bumbershootindeed
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Penelope is invited to spend her first full summer at Aubrey Hall with the Bridgertons. She now has unfettered access to Colin, who never returned for the social season after his travels the summer following the Featherington Ball.
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Canon divergence (no Whistledown, among other little shifts.)Essentially an imagining of what might have happened if Colin and Penelope had had more time apart, more time for Colin to fester and wilt, and more time for Penelope to “move on.” Also, what might have happened if they had had even more unsupervised access to one another.
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In truth, I just wanted a very drunk Colin to show Pen some fireflies. But of course it is never that simple.
Outline is drawn, work in progress. -
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"They might've made it a couple more years, might've gotten by on things half-said and half-felt. She sees all the fights they have now, all the ways they let it through and imagines them tighter, wider, fading. There'd be a moment – because there always would have been a moment – where it would have broken. Because it was fragile, always. From the moment she met him it was fragile because they each held an end half-hearted. A piece of glass made of all that they were, her hands sweaty and failing, his mindless, distracted.
One of them would have let go. One of them would have taken a hand off the thing and pointed towards it, but that would've been the end. Two hands, both of them, they both have to be holding it or the thing slips away, falls and shatters."
This one is for the Modiste Bitch Off™ lovers.
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"She had way too much tonight. And he knew she would, she does this every time a guy breaks her heart. Or her ego, maybe. Her heart never really seems in it, which is confusing to him since Penelope does just about everything heart-first.
Except dating.
He wonders if that has something to do with her upbringing, her mother, a lack of love. Some sort of avoidance of it all, some sort of block.
But still, every time. With Henry she drank every single beer out of his fridge. She hates beer. He held her hair back as she hurled for hours in the early morning. With Phineas she showed up at his already plastered, mascara stains on her cheeks as she smiled weird and wide and asked to come inside. With George she was calmer, but she still called him after drinking a whole bottle of wine by herself and he could tell she had been crying. It's always clear in her voice. In her eyes.
Heart-first."
Based on this Twitter prompt:
"Drunk Pen: Colin is actually so good looking.
Colin: …
Pen: don’t tell him I said that
Colin: I won’t" -
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He was three, looking out the window in the back of the car after his first haircut when he first told them he wanted to go back. He remembers the raindrops that day, following them down the glass. They were going so fast.
“What was that?” his dad laughed, looking to his wife.
His mum turned in her seat, reaching out a hand to Colin’s cheek. There was a moment, then, just one. One where she knew that whatever she thought his statement was did not match his expression.
Violet Bridgerton knows her children, and she knew something was wrong.
But he was three. He was three fucking years old and so she took a breath and shook it away, told him they’d go back to the barber when his hair grew again.
At the time, it was just flashes.
Hazed flashes, all the time.
He wanted water again, he wanted waves. He wanted the coast and the breeze and her smile.
And this life was nice, but it wasn't that one, and though he was too young to understand, he understood at least that.
That the two lives were separate, even though he was not.
For Polin Week 2025 Day 6 - Reincarnation AU
Inspired by the documentary The Boy Who Lived Before.
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Summary
"He's been gone too long.
It always hits him like this, it always seems to fall over him all at once. When intricate buildings and foreign cuisine and strangers’ faces are no longer endless and exciting new beauty but instead reminders of home.
The walls here remind him of the hall where the debutants make their attempted marks. The stairs up to the gallery are carpeted, and as the soles of his boots lay upon each one, the give sends him right back to the steps at Bridgerton House. The light is even shining similarly to how it does back in England, and perhaps the sun is the same everywhere but he never seems to notice that until the pain of distance becomes ineludible.
Yes, he feels it right behind his heart, in the way he swallows more thickly as he wakes now. It’s in each breath, as if the air here just isn't quite right…
That woman’s hair is so much like…
Christ.
It is endless.
It is time to go home.
He won't, though. Not for a while. Never does."