You two would meet for the first time at one of the Queen’s balls
Benedict had not been eager to go to such a social event, where Ladies and Bachelors would be exchanging heated looks through all the time, burning with want to marry and share fortunes in the future
Encouraged by his mother, though, he had gone, and when he saw you the night was suddenly worth it
You stood out from everyone else, beautiful in your clothes and looking around like you wanted nothing more than to leave that place at once
Benedict surprised even himself at how fast he decided to approach you, two drinks in his hand, from which he offered you one and you smiling, accepted it
You talked for a while, he found out you were to be married in that season, having come to age and due to your mother’s insistence for you to find yourself in a good marriage, that would bring wealth and fortune to your family
The way you spoke, respectfully and yet comfortably, like he was one of your oldest friends, made Benedict notice that you were a beautiful person not only because of your appearance, but because of your intriguing spirit as well
During that ball, having stepped away after being requested by his older brother, Benedict watched you being courted by a lot of Lords, almost as much as his sister, Daphne, was being
He noticed your hesitation while you spoke with those men, courtesy that did not have much confidence, the way your eyes did not meet theirs for too long before searching the room and eventually, fell upon himself
You were looking for him, and that was the happiest surprise he could have
Two others balls happened, ones he was looking forward to (which did not escape his mother’s surprise and suspicion)
On both of those balls, the events of the one where you had met repeated themselves, with you both talking with smiles on your faces and then, he seeing you being courted and again, looking for him
So right then and there, he decided he would court you
He would very, very much like to marry you before some other Lord did
Benedict would first tell his mother and Anthony about his intentions, making it very clear that he had deep, strong feelings for you and you apparently, felt the same for him
Seeing no reason to be against such union, they both supported his actions
When you met again afterwards, he told about that he wished to court you, and asked how you would feel about that
And after you smiled in both shock and happiness and said you were amazingly flattered and pleased, Benedict had no doubt he had made the right decision
You two would marry, and he ha no doubt he would be incredibly happy
If you’d like to be tagged in the next part, feel free to leave a comment or send me a message!
A/N: There were a few blogs that Tumblr wouldn’t let me mention so I’m really sorry! If you’d like to join the tag list, please make sure you’ve made your blog searchable in settings, and pls be aware that if you’re a new blog, it may take a while before Tumblr allows me to tag you
“Well, this feels familiar,” you muttered to yourself as you climbed out of your car, making your way down the street towards Benedict’s house. “Well… This feels familiar,” you said again, changing your tone, trying to find the funniest way to say it.
You stopped outside the house, taking a deep breath before walking up the path. “Well, doesn’t this seem familiar,” you whispered as you knocked on the door.
It opened and you immediately felt the warm air of the house drift towards you, soothing your cold cheeks and wrapping around you like a welcoming embrace. You looked up to see him standing there, smiling politely and gesturing for you to come in.
This was actually real.
“Well, this feels awfully familiar,” he said as he closed the door behind you.
You stared up at him before breaking into a laugh. “I was just about to say that to you.”
“You were?”
“Yeah, I was practicing it the whole way here.”
He chuckled, reaching his hand out to take your coat. “Well I apologise for stealing your thunder.”
You slid it off and handed it to him. “That’s okay. It sounded better when you said it anyway.”
a/n: I really wanted to write someone new and Bridgerton is the current hyperfixation so enjoy the possible inaccuracies lol. But also look at his hands in that gif, oh my god
summary: you drink some of Benedict’s special tea and now Benedict must take care of you until the effects wear off. With such a tea in your system, you can’t help but bring up some truths you’ve been hiding and Benedict is right there to comfort you.
word count: 2.1k
The Bridgerton’s lounged in the drawing room as they usually did when the days lulled and the invitations had yet to arrive. Spending their day doing various activities that they had been taught from an early age.
Benedict leaned closer to Colin, whispering feverishly as you walked into the room, going unnoticed by your husband or anyone else as they were all immersed in their own business.
Your brows furrow, smile amused as you take in your husband’s excited expression whilst Colin grows more weary by the moment, his eyes glancing between Benedict and their mother.
Looking away you notice a cup of tea of a precarious color sitting idly next to Benedict’s sketchbook. Having just gotten back to the home, you were rather parched yourself. Glancing at Benedict you see him still deep in conversation with Colin, obviously trying to convince him of something.
Not thinking your husband would mind you taking a bit of his tea, you take hold of the cup and bring it to your lips. Your face twisted and screwed up at the taste of perhaps the most awful tea you had ever tasted in your entire life. It had the strangest texture as well. You knew how Benedict preferred his tea but perhaps he wanted to try something new. And perhaps that is why the cup appeared to be basically untouched. But despite the taste, it satiated your desperate need for a drink, so you continued to swallow it down.
It only took a few moments before two loud gasps sounded out throughout the quiet room and both Benedict and Colin shouted your name.
“Don’t drink that!” They both followed with as they came rushing over to you. You choke on the drink from the sudden noise before carefully setting it back down, clearing your throat, and watching with wide eyes as the brothers came to stand before you. Your eyes locked onto Benedict’s shocked expression.
“I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t think you’d mind. It is just tea,” you explain, brows furrowed, motioning toward the drink.
“Yes, brother. You’re married now. I think it’s about time you learn to share,” Eloise called out from her spot in the room, book in hand. Benedict took a moment to glare at his sister from over his shoulder before his eyes fell back on you, the look in them more concerned now than shocked. He took a step closer.
“It’s not just tea, my love,” Benedict explained, a grin threatening to pull at the corner of his lips. You inhale sharply, placing a hand on your stomach to center yourself.
“Then what is it?!” You ask, a bit too loud, your head jerking to the side to look down at it. Benedict and Colin are quick to shush you, bringing your attention back to them. You look at them expectantly, wondering what it is exactly you just drank.
“Um…” the brothers say together, sending each other dubious looks. Your brows furrow, eyes moving between them. Worry began churning your stomach the longer they hesitated.
“Is it medicine?” You ask, needing any answer they’ll give at this point. “It certainly tasted as foul as medicine often does,” you add, pursing your lips in disgust at the memory of that awful taste. Benedict’s lips pull down into a pursed frown, often a sign he was attempting to hold back his laughter. Which only caused you to grow even more confused.
Benedict quickly took notice of your expression and his features softened. He moved over to your side, wrapping an arm around your waist and tucking you firmly against him, sending down a soft smile.
“Yes, dear, some may describe it as medicinal,” he explains lightly, causing Colin to snort and his mother to scold him for it. You look to Colin, not understanding what was so funny. This had begun to grow frustrating and you were feeling stranger as the minutes ticked on.
“Well will it harm me?” You question a little more firmly, raising a brow at Benedict. His mouth drops open but nothing comes out. He hesitates, appearing to not know what to say.
“No, but I think it wise you two spend the evening alone and away from prying eyes,” Colin interrupts, and when you look to him you see him sending you a punctuated look before doing the same to Benedict.
Benedict’s face lights up as understanding washes over him. They both seem to glance at the family before Colin nods at his brother and turns around to go back to his book and acting as if nothing had just happened. You wait for Benedict to explain. Anything really.
“Benedict, what’s happening?” You whisper desperately, trying to blink back a forming cloud in your mind. Your husband looks down at you, noticing your pupils slowly growing in size. His hand squeezes your waist as he starts guiding you two out the door, his focus remaining on you and his eyes and the firm hand on your body is the only thing grounding you at the moment.
“Come along now, darling wife. I’ll explain everything in the privacy of our quarters,” he offers, his voice starting to slur and slow down. You briefly wonder if he had gotten any of the tea as a lightness threatens to fill your body.
Benedict had just enough time to explain the tea, what was in the tea, and what the powder in the tea meant for you before you were completely out of it.
“Benny!” You squealed, wiggling around in his lap. After a lot of running around, giggling, and crashing into things, Benedict had finally managed to calm you down enough to get you into his lap. You had been staring out the window, eyes wide for a good fifteen minutes as he sat his sketchbook in your lap and started drawing before you suddenly cried out.
“Yes, my sweet?” He asked, not looking away from the sketch of you he had started whilst you were dazed. You frown, much preferring his attentions on the real you. Leaning closer to him, you start leaving open-mouth kisses all over his face. His brows jump in surprise and a smile threatens his lips but he doesn’t much react.
“I wanna play with you,” you whisper between kisses and giggles as thoughts of how his scruff tickles or how his skin smells of sweets fill your head without permission. This time your comment forces out a short bit of laughter from Benedict. He finally looks away from his drawing, setting it down on a table to watch you, extremely amused.
“Really now? I didn’t know the tea would bring such impropriety out of you,” he muses, grin wide and eyes sparkling as he watches you nuzzle against his face. You pulled away as his words slowly started to connect and you giggled at their implication.
“Not what I meant, Benedict!” You shouted through your laughter. A heaviness suddenly pulled at your heart and your smile dropped, laughter quickly ceasing. The sudden shift in mood made your world feel off its axis and you clutched Benedict’s collar to steady yourself. “Jus’ wanted to be close to you. Always s’busy now…” you hear yourself saying though you don’t remember allowing the words to pass through.
Yes, you had grown a bit lonely, but Benedict loved what he was doing and you wouldn’t take it away from him simply because you wanted more attention. You had sworn to yourself you wouldn’t say anything but it seems this tea had loosened your lips.
Benedict’s amusement drained from his face. His features softened as he looked over you, his hands pulling you further up his lap and closer to his chest.
“Oh, my sweet love, I apologize. I know I’ve been busy as of late,” he starts lowly, sincerity bleeding through his tone. A hand moves up to cup your cheek, his thumb swiping across your cheekbone. “You don’t deserve fleeting moments of passion, you deserve my time, my life. As my world you deserve everything and as your husband it is my job to provide it for you,” he expresses, passion and determination clear in his every word.
Some part of you past the cloud of fog in your mind wants to cry in relief at his declaration and have a deeper conversation about this. But another part of you, one that currently has much more control, can’t take his words seriously. Though your husband has always had a silver tongue, you knew his truth sat with his actions.
“Dear husband, how generous you are,” you said with clear sarcasm, making a show of being as dramatic as possible. Benedict lets out a few breathless laughs, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you.
“Well, I do try,” he spoke through clenched teeth and a wide smile as his hands snaked down to your stomach. His fingers pressed into your skin as he began tickling you.
You squealed, back arching in a number of directions as you tried to move away from his torturous grasp. All the while uncontrolled laughter poured out from your lips. Benedict laughed with you, delighted to see you so freely laughing. His heart ached as he tried to remember the last time he had made you laugh.
“B-Benedict! B-Ben-Benedict stop it!” You gasped brokenly as you attempted to speak through your laughter. Benedict raised a brow, head tilting slightly, his hands still working against your stomach.
“What would you suggest I do instead, love?” He questioned, thinking there was no better sight than your smile, no better sound than your laughter. He couldn’t imagine anything greater than to continue this.
“Find something to amuse yourself,” you demanded, your breath harsh. Your stomach had begun to ache but you couldn’t deny it felt brilliant to laugh this much. In an instant his fingers had ceased their movement. You slouched against him, taking in deep breaths of air.
But it didn’t last long as two hands were soon after holding your face and guiding you to a familiar pair of lips. Just as you had gotten your breath back, Benedict kisses you, taking it all away again. He swallows your sound of surprise, moving his lips against yours, passionately and languidly. You quickly caught up, pressing your body against his, your hands clutching his shoulders as your lips worked as a team, kissing each other deeply as if discovering each other again for the first time.
When you broke apart you were both breathless, heavy breaths mingling together. You smiled, eyes flickering over his features. You noticed Benedict appearing to do the same. The awed and dazed look in his eye made your heart race. You both remained silent as you gazed upon each other, a pleasant hum buzzing throughout your body. Benedict spoke after a few long moments.
“Beautiful is not word enough to describe you,” he said softly, a small smile greeting you. You mirrored it, resting your cheek against one of the hands that still held your face. Benedict’s smile slowly disappeared as a thought came to him. “I know my words come easy, but I swear, I give you all my time from now on. Until you grow sick of me and command me away, I am yours. All of me,” he says, his words flowing fiercely and with strong passion. Your eyes narrow playfully as you move closer to him.
“Do you promise?” You whisper. Amusement sparks through his expression and he grins wide.
“I promise, dear,” he promises softly, sending you a light nod in confirmation as his hands move down to hold your waist. You start to nod along with him, becoming hypnotized by the moment. He chuckles quietly in response. The sound makes you jerk back, blinking rapidly.
Your blank gaze moves away from him for a moment as you look around the room suspiciously, eyes still narrowed. When your eyes fall back on him, they widen a bit in surprise. But then you’re curling a finger, signaling for him to draw closer. Benedict follows your silent order and leans in.
“Don’t tell Benedict but I don’t believe I could ever grow tired of him. I cherish him too dearly, you see,” you whisper, explaining everything softly and conspiratorially. Benedict purses his lips as he attempts to hold back his laughter. He eventually manages a firm nod and a serious expression before he speaks.
“I promise I won’t say a word,” he swears, hand placed over his heart. You giggle, your face lighting up as you rest back against him, head laying on his shoulder. Benedict smiles, kissing your forehead tenderly before picking up his sketchbook and continuing his drawing of you as you toyed with one of his golden buttons.
Warnings:allusions to smut but no actual smut,a game of pall mall is afoot and you and benedict enjoy being blissfully married little shits while you play, kate is the sister-in-law of your dreams and you will happily meddle to make it happen (these warnings have basically become my summaries at this point)
A/N:I couldn’t resist writing something altogether playful for my man Benedict. With the overwhelming response to the last two Bridgerton fics and somehow being at the top of both Anthony’s and Benedict’s x reader tag, I could not be more grateful nor more inspired to deliver more content to you all! I hope you enjoy this one just as much <3
—
You watched Benedict hit yet another shot off target with a prominent frown on your features. Colin raised an eyebrow at you in question and you shook your head at him with as much subtlety as you could muster, wandering over to your husband with gentle footsteps against the grass. You slid you hand across his back as a greeting, feeling the tension coiled around the muscles through his thin white shirt.
“I know you have much to think about at present, my love, but do try not to embarrass me with your terrible game,” you teased, grinning up at him to ensure he did not take your words to heart. Whilst he let out a small chuckle as he shook his head at your words, they did not have the desired effect of calming him significantly.
“I should think you are grateful it is not a team game,” he murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple that only served to deepen your frown. It was exactly this form of reserved affection that indicated his mood, knowing that a perfectly contented Benedict would have no issue taking you in his arms in front of his entire family and sweeping you off your feet time and time again.
“It would be a sign of madness for them not to accept you, you know. You usually find much comfort in afternoons such as these with your family, I hate to see you distracted so.”
He tilted his head in understanding, a soft smile on his lips at last, even if it felt as if he was only doing so to placate you. Placing a finger under your chin, he lifted your face to his, kissing you with a delicacy that was always present in his touch.
“I find the utmost comfort in you, my angel. I promise I will not let my preoccupation stop me from besting my brothers a moment longer,” he sealed his promise with yet another kiss, longer than the last, fingers gripping your chin with more urgency. When you pulled away, you pushed up on your toes to kiss his nose, rubbing your own against his immediately afterwards as you tried to contain your adoration for him.
“I believe it is me you should be concerned with besting,” you mused, turning away from him with a wink as you strolled up to your ball, crouching briefly to line up your shot with appropriate care, “I have no intentions of losing.”
“Is that so?”
Ignoring his words briefly, with your shot lined up, you swung your arms back and followed through to hit your ball, watching as it bounced once, twice, and sailed through the hoop. You turned to see Benedict staring in shock, but you simply leaned on your mallet with a shrug in an attempt to play down your bubbling excitement.
“Indeed. Had you not realised how greatly I have improved since our last game?”
The secret hours you had spent practising with Eloise so that the two of you could be far more formidable opponents this year were not to be mentioned, or you knew your sister-in-law would have your head.
“No I had not,” he said lowly, sliding an arm around your waist as the two of you walked to join the rest of the group who were just ahead, watching Daphne line up her own shot, “Would it be wrong of me to suggest that your newfound pall mall prowess encourages me to abandon our game entirely in the pursuit of…other pleasures?”
He punctuated his question with a harsh squeeze to your waist, one that had the two of you giggling as you joined the rest of your family. Colin met your eye, a silent check on the state of his brother and you gave him a small nod. He smiled in return and you considered yourself lucky that your husband’s family trusted you to look after him so.
“Something funny the two of you care to share with the rest of us?” Anthony asked you, looking the picture of frustration as he had all afternoon, “I do hope the delight you take in each other does not effect your ability to play.”
“Do not worry yourself on our account, Anthony,” you said, speaking up before anyone had the chance to defend the two of you. It was only right that you and Benedict defend yourselves, especially when trading petty insults with the Viscount had become one of your favourite joint pastimes as of late, “Upon which distraction would you like to blame your poor form?”
Eloise and Colin exchanged looks of amusement, whilst Daphne beside you openly laughed at her brother, much to his chagrin. When you and Benedict glanced at each other out of the corner of your eyes, there was pride in his gaze that warmed you inside out.
“Why, Miss Sharma provides such excellent company, focusing on the task at hand becomes quite the strain,” Anthony said, and you watched as Miss Edwina looked up at him through her eyelashes with reverence. It was all you could not to laugh at the notion, and it was evident his siblings felt the same, even if he did not notice. He held his arm out to escort her towards her ball now that Daphne had taken her shot, and the rest of you were obliged to follow them.
As soon as most were out of earshot and it was just you, Benedict and Daphne walking at a slower pace a ways behind, you spoke.
“Exactly which Miss Sharma does he refer to?” you whispered to Benedict, knowing Daphne too would hear your comment. She reacted immediately, placing a hand over her mouth to hide her smile and hurrying to catch up with the rest of your competitors. Your husband tapped his fingers at your waist in a show of warning.
“Should Anthony hear you say that you will be in for quite the scolding,” he said just as you caught up, watching Kate hit Anthony’s ball hard enough to send it flying into the undergrowth.
“You would allow him to scold me?” you asked under your breath. The two of you joined in the clapping for Kate’s fine shot and you winked at her when she met your eye triumphantly, “A wonderful shot, Miss Sharma. You make a fine addition to our ranks, indeed.”
She bowed her head in gratitude for your comment and in your peripheral vision you could see Anthony’s glower at your compliment to someone who, in his mind, was entirely the wrong woman to be adding to your ranks.
It was only as Edwina stepped up to hit her own ball that Benedict responded to your comment.
“Of course I would not allow him to scold you,” he mumbled, still with an arm firmly around your waist, as you rested your hand on his shoulder to turn into him, “I would not allow anyone to scold my darling wife, including myself of course.”
“Correct answer, my love.”
“But it may be difficult to stop him should you continue your insinuations,” he added, drawing a sigh from you that had nothing to do with the reckless way in which Edwina had just hit her own ball into the trees. You joined the hesitant clapping with a wide eyed knowing look to Eloise, before turning back to Benedict.
“You mean to tell me you have not seen the glances between your brother and his supposed intended’s sister?” you hissed, straightening up with a smile when you saw Edwina heading your way. It quickly became clear, even without listening to the current conversation, that she was bowing out of the game and you smiled at her in what you hoped was a kind gesture. You watched her walk away, only stopped by Anthony briefly on her way back to the gaggle of ladies enjoying tea on the terrace.
“Perhaps we shall continue this conversation in a less public setting?”
You nodded your agreement as Anthony returned, Colin stepping up to thwart Kate’s plan with yet a third well-placed shot into the trees. It was painfully obvious that neither would be conceding like Miss Edwina, and thus they stalked into the trees together, the rest of you watching on with some amusement. Absently, an idea came to you as Eloise called for you to take your turn. You untangled yourself from Benedict’s sideways embrace and kissed his cheek in parting, pausing only to whisper:
“Donot take this personally.”
His brow furrowed at your words, but understanding soon dawned on his face as you walked right up to his ball and, with little ceremony, hit it squarely into the trees Anthony and Kate had just headed into. You made sure not to hit it too hard, not wanting to cause any accidental concussions, but simply wishing for an excuse to follow them a ways into the greenery.
You turn and curtsy to your husband, laughing at the resounding claps from his siblings. He shook his head, understanding the nature of your plan instantaneously, as he took his mallet to your ball and hit it in much the same trajectory. You made a show of looking displeased for the rest of the family but your eyes sparkled as you glared at him.
“Surely you did not think I would allow you to get away with such a scandal, angel?”
Eloise faked a rather unladylike gag.
“Yes, yes, we understand, you are both quite clever. Now would you go and retrieve your balls so we can continue?”
You and Benedict glared at her in unison, but soon began the trek into the trees ignoring the knowing look that Daphne gave you before you left. As soon as you reached the tree line, Benedict held up a branch for you to duck underneath and you thanked him with a silent nod as you crept through, emerging into what felt like a forest just a few steps from the lawn.
Benedict glanced behind him to ensure you had not been followed as you gazed around your new surroundings for any sign of Kate or Anthony that may give away your ruse. There was no one nearby, but you could hear aggravated voices some way West of you, which no doubt belonged to the bickering pair themselves.
“We should go this way,” you mouthed to Benedict, pointing the way of the voices as you set off, stopping only at the feeling of his hand around your wrist.
“We shouldn’t go at all,” he whispered harshly, “Have we truly reduced ourselves to espionage?”
“Yes!” you hissed, “As your doting wife who cannot bear to see you so anxious, I have come up with the perfect solution: a distraction. You are free to return to the others if you like, but I should like to see how these two behave when they are alone.”
And with those as your parting words, you hitched up the skirt of your gown and stepped over a particularly large branch in your path. Walking with purpose towards the source of the noise and noticing almost immediately that there were careful footsteps following your own. Benedict soon fell into step beside you, fixing you with an look that displayed his overwhelming fondness for you more than it did the exasperation he was trying to achieve.
You put your finger to your lips as Anthony and Kate came into view up ahead, pulling your husband down behind a bush with you as you watched them. He huffed quietly, but did as you silently instructed, not before reaching out to smooth the back of your dress over the ground before it became too bunched up in the mud. You could not help but bite your lip as you watched him fuss over it until he was satisfied, his hands flexing against the fabric. You quickly looked away with heat at the back of your neck when he caught your stare with a devilish glint in his eye.
The two you were supposed to be watching were staring at the balls they had come to retrieve, lying in deep mud a few feet from them. You grasped Benedict’s arm for stability in your crouching when Kate made her way into the mud, hitting her ball free with a triumphant grin Anthony’s way. Whilst Miss Sharma herself may have missed how impressed the Viscount appeared at her actions, you noticed the look that passed as quickly as it came.
“Look!” you nudged Benedict, pointing carefully at Anthony’s face, gratified when your husband had the decency to nod his agreement. When Anthony himself waded in and the two of them stood far closer together than was likely necessary, you sat with bated breath. It was all you could do to keep your giggling to yourself when they ended up in the mud somehow. Benedict was not quite so adept at hiding his own laughter, particularly not when the pair began laughing themselves, and so, swatting at his arm all the way, you pulled him up and away from the scene with you.
Once you were sufficiently far from them that they should never know you were there at all, you allowed your hands to rest on your knees as you caught your breath, the two of you finally able to laugh freely.
“Oh, how right you were,” Benedict spoke up as he calmed himself, leaning against his mallet, “How did I not see it?”
“Because, my dearest husband, you have been preoccupied,” you argue teasingly, straightening up and placing your hands on his atop his mallet, “Only drastic measures such as these were enough to have you see sense.”
You looked up at him, the close proximity doing nothing to calm your heart after your exhilarating game. There was a sudden urge, somewhere deep within the pit of your stomach, to kiss him, but you held out on it just a little longer.
“In future, I will endeavour to simply surrender to your every opinion, as it is so clearly superior,” he took one hand from the mallet, using it to pull a wayward strand of hair from where it had curled behind your ear, smoothing it out to frame your face, “Whatever is Anthony going to do?”
“Nothing, if he does not change his mind concerning the purpose of his marriage,” you said sadly, leaning into Benedict’s touch, “But I like Miss Sharma far too much not to become a little meddlesome in the pursuit of her as a sister-in-law.”
“Let us not get carried away-”
“Benedict, I believe it was you mere moments ago who claimed you were to surrender to my every opinion from now on. I do hope those weren’t empty promises.”
“Never, angel,” he murmured, “If you wish for me to order Anthony to marry Miss Sharma for your own sake, I shall do it. I shall do whatever it is that you ask of me.”
He was exaggerating, yes, but you also knew that his words were truth. There was not a day that went by in your marriage where you were anything less than inordinately happy and there was no one else to thank but him.
“You always have, my love. We will endeavour to be more subtle with our Anthony, however, ensuring that he believes himself to be the one who has changed his course. It would do do for him to acknowledge being steered by anyone else,” you absentmindedly swept your thumb back and forth across Benedict’s hand as you spoke, “First thing tomorrow morning, after breaking our fast with everyone, we will retire to our room to privately plan our intervention.”
“If our intervention ensures that Anthony marries for love and finally becomes the brother I remember him to be, I am invested in it already.”
“He has the capacity for happiness, I have seen it,” you assure him, then realise your opportunity for further reassurance, “Just as you, my dear, have the capacity for greatness. My distraction has worked a treat, do you not think?”
“Until you mentioned it as a distraction, yes,” he says, softening when you look disappointed at his admission. As you are about to apologise, he picks up his mallet with both hands and swiftly sweeps it over your head, pressing it firmly to your back until the there is no room between the two of you even to breathe. Thoroughly trapped between him and his mallet, you sigh happily against his lips.
“I assume you have your heart set on an altogether different manner of distraction?”
You feel him grin against you, even as you close your eyes and await his touch.
“Surely you would not deny a man in such great need of you,” he muttered gravely, nose nudging your cheekbone with lazy urgency, “Your husband, no less.”
“I would not deny you anything, my love,” you whisper, feeling the shudder than runs down the length of his spine at your reply. It is cruel what you intend to do, but you know it shall serve as a better distraction for now and that more pleasurable distractions will simply have to wait for your bedchambers later, “But for my pursuit of victory.”
You placed a peck of a kiss to his cheek before wriggling from his grasp, ducking under the mallet that had you so tightly pinned to him and rushing off in the direction of your ball back the way you came. You heard his loud laugh behind you and his call:
“You’ll come to regret that, angel!”
It did nothing to deter you. Benedict’s shoddy play all afternoon gave you no cause for concern. You both hit your balls back up the lawn at an alarming rate, your husband chasing you down as you both laughed yourselves into hysterics. Just as you reached the edge of the grass where you had left everyone, the cheers came up to celebrate Daphne’s triumph and the two of you stopped in your tracks, panting once again.
“I see it was Daphne we should have been concerned with besting,” Benedict mused breathlessly at your side once he had caught up and you let your head rest against his upper arm.
“Seeing as we have indulged in espionage during this year’s game, I see no reason we could not form an alliance during our next. What do we have to gain from playing fair?”
You felt his arm come around your shoulders at your words, looking up to see a prominent smirk plastered over his face and a familiar spark in his eye.
“I told you earlier your competitive spirit was too much for me to bear in the public eye,” he spoke his sin into your ear as you tried your best not to let him win, “Now that our game is over, I should think I am obliged to act on my desires.”
“I should think that would be only fair, my dear husband. If we cut across the lawn to the East, I shouldn’t think they would even see us disappear inside.”
Your husband groaned and, without a word, pushed at your back repeatedly until you were both stumbling away to the side entrance of Aubrey Hall, shushing each others’ giggles incessantly on your way. Your fingers slotted between his easily, a homecoming, and you both silently resolved, just as you had on your wedding day, never to let go.
a lack of convincing-in which you and anthony attempt to wait to show everyone your love for each other, but you can’t quite stop staring at him
~ BENEDICT
forgive me - in which you think benedict doesn’t like the idea of you marrying but really he doesn’t like the idea of you marrying anyone else
a fitting distraction- in which a game of pall-mall is afoot and you and your husband, benedict, engage in a bit of harmless spying on your brother-in-law
Warnings: friends to lovers, a lot of pining, some slight steaminess but it’s just built on intense longing and intense kissing
A/N:My first Bridgerton fic, which is slightly out of my comfort zone but has been a total joy to write! Feel free to send in any ideas you might want to see me write in the future. Hope you enjoy a good old friends to lovers confession with our boy Benedict <3
—
“You cannot seriously be considering such a thing? I shan’t hear of it, brother!”
It could never be said that the Bridgerton household was a dull one, a fact that you had witnessed firsthand ever since you were a child. Each time your mother had been invited round for tea with Lady Bridgerton, which seemed to happen far more frequently than was truly proper, you would attend too, following quietly behind her skirt. You would always begin with a shy smile towards the Bridgerton matriarch but once you were encouraged to join the children in the gardens, your inhibitions soon deserted you.
When you were first invited, Daphne and Eloise were just slightly too young to play with you properly and so you were forced to form friendships with the three eldest brothers. Whilst Anthony had largely grown out of such youthful things as friendship and Colin had travelled so extensively that your exchange of letters had grown thin, there was one Bridgerton brother that had provided a constant ever since childhood.
Currently, however, though your plans upon arriving at the Bridgerton house were to seek out Benedict himself for some of the quiet, unhurried conversation you had been longing for, you had stumbled into an argument between Anthony and Daphne in the drawing room and Eloise had been too quick to pull you down to sit beside her for you to make a swift exit.
“What is it this time, Eloise?” you asked in a whisper, glancing at the arguing siblings to ensure you had not accidentally disturbed them.
“Daphne believes Anthony is scaring off all of her potential suitors but Anthony, of course, does not deem any of them suitable for his dear sister,” Eloise informed you, rolling her eyes with little concealment as she spoke of her brother.
“And who is right?”
“Daphne is right, of course, though why she should care so much about her marriage prospects is not for me to know,” she confirmed ruefully, still holding your hand tightly in hers to keep you from rushing off, “Do you still refuse to read Lady Whistledown, Y/N?”
You scrunched your nose in distaste before you could stop yourself, despite your hunch that Eloise may have something to do with Lady Whistledown and your desperate wish not to offend her should that be true.
“I cannot read gossip about those that I consider my friends, Eloise, you know that,” you whispered honestly, before a mischievous smirk overtook your features as you lowered your voice further, “If Lady Whistledown suddenly decided solely to write about Lady Featherington and Miss Cressida Cowper’s misdeeds, perhaps she would gain a loyal reader.”
Eloise snorted at that, the sound enough to stop Anthony from continuing the long, drawn out scolding he was attempting to deliver. He turned to where you were sat, a look of surprise flitting across his features only momentarily before he was able to restore his regular stoicism.
“Miss Y/L/N. I was not aware you had joined us, I apologise for your lack of welcome.”
“If it was a welcome I wished for, Lord Bridgerton, I might have announced myself upon my entry. Please, do not halt your lively discussion for my sake, myself and Eloise were just beginning to enjoy ourselves.”
Eloise was still giggling and even Daphne, despite her anger towards her brother, had managed an amused smile. Anthony’s demeanour hadn’t changed, save for the twitch in his neck when you used his title, something you would insist on continuing as long as he continued to call you Miss Y/L/N rather than simply your name. He studied you for a second before tilting his head with a smirk.
“I am sure you should enjoy yourself more alongside the sibling of mine you have truly come here to visit, Miss Y/L/N. Allow me to fetch him for you.”
“That will not be-”
Anthony gave a slight inclination of his head as a bow, then swept out of the room with that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. You felt the heat creeping up the back of your neck at the insinuation he had just made, especially upon noticing the look that was exchanged between the two sisters remaining at the room. You fixed Daphne with your strongest glare until she was forced to turn away and ripped your hand from Eloise’s when she laughed.
“I shall remember you are both terrible traitors next time you ask me for advice,” you said petulantly, standing and smoothing out the skirt of your dress discreetly, “If your brother returns, please inform him that I will be in your library, there is a book I began during my last visit I simply must read further.”
“And if he returns with Benedict?” Eloise asked, despite Daphne’s subtle shake of the head that you had caught regardless. You fought to keep the smile from your face at the mere mention of his name.
“Then you may tell Benedict that he is welcome to join me, as long as he leaves the rest of you behind,” you joked, smiling genuinely at the two women before you left, taking a few lefts and a right until you found yourself in the familiar surroundings of the Bridgertons’ library.
Whilst many families may have found issue with your independence in a house that was not your own, the closeness of your two families had always excused formalities, even as you grew older. Time spent with Benedict, or even Colin on the occasion he was home, was not always strictly chaperoned, unless Anthony happened to be in a particularly sour mood.
You hoped whatever quarrel you had walked in on earlier and the words exchanged with the head of the household himself would not serve to ensure he would be glued to yours and Benedict’s sides for the whole afternoon out of nothing more than spite.
Where your relationship with Anthony was one of bickering, your friendship with Benedict was anything but. Though every other Bridgerton sibling insisted upon the inevitability of your marriage someday, both of you had always been able to easily brush away the notion. Benedict’s company may have been unparalleled, his wit sparkling and his eyes the exact shade of your favourite colour, yes, but to marry him would be to prove everyone else right and the two of you wrong.
You were, quite simply, too stubborn to admit your utter adoration for him.
Just as you had plucked a volume of poetry from the shelf that you had somehow not yet perused, there was a soft knock at the door and you turned sharply to greet your intruder.
“How do you still startle so when you are expecting me?” Benedict asked with a grin, breezing into the room and taking your hand in his to greet you with a quick kiss to the back of it, one that had you closing your eyes and ignoring the ache in your chest at the feeling.
“I suppose it is in your nature to startle me,” you shrugged lightly, taking your newly found poetry to the armchair by the window and sitting down carefully, knowing that Benedict would take his own seat at the other side of the window almost immediately if you did. There was a routine between the two of you that allowed you to relax in his presence.
“I do rather enjoy the surprised leap of your shoulders when I enter a room,” he teased, “Is there something to thank for your unplanned visit or should I simply thank you?”
“You may thank me, if you like. I was hoping to read for the afternoon, but staying at home to do so is almost impossible with my mother’s fretting over the next event of the season. She is currently rehearsing her every move for Saturday’s picnic.”
Benedict was quiet for a moment longer than you expected, staring at the floor with a hand on his chin. You leaned back in your chair, waiting patiently for him to speak. It was unlike him to consider his words quite this carefully before he said them, his usual unabashed manner having gotten him into a spot of trouble at Lady Danbury’s ball just recently. If you had not been there to assure Miss Heathridge that Lord Bridgerton had not intended to offend her when he described her dress as garish, you weren’t sure he would have made it out unscathed.
When he finally spoke up, though, his face no longer held the unbridled joy you had found in his grin when he first entered the room.
“I did not realise your mother was quite so intent on your season being a success,” he murmured, though you heard him as well as you ever had. The sentence, and its tone, made you pause. He still had not looked up at you and you were resolved to make him do so.
“Her determination for success cannot be matched by mine for failure, I assure you,” you smiled, expecting to draw a laugh from your companion but finding him fiddling with the upholstery of his chair instead. Your shoulders dropped, “I hope I have not said anything to offend you Benedict, and that you know it would be furthest from my intentions to do so.”
The hurt behind your sentence was enough to snap him out of whatever trance had befallen him.
“Offend me? I do not believe you could if you tried, Y/N,” he joked, finally meeting your eyes with a sad smile that he had offered up in an attempt to be reassuring, “It is only that your mother has never appeared concerned with the haste of your prospects previously. I do not like the idea of you being forced into a marriage you will not be happy in, that’s all.”
“She is not quite at the stage of forcing yet, so no need to worry yourself,” you assured him, wishing you could reach over and take his hand in your gloved one without restraint. You knew it was a boundary that, once crossed, you should only wish to do all the time, “You shall not soon lose your obligatory dance partner.”
“Obligatory? Do not do yourself an injustice, you are an excellent dance partner.”
“That may be, but I am a far more excellent repellent for the ambitious mamas who hound you, Benedict.”
Again he looks disappointed by your words, flippant as they are, and again you are unsure as to how you keep upsetting him. The easy back and forth between you had never dissolved like this previously and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep your emotions in check. When Benedict replied, his voice was small again.
“I am always most grateful for your assistance.”
The last word was little more than a hiss. He directed his gaze to the window, a view in which Gregory and Hyacinth were running around outside with a freedom you now longed for. An afternoon that lingered with light conversation as you read and Benedict painted the landscape now appeared impossible. Rather than embarrass yourself further, you stood from your chair, drawing his attention once more.
“I’m afraid I must take my leave,” you said with a smile that you knew he would see right through, “Eloise invited me to spend the afternoon reading with her and though our subject material is different it will be nice to have the company. Good day, my Lord.”
The title slipped out before you could think better of it, a feeling a strange need to emphasise the distance he had decided to put between you. You turned away from him quickly upon seeing the hurt shining in his eyes as he gazed up at you, picking up the poetry book you cared so little for now and walking towards the door. You hoped Eloise did not have plans for the afternoon and was indeed willing to spend it with you to solidify your ruse for leaving Benedict behind.
A hand closed around your wrist. You stopped just before the door but refused to turn around just yet.
“Y/N.”
His voice was but a whisper. Your breath hitched at the warmth of him from behind you, the brush of his breath against the back of your neck. His fingers slid down the inside of your wrist until they rested on the palm of your hand, thumb curling around the back of it. Your own fingers itched to wrap around his own, and with him so close to you, you could not ignore it, loosely grasping his hand in return.
“Benedict…”
“Forgive me,” he breathed, taking one more fateful step until his chest pressed ever so lightly against your back. Your chest heaved at the proximity, eyes closing to savour the feeling that was sure to be fleeting as soon as whatever spell had been cast was broken. Unable to pull yourself away, you leaned backwards just enough, his chin pressing against the crown of your head and you felt him push forward into the touch.
“I cannot forgive you unless I know what it is I am forgiving,” you said, finding your voice far more laboured than you had hoped it would be.
“For treating you in such a miserable manner,” each word he spoke ruffled the strands of hair so intricately pulled into place, “For making you feel yourself an obligation.”
It was difficult to focus on his words, but there was no doubt in your mind that his actions from the afternoon so far were insignificant compared to the ones occurring in the present.
“You are forgiven. Easily and without complaint.”
“And,” he took his chin from the top of your head, moving it to your neck before you could mourn the loss. You heard his strong inhale behind your ear, and felt the trembling exhale against the side of your neck, “For this?”
His lips pressed against your neck, and though it was only a moment, it was anything but teasing. Your eyes flashed open in surprise, the hand that was not holding his flying to your chest to feel your quickening heartbeat as you let out a quiet gasp.
“Am I forgiven so easily once more?”
You knew that as soon as you turned around, you would lose your nerve. Whether the look in his eyes was one of love or one of lust, both would be sure to shatter your heart.
There was only one way in which to delay that outcome.
You reached out your left foot, catching the open door to the library and kicking it shut with the toe of your slipper. You felt Benedict jump behind you, but there was no time to enjoy your moment of triumph. Instead, you closed your eyes and turned, reaching up to cup his face in both hands and bring his lips to yours.
For a moment it was the only thing connecting the two of you, a moment that stretched on into agony the longer you felt him flounder in front of you. In reality, however, it did not take him long to wrap his arm snug around your waist, tug you closer to him with one swift, sharp motion. His other hand weaved its way into your hair, likely pulling apart your maid’s morning handiwork. It was the furthest thought from your mind as Benedict put his best efforts into utterly devouringyou.
There was desperation in his every move, in the way in which he clutched you to him, walked you backwards into the door. His lips were as insistent as you had always thought they would be, even if you only allowed yourself such thoughts in the silence of your chambers at night. His desperation was only matched by your own, however surprised you were at the way in which you reciprocated wholeheartedly. Somehow, it was him who first broke away, breath heaving and wanting, leaning backwards to avoid your absentminded chase of his lips.
“Forgive me.”
You let out a breathy laugh, letting your forehead fall against his in earnest.
“I’m afraid this particular transgression is mine,” still your eyes were closed, but you felt his eyes on you all the same, “Forgive me.”
“You are forgiven. Easily and without a single complaint, my love.”
Your own words used against you, accompanied by the extra damning term of endearment. Reality was seeping into the cracks of the floorboards you stood upon, even if you weren’t yet ready to allow it in.
“My love?”
“It is a fitting term for you. It is just what you are.”
“Benedict…”
Your words are intended as a warning but the tone, the pleading within them removes the sting. He pushes his forehead more firmly into yours, his hold on you grower somehow tighter still.
“Do not deny me this, Y/N. Do not deny me the feelings I have harboured since we were children.”
“You should not say such things.”
“I see. You do not love me?”
It is a bucket of cold water poured over your heated embrace. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you put your efforts into removing yourself from him. You are grateful and rueful all at once when he immediately steps away from you, an awful reminder of the goodness that resides in his heart.
Finally, you open your eyes to see exactly what you were scared of, right in the eyes of your favourite person. It is a look that is surely mirrored in your own, if the softening of the lines around his eyes tells you anything.
“I cannot say that.”
“Then what is to stop us? Please, if there is some terrible reason that has escaped my attention you must tell me. I will eliminate it immediately.”
You heave a sigh, fingers at your temples to soothe the oncoming ache and the tingling that still plagued the fingertips that had been skin to skin mere moments ago.
“Everyone has had our lives planned out together for years, Ben,” you mutter, blinking back the beginnings of your tears, “Should you really wish to prove them right? To accept a future chosen for you instead of choosing your own?”
Even as you said the words, you could hear the weakness of your own argument. Benedict’s evident confusion only served to prove it further. There was no eventuality in which you would not choose Benedict, over and over again, in this lifetime and any other. Your stubborn pride was proving difficult to be rid of.
Benedict’s confusion was quickly replaced by a beaming smile, one that rivalled that which graced his features when he first set eyes on you in the library that afternoon. Had that same adoration been present in his gaze even then? You briefly wondered how many times he had missed the blatant affection you held for him. Whether you had found yourself equally blind.
“Y/N,” he began, taking your hands in his but no longer invading any personal space, “My family have been planning our marriage since we were seven because I declared you as my bride when I was but six years old. I have chosen you at every turn thus far and there is no future in which I do not continue to do so. My love for you is ingrained into the depths of my very being. My heart’s sole desire is to be beside yours, always.”
It was difficult to find the words to respond to such poetry. Benedict had always possessed a way with words, one that rivalled even your favourite wordsmiths, but behind the flowery words there was a sincerity that touched your soul. A determination. When you finally found your voice, timid as it was, it was impossible not to tease.
“You have waited twenty years to tell me what I have quietly always wished to hear. Perhaps you should ask my forgiveness once more, to be sure you have it.”
Though it took him a moment to understand your words, the recognition bloomed on his face in unspeakable joy. You took the step to close the distance between the two of you this time, hands still clasped in his between you. He spoke his next words against your mouth, aching and desperate.
“Forgive me.”
“You are forgiven. Easily and without complaint,” he giggled at your words and the sound was so melodious it was impossible not to join him, “I must inform you that there are conditions to my forgiveness, however.”
“Name them and they are yours. Everything I am, is yours.”
“That is splendid news, considering my heart has been in your safekeeping since our childhood,” you confirm, sliding your temple against his and trying to ignore the warmth of him long enough to finish airing your thoughts, “I thought myself too stubborn to concede to fate, but I cannot avoid conceding to love. It is a persistent notion.”
Another breathy laugh, one punctuated with a kiss to your forehead and then another when he found he could not help it.
“Persistent in its perfection, much like another I know.”
“My first condition is that we do not tell your family of this development immediately. I should like you all to myself a little while longer.”
“That is a rather favourable condition,” he says lightly, still inches away from your lips. The anticipation was beginning to grow unbearable.
“The second condition may be more tiresome to uphold, I’m afraid,” you say, feigning concern that Benedict can so clearly see right through. His eyes sparkle under candlelight and you wish you possessed half of his artistic talent to capture them, “I must insist that you kiss me, right this instant and that…”
You trail off at the forming of a lump in your throat. To say your next sentence was as good as cementing the rest of your life, if you were lucky. Feeling Benedict’s hands sliding over your waist and landing on your hips to pull you into him was some indication of the current state of your luck.
“And what?”
You smile, small and hopeful.
“And that you never stop, Benedict. Kiss me and never, ever stop.”
He was unable to stop himself from lifting your feet off the floor, met with a small squeak that did not prevent him from twirling you once, twice, three times in the air and then setting you back down gently. The subsequent dizziness felt only partially due to the spin, as the intoxication of finally allowing yourself something you had always wanted caused you to wobble on your feet. Benedict’s body pressed itself to yours, steadying and solid. Just as you were sure he was to kiss you again-
“I find your terms rather agreeable, I suppose.”
An insufferable tease. One that would stay beside you forever. Still, you huffed at his words.
“Thenact on them, my Lord.”
With a roll of his eyes, Benedict indeed kissed you, yet more thoroughly than before.
please take the time to reblog the chapter or the masterlist ♥️♥️
@thelostsmiles gif credit (this is my favourite gif of all time)
The rest of the party went well as you joined different conversations, avoiding questions about your relationship with Benedict. He did the same, redirecting the topic to his current projects or plans for the summer. You spent most of the evening by Tom’s side, laughing at his jokes and preparing witty comments for all his stories. Benedict would look at you from a distance as he interjected your laugh or your excited voice. He knew you meant no harm, that you were trying to move past his indiscretion and make sure nobody else heard about your apparent relationship status. However, he could not help but feel bitterness in the pit of his stomach every time you reached to touch Tom’s shoulder.
Eventually, Tom checked on him, “I am sorry about that, mate. I just thought there had been a misunderstanding between the two of you.” He whispered to his friend’s ear.
“I am sure you had no bad intentions,” Benedict responded sarcastically, sipping on his glass of whisky.
“You are happy to see her. Don’t lie to me,” his friend reassured him, trying to lighten up the mood.
“You made me look like the bad guy of the situation.”
“It is all good, Ben, don’t think about it too much. You two should sleep over tonight. It is getting late.”
“As if… You won’t get to sleep with her, Tom. I should not have called you the other night. It gave you the wrong idea.”
“Are you scared she’ll prefer me, Cumberbatch? I thought you were more confident in your skills.” Tom continued teasing Ben as both men’s eyes followed you across the room.
“I cannot believe you think this is working. How big do you think my ego is?” Benedict chuckled, shaking his head, unsure what his friend expected him to say.
“Let me bother you, old man.” Tom finally broke the tension. “Let’s go get you another drink. Maybe it’ll improve your mood.”
…
The party was ending as most people had left, and only the closest friends stayed behind, sitting around and chatting comfortably. Everyone seemed to be drunk as laughs grew louder and the sound of broken glasses became more prominent. You found Benedict and Tom talking in a corner, so you approached, curious to see what they were chatting about. Benedict’s hand found your waist as soon as you were close enough, touching you for the first time all night. You had both been careful to keep your distances, but something in his possessive grasp on your dress let you know he no longer cared what others thought. “How is it going?” You spoke softly, smiling up at him and then looking at Tom.
“All good; we were just talking about the first party we threw together and how this looks nothing like that did.” Tom exchanged a look with Benedict before giving you a confident smile.
“What has changed? We have cellphones and wifi now?” You joked, causing the two men to laugh loudly. Ben’s grip on your waist grew tighter as you laid your head on his chest slightly, feeling flustered and content to be able to be affectionate towards him in public finally. He pressed a quick kiss on your head, making your cheeks flush.
“Well, the alcohol was cheaper, the people were more fun, and the music was better.” Benedict summarised it.
“Everyone was just funner. We were a lot better too. Remember that one night with Rose Burr?” Tom’s sentence took Benedict by surprise as the man could not help but clear his throat and look down and away, growing increasingly red-faced.
“Tom, that is enough.” Benedict tried to move on, but you exchanged a look with Tom, who gave you a quick wink.
“What happened with this girl?” You asked, helping Tom complete his mischief.
“Nothing important, just drunk stupid bets.” Ben tried to close the conversation, but you looked at his friend, encouraging him to explain.
“Let’s just say Professor Cumberbatch here has a big ego, and if you tease him long enough, he will do anything to prove he is right.” Tom started speaking, building the anticipation even more.
“That is enough,” Ben interrupted him, but you looked at him disapproving, wanting to hear the rest of the story.
“So this girl, Rose, managed to shag – pardon my french, the two most eligible bachelors in our friend group, your beloved and myself.” You shook your head, giggling at the comment, “news broke out a couple of weeks after I had slept with her, which had been a month or so after Mr Cumberbatch here had, that she had told her girlfriends that I had been, and I quote, the best shag of her life.” You broke out in a soft laugh, exchanging a look with Benedict, who was not amused by the interaction. “Anyway, I, of course, took this as the perfect opportunity to take the piss out of Benedict for the next couple of weeks, reminding him who had made the more memorable impression. Excuses flew left and right, about how he had been drunk, how he had not cared, how it was after a rugby match. Eventually, he grew so tired of the continuous teasing by the rest of the lads and me that the next night out, he looked for Rose and drunkenly told her that he could be the best shag of her life.”
You inhaled, dramatically moving away from Benedict and giving him a disapproving smile. He reached for your hand, pulling you back into his arms. Tom cleared his throat before continuing, excited by the silent permission his friend was giving him to tell her the story. “Anyway, Rose, well, she was a naughty girl and somehow convinced Benedict that the best way for her to scrutinise who out of the two of us was the better fuck was to get with us both on the same night. Mind you, I was in another room of the party, enjoying my night as this controversial agreement was being laid out. Ben came to look for me afterwards, drunkenly explaining what we had to do. I don’t remember the rest of the story, but somehow, that ended up being our first threesome together.” You were in shock. Your mouth sat slightly ajar. Eyes stuck on Tom’s lips as the last words let your imagination run wild.
“Well, if I remember correctly, you begged me to just fuck her together because it would be the fairest analysis, and somehow, I fell for that.” Benedict clarified the facts, but you were still lost in your thoughts, feeling your body grow slightly warmer as they got more inappropriate by the second.
“Who did she choose afterwards?” You finally spoke, looking at nobody in particular scared of the two men being able to read your thoughts. They looked at each other and then looked at you, not fully understanding the question.
“I think by the end of the night, she had lost interest in her scientific research,” Tom responded, walking away to serve himself another drink, grabbing your glass also to fill it up.
“She said it was me. He is just a sore loser.” Benedict lowered himself to whisper the words to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he chuckled slightly, brushing your skin. The feeling of his lips so close to your neck forced you to close your eyes as the mix of alcohol, and the story had you fighting your need to beg him to fuck you already. His hand found the back of your neck, letting his fingers softly press on your skin, giving you some release from the contact. “Why so curious, Miss Angel? Do you think anyone could fuck you better than I do?”
“Never, sir,” you responded softly, your voice tainted by a mix of neediness and false innocence.
“Don’t let the thought simmer for too long, princess. As much as he may want to, I don’t think I could share you like that. Would you want me to?” He moved his body to be fully in front of you, keeping his left hand on your waist, leaving mere centimetres between your bodies as you looked down, trying to think how to answer the question. He encouraged you to answer, “or are you just curious about feeling overwhelmed? Two men telling you what to do? You would always listen to me first, correct?” His free hand found your cheek, caressing it and lifting your gaze. His eyes moved from yours to your lips.
“Yes, sir. I think I am just curious, that is all. I would always choose you.” He pressed his lips together as he thought about all the places your lips would look nice on. He dreamed of his hands on your body, ripping that little dress off you.
“Benedict!” A voice called for him as steps quickly approached the two of you, making the lonely corner of the party no longer as private. You moved away from your professor’s touch, looking away before walking away towards the kitchen. An older man walked toward your professor. He looked at you before you walked away, but you kept your eyes on the floor, entering the kitchen.
Tom stood by the sink with your glass of wine perfectly filled, sitting lonely on the counter as he sipped on his whisky. “Hope you are enjoying the party, Sofia. Here’s your wine,” he spoke, pointing at the glass by his side, making no effort to pass it to you. You smiled, walking to his side and grabbed it, feeling his presence tower over you instantly.
“You have known each other for a long time, I assume.” You spoke softly, taking a sip from your glass and meeting his eyes.
“Yes, absolutely. He is my best friend, so please be nice to him.” His tone changed as he thought fondly of his friend, giving you an honest smile.
“Thank you for inviting me, Tom. It has been a great night.” You spoke before laying your head on his shoulder as the alcohol made you extremely tired. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder affectionately, and you could not help but notice how nice his cologne was. It was different from Benedict’s, fresher and lighter.
“You can go upstairs if you want to rest. I promise nobody will bother you.” The thought of being able to fall asleep forced you to exhale happy.
“I would not want to intrude,” you feigned politeness, hoping he would insist. Being wine drunk was not your thing. You got so sleepy and horny. Nothing good came out of it.
“I was hoping you and Ben would stay anyway. Please let me show you to the guest room.” He spoke, removing his arm from around you and encouraging you to follow him.
You walked out of the kitchen and scanned the room for Benedict. He was nowhere to be found, “I should probably let Benedict know.” You spoke to Tom, slightly worried about Ben’s absence.
“I think he is outside. Let’s go check.” Tom’s politeness did not go unnoticed, making your cheeks burn as you gave him a shy smile. You found Benedict in the garden, a cigarette between his lips as he earnestly looked at the older man who was speaking. His eyes intercepted you in the back, excusing himself quickly and walking towards you and Tom.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, holding the cigarette away from you, almost ashamed of his drunk transgression.
“Yes, I am just exhausted. You know wine makes me super sleepy.” You started to speak, but Ben interrupted you.
“We can get going. I will order an uber.” He wanted to leave with you. His words made your heart skip as you bit your lip unconsciously, happy with his response.
“It is alright, please enjoy the rest of the party. Tom offered me to rest upstairs. Just wake me up when you want to leave?” You suggested, hoping you would still leave together. His eyes moved from you back to Tom as his brow furrowed, unsure whether this was a good decision.
“You are both welcome to stay the night. Nobody will bother her upstairs. Ben, don’t leave good old Simon hanging. He was looking forward to talking to you.” Tom referred to the man that kept on looking back at the three of you.
“Are you sure? We can go home right now.” Benedict reached for your hand, but you gave him a reassuring squeeze before letting go.
“I promise you. It is all good. I just want sleep and food right now,” you giggled, tipsy, entertaining the two men.
“I’ll take care of her, Ben. Go back to your conversation.” Tom pressed his hand on your lower back, giving his friend one last reassuring look before reentering the house with you. You moved towards the staircase, but Tom redirected you to the kitchen. “Let’s make you a sandwich. You should not go to bed hungry.”
You sat on the kitchen counter as Tom took out ingredients from his fridge and asked you what you preferred. You found the interaction extremely entertaining as he was equally drunk, making all his movements less refined. He made himself a sandwich too and closed the fridge, satisfied, moving to your side and passing your plate, “here you go, Sof.”
You smiled at him, taking a big bite as soon as you had your hands on the sandwich. It was delicious, not as good as chicken nuggets, but delicious nonetheless. He smiled at the sounds that escaped your lips as you closed your eyes in ecstasy.
“Let’s get you to bed, Angel.” He spoke, stumbling slightly on his feet as he offered you his hand to help you get down the counter. You accepted it, got out of the kitchen and walked toward the stairs. A sound of quick steps toward the two of you stopped you as you turned around to see Benedict.
“I will show her the guest room. It would be a bad look if the host would disappear.” Benedict spoke in a severe tone, tapping his friend’s shoulder. Tom looked at you before pressing his lips together and stepping back.
“Goodnight, Sofia,” he spoke as you waved at him before walking upstairs with Ben.
——
Liv’s Note
I am hereeee, I am so sorry for the late-night post but I managed to properly sit down to write only at around 4 pm. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, I enjoyed writing it! Thank you so much for all your comments on chapter 20, I love you all so much! As always I look forward to read what you all think and if you are enjoying the story please take the time to reblog ♥️♥️
Request: Your requests are finally open you remember that scene where Eloise asks about how children are made?! Could you include the reader in that scene? Eloise is asking her too? Please include Benedict as well. Maybe they’re in a relationship or they’re in love with each other but they don’t know?! I don’t have much. I just thought that scene with the reader included would be perfect. Thank you <3 - anon
A/N:Thank you for being so patient with me. I love this idea so much, I had so much fun with it. I have changed some of the dialogue from the original scene but I hope you like it!
Warnings: mentions of sex, marriage, I messed with timelines a little bit but it works (I think), dialogue heavy. this ended up being part humour, but part serious talk about gender frustrations. idk. I like it tho. female titles - mrs etc.
Word count: 1.5k
The Bridgerton family always thrived through the London social season. Their family so established within society that their balls, tea parties, and dinners were always packed with beloved friends and acquaintances.
It was one of the famous Bridgerton balls that you met your husband, Benedict. He had asked you to dance after working up the courage for most of the night, and the moment your hand touched his, he knew he was a goner. For you, it was the moment he pressed his lips to the back of your hand at the end of the dance
Two years later, your place within the family was well established. Violet doting on you as if you were one of her own children, Daphne and Eloise coming to you with questions they could never ask their mother or brothers. They placed a trust in you that you could only hope you lived up to, but all worries were worth it when you got to go home with the love of your life at the end of the day.
———-
The pale blue drawing room is filled with the delicate notes of the pianoforte played skilfully by Daphne. Violet stands by her daughter’s side, watching her proudly before moving to the tea table and reaching for the teapot.
You sit on the opposite couch to Benedict, watching with glee as he bickers with Colin over the last buttery biscuit on the nearby plate. Benedict pouts childishly when Colin wrestles it from his fingers, taking a large bite in victory. You smirk at the expression on Benedict’s face, highly amused by your husband.
“Are you laughing at your husband’s loss, Mrs. Bridgerton?” Benedict asks, his voice teasing as he arches an eyebrow at you.
“Of course not, my love,” You answer, “Just at the biscuit’s circumstances.”
A satisfied smile crosses Benedict’s face at the sound of your endearment for him. You would always be his darling; he would always be your love. His smile grows so large that he forgets about his biscuit loss and instead, loses himself to thoughts of his plans for you tonight. He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t hear Eloise enter the room until she speaks.
“How does a lady come to be with child?” Eloise asks upon entering the pale blue drawing room; her tone demanding, her face worried.
Silence descends upon the drawing room with such speed that it makes your ears pop. Daphne pauses her practice of the pianoforte, her fingers poised over the keys. Colin chokes on the butter biscuit he was eating; the chunks getting stuck in his throat as Gregory rushes over to him with a cup of tepid earl grey tea. Violet almost drops her teacup, her legs going weak at such a question leaving her unmarried daughter’s lips. Benedict’s eyes find yours; wide with alarm as a shocked expression crosses his face.
It was the last thing anyone in the room was expecting to hear this morning.
“Eloise!” Violet cries, her voice shrill at the unexpected question. “What a question!”
“Apparently,” Eloise chortles in disbelief. “One does not need to be married!”
“That is enough, Eloise Bridgerton,” Violet exclaims angrily. “Sit down with no more talk of such things.”
Eloise blinks at her mother before clamping her lips shut, joining you on the couch across from her brothers. You pat her hand consolingly. Eloise groans as she leans back on the couch, rubbing her forehead with hand. She glares at her elder brothers. “I bet the two of you know,” She accuses, her shrewd gaze jumping between her siblings.
“Do not look at me,” Benedict pleads, desperate to have any other conversation than the one currently holding the attention of the room.
“Have you ever visited a farm, El?” Colin jokes much to the anger of his mother who admonishes him for broaching improper topics of conversation. You cover your mouth to stifle the laughter threatening to burst free.
Eloise turns her attention to you, ignoring her brothers altogether. “Do you know how a lady comes to be with child?”
Your eyes widen with her forwardness; the burning curiosity alight in her eyes combined with a hint of fear at the unknown. Clearing your throat, you turn to your husband. “Benedict?” You address, “Do you have an answer for your sister?”
“I do not,” Benedict answers easily, avoiding the conversation entirely.
“Please (Y/N),” Eloise all but begs.
“I’m sorry, Eloise,” You say quietly, dropping your voice to not worry Violet. “This isn’t something that is so freely spoken about. This is something you find out when the time is right.”
“When is that time? When I’m married?” Eloise demands, crossing her arms as her anger begins to get the better of her. “What use is that if I want to know now? I won’t be out until next year, and even then I bet the answer is still wrapped up tight for me not to know.”
“I understand your frustrations, Eloise,” You whisper, doing your best to comfort the young lady. “You just need a little patience.”
Eloise huffs, turning away with indignation at which you frown. You would happily tell her, happily educate her on why marriage was not a necessity to have a child, but it would go against the wishes of your family by marriage, so you keep quiet. Instead, you sigh sadly, upset at the clear frustration written on Eloise’s young face.
Benedict can almost feel the hurt rolling off your shoulders as he watches you be dismissed by his younger sister. His heart squeezes at the turn down of your lips and furrow of your brow. He slaps Colin on the knee in parting before standing. “Darling,” Benedict murmurs, “Let’s leave them in peace for today. We’ll come back tomorrow.”
Reaching for Benedict’s hand, you pat Eloise’s shoulder with your free hand. She stiffens but doesn’t move. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more,” You murmur, squeezing her shoulder before leaving the room with Benedict in tow.
———
“What would you have me do?” Benedict sighs exasperatedly, unbuttoning the last three buttons of his loose, white shirt as he readies himself for bed. “Tell Eloise the truth? Mother would have my head.”
This conversation had been bubbling all day. The morning spent at Bridgerton House, and the subsequent conversation with Eloise was playing on your mind. It had dimmed your mood every time you thought of the upset on Eloise’s face, and how she was shut down by her family.
You fix Benedict with an unimpressed look before ducking behind your dressing screen, ridding yourself of the dress you had worn to dinner. “No, I wouldn’t have you do that, but surely you can see the imbalance.”
Benedict remains silent, unsure of where the conversation is heading. You sigh, pressing a hand to your forehead and poking your head out from behind the screen. “It’s so frustrating, having to wait until days before your wedding before finding out how children are made and what sex is. It’s humiliating too. To sit there as your mother stutters through her explanation that isn’t really an explanation at all, and you enter a marriage without much knowledge of what to expect other than hope that your husband will have some idea of what to do.”
“I haven’t thought of it like that.”
“You haven’t had to, Benedict, but you have to understand Eloise’s frustration,” You all but plead as you re-enter the room, ready to go to bed with your beloved husband. “I’m not saying explain the whole birds and the bees to her, but there needs to be some form of education that shouldn’t have to come down to our mothers with mere hours before a wedding.”
“It can’t be mere hours,” Benedict argues.
With a hand on your hip, you arch an eyebrow at your husband in challenge. “My mother explained sex to me two hours before I married you. Luckily, I had already bribed a maid in the house to explain it to me a year before, so I knew what I was expecting. I don’t know whether Eloise will think of such a thing.”
“Two hours?” Benedict gasps, reaching for you.
You nod, going to him willingly. “Two hours. She didn’t know how to broach the subject which is what I’m worried about. That’s why something needs to be done. I just hope in future generations that such a talk will be approached with much more knowledge and comfort.”
“Alright,” Benedict concedes after a moment of reflection. “I see how Eloise could be frustrated, but there isn’t anything I can do. It is Mother’s decision as to when she tells Eloise, not ours despite what we may think.”
“I know, but I’m glad you’ve listened. Thank you for that,” You whisper, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to Benedict’s unshaved cheek.
“Now,” Benedict murmurs, ducking to press a light kiss to your neck. “Can we go to bed?”
A light chuckle leaves your lips as you revel in the way your husband seems to find that sweet spot on your neck every single time. “Lead the way.”
