Bannerworth, and it is the worst thing that has ever happened to her brothers Henry and George. Truly, nothing could be worse than having a sister bitten by a vampyre; let us mope upon it in the family crypt with some friends. The friends have matches. Meanwhile, Flora just shot the motherfucker.

CHAPTER XI.

THE COMMUNICATION TO THE LOVER. -- THE HEART'S DESPAIR.

As I've said, you can summarize Varney the Vampire very concisely if you really want to. In this chapter, Henry takes Flora's newly-returned kinda-fiancé aside and explains him a thing. Less concisely: That thing is a vampyre, one Ancestor von Spookyportrait, who keeps preying on Flora and repeatedly getting his hapless ass shot for it. But what you have to understand is, there is not a goddamn thing about Varney the Vampire that is concise. I would even argue that the spirit of verbosity—the baroque grammatical vibe, if you will—is more the point of this godforsaken thing than the actual plot is.

Consternation is sympathetic, and any one who had looked upon the features of Charles Holland, now that he was seated with Henry Bannerworth, in expectation of a communication which his fears told him was to blast all the dearest and most fondly cherished hopes for ever, would scarcely have recognised in him the same young man who, one short hour before, had knocked so loudly, and so full of joyful hope and expectation, at the door of the hall.

I myself am long-winded. Game recognizes game.

It would be one thing, Charles Holland thinks to himself, if Flora were just a trifling-ass strumpet. At least then he could get mad about it, his pride would shield him—but no, he is convinced that his angelic maiden fair back there is trying to protect him from something. As he should be, because it's not like it was hard to tell or anything.

Happier would it at that time have been to Charles Holland had she acted capriciously towards him, and convinced him that his true heart's devotion had been cast at the feet of one unworthy of so really noble a gift.

James Malcolm Rymer really builds up what a sterling hero—verily, a textbook cinnamon roll—Charles Holland is. At first you might think Charles Holland is his cherished self-insert, or maybe Rymer is even a little in love with him, as perhaps all writers should be with our own characters. But if I remember correctly, there's a more interesting reason he does this. But I get ahead of myself (my favorite thing to do).

But now he was to hear all. Henry had promised to tell him, and as he looked into his pale, but handsomely intellectual face, he half dreaded the disclosure he yet panted to hear.

Okay, “panting,” Rymer, don't be weird about it. Also, please use some names in this paragraph; I am pretty sure that Charles Holland is the Pale But Handsome one, which renders this "he" salad nonsensical.

Charles Holland begs to be told the truth! Henry avers that he will tell it, no matter how dubious or strange! Speak truly, Charles Holland, did you indeed hear Flora breaking up with you two pages ago? Why, yes, of course I did, Henry, I did! Then you will be shocked my sister broke up with you! Forsooth, I am! You know who actually wrote this? I've figured it out—energy vampire Colin Robinson.

Because just the act of describing this is sucking my will to live, and I'm not even sure why. Like, it's fine? It's not terribly onerous to read? It's just... so... it feels so much like long covid fatigue, I can't even tell you. NO! We can do this!

"She was right. She is a noble-hearted girl for uttering those words. A dreadful incident in our family has occurred, which might well induce you to pause before uniting your fate with that of any member of it."

Hold onto that "don't unite your fate with ours" thought, because it's an ugly one and we'll get to it. Right now, Charles Holland declares that nothing can ever change his feelings for Flora, ain't no mountain high enough, so on and so forth. What change of fortune could have occurred for Henry to think so?

"I will tell you, Holland. In all your travels, and in all your reading, did you ever come across anything about vampyres?"

Ah, shit, here we go.

"You may well doubt the evidence of your own ears, Charles Holland, and wish me to repeat what I said several more times. I say, do you know anything about vampyres?"

They go back and forth a while about the shocking fact of believing such a shocking fact, but finally, Henry has processed his circumstances: he, Henry von Spookyportrait Beaumont Bannerworth III, is experiencing the worst thing humanity has ever endured:

"Listen to me, and do not interrupt me. You shall know all, and you shall know it circumstantially." Henry then related to the astonished Charles Holland all that had occurred, from the first alarm of Flora, up to that period when he, Holland, caught her in his arms as she was about to leave the room.

I am fucking shocked that Rymer did not have Henry recap this at actual length. "And approximately four to five people also saw all of this!" And Rymer does not have all of those people file in and give sworn testimony in real time. Like, that's surely an entire mortgage payment he just passed up, or else he got into a fistfight with his publisher and lost.

"You bewilder me, utterly," said Charles Holland. "As we are all bewildered." "But -- but, gracious Heaven! it cannot be." "It is." "No -- no. There is -- there must be yet some dreadful mistake."

"No, no! By Heaven, no!" "Yes, Charles. Reflect upon the consequences now of a union with such a family."

Wait, Henry, what the fuck do you mean by that?

"That one who has been visited by a vampyre, and whose blood has formed a horrible repast for such a being, becomes, after death, one of the dreadful race, and visits others in the same way."

Two points:

What are the Vampire Rules in Varney the Vampire? We now know that it only takes (one?) bite to infect someone with vampirism—no exchange of vampire blood is needed. Allegedly. Rymer will probably forget about this.

"Dreadful race" is a real interesting word to use about something that is supernaturally contagious rather than hereditary. On the other hand, Rymer's been implying that Varney is Flora's ancestor, hasn't he? The shame of vampirism is in both her bloodline and, now, her actual blood.

At the same time, here comes the ugly thought to unpack. [Content note: mental health ableism, undescribed self harm and suicide in fiction, racism. If you'd like to skip this very long section, scroll down/search for "Charles Holland is a man of action."]

For decades if not centuries (and, I would argue, still today as well), there have been persistent ideas that mental health issues 1) inevitably led to violence and chaos; 2) were inevitably hereditary; and 3) weren't exclusive to "impure" bloodlines, but, short version: "savagery," colonialism, racism. And all this coalesces into the idea of the Family Stain. In a book like Jane Eyre, published the same year as the collected Varney, Charlotte Brontë evokes a family who "tricks" Rochester into marrying a woman coded as biracial who has apparently inherited a family mental illness. In this character, Charlotte Brontë chooses to identify insanity with violence (and, implicitly, with race), to the point that imprisoning Bertha in an attic is presented as "merciful." And honestly, given the state of mental healthcare up through the 20th century, given the real-life prevalence of this identification, it probably was. This is the cultural foundation beneath Henry's warning of "the consequences of such a union."

But let's delve deeper into the word "consequences." There's also a Louisa May Alcott serial from her "blood and thunder" days called "A Nurse's Story" (1865), and while it was published twenty years after Varney the Vampire, it makes those assumed consequences explicit: point #2 above, the inevitable "curse" of mental illness spreading to a patient's children. (I want to stop here and tell you that I'm bipolar. Medicated, very stable, not cursed. I've been very open about this for many years. I want you to read this paragraph knowing that I personally know that what follows is bullshit.) The story's narrator, Kate Snow, is hired to be the caretaker for a young woman who has started to present symptoms of the Family Stain, hereditary insanity, and has begun to self-harm as a result. By the end of the story, Elinor has actually died by suicide; I won't even go into the details because the story (dangerously) portrays her death as a tragic but noble act.

Elinor also has two older brothers who have sworn to die single (one has become a priest; the other is self-medicating with unspecified substance abuse, probably alcohol), so that they don't pass the family illness to any children. Unfortunately, there is a fourth sibling, Amy, who is determined to keep the secret and marry. (She dies within two years of her wedding, reports the epilogue.) Even better, there's a second family stain—the siblings are all actually illegitimate, because their father has a living first wife that he abandoned! And his son from that marriage, when not busy blackmailing the family, falling in love with Kate, and twirling his mustache, will also develop the hereditary insanity!

I'll be real with you, I actually love this story. It's got the psychological screw-turns that make a lot of Alcott's Very Problematic guilty pleasure stories so engaging, and (aside from the ableist premise rotting there at the core), the characters are portrayed with compassion. Kate stays with the family, villainous legitimate son included, as a loyal friend; the initial setup with Elinor was apparently based on Alcott's own experiences as a nurse/companion, and she has a great deal more sympathy for her characters than a lot of gothic-leaning writers. What "A Nurse's Story" illustrates for us, though, is how concretely mental illness was viewed as a family stain on the level of an original sin, something no one will ever escape, that will make even the kindest people erupt in violence, and something that must be prevented from propagating at all costs.

Like I said, though: I'm bipolar. I of all people know that these tropes are bullshit, and dangerous bullshit at that. I still love this story. Jane Eyre is one of my favorite books. We contain multitudes; we just also have to critique those multitudes. That's why I'm here writing thousands of words about this absurd vampire serial in the first place.

Now: let's take those ideas and jump back over to Varney:

"There may be insanity in this family," thought Charles, with such an exquisite pang of misery that he groaned aloud.

There may be insanity in this family, thought the potential father of Flora's children.

"Already," added Henry, mournfully, "already the blighting influence of the dreadful tale is upon you, Charles. Oh, let me add my advice to Flora's entreaties. She loves you, and we all esteem you; fly, then, from us, and leave us to encounter our miseries alone. Fly from us, Charles Holland, and take with you our best wishes for happiness which you cannot know here." "Never," cried Charles; "I devote my existence to Flora. I will not play the coward, and fly from one whom I love, on such grounds. I devote my life to her."

You're probably wondering why I brought racism up as well, ten million words ago. Well, because I think Rymer has given us visual cues as to why the noble Charles Holland is right to remain loyal to Flora. She's been coded as immune to any kind of metaphorical "stain," whether she's covered in blood or not. Look back at the very first chapter:

Now she moves, and one shoulder is entirely visible -- whiter, fairer than the spotless clothing of the bed on which she lies, is the smooth skin of that fair creature

Rymer intends us to understand Flora is intrinsically worthy of her fiancé's devotion: she is as white as the spotless bedlinen that she's being fetishized on. And I wish this were only a visual metaphor using the color spectrum of electromagnetic light, but I think we all know that the Victorians were racist as fuck. Readers of 1847 would have understood, consciously or not, the assurance of Flora's "fairness" that way. She's whiter than white; she might die nobly, but Charles Holland won't have to stuff her in the attic.

What I want to critique in this serial, to separate out, is to what extent Flora is presented as a heroine because of her whiteness, and to what extent that comes from her actions, such as shooting a vampire while everyone else is moping around a crypt. I think it could be incredibly useful to identify this, especially if you yourself are a writer, and infinitely more so if you are (like me) a white writer, to study what kind of bullshit you want to avoid in your work. (For that matter, ableism is another form of bullshit to to examine and avoid.) I'm going to be honest with you, writing about Twilight taught me more about characterization than any of the dozen writing classes I ever took, because I sat down on Livejournal and observed every single thing that I thought made Bella Swan annoying as hell, or Edward Cullen creepy as fuck (what I should have observed more: the werewolf "lore" being destructively racist), and I made mental notes: Do the Opposite of That. Now that I've found myself here in the middle of these tropes, that's what we're going to do. And if anyone ever adapts this for television, I would recommend that they cast Flora as a different race, but with the exact same "gentle maiden" personality, and portray a purity and sweetness that have nothing to do with skin color, no matter what Hunger Games fans thought.

But back to the story. Charles Holland is a man of action. Charles Holland has plans.

"Look you here, Henry: until I am convinced that some things have happened which it is totally impossible could happen by any human means whatever, I will not ascribe them to supernatural influence." "But what human means, Charles, could produce what I have now narrated to you?" "I do not know, just at present, but I will give the subject the most attentive consideration. Will you accommodate me here for a time?"

-- He is going to converse with Flora upon the subject

-- He will say nothing to add to her fears thereunto

-- He will touch base re: a paradigm shift with Henry's brother George, Mr. Marchdale, and Mr. Dr. Chillingworth to move the needle on some core competencies

-- He will tell Henry to buck up, until yea, Henry does rejoice in his command of executive function

And Charles Holland is able to do all this because Henry unwittingly Said A Thing: if there's "such a weight of evidence in favour of a belief in the existence of vampyres" that they are compelled to believe in their local ancestral vampyre, CHILLINGWORTH—then that means they can catch it. "It consists," not to put too fine a point on it, "of a revivified corpse," and in that case, Charles Holland would like a motherfucker to try it:

"By Heaven! if ever I catch a glimpse of any such thing, it shall drag me to its home, be that where it may, or I will make it prisoner."

FROM THE DESK OF CHARLES HOLLAND - ACTIONABLE ITEMS

-- The squad will take turns watching over Flora

-- All intrepid protectors will be ready to defend her, potentially with swords and/or crowbars

-- They will have the means of alerting the entire household to any unregulated vampyring

-- There will be a healthy and well-balanced schedule to make sure no one is overly deprived of sleep

-- He's gonna have a roster and everything

-- Forsooth, where is the coffee pot

Meanwhile, Henry's like, oh thank God, someone who knows what he's doing. When Charles Holland says he wants to sleep in the Vampyre Room, in hopes that maybe Sir Ancestor actually will drop by again, Henry is more than happy to show him right in.

I don't think Rymer meant this to sound as creepy as it does, but blowing up the word count by iterating over and over that Charles Holland wants to sleep in Flora's room, exactly the way she left it, with nothing removed, for reasons of his own, results in an unintended (unless...?) ick factor. Spoiler: The reason ends up being, to look at the Von Spookyportrait likeness. That's all. Probably.

In theory, Varney recaps go up on Fridays. I'd like to have the next one up before Dracula Daily kicks off again on May 5th. Send thoughts and vamprayers to me.

Varney the Vampire masterpost

#varney the vampire #gifs #content notes:#mental health #ableism #racism #self harm cw #suicide cw #victorian bullshit #vampire studies

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