#benedict bridgerton angst
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BenedIct Bridgerton
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Invisible String
Benedict Bridgerton x (F) Reader
Summary: (Requested) the reader is super clumsy and Benedict is always there to take care of her (he would hold her when she’s about to trip and maybe wipe off something that’s on hand he always thought he sees her only as his little sister. but when he sees her with another man, who is just as considerate with her as he is, he’s afraid that he would lose her forever.
Word Count: 2,333 Words
Author’s Note: I have not written out requests in agessss so I do hope this is what you were hoping for! Enjoy!
As the neighbor of the esteemed Bridgerton family in their London home, it was natural for the Savoy and Bridgerton homes to feel one in the same. With shared walkways and shared walls, the families grew close knit over the course of time. The Savoy family consisted of five children, a small number when compared to the Bridgerton eight. The eldest was Henry, then, yourself, next was Primrose, followed by the twins Everett and Josephine.
Everyone got along swimmingly, your mothers being some of the closest of friends and many of the children from the other household had come to feel as though they were an extension of your own family.
In one of many evenings spent together as families, you found yourself lingering with the sibling most closely in age to yourself, Benedict. The two of you had just under a year in age difference, which meant one of you had followed the other in milestones and footsteps rather closely. That did change as you aged however, what hadn’t was your friendship to one another.
The group was settling down for dinner, the rampant amount of laughter in the drawing room from the twins and Hyacinth and Gregory, the chastising of mothers shortly following them. The two of you had snuck away into one of the other rooms of the house, one that was not used nearly as frequently. The library had been sort of a hide out for the two of you, where you would play make believe and demand that Benedict act as your Vicount, you his Viscountess. Shelves collected memories alongside books, and the two of you lingered in that as you pull a book from it’s home. “It feels as though it were just yesterday that you and I would hide under the desks as though they were caves, using the lounges as ships.” You speak with amusement, fingers paging through the papers bound in the book in your hand.
“It truly does, doesn’t it? It’s unfortunate that our time in leading strings was over so quickly.” Benedict sits on one of the aforementioned chaise lounges, lighting a cigarette. You catch him from the corner of your eye and laugh softly.
“Are you attemptingto scent my home with tobacco perfumes?” You scold, quickly shutting the book in an effort to show haste. Instead, your finger catches on the edge of one of the papers, slicing your finger slightly. A light cry and you’re shaking your hand and dropping the book to the floor. As you inspect your own hand, Benedict is readily at your side.
“Well, now what have you done?” He teases with a grin as you look up at him, cigarette extinguished in a nearby ashtray - thanks to your father’s own filthy habit - as he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, easily pressing the fabric to the crimson line on your finger, his hand taking your own delicately.
“Might I have not been otherwise engaged perhaps I would’ve been more cautious.” You retort with a knowing smirk. This was not a new incident. Benedict’s handkerchiefs made plenty of appearances in an effort to undo the woes of your clumsiness. Bruised palms of hands from rug burns, spilled tea on dresses, once had been mud upon your gloves. He was always looking out for you, and you showed your appreciation by personally washing and pressing each handkerchief you’d stolen from him before it’s ample return. You look to him with a smile of appreciation, one of his own reflecting yours before your names echo in the hall in calling for dinner.
Sitting next to one another, your families engage in conversation upon the ongoing social season - one that had been stressing both you and Daphne to the very edge. The two of you had spoken at great length of her claim as the diamond of the season and the Duke’s sudden return. You’d also discussed the many suitable men that had called for you in the previous days - a conversation that Benedict never seemed to be concerned with.
“Why is it that your boys have yet to find interest in the social season, Violet?” Your father speaks up, leaving you to glance at your friend, seeing his face shy from your eyesight.
“Well, Anthony has been rather occupied overseeing the many callers that Daphne has received. Benedict has offered his assistance as well.” You can hear Prim snicker with Eloise as both of them were well acquainted in the time the second woman’s brothers spent outside of public events. Despite that you mentally dismiss them as Violet speaks. “Dear, have you had any delightful conversations with suitors?” You clear your throat and look to the woman who was like a second mother to you.
“Not any that particularly stand out. I am sure the doors of Bridgerton House have been rather busy with Daphne’s line of bachelors.” You nudge the young woman’s elbow, smiling at your friend as you hear Anthony’s struggle to clear his throat.
Conversation carries on into the dessert course, where Benedict seems to find amusement in something on your features. Setting down your napkin you look at him with matched laughter. “Whatever is it now?” With a snicker he’s picking up your abandoned napkin, reaching up and carefully wiping your upper lip.
“You’ve chocolate all along your face as though you were growing a mustache.” You simply laugh at the image that forms in your head, the two of you giggling as you give a brief thank you. It is then that your mother speaks again.
“Benedict, darling, will you be accompanying Daphne to Madame Willard’s ball tomorrow evening?” The gentleman looks passed you with a lingering smile before clearing his throat.
“Yes, Mrs. Savoy, I do believe your eldest daughter and my sister are rather excited to be in attendance.” Soon after his words, Daphne juts into discussion about her gown for the evening, a bright smile on Violet’s face at her daughter’s excitement.
It is not long after that the families begin to separate for the evening. You stand on the porch step, speaking with Colin about his plans for travel that he has yet to falter on come the end of the social season in June. Benedict distracts your attention from his brother with a grin. “I believe that we shall meet again tomorrow evening at the Willard home?” He suggests and you smile with a nod.
“That we shall, Mr Bridgerton.” Violet calls out to you and you move to wave to her before you lose your balance on the edge of the stoop, Benedict quickly maneuvering to catch you, leaving you both in a fit of laughs as he stands you upright.
“If you can manage to survive the day without another incident.” He taunts once more before taking quick steps down the steps.
“Goodnight Benedict.” You say it with a songlike tune as you wave him and his family to their home nextdoor, all of you retiring for the evening.
It is the next evening that you do see him again. For the first interaction between you it is brief, pleasantries are exchanged before suitors ask to fill your dance card. Swiftly distracted with conversation, Benedict himself is tasked with watching over his sister and her own line of men.
Later in the evening he finds his eye drifting. Instead of a watchful gaze upon Daphne who seems to be struggling with some of her prospects, he finds you in his line of sight. You’re posed with a man, dancing on the floor rather cautiously, apologizing profusely for stepping on his foot. Despite it, the two of you seem to be swelling with laughter. As the dance slows, he sees just out of sight, the man reaching and moving a stray bit of hair out of your face, his eyes set upon you in a strange manner.
Within moments, Benedict is able to identify the feeling that flows through him as strong as the Thames current does. It is heavy fear. Fear that you are starting off a different path. One that would leave the two of you ostracized from one another until fate stepped in once again. The moment there was a proposal on your doorstep would be the moment he would lose you forever. Unless he does something drastic.
He can hear his name be called from his mother, faintly over the noise of the crowd surrounding him. In very few steps, he’s approaching the two of you just as the song changes, leaving you to step away from the young man, only for Benedict to swoop into his place. Shock fills your features as his hand grips to yours, another firmly on your waist. “And might I ask what you are doing? My dance card is full and you are not honoring it.” You speak firmly, looking at him with slight contempt.
“I needed a moment to speak with you.” He rationalizes, only before you try to pull away.
“We’ll have words later on Ben, this is really important-“
“So is this.” It’s filled with urgency, and you look to him with sudden concern. It is unlike him to have emotion wavier in his speech, which is why it stands out like a sore spot to you.
“As it were. What is going on? Is everyone alright?” Your eyes catch his in the light, watching as he doesn’t dare turn his face away from yours. You can see his Adam’s apple bob before he speaks once again, leaning a little closer as to ensure that you do not misunderstand him.
“I do not think that it had dawned upon me until this evening that your search for a husband would take you from me.” Your eyebrows furrow, leaving you to attempt to speak,
“Benedict I don’t understand-“ He cuts you off once more.
“In all of the memories I have of my father I do not recall a single one where he did not devote his soul to my mother.” He pulls away, looking you in the eye again, the both of you still moving with the timing of the music. “There were moments of hardship and I can recollect times where he had great anger. But it was never towards her. While I was still rather young, he did not fail to remind me of how deeply he cared for her and everyone of his children.” It is now you see tears beginning to form in his eyes, a concerned hand reaching to his cheek.
“My dearest friend, what in the heavens above has brought this on?” With reassurance, he continues on.
“When he passed I saw the toll it had on my mother. She described to us that there was nothing more she prayed for than for his peaceful rest, and for him to guide their children to a love such as the one they had for each other. As my eldest friend, I know that this may bring great concern to you and strain to the connection that we have but I can no longer turn a blind eye towards my feelings.” His grip in your hand tightens as he slows with the music, the two of you pausing completely.
“My mother prayed that he would lead me to the most treasured of friendships, the most blessed of women and the strongest of loves. My dear. He led me to you. I have been a fool to not have seen it til now but I must act with haste if I want to ensure my opportunity does not depart before my eyes. Ms Savoy I am… utterly and foolishly in love with you. Long have I been your obedient servant before either of us knew it to be true. You might turn at my confession but I shan’t disappoint my father by not attempting to walk through the door he has opened for me.” Within the subsequent pause, the two of you share in warm, tearful gaze, unmoving despite those around you who have continued to flutter around the room. Still in the position of a dancing pair on a wooden ballroom floor, seemingly frozen in time.
“Benedict. I do not know much but..” you take pause to gather your thoughts, seeing his jaw tighten with concern. You shush him quickly, shaking your head. “No, dear I assure you this shall not be painful to hear. Quite the opposite in fact.” Your hand grips his bicep, tears slowly escaping from your eyes, rolling down cheeks, his own thumb wiping at them. “I do not know much, but I do know that your father was a bright man. And I know that I sought out a man such as him to be my husband one day. A man who cherished his wife deeply, a dutiful husband and father. I have been under the guise that a man such as one like him were hard to come by.” With a small smile, you are able to whisper to Benedict with care. “Instead, I can see that he, himself, had raised such a man. A kind, thoughtful and loving gentleman. Named Benedict Bridgerton.” With relief escaping him he drops your hand, quickly pulling you to his embrace, both of you tightly tying yourselves to one another, unwilling to move. Unwilling to release the other, for an eternity and more.
