— Some of my headcanons Pendleton aka Sir Pentious (x Fem reader who is noble bonus?)୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
⭒ Notes: keep in mind, this is the first time i watch the show just for this man only (actually I've watched the pilot but not show) 💔💔💔 but i did watch and try to research at least, maybe my headcanon will be wrong btw! This is lowkey why I make a side blog for him lol, also I only make content about him if I write another x reader thing.
⋮ ⌗ ┆He really feels like that type of man: moral, polite, book-smart, and painfully inexperienced when it comes to intimacy or romance. Pendleton isn’t “chivalrous” in a performative way, it’s something deeply ingrained. Growing up in Victorian London, social propriety and restraint were taught as virtue. He is very believes love should be earned through respect, trust, and genuine affection not lust or convenience.
⋮ ⌗ ┆So basically he would absolutely be the kind of man who believes in marriage before anything intimate anyway. But not out of puritanical pride, more out of this quiet belief that such closeness is sacred.
⋮ ⌗ ┆He’d probably say things like: “I… I simply think such matters are far too personal to be taken lightly.”
⋮ ⌗ ┆Pendleton strikes as the type who’s read about romance far more than he’s experienced it. He’d blush easily, stutter when complimented, and overthink every small gesture.
⋮ ⌗ ┆Despite his intellect, he’s terrible at understanding hints like someone could flirt with him blatantly and he’d nervously laugh it off, assuming they’re just being polite.
⋮ ⌗ ┆He’d be awkwardly formal in his affections, maybe write love letters in perfect cursive but forget to sign them, or gift a machine he made himself (which may or may not explode).
⋮ ⌗ ┆Gentleman but a very clumsy one. He will bow a little too low, spills his tea, forgets what he was saying halfway through a sentence.
⋮ ⌗ ┆If someone touched his hand unexpectedly, he’d freeze up and mutter something incoherent like, “O–Oh—! Pardon— I didn’t— quite— oh dear…”
⋮ ⌗ ┆He probably practiced romantic lines in his head once or twice, only to panic when the opportunity came.
⋮ ⌗ ┆Between his strict morals, shyness, and isolation, he’d never have crossed that line. It’s not that he’s against intimacy, he’s just... never been in the position where it felt right. In his heart, he likely imagined love as something pure, soft, and shared between equals, not something rushed or casual.
___
⋮ ⌗ ┆You’re a patron’s daughter or a young noblewoman known for your curiosity about science and art. Your father invests in new technologies, and Pendleton’s work catches his attention.
⋮ ⌗ ┆Despite his nerves, you notice he’s well-mannered and kind, if a little shy, his hands fidget when he talks, and he glances down when complimented. Pendleton ends up helping you with a problem perhaps something involving logistics, security, or a small crisis and that becomes your first bond.
⋮ ⌗ ┆He’s invited to your estate to demonstrate a small invention of something elegant but impractical, like an “automatic tea pourer” or a clock that plays music. You find him fascinating; he’s clearly brilliant but fumbles through introductions, forgetting his hat on the table and apologizing twice for shaking your hand too long.
⋮ ⌗ ┆You’re amused rather than offended—this awkward man with soot on his sleeve feels refreshingly honest compared to the polished gentlemen at court.
⋮ ⌗ ┆He visits you under “formal pretenses” at first, delivering reports, ensuring everything’s well, etc. But it quickly becomes clear he just wants an excuse to see you.
⋮ ⌗ ┆He visits again, this time determined to be professional. Instead, he ends up spilling ink on your tablecloth and blurting out an overexcited explanation about steam compression.
⋮ ⌗ ┆You notice he always looks half-asleep from working late; sometimes you send tea or pastries with the servant, “for his focus”. He nearly has a heart attack when he realizes they’re from you.
⋮ ⌗ ┆You begin writing letters, polite at first, then increasingly personal. Pendleton rereads them nightly, terrified he might misinterpret your tone.
⋮ ⌗ ┆When you call him Pendleton instead of Mr. Pendleton, he goes scarlet and drops whatever’s in his hands.
⋮ ⌗ ┆Pendleton listens to you intently, never interrupting though his face flushes when you lean close or speak softly.
⋮ ⌗ ┆It takes him forever to realize he’s in love. When he does, he panics quietly, avoids eye contact for days, and then awkwardly blurts it out in a moment of tension.
⋮ ⌗ ┆You invite him to observe a meteor shower from your family’s garden. Under the cold night sky, he speaks about his inventions with awe, and you realize how gentle his voice can be when he isn’t nervous.
⋮ ⌗ ┆Once you’re together, he’s devoted — he treats you with respect and tenderness, holding your hand only when you initiate, but melting each time.
⋮ ⌗ ┆He is old-fashioned believes in courting properly. He’d rather wait until marriage before anything intimate, both out of personal principle and a quiet fear of disappointing you.
⋮ ⌗ ┆He’s hyper-aware of etiquette: he won’t touch your hand unless you offer it first. The first time you do, his gloves are off, his palms are warm, and he forgets how to breathe.
⋮ ⌗ ┆He’s terribly clumsy with affection: once tried to kiss your hand but misjudged the angle and bumped your fingers instead. You giggled; he turned red and apologized fifteen times.
⋮ ⌗ ┆Despite your higher social rank, he treats you as an equal, sometimes even hesitating to look directly at you—“It feels improper, my lady; you shine too bright for my eyes...”
⋮ ⌗ ┆You find it endearing that his stammer worsens when he tries to compliment you, so you tease him gently until he learns to finish a sentence.
⋮ ⌗ ┆Court gossip whispers about the “noble and her eccentric inventor” but you both ignore it. He insists on walking beside you rather than behind, “Titles aside, you deserve a companion, not a servant."
⋮ ⌗ ┆Pendleton reads books on etiquette and romance secretly at night, trying to “do it right".
⋮ ⌗ ┆He worries he’s not good enough for you but your reassurance means the world to him.
⋮ ⌗ ┆Dates are modest!! : picnics near the river, wandering through bookstores, late-night talks about philosophy and invention...
⋮ ⌗ ┆When you compliment his machines, he mutters that you are his greatest invention, a phrase so awkwardly romantic you laugh and he hides behind his notebook.
⋮ ⌗ ┆He always asks permission before any affection; even a kiss on the cheek requires a nervous, “M-may I?”
⋮ ⌗ ┆Over time, his confidence grows. Around you, he laughs more, jokes shyly, and even flirts without realizing it.
⋮ ⌗ ┆If it becomes serious, he would court you properly—letters to your father, gifts that are handmade and slightly off-kilter but filled with care.
⋮ ⌗ ┆His proposal would be sweetly clumsy: he planned an entire speech, forgot every word, and ended up blurting, “I cannot promise riches or reputation, my lady… but I can promise devotion, and tea that will never spill—well, hardly ever.”
When you accept, he’s stunned silent before breaking into the most radiant, boyish grin imaginable.
⋮ ⌗ ┆You bring warmth and steadiness into his life, he’s used to solitude, but you teach him comfort doesn’t mean weakness. He opens up about his insecurities only when you’re alone, trusting you completely. In return, he becomes your steadfast protector, loyal, patient, and always watching over you with that quiet, boyish adoration.
