Lord Egerton was certainly a most excellent host, thought Benedict.
Blackburn Hall (Egerton’s country estate) was populated by several “esteemed” members of London society; weeping widowers, longing spinsters, an array of almost-debuted ladies (their mothers behind them like puppeteers), and “wife-seeking” gentlemen frolicked in the grand ballroom.
Strange people, the second eldest Bridgerton thought. Perfectly intolerable, yet somehow entertaining.
From the corner of his eye, Benedict studied them. He surveyed the attendees, making a mental note of which to avoid and which to engage with in civil conversation (though thatlist was predominantly shorter).
Lady Dowding (a significantly large woman) struggled to find a man suitable enough for her daughter, Victoria. Or rather, Lady Dowding couldn’t find a gentleman that could withstand Victoria’s blubbering mouth for any longer than a mere minute.
Lord Godwin (of five and fifty) drowned himself in the lemonade, having been widowed the previous week. Though, “widowed” and “being left for the innkeeper” appeared to have been one in the same in Lord Godwin’s mind.
Lord Egerton definitely attracted a crowd, Benedict mused.
“Poor Lord Godwin,” Eloise muttered, startling Benedict (as he hadn’t noticed her presence). She stood at his side, rocking back-and-forth on her heels. “I’ve heard from Lady Whistledown that he nearly wet himself at Lady Keats’ engagement party last Tuesday.”
“Lady Keats is engaged?” asked Benedict, looking down at his sister.
“Yes,” Eloise stated. “Though, for the third time.”
Benedict nodded, catching sight of the Lady Keats (previously Lady Langley, non-Lady Moore) as she clung to an absurdly older man (presumably Lord Keats). The woman flaunted her large, sparkling engagement ring to the party in attendance.
“Where’s Mother?” Eloise asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Flaunting Daphne, of course. Her debut is tomorrow, remember?” Benedict searched the gallery, spotting his mother and eldest sister. “Unless, you’ve forgotten.”
Eloise scoffed.
“I haven’t forgotten,” she stated. Eloise followed Benedict’s gaze, watching as Daphne charmed the gentlemen surrounding her. “I just don’t care.”
Benedict laughed, nudging Eloise with his elbow.
“This is dreadful,” she muttered, referring to the party. “Might I ask you to plead to Mother for my release?” Eloise asked Benedict, tugging on his arm.
“And rid myself of thisenthralling experience?” Benedict’s tone was laced in sarcasm. “Never.”
Eloise dramatically released his arm, groaning in annoyance.
Benedict snickered.
“You don’t find Lord Cambridge’s terrible dancing the least bit entertaining?” he asked. The two Bridgertons glanced at the said-Lord, giggling as he stepped on the feet of a young woman. “Poor girl,” Benedict whispered.
Eloise nodded, beginning to feel a dryness in her mouth. She smacked her lips, quite “un-ladylike.”
“I’m rather thirsty,” she announced. Eloise looked to the refreshments table, and her eyes went wide in horror. Lord Godwin (howling about his “late” wife) had buried his nose in the lemonade bowl. “On second thought,” she murmured, “I’m suddenly thoroughly hydrated.”
Benedict followed her eyes, watching as Lord Egerton escorted the old, sodden fool away from Blackburn Hall.
“I’m beginning to see from your perspective,” he stated.
“You always do,” Eloise triumphantly said.
Suddenly, Benedict heard a shrilling “Lord Bridgerton!” from the other side of the room. To his dismay, Lady Dowding was approaching him (her daughter at her side).
Eloise winced at her attire, as it was almost painful. She felt nauseous at the green—no, chartreuse shade of fabric Lady Dowding chose to adorn.
“Fantastic,” Eloise mumbled.
“Lord Bridgerton!” Lady Dowding shouted, despite being a near few feet away from him.
Out of respect, Benedict bowed.
“Lady Dowding.”
“Miss Bridgerton,” the old woman quickly (and rather haphazardly) acknowledged Eloise’s presence. But swiftly, she reverted her attention back to Benedict. Lady Dowding clumsily pushed her daughter forward, nearly causing her to trip and fall (a sight that Eloise wouldn’t have minded seeing). “My daughter, Victoria. Have you met?”
Victoria was fairly handsome, but the assortment of colorful feathers throughout her hair did not compliment her features.
She looks rather like a goose, Benedict thought. Or a peacock.
Benedict shook his head, forcing his face not to contort into a frown.
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” he stated. “Lady Victoria.”
“Lord Bridgerton!” Victoria exclaimed. “It is a beautiful night, is it not? So dark, yet so bright! Romantic.”
At this moment, Benedict pondered death. He’d thought about drowning himself in the lemonade, too.
“Yes,” Benedict muttered. “Quite.” He turned to the side, catching Eloise with her gloved hand to her mouth (preventing her from laughing).
“Victoria is a splendid dancer,” Lady Dowding said. “She was the talk of Lord Byron’s Spring Ball, just last season!” she victoriously declared.
“It’s true!” Victoria agreed. “I’ve the ‘legs of swan,’ or so Mama says.”
“Yes,” Eloise chimed in. “And the hair of one, too.”
Snapping her head in Eloise’s direction, Lady Dowding produced a terrible scowl.
Benedict pulled his sister to his side, causing a loud “oompf!” to leave her lips.
“Pardon me, Lady Dowding. My sister has a special sense of humor,” he said in an attempt to ease the tension. “I say, is Mother asking for our presence?” he asked.
“What?” Eloise asked, confused.
Benedict leaned down, so only Eloise could hear him.
“Go with it, will you?” he whispered.
“Oh, you’re quite right!” Eloise quickly shouted. “She’s just there!” she lied, pointing at the sea of patrons.
Benedict smiled, turning to the Lady Dowding and her daughter.
“You’re absolutely right, brother. We cannot,” Eloise concurred.
The (poorly dressed) Dowding women nodded, and Benedict did not ignore the disappointment that painted Victoria’s face. He felt relived, in truth.
“You’re a menace, you know?” Benedict spoke to Eloise, walking away from Victoria and her mother. “You must think before you speak.”
“But I did think,” Eloise defended. “I thought she looked like a bird.”
“With that, I cannot disagree.” Benedict sighed, looking into the crowd. “We’ve lost them.”
Eloise sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.
“For now,” she stated. “I’m forever thankful that Mother has delayed my debut.”
“As are the men of London,” Benedict joked.
Eloise stared at her older brother, jaw slack.
“Cruel, Benedict. Just cruel.”
Benedict’s eyes crinkled as he laughed, a beautiful crescent shape gracing his features.
“Oh!” Eloise exclaimed. She looked over Benedict’s shoulder, waving frantically. “There’s Penelope.”
Benedict turned around, spotting the Featherington girl. She wore a yellow dress, as usual (her mother did enjoy “happy” colors). It did not compliment her complexion, nor her red hair.
“Good luck, brother. You’ll need it,” Eloise said.
“Whatever for?” Benedict asked.
“The women of the ton, mothers and daughters alike. Do you forget your public status, Benedict?” the chestnut-haired girl asked.
Benedict chuckled.
“Of course not, Eloise. I am a Bridgerton.”
“Ah!” Eloise exclaimed. “There’s a potential bride, now. Multiple brides, rather.” She gestured to a group of women, all whispering and glancing at Benedict. “You’re right. This is enthralling,” she sneered, then left to join Penelope.
As Eloise disappeared, the group of women slowly approached the handsome Bridgerton.
“Bollocks,” Benedict mumbled. He desperately searched for an escape, wanting to flee from the wanton pleads for his hand and courtship.
Finally (and thankfully), he noticed an empty hallway to his left.
Without hesitation, Benedict abandoned the dance floor. He could hear the various, feminine shouts of “Lord Bridgerton!” behind him, but he thought nothing of them.
Benedict found a door at the end of the hallway, and (thinking it to be a safe option) opened it.
Quietly, he shut the door behind him. Benedict took a moment to breathe; his forehead rested against the dark wood of the door. Relief washed over him, and he slowly turned around to face the room.
Surprisingly, it was a library that met his eyes.
It was quaint and rather beautiful, but it wasn’t nearly as elegant as the library at Aubrey Hall. Still, it was beautiful.
Several bookshelves lined the walls, furnished with a wide arrangement of novels. Specks of dust floated throughout the room (highlighted by the orange tint of candlelight), followed by the scent of ink and oak filling his nostrils.
Benedict stepped further into the room, and he felt the wood creak beneath his feet.
It’s an old room, he surmised.
Benedict looked up, impressed by the length of the bookshelves. They were tall, nearly reaching the ceiling.
Drifting to the shelves, he ran his fingers over the books. They were old, too. He noticed the bent spines, the torn edges, and the tea-stained covers.
There must be hundreds, Benedict thought. And a variety of genres, as well.
The Lord Egerton was intelligent, surely. But he couldn’t possibly of had the time to indulge in reading on the regular occasion, as he was a very busy man.
Benedict moved to another shelf, spotting a copy of Mental Philosophy: Including the Intellect, Sensibilities, and Will. He scoffed, picking up the book from it’s place. Lazily, he skimmed through the pages. Benedict took note of Lord Egerton’s sloppy penmanship in the margin, concluding that he’d read the book often.
Boring.
After placing the grievous thing back on the shelf, Benedict meandered to the shelves within the center of the library. Again, he delicately dragged his fingers over the old works. One book (red in color and small in size) piqued Benedict’s interest. He pulled it from it’s home, and he looked at the place from which he took the book. A pair of eyes met his own, and he let out a loud shriek. Following his scream, a sudden “ahh!” echoed throughout the library.
At that moment, Benedict understood the weight of words. Well, mainly because he’d dropped the book on his foot and couldn’t feel his toes (he thanked God it was the small book he’d dropped and not the large philosophy text), but nonetheless. He hopped on one foot, holding the other in his hand.
“Damn!” Benedict shouted.
Eventually, he let go of his foot. He scoffed, unable to flex his toes.
The annoyed Bridgerton bent down, picked up his dropped book, and maneuvered to the other side of the shelf.
“I say—!” he began, but his voice was caught in his throat.
A girl, young and seemingly terrified, crouched in a “fetal position” on the floor. She held her knees to her chest, and she hid her face from Benedict’s sight.
“Am I ‘alright?’” the girl retorted, looking up at him.
As she met his eyes, Benedict felt an unexpected pain in his chest. A good pain, surely. Because his heart started to slam against his ribcage.
What is this?
Benedict took in a sharp breath, examining the girl’s features.
She was beautiful.
“You, sir, gave me quite the fright!” she exclaimed, laughing.
Her laugh, Benedict thought, sounds like music.
The Bridgerton cleared his throat and looked down at his feet, slightly embarrassed.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I believe you frightened me, as well.”
“I would’ve made myself present, but I hadn’t heard you enter.”
“Yes,” Benedict muttered. “My stealth is unmatched.”
The girl smiled, affectively charmed by Benedict’s wit.
She’s smiling, Benedict observed. My God, I want her to always smile.
“‘Stealth?’ You’re not hiding, are you?” she asked, standing.
“Protecting myself, more so. ‘Hiding’ makes me sound like a coward.”
A laugh left her lips, and Benedict (once again) found himself loving the sound.
He looked to the floor, catching sight of a glove beside her feet. Kneeling down, Benedict picked up the fabric, then he stood and rubbed the white material between his fingers.
“I believe,” he held it out to her, “you dropped this.”
Graciously, she took it from him.
“Thank you,” she said.
Benedict nodded, and he glanced at the book in her grasp.
“Pride and Prejudice,” he read aloud. “That’s the romance novel, is it not?”
“It is!” she exclaimed, her tone light and airy.
Benedict took note of the sparkle in her eyes, and he wanted to swim in her gaze forever.
“Miss Austen is a gifted writer, and she’s an inspiration for many women.” She looked to the book, smiling adoringly.
Benedict smiled, too.
“Have you read it?” she asked.
He had.
“I cannot say I have,” Benedict replied.
The girl nodded.
“Have you come here to read, then?” he asked.
A bit of a stupid question, Benedict thought. They were in a library.
“For the quiet, mostly.”
The Bridgerton nodded, and he watched as the girl attempted to straighten out her wrinkled gown.
“Do you not like dancing?” Benedict questioned.
“Oh, no!” she said. “I love it, but I’ve grown tired. My mother has me attend every ball—every party, as most young ladies. Each season, it’s the same dances, and the same men, and the same…everything.”
So, tomorrow will not be her first season. How have I not noticed her before?
Benedict nodded, and he came to realize he related to her words.
“But you’re different.”
“I’m happy to be of service,” Benedict jested. “You’re not married, then?” the chestnut-haired boy asked.
However, the girl did not answer.
She only stared at Benedict, trying to process the intention of his words.
“Forgive me,” Benedict said.
Too forward? Too fast? I hope I was not too fast. I’d surely die if—!
“It’s quite alright!” she said. “I’m not married, but I am content.”
I am relieved.
Benedict grinned, boyish and innocent.
“You’ve yet to meet your Mr. Darcy, then?”
She quizzically stared at him, fighting back another smile.
“I thought you hadn’t read Pride and Prejudice?” she questioned.
“Did I say that?”
Had I said that? I don’t remember saying that.
The girl laughed, then she looked at Benedict’s side.
“Poetry?” the girl quired, referring to the red book in his hand.
Benedict raised his brow, then felt the book in his palm. He’d forgotten about the blasted thing, and the aching in his foot returned.
“Oh!” he interjected. “Yes, poetry. Good, good poetry.”
“By who?” she asked.
He hadn’t looked.
“It’s a collection, actually. Various authors,” he lied.
I’m nervous, he thought. Why am I nervous?
“That’s beautiful,” she said.
You’re beautiful.
“I do love poetry,” the girl stated.
“As do I,” Benedict added.
A tremble took over Benedict’s bottom lip, and he opened his mouth to speak before—“knock! knock! knock!”
Benedict’s head turned to the door, and he heard Eloise’s familiar voice.
“Benedict!” she shouted, vibrations traveling through the wood. “Brother, I know you’re in there! Mother has released us from thisinsufferableprison!”
The elder Bridgerton looked at the girl (the one in front of him), and he laughed.
She laughed, too.
What wouldn’t I do to hear her laugh?
“I can hear you!” his sister exclaimed. “Come on, Benedict! I’d like to be home before I’m of a hundred and three!“
He heard Eloise’s retreating footsteps grow quieter, and quieter, and quieter.
“She’s gone, I believe.”
Benedict grinned widely, drawing his focus back to the girl.
I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave.
“Well, you shouldn’t let her wait.”
Heartily, Benedict laughed.
“No, I shouldn’t. Enjoy your reading, Miss…?” he trailed off, dying to know her name.
She smiled.
She’s only smiling, Benedict thought. She’s only smiling, and she’s stolen my very breath.
“(L/N). (Y/N) (L/N),” she said. “Lord…?”
“Bridgerton. Benedict Bridgerton.”
She nodded.
“Enjoy your poetry, Lord Bridgerton.”
How can a voice sound so sweet? It is Heaven.
“Lady (L/N).”
Hesitantly, Benedict walked to the door. He twisted the knob, hating the weight of it in his free hand.
Benedict turned back, a sudden spasm of energy prevalent in his body.
My soul is on fire.
“Miss (L/N)?” he called out.
(Y/N) peered out from behind the bookshelf.
“Yes, Lord Bridgerton?” she replied.
Benedict thought (just for a moment), then wet his lips with his tongue.
“‘A girl likes to be crossed in love now and then,’” he quoted. “’It is something to think of.’”
(Y/N) smiled, a joyful scoff leaving her lips.
“Youhave read it,” she surmised.
Benedict playfully smirked, then left the library.
With the door shut, Benedict rested his back against the wood. He stood in the hallway, alone with his thoughts. Specifically, he thought of his encounter with (Y/N).
Benedict closed his eyes, basking in the warm glow of love. He bit his bottom lip, a feeling similar to a sunburn gracing his face.
(Y/N). (Y/N). (Y/N). (Y/N).
Benedict felt—in his heart—that something glorious had just occurred.
Request: ‘Hey babe, hope you’re doing well! I have a request for anthony bridgerton x f!reader if that’s okay :)
I’d like to see what it’d be like for anthony to be with a feminist reader. Maybe even a scene where she confronts a man and he tells Anthony to control his wife or something like that.’
Thank you so much for requesting! I tried really hard, like I do with all my requests, but I feel this may be bad, haha.
Warnings: Sexism and terrible writing.
Words: 1.6K
Disclaimer:This is a fanfiction, the scenarios, the reader, and the dialogue are all mine.
A/N: Please do not copy or plagiarise this, or put it in your own book, etc. It should only be found here. Also, please mention if I should make a taglist and if you wanted to be added. I also tried by best at being British.
Thank you.
:)
~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Y/n) (L/n) is an extraordinary woman and Anthony Bridgerton knew this when marrying her. She spoke her thoughts, never left him guessing on what to do like most women, she was well-educated, funny and had managed to win his heart, those are some of the reasons he chose to marry her. He knew that she was quite forward-thinking herself, but not this much.
The two are sat in their carriage, departing from his mother’s house, heading for their country estate, “I just can’t believe -,” she sighs, shaking her head.
“Can’t believe what?” He turns from the window and faces his wife of almost a year. A soft smile crosses his face at the beautiful sight in front of him. She is in a light lavender dress, her hair braided and pinned up in a way that she would not wear in public, but she preferred it that way; her glove-covered hands neatly rest in her lap, and upon seeing her frown, he places his on top of hers. “What is it, my love?”
She looks up to him, quite an unamused expression upon her face, “you will laugh.” Anthony shakes his head and denies, leaning forward in his seat so that he can pull her hands onto his lap. She bites her lip, gazing up to the roof, before sighing loudly and looking back down to her husband “yes, you will because you are a man.”
He raises a brow, “excuse me?” He does not know whether to laugh, but he cannot deny that he is slightly offended; men are not that bad. Well, he isn’t.
“It is the truth,” she remains serious until she sees him biting back his own smile, and she finds out she is doing the same, “you-u cannot laugh at what I am about to say.”
“Of course, of course,” he nods his head, looking down to their joined hands in their lap, “but if you ask me not to laugh, I will.” He runs his thumb gently over her hands, smiling softly.
“Well, you cannot,” his gaze shoots back up, and he stops himself from making a remark, taking in her serious reaction, making a frown come across his face, “my love, please tell me what is wrong.”
“I think that women should be allowed to go to University,” before he can say anything, she leans forward and moves her hands so that she is griping his (which Anthony did not thoroughly enjoy, as he prefers to be the one leading) and she smiles, her eyes twinkling, “I mean, look at Eloise, she is so smart; she should be allowed to show others that and she should be allowed expand her knowledge.”
Now, Anthony was raised with manners, and he was raised to respect other people’s opinions, but he can’t help but laugh, his voice booming.
She sighs and leans back, dropping his hands, a loud thud following as her back hits the seat. Of course, he would laugh he is a man after all, and what else is she to expect?
“I-I’m sorry,” he attempts to breathe out, reaching forward to take her hands again, “but that-at is preposterous.” She sighs, ripping her hands from his.
“You are a fool to think women are less than men,” she does not meet his eyes, deciding to glance out of the window Anthony was before, watching the houses go past and trees begin to emerge.
He frowns, straightening his posture, “I do not believe women are less than men, I believe,” smiling, he leans forward, lifting a hand to gently cup her cheek, making her blush, “that there are certain responsibilities that men have, and that is one.”
She turns, eyes bright with fury as she pushes his hand away, “responsibilities?” She scoffs, straightening her posture, “responsibilities? I have never heard such a joke.” She brushes down her skirt, glaring at him, “it is a pleasure, a gift, to be allowed to educate yourself in a chosen field of study, to even educate yourself!” Her voice is raised so that she is practically shouting, making his eyes widen.
“Darling -”
“No! I do not wish to rely on a man for the rest of my life, and I do not even own my own body,” she begins to make a range of hand gestures, and her husband’s eyes widened further at the sight.
“Have you gone hysterical?” He worries for his wife, considering calling the carriage to stop so that he could call for a doctor.
“How dare you!” It is in fact (Y/n) who got the carriage to stop as she hit the side angrily, making his draw drop. Hiking up her skirts, she pushes the door open and steps out; the carriage had come to a stop.
Anthony follows her, smiling at their employees in reassurance, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment, “my love.”
She continues, ignoring the fool of a man whom she married.
Anthony begins to quicken his pace, noticing her heading for the forest, and he takes a step-in front of her, stopping her, “I did not mean to offend you.”
“Well… you did,” she brushes past him, brushing herself down.
He does not go after her, gripping his hair and spinning in a circle before he gasps proudly, “Your body is your own! I never even knew I owned it.” She turns to him and gives him a glare that pierces his soul, making him pull a nervous smile, “you do not even know how lucky you are!” It takes all that she can to not scream.
“I am sorry (Y/n), please forgive me,” he sighs and gently walks over her, taking her hands in his and trying not to melt under her glare, “Mother always taught us that women are important and equal to us, we are all taught that women are gifts and I apologise for not realising that society does not treat you the same as it treats us, men.”
There is a moment of pause as she finally looks down to meet his eyes, but she does not answer.
“Tell me what you want, and I shall get it for you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lord Berbrooke appears unable to stop staring at the Viscountess, eyes wide as he reads the title of the book she is reading; it is of scientific nature. “What on Earth is your wife reading?”
Anthony looks away from his brother and up to the standing man. They are currently at the park, sitting down and talking as gentlemen too, a quick break from their families who they should be joining - his wife with his mothers, sisters, Gregory, and Colin.
“A book, I believe, Lord Berbrooke,” Anthony retorts and most men around them manage to choke back their laughter. He looks away from the man and over to his wife, his smile widening, making Benedict shake his head at his brother, a smile also forming.
“A book of science,” all eyes return to Anthony, who clenches his eyes shut, inhaling deeply.
Smiling, he turns behind him, withholding himself from making a comment on the man’s eyesight, “one day, you will marry and understand what exactly ‘happy wife, happy life’ means."
~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lord Berbrooke laughs loudly, proud of his own joke. Those around him, however, those Gentlemen, do not, because not only was it rude, but they have great respect for the Viscountess. This evening they are awaiting the ball to start, for the host to arrive, and pathetic conversations like this are the only form of entertainment that they currently have.
"What was that Lord Berbrooke?"
Their eyes widen, and the Baron turns to face the young woman, "nothing, my lady.” The room has gone quiet, everyone turning to face them, including her husband.
“You mentioned women being lesser than men, I believe?” The room’s gaze shifts to the man, many offended but all curious.
“Lord Bridgerton,” his gaze flickers to the man behind her. Anthony nods, walking forward to place his hand on the small of her back, facing the man with an arched brow. (Y/n) finds her cheeks flushing a deep shade, ignoring the looks of disgust from the Baron.
“I am not her keeper, Nigel.”
“It was simply concerning the fact that women should not work they should stay at home -”
“Excuse me, but to cook and clean, I am guessing?” He nods. (Y/n) sighs, placing her clasped hands against her front, looking down to him as if he is a child, “Lord Berbrooke, would you like your daughters to also be illiterate.”
He scoffs, turning to those in the room, chuckling, “no child of mine will be that uneducated.” Many do laugh this time, shaking their head at the young woman. She is not phased, which is something that her husband admires about her, as she instead shakes her head at them as if they are disobedient children.
There are several things that Anthony could say to this man, but he withholds.
“So, you wish for us to learn skills but not to use them?"
Silence.
She arches her brow, the light of the room making her glow, as an Angel, the Bridgertons would say.
"Well, I wouldn’t say -” he cuts his snobbish self-off, “Lord Bridgerton, control your wife.” He turns up his nose, staring down at her.
(Y/n) glances to her husband, who steps forward to come next to her, sliding his hand through her arm, “Lord Berbrooke.”
“Yes,” all eyes are on them, and everyone holds their breath. Anthony smiles, gaze fixating on his wife for a second, pure adoration in his eyes, before focusing on the Baron’s, adoration quickly drifting away.
“With all due respect, I would rather face your wrath than my wife’s."
Requests are now open! I previously wrote on Wattpad where I got over 200K views but I have since deleted my work due to the data breach and the fact I wrote it years ago and I believe my writing has improved vastly. (Well I hope so, lol).
Unfortunately, I am a bit rusty, which means I will only write the minimum of one thousand words per request. I also enjoy writing in detail, sorry if you do not like that.
I decided to keep my Secondary Blog as a Middle-Earth/Tolkien one!
I previously took a break, for personal reasons, but I have mustered the confidence to return. I apologise if I did not write your requests before, I feel awful, and please FEEL FREE to send them in again - there appears to be an error with my ask box and most of my requests have disappeared.
What do I write?
I write ‘x readers’.
I will also write for ships - for example, Harry Potter (as I know the most about the couples in it). I will also write ‘Jily’, (for Harry Potter) because that is superior.
What fandoms do I write for on my main blog?
Harry Potter (all Eras)
Narnia
Netflix Bridgerton
What fandoms to I write for on this blog?
The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings
Pleaserequest here if you have any requests for these fandoms, same rules apply, or simply click on my blog on the ask button @daydreams-magic01-mrsdurin.
(You can ask me if there are any other fandoms I write for, but these are my main ones)
Rules:
I do have rules and limits, as there are things that make my uncomfortable.
:)
I write for all genders and sexualities, as well as body types, etc. Discrimination is not welcomed here.
No hate! If you don’t like my work, please don’t be rude about it. I have tried my hardest and whilst I appreciate constructive feedback, bullying and hate is just rude. I have never and will never attend to offend anyone or make them uncomfortable, I always try to put in the right tags also. If there are any issues, please put them in my ask box (however, it may be a few days until I reply as I don’t look in there until I have completed my current request) I apologise in advance and it is most likely due to an error or accident. Thank you :)
If I make an error, please message me privately - I once had an autocorrect issue where a tag went to ‘teddy lupin x male reader’ on my blog when it was for a female reader as I was in a rush and did not realise I had already done the female tag. I am sorry again and an issue like this will never happen again, and I shall always double check from now on.
I will never write anything underage so please request someone who is of age. I won’t mention anything triggering in too much detail as I don’t want to upset anyone. I will not write (describe) rape, it will always be consensual.
If there is anything triggering, I will mention at the top. Remember, I love you guys.
I am trying to improve my smut skills, but writing it does make me uncomfortable. I won’t write anything messed up, too graphic, dark, or kinky or to do with rape.
Please do not copy or share my work in your own books or on another website! This is my hard work, and my writing. It should only be found on this blog. So please don’t. I find it very annoying and rude. (This includes futures and previous works)
You will only find my work here. (I realise I emphasise this and I’m sorry)
Please include the gender, and which person you would prefer it in as I don’t want to annoy you if I make an error (I usually write in third person but if you do not prefer this, please say so). It can also be very difficult to write without this. Please include anything else which you find necessary to apply.
When you request I will make it time appropriate to the movie or show unless stated otherwise. However, can you please clarify when you want it, for example, if the show spans over a number of years. If it isn’t necessary then I will just set it after. :)
I will always try to use the spelling and slang from where it is set.
Unless if I say other wise, your request should be posted within the week.
Have a wonderful day. I can’t remember any other rules right now but it’s like 3am.
Thank you!
Author is always me on this blog: @daydreams-magic01and@daydreams-magic01-mrsdurin as I have decided to keep as a Tolkien blog for requests, and in that case only future Tolkien work should only be found on there, and all previous Tolkien work as well as all my other requests should only be found on my main blog. No where else.
Please say if you wanted to be added to a tag list.
Please feel free to request on my main blog unless you have any Hobbit and Lord of the Rings requests and wish to see me having a Tolkien blog, then do it on this one, haha. (That link is to my previous Lotr and Hobbit Masterlist).
Please say if you wanted to be added to a tag list.
Warnings:this is definitely steamy but no actual smut, you and anthony are super in love but shhh its a secret, siena just doesn’t exist sorry babe, fluffy friendships with the rest of the bridgerton siblings, it just so happens anthony is down bad for you (are these warnings? yes)
A/N:This one just absolutely flowed out of me, so forgive a few plot holes for the sake of some hot Anthony tension if you would! I can’t thank you enough for the response to my first Benedict fic, I really have been blown away, so I really hope you equally enjoy my first foray into the realm of Anthony <3
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Lady Danbury’s ball was the perfect occasion to begin the season on the correct foot, even if your ambitions for the season were rather different to every other eligible miss in the ton. You smoothed out the deeply emerald dress that currently fluttered around your figure as you stepped out of your carriage alongside your mother, taking her arm and walking through the grand entrance to the ballroom.
It felt as if you were escorting her rather than the other way around as she talked excitedly at your side, asking your opinion on whether you thought the newly renowned Lady Whistledown might be here tonight or not. Keeping your composure, you answered her as politely as you could manage, with little excitement, knowing that attempting to speak more than three words at a time in your mother’s presence was quite the challenge. You were at least grateful that she was far more concerned with her own plans for the evening than having anything to do with finding you a husband.
True to her nature, your mother hurried off to Lady Cowper as soon as the two of you were inside, intending to continue their spirited gossip session from their afternoon tea three days prior. Doing your best not to shake your head at her lack of maturity, lest Lady Whistledown indeed be watching from the wings, you resolved to enjoy your evening the only way you knew how - with the company of the Bridgertons.
they’re not the only ones iii | benedict bridgerton
Summary: 4 times your life with Benedict changed for the better, and the 1 time it stayed the same (or, four life changing moments pre and post marrying Benedict, and one extra fluffy moment of pure domestic bliss)…
Pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader
Word Count: 6.7k
Warning(s): another 4 + 1??? oops I know, fluff (lots of it), mild angst, you know the drill by now
A/n: hi lovelies! The third part is finally here! I’m not sure I like it as much as the first two (I struggled a lot writing it and self doubt started to creep in as always), but I just wanted to thank you all for being so kind and so patient with me. It means the world! I hope you all enjoy and please let me know what you think! Comments and feedback are much appreciated <3
Anthony’s eyes trail across his mother’s sitting room, most of her eight children apart from Gregory and Hyacinth, are conversing amongst each other. He finds himself sitting idly beside Kate, Daphne and Simon across from them. He picks his nails in disinterest.
Now, not to be rude, he’s sure they’re having a lovely conversation full of important things he should be listening to, but he just can’t seem to bring himself to focus on it. Instead, their voices meld into nothing, simply static in the brainwaves of his mind.
His breathing slows into a shallow rhythm as his line of sight drifts, further and further to the left, until it hits you. You’re laughing at something Benedict has said, nearly doubled over in glee. It’s not an unusual occurrence, but it strikes him suddenly.
Everything seems to be normal, he supposes, and yet it feels oddly so. Anthony cannot for the life of him describe it, but there’s this nagging feeling in his chest that’s telling him, screaming at him: something’s different.
Benedict’s hand resting on your knee, the carefree echo in your laugh, the twinkle in both of your eyes, it’s almost regular, almost like it always has been between you, but Anthony would put his life on it, there’s been a shift. It’s almost like….
In a split second, Anthony perks up in his seat, startling his wife and causing three pairs of eyes to snap to him.
“Anthony, are you alright?” The three of them inquire. He ignores them, his revelation much too important to lose focus on.
You know. He thinks. You and Benedict, you’re together. And not just in the sense that you’re sitting beside each other, enjoying one another’s company, no. Anthony Bridgerton is no man’s fool, romance, love, desire, it’s all present in your body language. You and Benedict are no longer just friends.
A smile spreads across his face, maniacal with a hint of amusement. Equally, in his heart, he’s happy. Anthony cannot think of two people who belong together more, and yet he wonders, why haven’t you told anyone yet?
He decides, if you won’t, he’s going to. Oh, he salivates at the thought, the fun he could have with this…
Abruptly standing, he waves off Kate’s protests of concern as he edges his way closer to the other side of the room, leaving his wife and the Bassets behind in confusion. Plopping himself down on the couch where you, Benedict, and Eloise are sitting, he eyes Colin and Penelope who are sat across from the three of you.
“Brother!” Colin exclaims. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
You can feel Anthony’s amber orbs burning a hole through you, his voice utterly clinical as he says, “I’m testing a theory.” He’s observing you, and you don’t like it in the slightest.
“A theory?” Eloise closes her book in excitement. “And what might that be?”
Anthony’s gaze narrows and his jaw clicks in focus. He’s debating whether he should be forthcoming with his suspicions, or if he should keep toying with you a little longer. It could be fun to watch you squirm. But then again, outing your secret relationship, with no warning at that, might be more shocking, and even more fun.
He decides to go for the former, revealing, “Two people in this room, are recently engaged.”
Your eyes fly to Benedict’s in a brief panic. Both of your gazes read the same: how could Anthony have possibly figured it out? It’s not like either of you have been obvious about it. As far as you’re aware, you’ve kept everything the same, oblivious pining included.
Now, before he can pat himself on the back too much, Anthony hadn’t been sure of your engagement before he’d said anything. He’d simply assumed, (a dangerous game to play when one is uncertain), and decided to take the risk by voicing that assumption. But based on the premise that Benedict looks like his life has flashed before his eyes, and that he’s gone so white he could rival any ghost, Anthony knows he’d been bang on the money. He’s quite proud of himself if he’s being honest, his pat on the back now well earned.
Eloise drops her book in a haste as she exclaims, “How could you have kept this from me?” Your heart races, trying desperately to avoid her eye. Except, she’s not talking to you or Benedict. She’s directing her assertion towards Penelope and Colin.
Penelope opens her mouth to protest, but no words come out, while Colin’s jaw opens, then closes, then opens again in shock, as his brows furrow in confusion. This is making no sense to either of them.
Unfortunately for them (or fortunately depending on who you’re asking), Eloise has the wrong couple, and Anthony knows it. “Not them.” He chides, lips smirking in enjoyment.
At that, Colin releases a loud sigh of relief. “I thought I would remember proposing.”
Penelope finds her voice, laughing that bubbly laugh she often does. “I should hope so.” She narrows her eyes, focus resting solely on you. “But that would mean…” she trails off airily.
You avert your gaze from her, not quite ready to confront it, before you shift your focus to the oldest Bridgerton. He’s sitting like he’s perched, waiting for the fog to clear. You lick your lips in concentration, eyeing Anthony down. The smug bastard’s relishing in this game, but you won’t let him win. Beside you, Benedict isn’t so sure. He’s struggling to keep quiet, ready to come clean about everything, yet he’s not positive he’d be able to find the words if he tried.
“Oh…” A look of realization dawns on her face. Penelope’s figured it out, you’re fairly sure everyone has.
There’s a sudden shift in the air. Four pairs of eyes turn to you and your betrothed, three in shock, and one in utter delight. He’s ready for the fun to begin.
Benedict’s gone as white as a sheet; you’ve never seen him so pale. But you hang on with a smile on your face. You’re not about to give Anthony the satisfaction of seeing you lose your composure.
You sigh internally, you guess this is payback for trying so hard to out Anthony’s feelings for Kate before they got engaged. And for making fun of him for being so blindly lovesick. And for many other things, you’re sure. So maybe you deserve this a little bit. But only a little.
Besides, the Bridgerton’s were going to have to find out about your engagement eventually. Why not now?
“What?” You question them, hand reaching for Benedict’s. He calms under your touch, a small smile resting on his face. There’s a smugness of your own forming in your tone, “Are we to pretend that none of you saw this coming?”
Anthony chuckles at your response. You’re both taking this way better than he thought. Of course you’d have to go ruin all the fun by being mature adults about the situation. Damn you.
“You’re engaged?” Eloise splutters rather loudly, alerting everyone else in the room.
And it’s not a second later that Daphne has darted up from her seat, rushing her way towards you. “Please tell me I heard Eloise correctly.” She breathes, nearly squealing. “Because it sounded to me like you and my dearest brother are to be wed.”
“Daphne.” Simon urges, now standing beside her. He’s chuckling at his wife’s excitement. “Give the poor girl some space.”
You and Benedict share a smile, as he prepares himself for the onslaught of questions that are to come. “We wanted to wait a while before we told anyone.” Benedict turns to his oldest sibling pointedly. “But I suppose Anthony had other plans.”
“As I see it,” Anthony interjects. “It is merely reparation for old ploys. Your intended should surely understand.”
Brown eyes meet (e/c) knowingly. You more than understand; it’s all in good nature. As far as your relationship with the viscount is concerned, you’ve always held a playful rivalry with each other.
“And you were most correct (Y/n),” Eloise cuts in, one hand resting on her hip and the other resting at her side, “we all saw this coming.” She pauses. “Maybe not in this fashion, but certainly with the same end result.”
The matter of fact manner of the statement makes you smile, as you watch each of Benedict’s siblings nod in agreement. Even Simon takes part in the teasing. This feels like what a family should be like, this feels like home.
And as Anthony takes a step back from the huddled group of Bridgerton’s, he feels Kate’s hand brush against his, as she pulls him into the corner of the room. A cheeky grin adorns her face. She’s just as happy as Anthony to see you and Benedict together, finally after everything. Even more so, she’s amused with how everyone found out.
Eyeing her husband, mischief laced in her tone, she leans into him whispering, “You simply could not help yourself.” Her voice sends shivers down his spine. “You just had to meddle.”
He hums right back, careening under her touch. “That I did, my love. You know me too well.”
Kate smiles to herself, and sighs. If there’s two things she knows for certain, it’s that yes, she knows Anthony Bridgerton better than even the man himself, and equally, she’s never been more glad that he’s a meddlesome match maker with a penchant for interfering with his siblings love lives.
Because as far as she’s concerned, outside of her relationship with her husband, there’s no two people more suited for each other than you and Benedict. Of that, she is unequivocally sure.
ii
the wedding
You’ve dreamed of this day for what feels like your entire life: your wedding to Benedict Bridgerton. But now that it’s finally here, you can’t help but want it to be over. And not in a bad way. You love weddings, you think they’re positively magical, but by God do you want yours to be over.
Because if you have to wait one more second to kiss Benedict, really kiss him, you think you might die. And yes, that is definitely an exaggeration, but you just cannot wait to be his wife. The ceremony is nice, of course, although it’s really more for your families. Because if you’re being honest, you’d marry Benedict on the busy streets of London in a ratty old dress if it meant you could be his.
You’d truly do anything to marry him.
The ceremony is held at Aubrey Hall, with only your closest family and friends invited. It’s quiet and quaint like you both wanted, neither of you caring too much to make a spectacle out of your wedding.
All in all, the guest list is essentially made up of Benedict’s mother, his siblings and their significant others, your parents, and Lady Danbury of course. It just seemed right, having a more intimate and private ceremony. It’s all you could ever need, especially considering if given the chance, you would’ve just as easily run off and eloped with Benedict, to avoid the hassle of a large wedding.
And when it’s over, and you’ve finally said ‘I do’, you kiss him like you’ve never kissed him before. You kiss him with hope and passion, a glimpse of the future you are to have with him. It leaves you wanting more, wanting all of him. Because no one else could complete you like he does.
Benedict feels more than the same. Because when he’d seen you walk down the carpeted aisle, and into the garden outside of his childhood home, he’d never felt anything like it. It was as if his life with you flashed before his eyes, all those years you spent loving each other in secret, preparing him for this day. And when you leapt up to kiss him, he felt his heart soar.
You’re his wife, and he’s your husband, ‘til death do you part. It’s almost surreal to think about.
But it’s truly at the reception where you both feel most at ease. While your wedding was wonderful, you’re more than excited that it’s over. Because you’re married now. And you can act like it. You no longer have to hide your affections, hold back on your touches. You can dance as many times as you like without society judging you for it, and you can kiss your husband in glee.
It’s an utterly freeing feeling, listening to the music drift around you, as you waltze in Benedict’s arms. Everyone is enjoying the party, either dancing or simply chatting amongst themselves, plenty of food and drink to go around. The sounds of laughter and joy make you smile. This is your family now, and you couldn’t be happier about it.
A soft sigh momentarily catches you off guard. Your husband, you smile to yourself. He’s trying to get your attention, successfully so. You hum in his arms, urging for him to speak up. And when he does, his voice is angelic.
“Look at me darling.” Benedict tilts your chin upward, eyes meeting yours with so much love. “No one else matters.” He murmurs. It’s almost as if he’s trying to convince you of that fact, something he need not do.
“How could they?” Your smile is sweet, your voice airily drifting with the warm breeze. “When I have you as my husband.”
He hums, swaying you gently back and forth. “I do love it when you call me that.”
“Oh you do, do you?” You tease playfully. Jesting has always been one of the foundations to your friendship. That’s not about to change after over two decades. “I would have never guessed.”
Benedict eyes you with want, nearly growling as he pulls you into a searing kiss. “But not as much as I relish in calling you my wife.”
A light gag interrupts your moment.
“A tad possessive are we?” Eloise’s voice snaps in, gravelly and raw. You both break apart with dopey grins, the look of desire still resting on your faces. Her eyes meet Benedict’s as she mocks an expression of disgust. “I hadn’t thought you capable of it.” She finishes.
Benedict lets out something akin to a snort. “And I hadn’t thought you capable of being a meddlesome, pestering young woman.” He pauses, sarcasm running through his words. “Oh, wait…”
Eloise scrunches her face in faux distaste.
“Eloise.” Anthony chides, sauntering next to her, more than ready to continue the child like Bridgerton banter, “Leave the poor couple alone.” He’s teasing her, trying to get on her nerves. And quite frankly, you find it hilarious.
“I’m simply stating my opinion brother.” She tilts her head innocently. It amuses you because Eloise is anything but. And everyone knows it. “As a woman should.” There it is.
Anthony chuckles, brown eyes glimmering with mischief. “We’re well aware of your thoughts on the subject of marriage and public displays of affection sister, but please do allow the newlyweds to enjoy themselves. This day only happens once in a lifetime after all.”
Eloise scoffs. “Never.” She taunts with the raise of her brow. “What would be the fun in that?”
Benedict’s eyes flick between his two siblings, a wide smile growing on his face. He turns to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in closer.
You know that look, you know it well. Benedict is nothing if not a pathetic sap for pretty words, especially when he’s the one uttering said pretty words.
“It is really a shame that I find myself indifferent to what either of you think.” He starts, throwing caution to the wind. “And because I cannot find a more intelligent way to put this, I’ll simply say what is on my mind…”
Eloise and Anthony share a look of pure amusement, they too know what is to come. “Please do.” They say in unison, surprising each of the siblings. This might be the first time in a long while that they’ve agreed on anything. And it just had to be at your expense.
“Simply put,” he smiles, voice going soft. Maybe he’s had a bit too much to drink. “I love my wife. And I want nothing more than to show everyone that I love my wife, and to be insufferably enamoured with each other for the rest of my life. If that is an issue for anyone, I do not believe I could force myself to care.”
“Mm,” Anthony hums in agreement, taking a swig of his own drink as he cheers to Benedict’s half-speech.
Eloise scoffs. “Oh, is that all brother?” She asks.
A deadpan expression crosses Benedict’s face, and you giggle at the sight.
“Eloise, Eloise, Eloise.” Anthony tsks. “That, was simply the tip of the iceberg that is Benedict’s love for (Y/n). It will never be all.”
“Anthony is right.” Benedict asserts.
“As I always am.”
Eloise rolls her eyes. “Oh please. There is nothing easier to be correct about than Benedict being madly in love with his wife.”
Anthony sticks his tongue out at her, mumbling something along the lines of, regardless, I was still right. It’simmaturity at its finest, and you’re enjoying every second of it.
You let out a genuine laugh at the exchange, “Alright children. Calm yourselves.”
“Look at you.” Anthony’s eyes bore into yours, cheekily. “Not even hours after your wedding and you’re already so motherly. It’s adorable really.”
“Very funny.” Is your immediate reply.
“How mature.” Is Eloise’s.
And as the three of you continue to banter back and forth, spitting joking insults and hurling equally venomous retorts, Benedict can’t help but let out a sigh of contentment.
He’ll admit, after that night at Lady Danbury’s where you’d gotten engaged, he had been a little nervous that your relationship turning from platonic to romantic would be an adjustment not only for the two of you, but for his siblings as well. Because as long as you’d known his family, you and Benedict had simply been friends, although as he quickly came to find out, not one Bridgerton thought you wouldn’t end up together.
But seeing you and his siblings laughing together, poking fun and joking around with one another, he knows that his initial concern was sheer stupidity on his part. Because if he’s being honest, the only thing that has changed, is that instead of being simply best friends, you are now best friends who know they are in love with each other.
Best friends who are married. Yes, he smiles, he quite likes that sound of that. (Y/n) and Benedict Bridgerton, husband and wife. He would never and could never want it any other way.
iii
lady whistedown…
“Colin,” Eloise’s raspy voice is laced with sleep. It’s late, she’s tired, and she wants nothing more than to go to bed. “Whatever it is you wish to tell us, could it not have waited until the morning?”
Your gaze flicks to your husband’s, a reassuring calm passing over you. Both of you watch as the two siblings have a near stand off. And while you agree, it is extremely late, and you are quite tired, you can’t help but find yourself intrigued by the situation.
“No.” Colin’s eyes are frantic. “This cannot wait.”
It’s such an interesting turn of events, you ponder with a smile on your face. Eloise, who usually thirsts for knowledge, appearing so disinterested at the prospect of her brother’s clearly important information.
Eloise huffs, equally expectant and annoyed. “Go on then,” she waves. “If you must.”
Colin hesitates, struggling to find his words. “I—I don’t know how,” he stutters. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes dart across the room. And while his distress is only furthering Eloise’s displeasure, it causes something different for you.
A pang in your chest forms. Empathy, you recognize. Something is distressing Colin so much so that he can’t form the words. He looks like his life has been turned upside down, like the world is crumbling at his feet. And it hurts you.
You’ve never seen him like this. Neither has Benedict.
Unclasping your hand from your husband’s, you reach forward for Colin. Maybe another person’s touch will ground him; it’s always worked with Benedict.
He reacts immediately, eyes meeting yours, a sigh falling from his lips. “I’m afraid to say anything.” He says finally. “Because it’s not my secret to tell, but it hurts.” You can see he’s on the verge of tears, hear the quiver in his voice. “It hurts more than anything I have felt in my life.”
Betrayal is the one word that comes to your mind. Colin feels betrayed. And that can only mean one of a few things, one of which sticks out like a sore thumb. Penelope Featherington. It has to be her; no one else has this kind of power over Colin.
And because of that, you know exactly what is troubling him. He knows who she is, what she’s done. “Is this about Lady Whistledown?” You ask softly, already knowing the answer.
As he nods, you watch the recognition flood across his face. Colin now knows you know, something not even Benedict is aware of. His gaze darts to Eloise suddenly and then back to you, as if asking, does she know?
You can’t help but notice the subtext behind his stare that goes beyond her simple knowledge of Penelope’s identity. It’s more than that. Does my sister know her best friend is a prolific liar? Does she feel the same betrayal I do?
Benedict takes note of this silent conversation you’re having with his brother. His brows furrow, and his lips pull into a tight thin line. He’s never felt more confused in his life. Because as he can see by the softened expression on Eloise’s face, even she’s clued in to Colin’s news.
And he, for the life of him, cannot seem to read between the lines. What is he missing?
“Penelope, she—“ Colin breathes, only to be cut off by a cough from Benedict.
“Hold on.” Benedict’s hand shoots up in protest, the dots starting to connect. “Penelope is Lady Whistledown?”
The silence that ensues is all the confirmation he needs. Three pairs of eyes hit the floor. You’re avoiding his gaze. “And you knew?” Benedict’s voice is directed at you, although he’s just as pointed towards Eloise. He can’t blame Colin for any of this.
Colin’s eyes widen as he takes in Benedict’s words. He turns to you and Eloise. “Neither of you told him?” He asks.
In unison, you say, “no.” There’s apprehension in both of your tones, nervous and unsure of how Benedict will react.
“I found out a few nights ago.” Colin eyes you and his sister in curiosity. “How long have you known?”
“A couple of months.” Eloise muses quietly.
“I’ve known for about half a year.”
Half a year? The words blur in Benedict’s mind, that’s an incredibly long amount of time for you to hold this in. It must have been eating you alive.
Benedict takes one look between you and his sister, stormy eyes narrowing, lips pursed in deep thought. He wants to be mad, wants to yell at you both, wants to scream it from the top of his lungs. He wants to feel betrayed, wants to feel as if his heart is wrenching, but he can’t. Oddly, he’s more so impressed. It’s almost sickening the sense of pride that blooms in his chest. How could you have possibly managed to stay so tight lipped about this? And for this long?
Benedict had always known of Eloise’s capabilities to keep things to herself, as she is merely happy to know something everyone else doesn’t, relishing in that, but you? He thought you simply incapable of keeping secrets from him. You like to talk, love to tell him things, and even more, you enjoy hearing his opinion on matters of both monumental and little significance. Your conversations have always been full of give and take, a mix of playful banter and riveting intellectual debates, with a hint of London gossip thrown in there for good measure.
Looking back on it, you’ve always told each other everything, especially something as big as this. And this time, you hadn’t.
He’s having trouble wrapping his brain around it, but he’s not mad.
“I thought I knew everything there was to know about you my love.” Benedict’s voice finally cuts through the thick silence. He’s teasing and relaxed, no anger in his posture.
Relief floods you as a laugh falls from your lips. “I believe you were wrong, darling.”
“I suppose I was.” Benedict smiles, his eyes twinkling in utter adoration. He couldn’t be more in love with you if he tried.
And this confuses Colin profusely. Not that Benedict loves you, that much is easy to understand. But you had kept a secret from your husband for over six months, hidden something so life changing from him for so long, and the minute Benedict finds out, he’s teasing you, joking with you, as if nothing has happened. As if nothing is to change because of it.
“How can you be so alright with this?” Colin questions, turning to his brother in confusion.
“Because,” Benedict muses, “as you so eloquently put it brother, it was not her secret to tell.”
“And you think that makes it acceptable to keep secrets from the person one loves?”
“In certain circumstances, I do.” Benedict says, wisdom coursing through his tone. “Besides Colin, this was never about me or my relationship with my wife. As I see it, you are projecting.” Benedict is egging him on, daring him to bite.
And he does, “projecting?” Colin scoffs in disbelief.
“You love Penelope. That is why you are so hurt by this.” Blue gaze meets blue. Colin melts. He knows he’s right. “But sometimes, you must let past grievances die. And allow your instincts to take over.”
Colin nods, swallowing. He wants to forgive Penelope, and in his heart, he knows he already has. Tilting his head in bemusement, he challenges, “And what of your instincts brother?”
Benedict turns to you, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “My love for my wife,” he says, “is the greatest instinct I have.”
And in Benedict’s mind, truer words have never been spoken…
iv
you’re what?!
Daphne’s eyes watch you carefully. It’s a normal evening, as far as she’s aware, yet something seems off. Ever since you and Benedict got married, Daphne has insisted upon having you both for dinner at Clyvedon every couple of weeks. And so you’ve done just that, happy to spend time with her, Simon, and little Auggie.
But tonight, you appear far off, lost in thought. You’ve barely spoken, only adding little bits to the conversation when asked, and you’ve been incessantly fiddling with your hands.
The biggest indicator of your strange behaviour, was your refusal for a glass of wine. At first, it had completely gone over Daphne. You’ve never been one for alcohol, so she’s not surprised she missed it, but as she ponders herself, it makes her think.
When dinner is over, she scoops Auggie up in her arms, and with her free hand, she reaches for yours, leaving Simon and Benedict to whatever they had been discussing. It’s not unusual for her to whisk you off to their sitting room for some tea and a tad bit of gossiping, but Daphne’s abruptness leaves you a little concerned.
Shutting the door quietly, she moves to sit down on the couch, Auggie on her lap. She smiles, beckoning you over with loaded enthusiasm.
You sit down next to her, turning your body to face hers. “Is everything alright?”
“Quite.” She grins, beaming. She knows something, and you don’t like it. It leaves you tensing at her tone, hidden with several implications.
You wonder if she’s figured you out. It wouldn’t surprise you in the slightest, and though you’ve tried to hide it, Daphne’s a woman, and a smart woman at that. The clues would be all too obvious to her.
“You’re with child.” She says finally, confirming your suspicions. It’s not a question, it’s a statement, as if she could never be wrong about something like this.
All of a sudden, a wave of nausea passes over you, anxiety building in your stomach. You haven’t seen a doctor yet, but you’re fairly certain it’s true. “I haven’t had my monthly in over sixty days. And I’ve been feeling rather ill.” You say. “It’s either that, or something is terribly wrong.”
When you look back at her, the smile that has grown on her face is enormously giddy. It spreads from cheek to cheek, her eyes beaming with intensity. “Oh!” She claps her hands together in joy. “This is wonderful news.” Daphne gently spins Auggie around in her lap so he’s facing her. “Did you hear that Aug? Your second cousin.”
The word second makes you smile, thinking of Kate who’s far along with her first child, Auggie’s first cousin. For the past number of months, since he’d found out about her pregnancy, Anthony has been quite the worry wart. It’s hilarious really, for everyone but Kate, watching him hover. Because as much as everyone knows Anthony is a control freak, it is equally known how independent Kate is. She hates being told what she can and cannot do, while he, more than enjoys giving out orders. You know he’s doing it out of love, but for the life of him, the poor man cannot seem to take a hint.
You chuckle lightly in thought. It’s comforting to think about how close in age your children will be. You can only hope they’ll be great friends. And if they’re anything like their Bridgerton side of the family, hell hath no fury, you’re in for the ride of a lifetime.
“Where has your mind gone?” Daphne’s voice breaks in, tone inquisitive.
“To Anthony and Kate.” Your eyes meet hers with a soft smile.
“Ah.” She grins. “He’s become quite unbearable I hear.”
You agree, humming lightly in response. “Kate says he never leaves her side unless absolutely necessary. I suppose he’s simply worried for her, but it does seem a tad excessive.”
“A tad?” Daphne laughs. “If Simon had behaved half as crazed as Anthony when I was pregnant with Auggie, I believe I might have gone mad.”
“And I wouldn’t blame you.”
Your giggles fill the room, genuine happiness spreading throughout it. And in your distracted state, neither of you notice the door crack open, Benedict hovering gently on the other side. He means to knock, truly, but the sweet sounds of your laughter leave him dazed.
“Speaking of doting husbands,” Daphne collects herself, her brow raising in curiosity, “does Benedict know?”
And this is his cue to enter, he thinks, his own curiosity overtaking his want to continue eavesdropping.
Pushing the door open and stepping through the threshold, he doesn’t give you the chance to respond. “Do I know what?” He asks.
You freeze in your seat, eyes widening, anxiety spiking.
It’s crazy how in a matter of moments, your life can change so drastically. One second you’re a simple married woman who’s undeniably enamoured with her husband, and the next, impending motherhood is smacking you in the face. And it’s not that you’re not excited, because by god, you are, it’s just this irrational fear creeping in that maybe Benedict won’t be happy, that maybe he’s not ready to be a father, that has you reeling. You know it’s silly, stupid really, but it’s almost like this fear is primal, because as far as you’re concerned, it’s extremely difficult to shake.
In all honesty, you’re not quite sure when you decided to find your voice, nor are you sure of what you’ve actually said, because when you turn your gaze, catching Benedict’s, he’s looking at you in shock, like the air has been ripped from his lungs.
“You’re—” Benedict’s grip on reality feels quite thin, because he’s not certain he’s heard what he thinks he’s heard. “You—you’re…” He can’t bring himself to say it, too scared to get his hopes up in case he had been wrong.
You swallow, nerves bundling in your stomach as you wring your hands together. Your eyes dart, looking for anything but Benedict’s ocean like gaze, as you try to focus on your breathing. Slowly, you tell yourself, in and out. You hadn’t noticed when Daphne had left the room, so consumed by your thoughts that you can’t believe you’d missed it.
It doesn’t seem like Benedict’s noticed her absence either, and if he has, it appears that he doesn’t care much. He’s merely focused on you.
“Please tell me I’m not losing my sanity, and that I heard you correctly.” Benedict pleads, his voice cracking with hope. He so desperately wants it to be true. “Are you with child?”
You cannot find the words; none of them seem right. Instead, you nod, too overwhelmed to do anything else. Before you know it, Benedict is rushing forward, scooping you in his arms and wrapping you in his embrace. The first thing you remember hearing is his chortled laughter, and the sound of your heart beating in your ears.
Your eyes brim with tears. He’s happy, you think, and you couldn’t be more elated. Relief floods through you as you allow your body to collapse into him.
“A baby.” He whispers into your ear, his brain moving faster than he can process it.
“Our baby.” You smile.
From outside the door, Daphne and Simon stand leaning against the walls opposite each other, grins resting on their faces. As much as Simon likes to pretend he’s indifferent, his heart says otherwise, a feeling of warmth spreading across his chest. He’s always had a soft spot for children. Daphne knows just that.
Gleaning her husband’s happiness, she reaches for his hand. He pulls her gently to his side, his arm draping across her body, and she wraps herself around him.
She sighs in contentment. “I believe I recall telling (Y/n) that that would be her one day.” She pauses, thumb tracing circles over Simon’s palm. “Raising a Bridgerton baby.” She smiles at the memory. It hadn’t been long ago, merely a few months had passed since.
And she had been right of course, as Daphne Bridgerton so often was. A baby Benedict and (Y/n) Bridgerton; chuckling she thinks, she can only hope the little one takes after you…
+ i
domestic bliss
Whoever told you parenting was easy, that it comes naturally, as if it’s some kind of instinct you have, has never given birth to three boys in only a little under three years. Difficult doesn’t even begin to describe it.
Chaos runs your life, or at least that’s what it appears like to you. You’re sure your family would tell you otherwise, that you always look so calm and put together, but quite frankly, you haven’t felt like that since before your first child was born.
You wouldn’t give it up for the world, nor would Benedict, but you have to admit, it’s more than a little tiring pretty much all of the time.
“Can I hold the baby mama?” Your oldest son Charles’ voice breaks your moment of silence.
“Of course you can darling.” You smile, patting the spot beside you. “Why don’t you climb on the bed here, and I’ll place her in your arms.”
Charlie beams up at you, eyes twinkling in delight. He giggles as you place your daughter Violet down gently, resting her neck under the palm of his small hand so that he’s cradling her nicely. “She’s beautiful mama.” He says. For a seven year old, he’s mature for his age, and certainly your calmest child.
Your lips lift into a soft smile. Quiet moments like these are few and far between. “I like to think so.”
Before you can prepare yourself for it, your serene bubble is burst as you hear two little pairs of feet padding quickly into the bedroom, followed by your husband’s unimpressed stare. “Trouble, the pair of you.” He eyes your four year old twins Alexander and William.
“We wanted to see the baby.” Alex pouts.
“But papa said we had to wait.” Will finishes for him.
You let out a bright laugh, gaze turning to your husband. “I am guessing that waiting is something they could not do.”
Benedict grins sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. “They are Bridgerton’s after all.” He quips. “We’re not exactly known for our patience.”
“I suppose not.” You relent teasingly, beckoning the twins forward. You watch as they clumsily climb their way onto the bed, eager to get a look at their sister.
Violet, only days old, has been a surprisingly calm baby, taking after her oldest brother. And a nice change of pace at that.
You remember after the twins were born just how fussy they’d been. You’d practically gone delirious just trying to keep up with them, and you’ve been trying desperately to do so ever since, never quite gaining enough ground.
“Look, Charlie!” William coos from above, leaning over the baby. “She’s smiling at you.”
The interaction warms your heart, watching your boys excited about their little sister. Even though you know Violet is much too young to be smiling and it’s likely just gas, you’d never ruin their moment.
Alexander whines slightly, feeling left out of the bunch. “Let me see Will.”
As he goes to push his brother out of the way, Benedict holds his hand up in protest, releasing a cough to gain his children’s attention. “Wait your turn.” He jests, sending Alexander a coy smile.
Benedict makes his way to the other side of the bed, allowing Charlie to be cozily sandwiched between the two of you. You share a sweet smile, blue eyes meeting (e/c).
Charlie begins to wiggle his way to the centre of the bed, Violet still tucked carefully in his arms. He’s moving delicately, as if she might break in his grasp. You watch lovingly as the twins shuffle their way over, one sitting on each side of their older brother. They take turns leaning in and cooing at the baby, absolutely entranced with her.
This allows your husband to slide in closer to you, wrapping and arm around your shoulder lovingly.
Benedict sighs. “I must admit,” he begins tracing circles on your forearm with his thumb, “I did miss having a baby in our home.”
You chuckle. “Relish in it.” You advise. “This will be our last one.”
“Oh?” Benedict chides. “That is what every woman says before she’s right back having another. Besides,” he smirks. “You cannot resist me.”
“Mm,” you smile cheekily. “I will admit, it is difficult, but I am more than capable of withstanding your charm.”
“Forgive me Mrs. Bridgerton.” He leans over to place a kiss on your lips and you reciprocate immediately. It always amazes you that he can still manage to take your breath away after all these years. “If I have difficulty believing you.”
You part to the sound of a loud groan from in front of you. “Papa.” Charlie eyes his father. Your children don’t enjoy it when your affections for each other are demonstrated in front of them. “You promised.”
Benedict feigns confusion. “Did I?” He grins. “I suppose it must have slipped my mind.”
Retorting his earlier words, you say, “Perhaps it is you who cannot resist me.”
Benedict tilts his head, brow raised and eyes full of warmth. “Perhaps.”
Your banter is broken by the giggles of your children, both of your gazes turning to them. Admiring the beauty of it all, you allow your hand to find Benedict’s. You share a glance, smiling softly knowing exactly what the other is thinking.
Pride. This is what your love has created. This is how your love will live on. With a beautiful family, indeed.
Today (7th of march) the netherlands has a national collection day for the people in Ukraine. Radio, television and local actions come together to collect money.
The past week giro555 already collected 21milion euros and hopefully there will be a whole lot more today.
Please donate if you can or share actions if you can’t.
If you donate or support a cause today send me your story, tag me in your actions or send me a screenshot. For the first 20 people who do I will write you a personal story. It can be a one shot, ship, whatever you like!
I know it’s not much, but maybe it gives people that final push to donate.
summary: requested; when the knight in shining armor realizes he’s in love with his clumsy girl
warnings: best friends to lovers, talk of injuries
word count: 2.1k
Beauty can be found in repetition. In the comfort that comes with it, the assurance that life is going exactly as it is supposed to. That all the pieces are falling into place without fuss or feathers. That is what life felt like for Benedict Bridgerton.
There was nothing quite like coming home to a life that revolved around and around like a pretty little carousel after a long day of tedious painting, worrying over the works of his own mind and hand. Predictable life was so beautifully mundane and peaceful at times.
He always arrived back at the Bridgerton home typically just after three in the afternoon. That glorious slice of day when one is just at the peak of energy and yet the world is slowly beginning its descent into slumber. Clouds always roamed the skies overhead while a breeze rushed past and horse hooves struck cobblestone.
And without fail, he always heard the laughter once he stepped into the grand foyer. The noise seemed to ricochet off the marble, bouncing around the house as the pitter patter of feet followed not too far behind. Hyacinth and Gregory whooped and hollered like wild animals on their little stampede, pushing and shoving down the hallways. On their heels, like always, was Y/N racing behind them. Feet bare and skirts clutching in her hands, she leapt down the stairs, yelling for them to stop the raucous behavior yet laughing all the while.
A wide, tilting grin was painted across Benedict’s face at the sight. It always was. This was his welcome home party — these three hooligans that he called family and loved to the moon and back, then twice over again.
“I thought I told you no more running down the stairs,” he lectured teasingly, placing his hands on his hips. “You’ve already had a broken finger, a sprained wrist, and your left knee still isn’t right.”
His younger siblings laughed nonetheless, picking up their pace to reach the end of the stairs and then dart around the corner. Benedict sidestepped them, narrowly avoiding being barreled into.
Y/N huffed a little, darting down another few stairs, just feet from the bottom. “I’ve told you a million times, Benny. I’m not that—”
On the last stair, her feet slipped from beneath her, sending her careening towards the marble floor. And as always, like a comforting clockwork, he stepped forward to catch her. To wrap his arms around her and set her right.
It was just how the two neighbors were — Y/N falling or tripping over her own feet and Benedict there to be her personal knight in shining armor. To carry her to the house when she sprained an ankle, to wipe mud from her face with the sleeve of his shirt, to help her crawl over a fence. He was there for all of it and he wouldn’t consider trading it for the world.
“What were you saying?” he asked with a marvelous grin, one hand still lingering near her waist as he waited for her to find her footing once more. “That you’re not that clumsy anymore?”
Y/N smiled despite her better judgment, a dark teasing glint twinkling in her eyes. “I wouldn’t have fallen if you weren’t so…”
“What?” he laughed. “Handsome, talented, intelligent, clever, hilarious… the list could go on and on.”
“Infuriating!” she exclaimed, lightly slapping his strong shoulder as she grinned from ear to ear. “Cocky, arrogant, a know-it-all. Need I go on?”
Benedict scoffed and shook his head in amusement. Maybe he was all of the above, but it didn’t matter. He knew she wouldn’t love him less for it. Gently, he reached up and moved a fallen lock of hair back into place. “We both have our flaws,” he lamented. “Yet I would argue we are fairly near perfect.”
“That’s what I consider being a Bridgerton is.” Y/N smiled in the way that had him seeing stars, the contagiousness of it bringing a toothy grin to his own face. “Being insanely stubborn headed yet shockingly likable.”
Benedict laid a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “Well then I would say you are certainly a part of the family, Y/N/N.”
Stifling humidity and heat always came with the summer months and yet Benedict still lingered beneath the sun, leaning on the croquet mallet in hand. His jacket had been long abandoned and cravat loosened and yet he still felt as though he were sweltering. Not only from the heat, but from some other foreign feeling that stirred about within his mind.
For the entire afternoon, his eyes had been glued to Y/N’s back – watching how her skirts twirled in the wind, how her joyous laughter seemed to wick away the unbearable heat. She trotted about the yard with Benedict’s favorite mallet in her hand, the one he always handed off to her with a smile on his face. And throughout the day, he’d followed her like a stray dog begging for scraps. Always a step behind, lingering in the shadows unheard and unseen.
Y/N carefully lined up her next shot as the crowd quieted in anticipation. Even over a silly game, Benedict’s breath halted in his chest as he observed, crossing his fingers for good luck to pass along to her. She swung the mallet with trained ease and like clockwork, the ball rolled along and through the hoop.
Immediately she turned around, throwing both arms triumphantly in the air. “Did you see that?”
Benedict couldn’t help but smile deliriously like a fool. “Absolutely!” he cried with enthusiasm, applauding as loudly as he could manage.
Stepping by his side, Y/N allowed her mallet to drop to the ground as she greedily drank a cup of iced water. “I believe I’ve adequately shown the ladies that I do not plan to relinquish my title of The Queen of Croquet anytime soon.”
“You certainly did,” he enthused with a smirky smile he couldn’t manage to contain. “Even while making a complete mess of yourself.” Like a second nature, he took one of her hands in his, examining the small scratches laced around her arm and the layer of mud plaguing the bottom of her dress.
“I go where the game goes,” she said proudly, “even when it’s through thickets and mud holes.”
Taking off his cravat, he wetted it in a glass of water and then went to work, wiping away the dirt and grime from her scratched up arms. It was instinctual, his little routine he felt compelled to complete. “Then at least try to not injure yourself so much next time.”
“They’re only scratches, Benny. It isn’t like I fell and busted my head open.”
Glancing up at her, one corner of his lips tilted as he saw the fiery spirit in her eyes. The type that leaped and bounded at the idea of danger. “Then try for me?” he whispered.
At that whispered plea, the look in her eyes changed, morphing into something so deliriously soft and tender that Benedict felt his heart skip a single beat. He felt as though his soul was reaching out to hers, begging it to take his hand.
“For you,” she whispered with a tilting smile, “my knight in shining armor.”
In that moment, he felt his heart come to an easy still, pausing in his chest as though time itself had come to a halt. The heat was still there, flooding through his cheeks until he swore his whole face had likely turned to a peachy shade of pink. His lips gaped as his mind compelled him to say more, to find words to match the state of confusion he felt.
But before he could come to terms with himself, she had pulled away and picked up the mallet, holding it out for him. “I believe your game is about to begin soon, Mr. Bridgerton.”
“Why of course, Miss L/N. How could I ever forgive myself for potentially being late to such a thing?” He did a little mock bow before stepping away, finding himself reluctant to leave her side. As he walked across the lawn to where his brothers waited, he instinctively glanced over his shoulder to find her in the mulling crowd once more.
“Took you long enough,” Anthony snapped. He fidgeted anxiously, bouncing one foot as he constantly readjusted the grip on his mallet. His shoulders tightened once Benedict rolled his eyes dramatically. “I have things to do – Edwina to woo, Kate to win over.”
Colin and Benedict’s gazes met for a single moment once Anthony stormed off, leading the charge in the way he always did. Silly smiles played across both their lips as they trailed behind, swinging their mallets absentmindedly.
Once more, Benedict glanced over his shoulder only to find Y/N staring back at him, a smirk painted across her face as she gave two enthusiastic thumbs up. That wonderful heat rose in his face again as he raised a hand, sending a little grateful wave her way.
Colin cleared his throat and knowingly gazed at his brother. “You love her.”
“What?”
“Do you not realize it?” he scoffed. “You are so head over heels for her that it isn’t even funny.”
Benedict drew in a deep breath as his gaze bounced between Colin and Y/N, the latter of which who was now turned away and snared in conversation with a different gentleman. He would have been a liar if he claimed the sight didn’t make his heart ache in a gnawing way, carving him up from the inside out. “I don’t—” he mumbled, falling over his words. “She… I…”
Colin’s lips lifted even more as he knocked his shoulder affectionately against Benedict’s. “I’m not a fool, brother. I know you and your silly little mind better than you do, and I know what that look in your eyes is.”
Benedict spent the entirety of the match scanning crowds, hungry for another glimpse of Y/N, instead of actually playing. Anthony bested him rather easily with Colin not too far behind the eldest, yet he hardly noticed his scathing loss at all. The only event his brain managed to focus on was Y/N’s interactions — how the new gentleman seemed to cling to her side, looking over her scratches with the same tenderness he himself had for her.
Once more, he felt a foreign feeling coiling inside like a dragon, breathing out fire with every taunting poke and prod. How long had it lived within him? Hiding away in some remote corner of his heart? Benedict didn’t have the faintest of ideas and yet there was some instinctual knowledge that the monstrous jealousy lived for one person only.
Benedict didn’t hear Colin’s calls as he crossed the lawn, dropping his mallet somewhere in the grass. He was greeted by Y/N darting across the lawn to greet him, the newest suitor left behind to gawk.
“You played wonderfully!” she called, carefully running across the uneven ground.
He couldn’t help but smile so widely that his cheeks began to ache as he shook his head in disbelief. “I lost — horribly so!”
She laughed wildly as she stumbled on her footing. “Does it matter? You’ll always be a winner to me!”
Just in time, he stepped forward to steady her. Both of his hands fell upon her shoulders, keeping her upright as the girl gazed up at him, the corners of her eyes crinkled from laughter. For what felt like the hundredth time, his heart paused and then leapt in his chest in a desperate bid to escape its cage of ribs.
“I care for you,” he shamelessly blurted. His hands dropped to hold her wrists tenderly, as though afraid she’d disappear the moment he looked away.
Y/N stared up at him with wide eyes filling with concern as her eyebrows threaded together. “I’ve never doubted that for a moment,” she responded. “You’ve always been there — through thick and thin; good, bad, and worse than bad.”
He tilted his head to one side as he silently implored himself to spill the words dwelling in his brain. The ones that had been there as long as time itself. “Not in that way,” he whispered. “I care for you in ways that I shouldn’t and more than I should as strictly a friend.”
“Benedict—”
“I’m consumed by you — your presence, the words you speak, and how you trip over your own feet. All of it, all of you.” His words quickly morphed into ones of pleading as he saw her eyes brighten with realization. “And I can’t— I haven’t the words to even describe the beginnings of it.”
She laid a gentle hand on his cheek, running her fingers over a trail of stubble. “You don’t have to describe it.” Her voice dropped into a whisper as she leant into his touch. “I feel the same — I always have.”
summary:requested; when anthony doesn’t realize what is right in front of him
warnings:none (other than that I maybe didn’t pace this in the best way)
word count: 2.6k
“Shall we see what our darling Lady Whistledown has to say on this fine afternoon?” Benedict asked, one corner of his lips curling into a lopsided grin. He settled down next to Y/N, kicking up his heels and flipping open his pamphlet.
Anthony groaned softly, rolling his head from side to side as the joints cracked. “I was trying to enjoy the sun, Benedict. Not to drown in scandal.”
“I don’t mind hearing a little bit of drama,” Y/N said with a smile. The spoon in her hand clicked against the porcelain of her tea cup as she stirred the steaming liquid, a dash of sugar dissolving away with each stir.
“Of course you do,” Anthony sighed, gazing at her from the corner of his eye.
Eloise reached across the table, greedy fingers fumbling for a pastry dessert. She spoke rapidly while she ate, “Let me guess – she’s named a diamond and I’m not it.”
Shaking his head, Benedict laughed. “You’ll be relieved that she hasn’t.” He winked the moment their mother turned away, gazing across the rolling greens of the park. “But she has made some predictions.”
Those words certainly caught Lady Bridgerton’s attention. She turned her head quickly and peered over Benedict’s shoulder, drinking in the written words as if it were a fine wine. “Of what?”
“Couples,” he said with a hum.
“Well then who?”
Now everyone was leant forward in their seats, sipping on tea and nibbling on bread while silently imploring Benedict to read aloud for all. Even Anthony had stopped his anxious fidgeting. He only leaned back further into his chair, balancing dangerously on the back legs.
With a heavy touch, Benedict jabbed at the paper and drug his finger down along the margins. “The Otton girl and that one fellow that came in a while ago – the one who wears those horrid blue jackets. And Cressida Cowper and a man by the name of Matthews?”
Eloise gave a huff of triumph, holding her head higher. “Well that’s hardly any news. Getting a little slow, is she?”
Benedict’s lips suddenly curled into a mischievous smile. His gaze flashed up from the pamphlet, little jewels dancing about in his eyes. “And last but certainly not least,” he said in a mocking tone, “Lord Anthony Bridgerton and Miss Y/N L/N.”
A sharp chill worked through Y/N’s body, prickling her skin and burning her heart. Frantically, she glanced over at Anthony, trying to read the hidden messages carved into his stone expressions. Her heart raced in her throat, silently pleading with him to meet her inquisitive gaze. The eldest Bridgerton only tilted his head to one side, one corner of his lips pulling up in disbelief. “Ridiculous,” he scoffed.
Y/N’s parched lips gaped as the words couldn’t reach her tongue. It sat in her throat like a tangled web of horrid thoughts, fear devouring hope. “Why would it be ridiculous?” her voice cracked, showing the little fissures in her heart.
Anthony only grinned wider – that smile she had fallen in love with so long ago, when they were both shy children pressed up against the gilded walls watching couples twirling past. He sat upright in his chair, hands automatically moving down to smooth his attire. “We’re acquaintances – hardly friends,” he dumbly stated. “I don’t think we’ve even shared an interesting conversation.”
Benedict gasped dramatically, harshly kicking at Anthony’s legs underneath the table. “That is my favorite friend you are talking about!”
“It would be likelier for me to marry a Featherington,” Anthony said, practically laughing about the entire situation.
“And now you are talking about my friend’s family,” Eloise snapped. In one fluid movement, she stole the pamphlet from Benedict’s hand and folded it until it was only a fraction of its size. “It’s not like any of it is true anyway — she’s only making logical guesses which any one of us could make.”
Anthony dragged a hand over his weary face, rubbing at the fine lines of premature aging. “Logical?”
“If you think about it, Y/N does spend a fair bit of time in our household,” she said. “The season’s begun as well. Colin is away so he is not an option, and so it’s either you — Anthony or Benedict. And only one of you danced with her at the last ball.”
Y/N nearly choked on her sweetened tea. “As acquaintances regularly do.”
“It was friendly. Nothing more,” Anthony politely excused, his gaze meeting Y/N’s for one fleeting moment. “What sort of gentleman would I be if I neglected to socialize with a family friend?”
Benedict leaned forward in his seat and conspiratorially raised one eyebrow. “Or was it? Are you two hiding some deep dark feelings I am not aware of?”
In an instant, a fiery burning spread through Y/N’s face like an inferno. Her heart skipped a beat as she pondered the possibility of Benedict noticing her hidden feelings over the years — ones of affection for his older brother.
His gaze bounced between her and Anthony like a wild animal darting to and fro. If she knew any better, she would have said a blush was spreading across his cheeks. But this was Anthony she was looking at — he certainly wouldn’t be caught blushing like a fool gone mad.
“No!” Anthony suddenly said.
“That seems rather defen—”
“Not at all,” Y/N reassured, smoothing down the wrinkles of her dress with anxious hands. A tremble worked its way through her body, making every nerve jump and muscle quiver. “We can’t even agree on a simple thing. I say it’s raining, he says it’s sunny. I don’t quite understand what Lady Whistledown sees.” The lies left her tongue drowning in poison.
“Exactly,” Anthony quickly interrupted. Lifting his cup of tea, he nodded cordially to Y/N. “Now may we enjoy a quiet afternoon?”
Y/N halfway expected the prediction to ruin her season. Every person would have their eye turned to her – both in good and bad. Criticizing her moves, reading into every lingering gaze in Anthony’s direction. The ones that were never reciprocated.
And it did just that — the pamphlet only increased the intrigue swirling around her personality. Every fine gentleman in the Ton wanted a peek at the girl who supposedly snagged Lord Bridgerton’s eye. Of course, it wasn’t true at all, but they needn’t know that. If anything, Anthony only tried to avoid her more: avoiding her gaze, walking away when she approached. The only time they traded words was at Benedict’s command, his hands encircling their wrists to hold both parties in place.
She hated how easily he could skirt around her life, as effortless as a bird floating in the breeze. Y/N wanted him to burn in the same manner she did, as if her dress would leap into surging flames the next time he crossed her field of vision.
And on top of it all, she felt guilty for even thinking that way when there were a dozen men waiting on her doorstep with bouquets, eagerly waiting to sign their name on her dance card. What was so horrifically wrong with her that she couldn’t appreciate what sat in her palms?
They were all perfectly acceptable — of good breeding and drowning in wealth. All had an excellent education, fluent in multiple languages. They were dazzling on paper and yet in person? She couldn’t help but find the flaws in them all. One stepped on her feet endlessly while waltzing, an apology never once dropping from his lips. A second talked over her, not even allowing her to utter a single sentence. A third could only converse of the weather and a fourth tended to be too handsy for her liking.
Sitting at a small table along the edge of the room, sipping on a cup of tea, she found her eyes drifting back to Anthony’s looming figure across the room, despite the adequate company by her side. Even with his back turned to her, she could tell he was perplexed. It was found in the way his shoulders were held; hunched forward instead of starkly pinned back. In how he would stare blankly off at the crowd, turning a cheek to his jovial siblings. She thought of standing up, walking across the room with her head held high and inquiring what was wrong with him. It was off putting to see Anthony in such a state; lost and confused when he was so often quiet and stoney.
When his head turned to her direction, his heavy gaze settling over her, Y/N practically jumped in her seat, fumbling with her drink as she averted her stare.
“You wouldn’t believe what abomination I saw yesterday,” Charles said, throwing a stone into her world of thoughts.
Turning her gaze to the fellow by her side, she nearly felt guilty for being lost in the clouds when by his side. He was kind enough to endure sitting through her silent moments, gentle when dancing, a flair for mocking dreadful events like these, and handsome as well with perfectly groomed golden hair. And yet she couldn’t even remember his surname or what city he hailed from – only that he was proudly French with a slight disdain for the English. And that he wasn’t anything like Anthony.
He talked too much, far too loudly. He used his hands when making a speech, the pale things flapping about like startled birds a foot away from death. And when she countered him, he only dipped into her views – not even challenging her for a second.
It was deliriously affectionate and bitter all at once.
Taking another sip of her tea, she hummed, “What?”
Charles’s thin lips curled with humor as he tilted forward in his seat. “I saw a young gentleman – aristocracy, no doubt – setting a spaniel dog out on a hare.” Chuckling to himself, he shook his head causing meticulously placed locks to fall against his temple.
Y/N raised an eyebrow as she didn’t seem to follow his train of thought. “I’m afraid I’m not understanding the issue.”
“The spaniel was of the tall sort,” he said, demonstrating with his hands as he always did. “About yea high. Entirely inefficient for hunting small game.”
Tilting her head to one side, she tried her hardest to appreciate the quirkiness of his mannerisms. To find the small details that were irresistible to love. And yet her hands felt empty, every possibility falling through her fingers like grains of sand. “What sort would you recommend, Charles?” she asked plainly, searching the room for Anthony without a second thought.
“A basset bleu from Gascony, of course! Short and squatty yet beautifully tactile. They work like nothing else, you have to believe me.”
Y/N’s lips quirked for a moment. “Well if they’re short, how do you expect them to see above tall meadow grass? I would assume a stately dog who can get their task done with minimal effort would be preferable.”
A toothy grin spread across his face. “I believe I must digress. There are truly some impressive hunting spaniels – perhaps I should inform myself more on the breed.”
Y/N laid her hands in her lap, wringing her fingers together until her knuckles paled several shades. “It is okay for you to disagree with me, you know? Both of us can have educated, yet differing, opinions. That’s the joy of conversation.”
“Well, yes — of course,” he said, fumbling over his words clumsily, “but would it be the—”
“Would you excuse me?”
Y/N felt faint the moment she raised her gaze, only to see Anthony standing by their side with his hands clasped behind his back. The signature tight smile was engraved onto his face, eyes practically alight with a sense of mischief.
“I must steal Miss L/N away,” he continued with trained ease. “The matter is urgent, I’m afraid.” Charles nearly leapt to his feet out of fright and expectation. Nodding and blundering about his words as Anthony only quietly offered his arm and a smile that stole the breath from her lungs.
Upon taking it, he promptly whirled her away from the chaos – Charles’s ramblings, prying eyes, whispered predictions, Lady Whistledown and her spies wherever they lingered. Walking and walking in silence until they ended on a balcony outside. Brisk spring air fluttered about outside, weaving through newly budding leaves until blue moonlight.
“What’s so urgent?” Y/N teasingly asked as her gaze languidly roamed the side of his face. “Has a grass blade split? A tree branch dying?”
For a fleeting moment, he gazed down at her as one corner of his mouth lifted. There was an innate tenderness in that look, the soft caress of a downy feather sweeping across her face. It fired a heat rising up her neck, basking her face in a fiery wonder as her heart skipped a beat too many.
“I needed to speak to you,” he confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “That is what was so urgent.”
Y/N’s lips curled into a wide, blazing grin. Laughter bubbled in her chest as she asked incredulously, “You pulled me away from a perfectly wonderful conversation because you want to speak to me? Since when have you ever been desperate to have words with me?”
Anthony’s eyes gleamed as though he were recalling their younger days when she and Benedict trailed him like two lost puppies, endlessly talking until he had to bribe them to quiet.
“It’s funny, isn’t it?” he breathed out with disbelief, cheeks painted a rosy red. “I never thought I’d miss your chattering – the mindlessness of it that made my ears ring. I always thought it was horrid, that I couldn’t get away from you soon enough. And now… after watching you, seeing you smile at someone else’s words, dance in someone else’s arms… I realize that it was always delightful. That I was never bored, never felt dull.”
The black of Y/N’s eyes had blown wide as she felt the breath stall in her chest, her heart coming to an aching rest as her brain swam in muddied waters. “I don’t understand.”
Turning to face her, Anthony laid a hand over his chest. His brows had furrowed together, a sign of his sincerity – one of those small things that she swore she would admire until the end of time. “I didn’t realize how much I… enjoyed your company. Your words – the compliments, the arguments, all of it.”
Throat feeling dry, Y/N scrambled for the words to say that would match the tenderness she saw in Anthony’s eyes – the thing she had long dreamed of. “I’ve always wanted you to see me,” she whispered. “It will ruin me if your words are not true.”
“I see you,” he promised. “Not only just you, but myself.” One hand cupped her face, his thumb tracing over her cheekbone. “I’ve felt hollow not having you there to best me these past few weeks. To correct my grammar or debate my views. And I think I see that in you as well – the emptiness even with that man you’ve been sat beside night after night.”
A smile sprouted across her face, little laugh lines appearing. “He doesn’t even debate me!” she marveled. “They all compliment my dress and the hair, my education. How wonderfully articulate I am, how well read. But nothing of substance or challenge.” She paused for a moment, gazing into endless pools contained within his eyes. “Is that what Lady Whistledown saw?”
His eyebrows threaded together in confusion. “What?”
“The way we argue - how we can go on and on and on and yet… still get along. Not only tolerate, but silently enjoy each other’s company.”
Anthony shook his head in disbelief, little wrinkles appearing by his eyes as his cheeks bunched. “Or maybe it’s how I’ve always looked for you in a crowd.” He glanced down at her once more, pouring himself into her eyes as he whispered those words. “Even when I didn’t realize I did so.”
summary: nearly anything can be mastered with a little help from a duo of brothers
warnings: daphne’s twin sister!reader, stupid amounts of fluff
word count: nearly 1k
Benedict leaned dramatically back in his seat, eyes trained on his sister’s figure floating across the marble floor of their foyer. She should have been a vision, a feather waltzing through an easy breeze that he would have liked to capture in oils on canvas. Instead, he only found himself wincing and biting a knuckle anxiously as Y/N tripped over her own feet with every step.
“Dear god,” he muttered, “you are horrid.”
Coming to a stop, Y/N sighed deeply, her chest falling as she stepped away from the ever patient Colin. “You do not have to rub it in, brother.”
“I’m not,” Benedict said earnestly. “I’m simply observing and providing my input.”
“Which should be restrained,” Colin said with ease, laying a supportive hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “You’re improving with every dance — I swear.”
Y/N pursed her lips with frustration and ran her hands over the front of her silky purple dress. It was infuriating — all of it. The way her mind and feet refused to communicate as one and how the rhythm of the music just wouldn’t flow through her naturally. Compared to her siblings who always carried themselves with such grace and poise, she felt like an utter embarrassment.
“Well I’m not Daphne,” she bitterly said.
“Which is a good thing,” Colin interrupted with a smile. “Just as it is good that I am not Benedict, who is not Anthony.”
She readjusted her feet in the tight little black shoes she wore as she replayed the speech in her mind that Colin always spouted. The one regarding how different they all were and how that was what made each of them so special.
“It’s a different feeling when it’s your twin outdoing you in everything: dancing, playing the piano, learning foreign languages, finding a suitor.”
Benedict sharply hushed her as he rose to his feet, cracking his knuckles dramatically. “Nearly all of which can be fixed with a little practice — no matter how horrible you may be.” He winked as he took up her hands gently. “So let us take things one step at a time and start again with dancing.”
Y/N’s lopsided smile matched his as she silently gave in, allowing Benedict to pull her into the exact middle of the foyer. With trained precision, he moved their hands into the correct position, silently explaining it all under his breath. He was instantly gentle in the ways her instructors had been so harsh. His hands did nothing more than gently guide her; the billowing masts to her sail boat.
“One, two,” he hummed a little tune, stepping in time with the rhythm of the dance she’d been trying to perfect for days. “And a one, two, three.”
Y/N clumsily followed along, desperately trying to keep time as Benedict’s humming and the tapping of Colin’s foot blended into a harmonious melody echoing in her ears. Despite being terrified of tripping, she silently willed her feet to move and follow along to his lead.
Never once did she think her brothers would fail her; that either would teach her wrong or intentionally make a fool out of her. There was an unfettered purity to their teaching. It was done simply from the kindness of their hearts, the tugging on their souls that made them want to look out for her.
Perhaps that is what big brothers were for, she thought, to be the steady light in the darkness.
She grinned from ear to ear as Benedict led her into a spin. In a moment’s time, he slowed both his humming and his movements to ensure each step of hers was made with strong purpose in place of hesitancy.
Leading her back out with a flourish, he sped up their steps once more, smiling with pride all the while. “Look at you!” he shamelessly praised. “Elegance fit for a princess.”
Y/N laughed before stepping on her brother’s toes. “Don’t you dare distract me,” she ordered through fits of giggles and a face burning with happiness. “I’ll trip and fall!”
“Then just keep dancing,” Benedict urged, leading her along into another set of steps she’d tried to memorize time and time again. He was effortless and in every way, that unignorable optimism set a fire beneath her feet.
Colin waltzed up beside them, arms held in the air as he spun with an invisible partner. “Head up, shoulders back,” he instructed sharply with a clever grin. “You’re leaning far too back on your feet. On your toes, Y/N.”
Smiling from ear to ear, she carefully adjusted her posture to fit her brother’s critique. As though something clicked into place, dancing became slightly easier as her feet found the floor confidently. “You could have told me earlier!”
“I thought you’d figure it out,” he teased. His eyes glinted with pride as Benedict spun her into Colin’s waiting arms. Extravagantly, they trotted around the perimeter of the room together. Despite being wildly off beat to Benedict’s humming, both laughed endlessly.
Round and round, the trio went, skipping between each other’s arms as their dance lesson morphed into an endless display of odd skills. Benedict tried his hand at a horrid tap dancing routine, something he’d seen once, as Colin and Y/N mocked a ballet routine, attempting balance dangerously on the tips of their toes.
None could guess at how long Anthony had stood in the doorway, leaning against the wall with a soft smile stretched across his face. He lingered silently, watching his three siblings make fools of themselves for his viewing pleasure.
“You’re going to break a leg,” he teased when Benedict attempted a hardly graceful leap.
Placing her hands on her hips, Y/N drew in a deep breath to satisfy her aching lungs, sore from both dancing and laughing. “How long have you been there?”
A corner of his lips quirked in that arrogantly smug way only Anthony could muster. “Long enough to realize our family lacks adequate rhythm.”
summary: requested by @anthonysharmaa ; is it so unreasonable to want to know one’s own brothers?
warnings: slight angst to fluff, sister!reader (eloise’s age)
word count: 2k
A/N: apologies to lottie because she requested angst and i got a bit too touchy feely with this one
Staring up at a wall lined with silks in every color, Y/N wished she could go back to the morning hours when this idea of hers seemed so incredibly simple. She ran her finger across a bolt of rich red fabric. Didn’t Benedict like this color? Her eyebrows furrowed together as she thought, trying to remember the favorite colors of her brothers. Or was it Colin?
“You’d look lovely in a dress of that fabric,” Penelope commented politely, sidling up to Y/N’s side with a gracious smile stretched across her face.
A corner of Y/N’s lips lifted as she took a step back, gazing up at the selections that seemed to stretch towards the heavens. “I’m shopping for my brothers, if you’d believe it.”
“For…?”
“Cravats — gifts,” she said, taking a sample of blue fabric and running it between her fingers. “They’re all sitting on the cusp of something new; Colin about to embark on a second trip, Benedict’s venturing into art school, Anthony’s hopefully impending engagement.”
Penelope hummed in understanding as they both moved down the aisle.
“They’re always doing so much for the family. I thought it would be nice to give them something for a change.”
“That’s incredibly kind and thoughtful of you, Y/N. I’m positive they’ll be thrilled.”
Y/N’s throat tightened at Penelope’s words of encouragement. “It would be… but I…”
Her friend’s face changed to one of stark confusion. “But you what?”
Turning on her heel, Y/N whirled to face her. “I’m realizing that I hardly know them at all.” She waved the bit of fabric that she’d crumpled up into her palm. “I don’t even know which one likes the color blue!”
Penelope’s eyes grew comically wide at the outburst. “If it helps,” she said timidly, “Colin prefers green.”
“See!” Y/N exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at her friend. “Even you know him better than I. It’s humiliating.”
“But favorite colors are such a trivial thing,” she tried to reason. “I’m sure you know other things — like their favorite holidays or foods, what they prefer to do on their birthday.”
Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as she tried to search through her memories with a fine–toothed comb. Sure, her family was close. But they didn’t necessarily talk about anything personal. Conversations always revolved around how the day went, the finances, the newest scandals whipping through the Ton like an angry storm.
“Colin likes fish, doesn’t he?”
Penelope could only wince, and that was enough of an answer.
Y/N lingered by the doorway, rapping her knuckles against the oak frame. She peeked inside the room carefully, silent so as to not disturb her brother working. Bleary sunlight filtered in through the thin white fabric of the drawn curtains
Benedict was sitting behind an easel, sitting awkwardly with a knee drawn up to his chin as he hunched forward. His tongue peeked out between his teeth as he focused intensely, paintbrush in hand as he worked away on his newest masterpiece. In her opinion, each one looked better and better and yet he was so critical of himself. It wasn’t unusual to find piles of crumpled papers around the home.
“May I come in?” she whispered.
He flinched in his chair, glancing up suddenly. “Is something wrong?” he asked with wide eyes.
She stepped quietly inside, wincing when the floorboards squeaked beneath her feet. “Not exactly,” she hummed. “I just thought it might be nice to chat.”
Benedict huffed softly, picking back up his brush and lathering more mahogany colored paint onto the canvas. “I’m in the middle of this piece,” he said with a tone of reluctance, “it isn’t exactly a good time to—”
“I understand,” she said quickly, forcing a smile onto her face. “I won’t— I won’t bother you again.”
“Help me take this upstairs, would you?”
Arms piled high with heavy leather books, Y/N trailed quietly behind Colin. Her older brother was practically bursting with energy. He was a force constantly in motion, anxiously fidgeting as he could hardly force himself to wait for his impending trip.
“Whatever do you need all of these for?” she huffed, stepping into Colin’s room and dumping the armful into a camel-back trunk.
“Studying.” He moved about his room almost in a blur, picking up quills and parchment to stuff away in a bag. “How am I meant to identify native flora and fauna if I have nothing to compare them to?”
Y/N nodded in understanding, tucking away another book he had handed to her. “So is this what you like — what you are passionate about?” She never exactly imagined Colin to be the type with his nose stuck in a book but suddenly his long interest in the trees on their country property seemed to make sense.
Turning on his heel, a wide smile spread across his face. “I don’t think now is exactly the right time to get philosophical about my passions,” he lightly laughed. “My pocket watch is ticking away and Greece is awaiting my return.”
Quietly, on the tips of her toes, she entered Anthony’s study with her breath held. It was rare for someone to enter the room while he was working steadily on his papers. Nothing was worse than her eldest brother in a testy mood.
The dark room’s curtains were drawn, hardly a crack of sunlight peeking through to illuminate the towering book shelves. Anthony was hunched over his desk, one hand pressing against the temple of his head. In recent days, his eyebrows seemed permanently threaded together in a mixture of worry and stress that did nothing but age him more. Y/N swore each time she saw him, a new wrinkle was painted across his features.
“Is now a good time?” she asked, whispering into the still air.
Without looking up from his papers, Anthony snappily responded. “What is it you need? Another bit of money for those books you like?”
“No, I—”
“Betting on horse races then?”
Y/N paused to hold her tongue as Anthony’s hands moved in a flurry, scratching his quill over parchment. “I haven’t even been down to the—.”
Running a heavy hand through his hair, Anthony leaned back in his chair as he brushed a stack of papers to the other end of his desk. “If you’ve made any purchases you need to tell me now. I’m tallying up our finances for the month.”
Her jaw clenched as she stepped forward, her fists balling at her sides. She was so tired of being brushed aside like a pest, nothing more than a nuisance to their day. Did none of them have time for her?
“Would you just listen to me?!” she exclaimed, voice rising higher than she’d intended it to. Her heart jumped into her throat, sitting like a heavy stone weighing her down.
With a start, Anthony glanced up, finally tearing his gaze away from the papers under his nose. His eyes were wide and an eyebrow raised questioningly. “What?”
Crossing her arms, Y/N felt a shameful heat rise in her face. What a silly thing to do — to have an outburst in that manner. And all at once, she didn’t feel guilty at all. Was there a sin in wanting to know more about one’s own family? Wanting to have conversations that weren’t tethered by formalities and restrictions?
“I came here to talk to you and you won’t even listen,” she said plainly, watching the confusion spread across her brother’s face.
“Iamlistening.”
Huffing, she clarified, “You kept cutting me off.”
Leaning further back in his chair, Anthony stared at her critically as the beginnings of a smile began to sprout across his face. “Fine,” he said with a hum, trying not to sound as impressed as his gaze roamed her face. “What do you need to talk about?”
Y/N shifted her weight from foot to foot uneasily. She twisted her hands endlessly, knuckles cracking as a flood of nervousness replaced the one surge of adrenaline that ran through and then quickly waned.
“I just…,” she mumbled, “I wanted to just talk.”
Again Anthony’s face crinkled with confusion as Y/N turned her gaze to the ceiling, watching how bits of sunlight played across the ceiling like light cracking over breaking waves.
“About…?”
“I feel like I hardly know you,” she admitted as her voice wavered, turning her gaze pitifully to him. “Or Benedict, or Colin. It’s like you three are so… so removed. And I know you’re always there but it’s… I feel as though there is an impassable wall standing between us.”
Anthony shifted uneasily in his seat, crossing one leg over the other as he looked at her with a new look — one of compassion. “Y/N, I—” For a moment he paused, carefully finding his words. “We haven’t been afforded the luxuries Gregory and Hyacinth have. We’ve had to—”
“Grow up too fast. I know, Anthony,” she whispered. Her voice cracked like a tree crashing to the forest floor, a haunting sound that filled every corner of the dark room. “Everything changed after father died but that doesn’t mean we can’t begin over now.”
Tilting his head to one side, Anthony’s chest rose and fell as he took in a deep, heavy breath. “Sit,” he urged. The tiniest smile spread across his face as Y/N sat across from him, settling a high backed chair identical to his. “Go on — ask me anything.”
Desperately, Y/N tried to contain the ridiculous levels of happiness and curiosity bubbling up within. “What’s your favorite season?”
“Autumn,” he answered quickly, a grin playing across his face. “The small sliver of time when the leaves are just beginning to turn their colors. Promenading through the park feels like walking through the brushstrokes of an oil painting.”
In some odd way, that sentiment made perfect sense to her ears. “Winter is mine,” she answered honestly. “I love when the snowflakes fall into my hand so I can see their tiny intricate designs.”
Anthony chuckled lightly, running a hand wearily through his hair. “I remember,” he replied. “When you were younger, I always held you up in the air when you begged to be closer to the clouds.”
Her heart stilled in her chest as she tried to remember those days, the happy times when the family felt whole. When father was alive, and Anthony was still a boy.
“And your favorite color?” she blurted.
“Easy — blue.”
“That’s mine as well.”
His smile only grew wider at her response, that boyish twinkle returning to his eyes that she last saw years ago. “Favorite dessert?”
“The Christmas cherry pie,” she eagerly replied, tilting forward in her seat as she found herself ensnared in the conversation as Anthony shook his head, happily agreeing with her.
Y/N had always thought that they were similar in mannerisms — how they both held a quill and signed their names, how they both disliked mother’s pestering. And this was simply the reassurance she needed to know that she was correct. The connection she’d been craving for so long was finally sparking and as a result of it, she found herself swimming in a million questions.
What was his favorite memory of father?
Did he remember the one birthday of hers when Daphne snuck a stray cat inside?
Anthony himself seemed to be lost in a world of thoughts, tenderly gazing at her with a loving smile only an older sibling could muster. “No one has ever taught you chess, have they?”
“Never. I don’t know anyone that plays.”
“I do — it was father and I’s favorite,” he enthused, as he stood from his chair and walked across the room. Opening drawers and moving books, he searched with intent for the old chess board he’d placed away so long ago. Surely, by now, it was covered in a thick layer of dust yet still well worn and loved. Glancing over his shoulder, Anthony asked, “Would you like that?”
An endless smile stretched across her face. “I’d love that.”
Aubrey Hall’s dining room could put most manors to shame within the ton. Paintings the size of the wall, not including the frames, and the delicately crafted chairs from the finest of oak. The table could hold the large Bridgerton family and some with much comfort, even providing elbow room. The rugs were handcrafted and bought the room together in a way the Feeatherington’s could manage. The same carpet now had a large red wine stain that added a hint of character that only the Bridgertons could pull off.
“Lord Bridgerton, may Benedict and I be excused? I believe a walk around the Promenade would be most appropriate,” my smile was forced, Benedict’s giggling scratching a piece of my brain with annoyance.
“Lord Bridgerton, may Benedict and I be excused? I believe a walk around the Promenade would be most appropriate,” my smile was forced, Benedict’s giggling scratching a piece of my brain with annoyance.
“Lord Bridgerton, may Benedict and I be excused? I believe a walk around the Promenade would be most appropriate,” my smile was forced, Benedict’s giggling scratching a piece of my brain with annoyance.
“You always read my mind (Y/N). You’re excused,” the eldest Bridgerton gave me a single nod, a genuine smile painted across his jaw.
“Escort me?” I wasted no time, hauling Benedict from the solid oak chair with force, Eloise barely sitting up straight as her laughter filled the room’s silence.
“I think Benedict is in more dire need of the escort?” Colin muttered under his breath.
“I would be careful, Colin; I know this bamboozle is your doing,” my eyes shot daggers at Colin, his shoulder immediately going straight.
“Oh, I like her,” Kate muttered as I dragged Benedict and I from the dining hall.
“I wish they made paint the color of your eyes,” Benedict traced the side of my face and wanderlust expression on his own.
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“You had made a cake of oneself in there, and you’re questioning me!” I rested my body against one of the walls, my body giving out at the dead weight I had carried from the room.
“Cake?”
I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths that began from depth of my diaphragm.
“Please don’t close ’em; I must see that color,” Benedict traced his thumbs over my eyelids, the pad of them soft as his voice in the quiet hallway.
“Benedict,” the warning in my voice meant nothing, and his thumb continued down my jaw onto my collarbones.
“I must’ve painted you millions of times within the fortnight I had courted you, but I could never find a paint close to that color.”
My heart leaped against my chest, the anger slipping from my bones like water in one’s hands. His gentle touches and sweet words almost made me forget his tap-hackled state. Almost.
“You must rest.”
“As long as it’s beside you,” my eyes finally opened, “and bare.”
My eyes closed again, letting my head fall back to the thick walls that I had rested my hips against.
“Don’t be so strait-laced now! You haven’t been since the wedding night,” Benedict defended himself all the way to our shared chambers. His pleas of forgiveness were unacknowledged by myself until he landed on the bedding.
“I meant nothing of it, Lady Bridgerton,” his arm reached out for me.
“I’m not Lady Bridgerton. That’s your mother’s title,” I reached out to unbutton the lapels from his person.
“But you are my Viscountess, of my own family.” His nonsense bought a slight smile across my cheeks.
“I might be a Bridgerton, but I’m separate from them. You’re my chosen family,” his eyes shined up at me, his finger gripping my hips, and he continued to explain whatever he was attempting to say. As he rambled, I wondered about his eyes; the shade of blue glowed in the candlelight and made them look closer to green. Much like a pond with a grassy knoll reflecting off the waves. 
But they were blue.
They were blue in a Benedict Bridgerton way.
“Benedict?”
“Yes, my muse?”
“Benedict Bridgerton blue is my favorite color,” I traced his eyebrows, his eye fluttering close shortly after.
“(Y/N) Bridgerton (eye color) is my favorite color,” his words mushed together, his fingers tracing words over my evening attire.
“I knew you’d comprehend. You always do,” Benedict smirked under my fingers, making my blood rush under my veins as if it was drawing closer to him.
“I wish I could say the same.”
Giggles fell from his pink lips, his eyes finally opening as my laughs harmonized with his. His eyes bored into my skin, the glimmer in his own making me nervous.
“I mean every word,” his mouth lightly bit one of my fingers, “I will make my paints just so all of the ton can know what the most elegant color looks like.”
“We’ll see,” my memories recalled the wine-stained rug in the dining hall and his embarrassed giggles. He was drunk or something only Colin knew.
“You don’t believe me?” He quickly sat up and offended scoffed, leaving his mouth quickly. Before answering the question, his feet were padding across the room to the messy corner littered with white drapes and brushes.
“I will make it now for you to see,” he spoke heroically, rushing around his paintings with ease. His body looked at home between the stacks of colors and canvases.
“Benedict, bring you and your Spanish coin to bed,” my hand reached in his direction, but it was no use; his mind was made up. He would paint my eyes with only the moonlight and the harsh candle glow to watch.
No words were shared the rest of the night, just the sound of brushes on canvases and hearts drunkenly smashing into one another. I watched him in all his glory, the content of whatever had engrossed him slowly wearing off, but never his determination. He mixed every paint possible to reach remotely close to my shade of eye, even sober.
“Benedict?”
“Yes, my muse?”
“Done yet?”
“Soon, my muse.”
Soon would be enough, as long as soon lasted a lifetime with him.
Chapter Description:Now back in to London, Y/n awaits the moment they might once again see the Bridgerton family and in particular, Benedict.After making the acquaintance of Sir Granville and his wife Lucy, Y/n is unaware of just how close they are to seeing their long lost friend again.
Though you had spent eleven years of your life in London, the city seemed new and unfamiliar. As you rode through the once familiar streets, your eyes scanned all the familiar shops, as well as all the new ones. Your mother noted the ones she wished to stop into, as your father and brother discussed something quietly.
Your sister stared agape out the carriage window, even more excited than your mother. She had only been six when you had left London, so it was now even more unfamiliar to her.
Your heart seemed to be in such a flutter, that you could not focus on anything anyone was saying, you only wished to be walking around the city again. Mostly in hopes of running into familiar faces. So, not long after you made a tour of your rented home for the summer, you were happy when your mother took you and your sister into the city to order some clothes for the upcoming ball.
As you turned into a nearby shop, you noted it was called The Modiste. You looked around at the fabric that layered the walls, as your mother began to talk to the dressmaker.
As you admired a long soft lilac ribbon, a soft voice spoke from beside you, “Beautiful isn’t it?”
You looked over to see a woman with dark skin and a kind face. You smiled at her. “Yes, very.“
She smiled at you before talking softly. “I apologize if this is forward, but I do not recognize you. And I do love a change in face. I am Lucy Granville. And this-” She motioned for a man, who was standing nearby. “Is my husband Sir Henry Granville.”
You smiled at both of them and curtsied potielty. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I am Y/L L/n.”
You saw recognition cross their face, as Sir Granville spoke. “Ah, I have had the pleasure of meeting your father. Though it was some years ago.” You could hear the restraint in his voice, as he seemed suddenly regretful of the introduction.
“I recall him having spoken of you when I was a child.” You noted with a smile.
Your father did speak of him often, but usually in a tone of disdain. Though you knew it was only because your father never did appreciate an artist’s mind or career.
Sir Granviell forced a smile. “I am glad to have had a memorable impression. I must say, it was quite a shock to everyone when your family left so suddenly.”
“Yes.” You spoke softly. “It was quite a shock to me as well.”
They shared a look before looking back at you. “Your family has been missed in the city, I am glad to know you have returned.”
You could sense something in his voice that showed he was forcing his happiness at the news. You smirked ever so slightly and spoke softly. “Do not worry yourself Sir Granville, you need not lie to me. I am sure people are more alarmed at our return, than they are pleased.”
Neither Sir Granville or his wife could hide their shock and amusement at your comment as they suppressed surprised smiles.
You continued, “And might I say Sir Granville, that I had the pleasure of seeing some of your art work when I was last in London. Though my father could not appreciate it as he should, I am glad to note I have always had an appreciation of art, which he himself has never been blessed with.”
Sir Granville let out a soft surprised laugh, as Mrs. Granville grinned at you. “Thank you very much for the kind compliment. It is true, your father never seemed to enjoy my art, or any art in general.”
He shared a look with his wife. “May I ask how long you and your family are in the city?”
“Only for the season.” You noted, and the regret behind it was obvious to them.
“Well, I hope that while you are in town, you will honor us by accepting an invitation to one of our dinner parties.”
Surprise crossed your face for a moment as you considered what he said. “I am gratified at your kindness, but I would not wish to force my family’s presence on you.”
“Oh no, you misunderstand.” Lucy Granviell began in a soft voice. “The invitation is solely for you.” She winked at you and you cocked your head slightly. There seemed to be something behind her voice that expressed, this was not any ordinary dinner party.
You glanced at your mother and sister across the shop, who was so busy discussing dresses with Madame Delacroix that she had not once looked over at you.
You smiled at the couple and curtsied. “Then, I would be honored.”
“Wonderful.” Sir Granville smiled.
After giving you their address and the time of their next dinner party, they left the shop with smiles and kind comments. And you were left with wonder and excitement. You managed to befriend some of your fathers most despised people. And you loved it.
But now, you must think of an excuse to get away from home to attend their party. Remembering some old friends that moved to London about five years ago were still in town, you decided you would excuse calling on them.
Your thoughts were interrupted as your mother called you over, telling you it was time to leave. Dinner would be served soon, and you must return quickly. As you walked back out onto the streets of London, your eyes passed over every face, as you desired to recognize someone. As your eyes passed over the familiar face of Lady Portia Featherington across the road, you felt a jolt of excitement.
She was not who you first wanted to see, nor who you really cared to see, but at least she was someone you knew. As you saw her face change from curiosity to recognition, you saw as she began to rush down the street, before whispering to a group of women. You glanced at your mother, who seemed so preoccupied with which store to go in, she did not seem to notice.
You felt your heart begin to hammer in your chest. It would not be long before everyone knew of your return. You wondered how people would react, but most importantly, how would the Bridgertons react?
The next morning, as the Bridgertons sat around the breakfast table, Eloise read over the most recent Lady Whistledown. She knit her brows in deep thought as she read over the name of a family who had recently returned to London. She recognized the name but was not sure from where.
Speaking up, she called out across the table. “Who are the L/n’s?”
Violet, Benedict and Anthony all stopped and looked up. Collin squinted in thought, as Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinths starred in uncertainty.
“What?” Violet asked, with a tone of confusion as she glanced at Benedict who had a look of confused alarm.
“The L/n’s. Apparently they have returned to London. I have a faint recognition of the name, but apparently it’s very important.”
Benedict reached across the table and tore the paper from Eloise’s hand, who responded with a startled gasp.
Benedict read over the words with intent before he looked at his mother. “She’s right. They’re back. Lady L/n was seen exiting the Modiste yesterday evening with two of her children.”
Violet swallowed and was lost in deep thought for a moment, as Anthony watched Benedict closely. Benedict felt his heart hammering in his chest as the only thing that ran through his mind was you.
“So? Who are they?” Eloise asked incredulously.
Violet was shaken from her thoughts at Eloise’s question. “Oh. Well. The L/n were close friends of ours. Their second born, Y/n was, well-”
She looked at Benedict who bit his lip a bit and broke in as he looked at Eloise. “My closest friend.”
Eloise looked at him in surprise, as her mother spoke again.”Yes. Y/n was very special to all of us, often me and your father saw Y/n as another of our own children. You were only two years old when…”
“When what?”
“Well.” Violet began, unsure of how to say it. “Something occurred between Charles L/n, and your father. A fight of sorts, that ended the relationship between our families. Not long later, the L/n family moved away from London.”
“What kind of fight?”
“We don’t know.” Anthony finally broke in. “Father never told us.”
“I remember Y/n!” Collin broke in as he looked at Benedict. “You and Y/n used to pull me around the house on a rug!”
Benedict smiled at the thought and nodded. “I wonder what Y/n’s like now.” He said as he looked at his mother.
She smiled softly and Anthony spoke. “Hopefully still nothing like the rest of their family.”
Eloise frowned, still unsure of what to think. “Well, it says they are back for the season, so maybe you’ll get to see them?”
Violet and Anthony shared an anxious look as Benedict looked back at the paper, reading over it once more. He really did wonder what you were like now. Did you adopt your fathers disdain for the family? Did you miss them? Would you even remember him?
Benedict’s thoughts were full of you all throughout the day. When he went to town he looked around with hopes of seeing your face. It wasn’t too long later that he realized he might not even recognize you. It had been over ten years since he last saw you, you might look like a completely different person.
As he headed to Sir Granvilles house, you remained present in the back of his mind. Wondering if he would see you at the next ball, and what he would do if he did.
As you entered the Granville home, you were shocked to find no evidence of a dinner party at all, but a bustling party of a different sort. Lucy walked you around the house, as you watched in awe at the variety of activities. Gambling, card-games, artists painting nude models, people in the corners kissing and embracing. Others were drinking and smoking heavily around the house.
Your heart was hammering as you realized what sort of society the Granvilles encouraged. But you were not disgusted or afraid, you were intrigued, and for the first time in a long time, felt as though you did not need to hide your emotions behind a polite and emotionless gaze.
“So, what do you think?” Lucy asked curiously as she watched you stare agape at your surroundings.
“I think if I had misunderstood your invitation, and brought my family with me, they would have dropped dead immediately.”
Lucy giggled a bit as she took your arm in hers and showed you the refreshment table. “Get yourself a drink, and then go ahead and mingle. If you find yourself too overwhelmed, come and find me.”
You smiled in thanks at her as she walked away from you. You already felt overwhelmed, but decided to embrace it. This was all new and exciting, and you had no desire to run from it. The season was upon you and you knew of the unpleasantness that was meant for you in the weeks ahead. So, you knew you might as well embrace what excitement found its way to you.
Taking a drink of your choice, you began to look around at the people. Some met your eyes and smiled, a mixture of politeness and flirtatiousness from various people. You gulped as you avoided the eye contact that seemed to be inviting more attention than you were ready for.
Looking around another part of the house, your ears caught on Sir Granville as he saw someone enter into the house. “Bridgerton!” He called with a grin, and you felt your heart stop.
‘Bridgerton? Which one?’ You stared at the entrance, and saw whoever he was talking to was hidden behind a small group of people. You moved your head to attempt to see around them, your mind racing and stomach clenching.
As Sir Granville began to walk into the opposite part of the room with the Bridgerton, you caught a glimpse of their profile. Was it Anthony or Benedict? Seeing a smile spread across their face, you felt your heart flutter in recognition.
“Benedict.” You muttered softly under your breath. Your heart began to race as familiarity and nostalgia rushed over you.
You saw his profile as he disappeared into the other room, and you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he had grown. Though you were not surprised. They were always considered to be a very attractive family.
Without thinking, you found yourself walking through the crowd into the same room he had gone into. Your eyes searched the crowd for him, but you felt disheartened when you did not see him. You let out a disappointed sigh before you turned. As you did, your shoulder bumped someone behind you.
“Oh, my apologies!.” You said in quick reply, as the person turned around.
Your breath hitched in your throat as you found yourself face to face with Benedict.
He smiled politely at you. “No, please, pardon me.”
He could see the surprise and hesitance in your face, and thought you must know who he was. Studying you a little further, he found not only that he thought you very attractive, but that he recognized you, but he was unsure from where.
“I’m sorry, do I know you? You seem familiar.”
You opened your mouth, but found yourself unable to speak. He was much more attractive up close, and you found yourself afraid to tell him who you were. He cocked his head slightly, wondering at your behavior, and why you seemed to be so shocked.
“Ah, there you are.” Lucy’s voice seemed to break you from your thoughts as she appeared beside you. She had known of a past relationship between your two families and was glad to see you reunited. “Mr. Bridgerton, I see you have reunited with a friend.” She smiled at you.
Benedict became even more curious at this comment. “Have I? I did feel as though we had met before, but I am having trouble placing where and when.”
Finally finding somewhat of a voice, you spoke softly. “We did know each other. But it was many years ago.”
You saw Benedict’s face slowly change from curiosity to realization, as he heard your soft voice that seemed to rocket forward so many memories he seemed to have forgotten.
As his mouth fell open in surprise, Lucy smiled “I will leave you two alone.” Before walking away.
“Y/n?” He asked with a tone of shock.
You nodded your head and smiled shyly. “Hello Benedict.”
He let out an incredulous laugh, and suddenly taking you by surprise grabbed you and pulled you into a tight hug. Letting out a surprised laugh you hugged him in return before he pulled away. He left his hands on the side of your arms, and had a grin on his face.
“I had heard your family returned, but I had no idea when or if I would see you.”
“Yes, I was unsure if I would see any of you as well.”
Memories of why you had left flooded his mind suddenly as he looked around. “Come, let’s go somewhere else to talk.” You felt a rush of heat rise up your neck as his hand slipped into yours as he pulled you through the crowded room.
Following him through the crowd, you eventually found a deep window sill to sit on. As you sat you began to tell each other how you had been doing, and not long later, you felt as though you were no longer strangers. As though you had never been at all.
“Oh, Benedict.” You suddenly said as you placed your hand on top of his. “I was so heartbroken to hear about your father’s passing. I wished so badly to come back.”
He smiled sadly, “It was hard for all of us. It would have made it easier if you were there too. I’m sorry you were unable to be there.”
You frowned and asked cautiously. “Did he ever…tell you what happened, between our fathers?”
Benedict shook his head, “Never. It died with him. Did your father…?”
You shook your head. “No. I still have no idea what happened. But, he still seems to hold that horrible bitterness.” You looked down, ashamed of him.
Benedict watched you closely. You were still the same, kind, patient, loving. But you had grown into your looks, and had become more attractive than anyone else in your family, or at least, he assumed so.
Before he could say anything, the two of you were interrupted by Sir Granvilles approach. He smiled at the two of you, “There you are Bridgerton, I thought I would find you painting.”
“Painting?” You asked with growing curiosity.
Benedict smiled a bit coyly as you smiled at him. He remembered the two of you often sneaking each other drawings or paintings you had made for each other. “Oh yes, he is quite the artist. Some of his work is in the show room, if you’d like to see it.”
You sat up with excitement and Benedict fumbled out, “Oh, no, no, it’s not finished.”
“Oh who cares Ben!” You said quickly, “Unfinished or not, I want to see how you’ve improved since we were children.”
Standing up, Sir Granville led you away as Benedict followed you with his eyes, and a soft smile. The way his heart leapt when you called him ‘Ben’ sent him back in time. You two had been so close, and just before you had been taken away from him, he had found himself feeling more for you than he could understand back then. But now he did. He knew exactly what he was beginning to feel, and he knew exactly what was returning.
Following you into the showroom, he entered to find Sir Granville pulling out his unfinished paintings from the drawer. He watched as your face changed as you admired what he painted. Looking up, you caught his eye and smiled. As he approached you spoke with admiration. “These are wonderful Benedict.” You complimented.
He smiled a bit awkwardly and looked at Granville who was smirking. “Thank you. I am still learning the technique though.”
“Artists are always still learning.” You muttered and Granville hummed with a pleasant surprise.
“Very true. Do you paint Mx. L/n?”
You smiled shyly. “I love to, but-” You spared a glance at Benedict. “My parents insist I use my time “more wisely”, but I paint or draw in secret whenever I get the chance.”
“Well, you have the freedom to do as much as either as long as you are here.” Granville said with a smile, which you returned.
“I believe I will take you up on that.”
Not too long later, you and Benedict were sat side by side, easel, and canvas at the ready, as you both began to sketch the likeness of the model before you. You smiled as you began to sketch, and Benedict, stealing a glance of you every few minutes, admired the grace of your hands as you drew.
As you talked some more of your lives, Benedict broke in with a suggestion that excited him. “You must come by and see the rest of the family!”
You felt a jolt of excitement at the idea, but it was immediately followed by fear. Benedict could see this on your face and frowned a bit. “Don’t you think you could sneak away?”
You thought for a moment. “If they find out, they will be so angry, they might send me away from London.” You muttered softly, but feeling a resolution take over you looked at him. “But I want to see them. So I will.”
He smiled at the determination in your voice, and you both began to compile a plan so you could show up to see them.
The next morning, you dressed quickly, anxiety rushing through you. You thought back on the previous night with Benedict, and how happy you had been with him, and how sad you were to leave. But now, as you got ready to go see the rest of the family, you felt your stomach clench in suspense.
You convinced your father to let you go out for the morning, to go shopping around town as well as to admire the view. He was hard to convince, as you could sense the suspicion in his gaze and his questions. But he finally gave in when he received an invitation himself to go see some old colleagues.
You knew the visit could not be long, for fear of making the rest of them suspicious as well. Quickly leaving the house after breakfast, you made sure to go the opposite direction of where their home was, before taking a distant route back.
Benedict stared at the clock in impatience. The family had just finished breakfast and were now sitting around the family room deciding what to do for the day. Daphne had arrived the evening before to visit for the weekend, everyone was home, and he knew it could not be more perfect. He knew that only a few of them would remember you, but he wanted you to feel welcomed back, so that you did not doubt you had been missed all these years.
As he heard a knock on the door, he jumped up from his seat, “I’ll get it.” He said as he fled the room, leaving the others to look around at each other in confusion.
“Did anyone else think that was odd?” Eloise asked as she looked around, gaining the nods of everyone else.
A few moments later, Benedict walked back into the room and cleared his throat. “We have a visitor.” He spoke with a coy smile and everyone stared in wonder.
Opening the door, you stepped into the room with a shy demeanor, and a polite smile. Violet, who, unlike Benedict, knew your face immediately, stood with a gasp. “Y/n!” She said with pleasant surprise as you smiled back at her. “Hello Vi-, Mrs. Bridgerton.”
Approaching you quickly she hugged you, and smiled gladly at you. Anthony stood with a smile, as Daphne stared in surprised wonder. Colin himself smiled and looked at the younger children who looked curiously on.
“I’m sorry to come uninvited, but I very much wanted to see you all.” You said politely.
“Oh, never apologize Y/n.” Violet spoke softly. “No matter what happened in the past, you are still more than welcome here anytime.”
You smiled fondly at her, and pushed down the emotions you were feeling overwhelmed by. You looked behind Violet as Anthoy approached with a smile.
“Hello Anthony.” You said happily as he stopped in front of you.
He took your hand in his, patting it fondly. “It’s wonderful to see you again Y/n.”
Next, Collin and Daphne approached, who you were more surprised to see all grown up. And Daphne, who was clearly pregnant, made you feel as though you had aged an eternity. You greeted them, and were surprised to find that they remembered you. Next you were introduced to the rest of the children, Eloise being the only one you had known of before.
After the introductions, you sat around and talked with them for a while, learning of the past years of their lives, along with Daphne’s marriage to the Duke, and their expected child.
Violet was pleased to find you still as pleasant and kind as you had once been, and that you had grown into the attractive, polite, and mature adult that both she and Edmud had known you would. For years she was afraid that you would adopt the hatred your father held for them. And though she was sad to learn that your father still held on strong to the mysterious resentment, and that your sibling grew to accept it, along with your mother, she was more than happy to know you never gave in.
When you were resolved to leave, afraid you had been gone too long, you said goodbye to them all. You would all be attending the upcoming ball the next evening, and were sure you’d see each other there. Though you had a feeling, with your father’s presence, it would only end in displeasure.
Violet, upon walking you to the door, invited you to come back whenever you could. At the door, you smiled sadly at her, “I know it is late to give you my condolences, but I just wanted to tell you how sad I was to hear of Mr. Bridgertons passing, and how much I wish I had been here. I wish I had the chance to see him one more time.”
Violet held a melancholy smile. “I am sure he would be very proud of how wonderfully you turned out. And I only wish he could see you again. And I must say, I am so sorry we could not do anything to stop you from being taken from your home so abruptly.”
You thanked her, and hugged briefly before she escorted you out, reminding you once more that you were welcome to return any time. You left with a wave, and began to head back home. You felt such a sense of belonging that you had missed for so long, you wished desperately that you could stay.
‘Perhaps father will marry me off to someone who lives in London. That way I would never have to leave again.’ The thought quickly filled you with repugnance, to marry a stranger solely to stay here filled you with horror. Before you could stop it, another thought popped into your head. ‘Unless it is not a stranger I marry.’ Following this thought, the image of Benedict passed through your mind. But just as quickly as it came, you shook the thought away. How had you so suddenly changed from thinking of him as a friend, to thinking of him as a future spouse? You laughed at yourself, but knew that underneath the refusal, it was not such an unpleasant idea, in fact, it seemed to feel you with a warmth you could not shake.
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.
summary | Benedict fell in love with a girl he adored so much
paring | Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
request|hii do you still take requests? i really love your writing! can you do a fic based on “Paper Rings” for our best boy Benedict <33
includes | sweet husband!Benedict, Taylor Swift lyrics, pall mall with the Bridgerton and fluff like a lot (italic means flashbacks)
word count | 1.7k +
a/n | here is some more Taylor Swift and Bridgerton boys for you lovely reader! hope you enjoy this one. I am still taking requests but I will warn you it takes me a while to write them which I apologize for but I am doing my best! hope you all are having a great day <3
The moon is high
Like your friends were the night that we first met
Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet
Now I’ve read all of the books beside your bed
She had met Benedict Brigerton unexpectedly. y/n had been trying to sneak away from the ball for a breath of air as her mama seemed to make every man in that house dance with y/n. If she had to dance one more time with another man who stepped on her foot, she was worried she would lash out on accident, giving the ton more gossip to talk about.
y/n had successfully gotten away, walking the halls of the large country home. She had spent a few minutes walking about trying to think back to what she had heard Eloise Bridgerton say which door was the library. y/n thought she could stay in there for a bit before heading back out to the ball. She reached the second door to the end but before she could pull it open, the door moaned open from the other side.
“Oh!” y/n looked up meeting the eyes of the voice.
She recognized him because everyone in the ton knew who the Bridgerton’s were, y/n had conversations with Colin too since becoming friends with Peneople. But y/n had never come face to face with any of the oldest Bridgertons, until now she had come face to face with the second eldest Bridgerton.
“I am sorry Mr Bridgerton,” y/n paused thinking of something else to say, she could see multiple other men behind him. “I seem to have lost my way back to the ball.”
“Is everything alright, Benedict?” Colin peaked over his shoulder, a drink in hand. “y/n? What are you doing here?”
Before she could tell her lie again, Benedict spoke up. “Lost her way back to the ballroom.”
y/n didn’t miss the smirk on his face as he eyed her again. “A house as large as this one is easy to get lost in Mr Bridgerton.”
Benedict laughed, y/n figured the men inside and him had been drinking. Colin opened the door wider stepping in between y/n and Benedict.
“Allow me to show you back,”
“Actually, brother, I would be happy to show Miss,” He trailed off looking directly at y/n.
“y/n y/l.”
“I will escort Miss y/l back to the ballroom, I was just on my way out anyway.” The last part he spoke directly to Colin who simply nodded and bid y/n a goodnight.
Benedict gently closed the door behind them, extending his arm towards y/n for her to take. She did without a second thought, the walk back down the hall was full of stolen glances between the two, but once they reached the inside of the ballroom y/n expected Benedict to tell her goodbye instead he stayed.
“Is there a space for me on your dance card Miss y/l?”
Her eyes widened. “I thought you were leaving Mr Bridgerton.”
“I’ve changed my mind, someone changed my mind and the other thing isn’t important.” He grinned pulling y/n along with him to the dance floor.
— — —
“Darling, have you seen my-?” Benedict’s words died quickly when he saw y/n with the book he was looking for in her lap.
“Hmm?” She hummed, not looking up from the pages.
Benedict couldn’t help but smile, he bent down next to her. “What are you reading?’
“Oh, well you keep saying how this is your favorite poetry book so I thought I would read it and we could talk about it.”
His heart melted at her words. It was something so simple yet made his stomach erupt in butterflies and he had never felt so much love for one person.
With a lopsided grin he said, “Will you marry me?”
y/n dropped the book down looking at Benedict giggling. “Love, we’re already married.”
“Yes but if I could, I would marry you again and again. That is how much I love you.”
— — —
In the winter, in the icy outdoor pool
When you jumped in first, I went in too
I’m with you even if it makes me blue
The colder weather was quickly approaching London. After months of glances across rooms, quick dances and secret meetings to get away from society Benedict had started courting y/n. It was a game of cat and mouse they played for a while but everyone in the ton, especially Lady Whistledown, had expected it to be a love match. Though the couple didn’t pay much attention to what other people were saying about them.
Benedict had invited y/n out to Aubrey Hall to spend time with him and his family. Benedict was planning on proposing to y/n that trip. He had waited long enough to make her his official.
y/n arrived early that afternoon with a grin on her face. She had waited all season to come back to Aubrey Hall and this time it was just her and the Bridgerton’s which was exactly what she wanted. As soon as she walked in Daphne and Eloise had stated there would be a game of Pall Mall taking place right now.
They had been playing the game for almost an hour now. Benedict kept his ball close to y/n’s so he could stand next to her when everyone else took their turn. The pair stood close to each other, not caring of being too proper in front of his family as she had noticed Anthony and Kate had forgotten proper public affection during the game.
Just when it was y/n, Benedict placed a soft kiss on her temple. y/n pulled the mallet back and the ball straight on with so much power it plopped right into the pond. Without thinking y/n started to make her way to the pond not hearing the words from the Briderton family that they had lost another ball to that pond.
“y/n! What are you doing?” Eloise called just as Benedict was about to take his turn, he had not noticed y/n left his side.
y/n pulled her dress up so it wouldn’t touch the water and tried using her mallet to reach the ball placed on top of rocks within the pond. “Getting my ball! If I get it, I’m still in the game.” She shouted back.
“Wait! Careful y/n,” Daphne tried calling out but just as y/n was turning to look at Daphne she slipped, falling into the pond with a squeal.
“y/n!” Benedict took off running down the hill, pulling off his coat and diving into the pond with her.
A fit of giggles erupted from y/n as Benedict reached her. Quickly he realized the pond was no more than four feet deep and y/n was standing perfectly fine leaning against his side to keep her from falling as more laughter rumbled from her. Benedict laughed with her
“Why did you do that?” She finally got out.
Benedict shook his head. “I panicked, I wanted to make sure you were okay and it’s freezing!”
He pulled y/n closer to him noticing just how cold it really was after being completely submerged in water. Benedict began to lead them both out of the pond seeing that the rest of his family had been watching the scene unfold. Daphne and Kate stood at the edge waiting for them with towels. Once they were out and wrapped in towels y/n turned to Benedict, a heart warming smile on her face.
“You jumped into a freezing pond for me.”
“And I would do it again even if it makes me blue.”
— — —
I want your complications too
I want your dreary Mondays
Wrap your arms around me, baby boy
Benedict and y/n had been married for a month now and both never felt happier or more in love. They spend most of their days at home lounging around together as Benedict sketched and y/n read or models for one of his sketches. It was pure bliss for both of them.
Never did Benedict think he would find someone he could love so much, someone who made his heart swell with every little glance and someone who made him feel like himself. He wanted everything that came with marriage and he wanted everything y/n had to offer him no matter how good or bad it was. That’s what Benedict Bridgerton wanted and that’s what he had.
Now as the pair sat on the couch together he took y/n’s left hand and rubbed a thumb over the back of her hand. He placed the sketch book down, taking a second to look at her, studying her features and just look at the women he loved.
“You’re staring at me, darling.” y/n said without looking up from her book, a grin forming on her lips.
“I am simply looking at the women I love, can a husband not do that?”
y/n blushed at his words leaning into his side, Benedict still playing with her hand twisting the ring on her finger. He studied the ring, it was a very simple ring but y/n loved it, however, Benedict didn’t know if she did or not. He was the one who picked it out from his mothers collection but never asked her if she liked it.
“Darling, would you like a better ring? Perhaps with a bigger jewel, I know I can get you one if you so wish.” Benedict continued to rant about buying her a different ring but y/n stopped him but a light squeezed of his hand to reassure him.
“Benedict I don’t need a big ring or a new one for that matter. This one is special to both of us and I love it,”
“But you deserve more.” He sighed.
“All I want is you Benedict and you could have given me a ring made out of paper, and I would have still said yes. I don’t need anything new or shiny because you’re the one that I want.”
The biggest feeling of love washed over him in that moment, he pulled her in for a kiss. A kiss meant to say more words than he could ever utter.
new sunday tradition | Anthony Bridgerton x reader
summary | reader gets Anthony to help her cook even though he never knew she loved to cook
paring | Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader
request|loved ur recent fic! idk if requests are open but I would love one with Anthony and fem!Y/N teaching him how to cook bc no matter your gender or social status y/n thinks cooking is a foundational skill :)
includes | husband!Anthony and just cute moments between reader and Anthony
word count | 1.1K+
a/n | I really hope I made this as cute and fluffy as this request should be. thank you anon for this request, it was too cute imagining Anthony doing this. hope you enjoy this fic! (gif not mine!)
“Please, Anthony. Just give it a try?” y/n asked with a spoon in her hand toward her husband who stood crossed armed wearing one of her flora aprons she had begged him to wear.
Anthony did not think his Sunday would go this way. He was meant to be in his office working on paperwork for the estate, checking that his siblings weren’t spending unnecessary money and that his own household was in order. That last task meant for him to find his darling wife, he had looked everywhere for her, almost panicking when he couldn’t find her but one of the maids led him to where she was, in the kitchen.
When he arrived, he found her over the stove stirring something in a large pot. “Darling, you know we have people who do that for us, right.”
He had posed that more as a statement rather than a question. Though the lack of kitchen staff in that room, made his words seem like a lie. He hadn’t noticed no one but y/n was in there with him until she turned to him with a grin on her face. She had started to go on a tangent about how cooking, no matter your gender, was just as an important skill as anything he had learned.
Which had led them here, with y/n trying to teach Anthony how to cook but he still stood there with crossed arms.
“Darling, I really don’t think I should,”
y/n rolled her eyes, “You have the apron on already, Anthony. Just pick up the spoon!”
She really wasn’t asking him to do much. She wanted him to stir the soup while she chopped up more vegetables to put into it but Anthony wouldn’t budge.
“Would you prefer to chop the vegetables? Using a knife is manly.” She teased.
“I would like to get back to my actual work,” Anthony sighed. “But you are holding a knife and I will not deny you your wishes while holding one, my love.”
y/n knew Anthony was amused after that statement. He stood by her, placing a gentle hand on hers which held the knife slightly motioning for them to switch jobs. She smiled, taking over hearing the chop of the knife here and there, glancing at him every so often. Something about seeing Anthony Bridgerton doing something so domestic with her made her whole body warm with love and apparition for her husband.
“Where did you learn to cook?” He came over to her, placing the cut vegetables next to the stove then giving her peck on the cheek.
“I taught myself, well my house cooks did when I was little. I liked to sneak into the kitchen sometimes and watch them, then one day one of the women asked if I wanted to help her and now I know how to cook almost everything! I really do love it.”
Anthony smiled at how excited y/n was about her love for cooking. “How did this not come up until now?”
“You never asked Mr Bridgerton,” y/n said smugly.
Anthony shook his head, “I recall asking about your talents and qualities when I was courting you.”
“Yes but the ton does not approve of a lady who can cook for herself. Lord knows if Lady Whistledown got ahold of that information it would twist into a sort of scandal.” y/n jokes as Anthony wrapped his arms around her waist, placing his chin on her shoulder watching the soup cook over her shoulder.
“What do we do now?” y/n giggled at her husband’s words.
“We wait. Maybe we should prepare the table for dinner,”
“Did you send all the staff home?”
y/n nodded, “Most of them. It’s Sunday, let them be with their families, love.”
Anthony couldn’t disagree with her, he thought about how hard their house staff worked and his heart swelled with the empathy y/n felt for them. She was so thoughtful and not like any of the stuck up lady’s of society he was used to, it was one of the things he loved most about her.
“I quite enjoyed this,” He spun her around so she faced him then planted a kiss on her cheek. “Perhaps we shall make this a Sunday tradition.”
Before she could let out an answer, his lips were on hers in a sweet and gentle kiss. Something about the kiss, though he had kissed her many times before, made him melt into his touch as if he were kissing her for the first time.
Soon y/n started giggling against his lips, a thought slipping into her mind too funny that she couldn’t form words not caring if she was being unlady like.
“What has humored you that much?” Anthony looked amused.
Finally catching her breath, y/n said “The thought of Benedict or Colin seeing you like this, in my flora apron and in the kitchen. Oh! When I tell them they will think I’ve gone mad.”
Anthony began to shake his head the second her words came out. The same thought had crossed his mind, it wasn’t unlikely for one of his siblings to walk into their house unannounced and Anthony feared, with his luck, that this would be the moment they saw. He could just hear the teasing from his brothers as if they were here already.
“They will not be hearing of this, darling. You know they will tease me forever, possibly until my last breath and I do not wish for them to be even more annoying.” He said with a smile knowing y/n would never tell them she just simply wanted to tease her husband.
Before y/n could say anything else someone walked into the kitchen.
“Oh! y/n a maid told me you would-” Eloise spoke taking in the scene in front of her with wide eyes.
“Eloise!” y/n exclaimed. Anthony cursed under his breath hiding behind his wife.
“I completely forgot you were coming to dinner tonight,” Anthony noticed the devilish grin on his wife’s face, she knew my sister was coming, he thought.
“Anthony, what are you wearing?” Eloise tried to keep herself from laughing but she couldn’t help it after seeing her brother.
Anthony quickly pulled off the apron, tossing it over to an empty chair in the room. He fixed his outfit, muttering words under his breath. “Wait until I tell Benedict!”
“Eloise, you wouldn’t!”
“She will. I told you I wouldn’t tell them but she will, my love.” y/n giggled.
Though Anthony had wished this wasn’t how their moment ended he could help but smile along with y/n and Eloise. Just as the laughter from the two girls died down and y/n offered Eloise some tea in the drawing room, Anthony caught y/n waist as she was walking out.
With a smirk on his face Anthony leaned down so close to y/n as if he was to kiss her letting his lips brush hers, he said “You vex me.”
summary: Anthony is looking for a wife when his plans take a turn but for better or for worse is the question? (request)
includes: friends to enemies to lovers, a little bit of heartbroken Anthony, a happy ending and Bridgerton brother moments
word count:3.1k+
a/n: it’s a long one but I enjoyed writing it and I hope you like it! warning but it is not edited, I have an exam tomorrow but I wanted to get at least one request out for everyone <3 (not my gif!)
Y/n had been sitting there for no more than two minutes before the man she was waiting for walked in. She was not exactly sure how he called upon her asking to meet him at the tea shop. At this time it was almost empty, only a few mama’s and their daughters occupied tables.
As Anthony Bridgerton walked in, all eyes were on him. Of course everyone knew of the rakes decision to find a wife this season and what mama wouldn’t want their daughter marrying a Bridgerton. That’s when it hit y/n, the reason Anthony has asked her here. She has heard talk of him interviewing lady’s left and right trying to find a suitable wife and the social season had yet to officially start.
“Miss y/l, thank you for meeting me.” Anything said, taking a seat in front of her.
“Of course Mr Bridgerton. Though, if I may ask, why it is you asked to meet me?” y/n smoothed out her dress on her lap.
Anthony cleared his throat, “As you may have read or heard, Miss y/l, I am looking for a wife this season. Someone who will fulfill all duties of my viscountess, an important job at most.”
y/n nodded along with his words.
“I would like to ask you some questions, if that is alright.”
Something about his words made her let out a laugh, her hand quickly coming over her mouth to stop it. Anthony heads here, stopping his actions of looking at his notebook with his questions, to look up at her.
“My apologies Mr Bridgeton,”
“May you explain why you laughed?” He did not sound upset or angry at her, just genuinely curious. No woman he had interviewed before gave him this reaction, they all just obeyed his words.
“It is just,” She hesitated but Anthony nodded for her to go on. “Do you really expect to find a wife by asking her silly questions? I understand you must have someone suitable, who hits all your marks but how will you know if you can get along? These questions will not tell you everything Mr Bridgerton.”
Anthony took a few beats to consider her words. He suspected she was right because he had gone through multiple failed interviews with women who looked suitable but he couldn’t marry them. Anthony knew she was right which is why he closed the notebook, leaned back in his chair and sighed.
“I believe you are right,” He admitted. “All week I have conducted interviews just to send them away once more,”
Anthony paused wondering if he should continue speaking. He did not know this girl completely, he had only encountered her at the many balls they both attended and knew of her name but something about her words before made him trust her.
“I am not looking for a love match. I do not want that but I have duties I must attend to and finding a wife is one of them. It is just something I must simply do.”
y/n frowned, “Perhaps it is not a love match you are looking for, my lord, but should you not find someone worthy of your title, of your time and maybe then you will learn to love her? I apologize if I have said too much,”
Anthony stopped her. Again, he didn’t want to admit it, but she was right about all of it. He did not want a love match only someone tolerable because he had seen first hand what love did to someone, though it could be beautiful it could also cause someone so much pain. Anthony didn’t want to be the cause of someone’s pain.
“Do you think I should give up?” Anthony let his guard down, asking y/n a genuine question he had been too afraid to speak of.
y/n shook her head, “No I do not think that. I think there is someone out there for you, Mr Bridgerton, who is looking for what you are looking for but I also think that there is a possibility of love for you too.”
He just simply smiled, took one last look at her and apologized for wasting her time before taking his leave.
It wasn’t until a few days later when Anthony would see y/n again. Since the afternoon he left her in the tea shop, he couldn’t stop thinking about her words. She was a stranger but she believed he was worthy of finding love even though she knew of his lifestyle and reputation.
He saw her again at a ball, another ball of the season and y/n lost count of how many she had gone to this season. She even lost count of the names on her dance card, though not full yet it felt like she had been dancing for hours on end.
Just as the music stopped she let out a breath, bowing to the man she had just danced with and fled the dancefloor without a word. The man did not say a word to her, y/n did step on his feet more than a few times so she couldn’t blame him. y/n stood near the drink table, sipping on some lemonade watching the next dance start.
“Good evening Miss y/l,” Anthony stood next to her, looking out to the dance floor.
She looked towards him, a smile on his face. “Looking for a wife, Mr Bridgerton?”
“Just simply looking at the dance.”
“Well, I hear the Diamond of the season is a perfectly honorable lady. I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting her so I cannot tell you truthfully, I suppose we shall wait to see what Lady Whistledown says.”
He laughed, which surprised him but he let it happen. y/n giggled with him both stopping when someone glared at them. After that Anthony did not speak, he just stood there in y/n’s presence watching the dance and events of the ball. He felt comfortable standing there next to her, he didn’t feel the need to make meaningless conversation about the weather or food they were serving. Anthony let his shoulders relax a little bit and looked over at y/n.
His eyes traced over her face until they reached her lips, placed in a little smile as she watched the dance. Anthony let his eyes linger there for a few seconds just as the song finished, he grabbed y/n hand in his.
“Mr Bridgerton?”
“Dance with me, Miss y/l.” She nodded letting Anthony lead her to the dance floor.
As the song started again something shone in y/n’s eyes and a bigger smile painted her lips.
“I did not take you as a dancer Mr Bridgerton,”
He smiled, “I suppose there are more things you shall learn about me Miss y/l.”
Weeks later and not a day had passed when y/n wasn’t in Anthony’s company. He had unofficially been courting her, in the way that the pair of them never spoke of it but everyone else knew. Lady Whistledown had even written about the pair and of course, y/n knew of Anthony’s intentions for finding a wife but it never crossed her mind that it could be her.
She simply thought he was being a friend inviting her over to dinner with the Bridgerton’s and even allowed her to play a game of Pall Mall (to which y/n had picked up on the competitive nature of the Bridgerton siblings easily and joined in on the teasing) when his mother hosted a weekend at Aubrey Hall.
It had also not occurred to Anthony until his brothers began to ask questions.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Miss y/l,” Colin said one night as the brother lounged in Anthony’s office.
“I have noticed that too, though it is not hard to tell when she is constantly over here.” Benedict said in between sips of his drink.
Anthony didn’t take their words to heart, he thought they were just making a clear observation. “I have, yes, Miss y/l is a friend.”
Colin tilted his head in question, “Are you not courting her? It seems like you are and mother thinks so too.”
“Yes! I think I heard mother and y/n’s mother speaking of the matter, they were practically planning your wedding dear brother.” Benedict teased. It was a lie he had not heard this but earlier in the afternoon Colin and him planned this whole conversation out. Anthony had not told them anything, they thought it was because he did not realize he was in love with y/n, so they took matters into their own hands. They will find out the truth tonight.
And the truth was Anthony did love y/n. He just didn’t want to admit it, to himself or anyone because if he did all his worst fears would be coming true. Anthony knew there was only so much time that he could deny it before someone found out and it seemed like his brothers had.
“Don’t be silly,” Anthony said sternly. “We are friends and nothing more.”
Benedict didn’t like his answer. Colin looked at Benedict waiting to see what they should do but it seemed like Anthony did not want to speak of it more. Taking a second before speaking Colin thought about what he could change the subject too that would still lead back to y/n.
“Then how is the search for a wife going, Anthony?”
There had been no search. He had spent all his time with y/n that the search for a wife had quickly ended after his first dance with her, since he let his guard down and allowed him to be vulnerable with someone. But if said it outloud now then it would be real, it would be out there and he would have to do something about it.
“There is no search,” Anthony paused. “I may have stopped looking when I met y/n. Simply by accident but it still happened because I have come to love her and I am not sure what to do about it.”
His two younger brothers smiled, for many different reasons but mostly because they were happy for him. He had finally admitted it.
“You must do something about it! You must tell her, Anthony.” Exclaimed Benedict.
Anthony agreed.
So that night he planned to go see your father, Anthony was a gentleman and he wanted to do this the right way, he wanted to get his permission before asking y/n to marry him. That led him to her drawing room early that morning and in conversation with y/n’s father, who had agreed to the marriage with open arms, y/n came in surprised to see Anthony there.
“Oh! Good morning Mr Bridgerton, have I forgotten our plans for today?” y/n asked to take a seat across for her father and Anthony.
“No plans just stopped by to talk with your father.” He smiled.
Just then her father excused himself with a giddy smile on his face as he rushed off muttering something about fetching her mother. y/n sat there confused waiting for someone to explain to her.
“May I ask what business you had with my-” Before she finished speaking, y/n caught a glimpse of the small ring box in Anthony’s hand. She knew a box similar to it, she had seen it in her mama’s collection of jewelry. An uneasy feeling setting within her. “Anthony, what is that?”
Anthony smiled, his mind too clouded by her father’s approval and what he planned to do, to notice the look on her face.
“y/n, my business with your father happened to be about you. I have enjoyed every second we have spent together, my family loves you and even more after you played Pall Mall like a true Bridgerton,” Anthony chuckled before going on. “I didn’t realize it until very recently but I have come to love you, y/n. Something I didn’t want but something that happened in the most unexpected way and I’m here to ask for your hand in marriage. If you would do me the honors.”
y/n felt too many emotions at once. She thought about the day she met Anthony, he had not asked her but she did not plan on getting married anytime soon and even though she had come to enjoy her time with Anthony, she merely thought they were friends.
The love she had felt for him was pushed down weeks ago when they became friendly and if she was being honest, like most ladies in the ton, she had noticed the handsome Viscount before he even knew her name but that was a silly crush. Now all of it was real because he had seen her and fallen for her but she couldn’t marry him. It was as simple as that.
“y/n?” Anthony questioned a few beats later.
As her head started to shake, Anthony felt his heart break.
“I cannot marry you Anthony. I am sorry but I can’t,” Tears started to spill from her eyes. “I don’t want to get married, not yet and I have a right to deny an engagement even though this one hurts because I know I have hurt you.”
“Why can’t you marry me?”
y/n closed her eyes, “We want different things, Anthony. You want a wife to give you a heir, to have a family with and someone worthy of the title of viscountess but I never told you, when we met, that marriage was not in my card right now. I realize I have had plenty of opportunities to tell you, however, I did not know you felt this way. Forgive me Mr Bridgerton.”
Her words stung. She might have confessed they didn’t want the same things, which hurt him too, but the way she said Mr Bridgerton hurt him even more. y/n had not called him that in months and that hurt more, Anthony didn’t know why. Perhaps it was the formality of it as if they hadn’t spent enough time together to fully drop the formalities in private.
Anthony didn’t know what to do at that moment. He just sat there with a clenched jaw begging for tears not to fall as his vision clouded over. Soon he noticed y/n had stood up, her hands in front of her as she played with the lace of her gloves looking at the floor.
“I’m sorry Anthony but I think you should leave.” Anthony nodded at her words, pulling him out of his head. Without a goodbye he left the house, walking all the way to his home and he entered to see his family waiting there for him with smiles on their faces. But the second Violet saw her son’s face, she gestured to Benedict and Colin to lead their siblings to the drawing room.
He made haste to his office, his mother on his heels. Inside he threw his head back a noise between a gasp and laugh coming from his mouth.
“What happened, Anthony?” Violet asked carefully.
“She doesn’t love me,” He said between clenched teeth. “I poured my heart out to her and she denied me. Mother I have wasted so much time on that woman, too much time, and now I have failed at finding a wife. All the suitable women and the diamond of the season have probably already had an engagement. What am I to do now?”
The question was rhetorical and Violent knew that. She allowed him to ramble on.
“She is so aggravating! I should have known this is what she wanted.” Anthony threw a book down that startled Violet. She knew there was not much she could do right now, so she left with a simple “When you are ready we may talk like adults.”
However, the social season was coming to a close in just a few days and Anthony was back to interviewing potential suitors. He had been wrong, there were still honorable women left and some had better odds than others in his quest. A perfectly nice and tolerable lady was just leaving the Bridgerton drawing room, leaving Anthony alone when a knock sounded on the door.
With a shaky hand, y/n pushed open the door to the drawing room. Anthony did not look up too occupied with his notes of the woman before.
“She looked nice, she will make a lovely Viscountess.” Anthony quickly looked up to meet y/n’s eyes with a scowl on his face.
“Who let you in?” His words dripped with anger though he tried to keep perfectly still.
“Colin and Benedict called upon me,” y/n paused. “A week ago. They have been helping me with something.”
Anthony cut her off, “With what?”
“An apology,” She shrugged, taking a step into the room. “I think I owe you one, Anthony and though I think you owe me one too, that is not what I am here for. Over the past couple weeks I have had time to gather my thoughts and I would like to tell you, if you’d let me.”
Part of Anthony wanted to make her hurt but the other part wanted to hear everything she had to say so he paused, long enough for her to get anxious and nodded his head for her to continue.
“I did not know that love was something you could have before marrying. My parents simply learned to love each other over time and so has everyone in my family, it was all I know but you knew love was possible. You have been hurt by it, I know with your father but like I told you when we met, I believed love would still find you.”
If y/n was being honest she was surprised Anthony just sat there and let her talk so she took a step closer to her. She was just up against the chair across from him.
“You found love Anthony and I never meant to hurt you. It wasn’t my intention but I do love you, I just didn’t know what the feeling was until you left. Until I realized everything I’ve ever wanted was right in front of me. I love you Anthony Bridgerton.”
Quicker than she could comprehend, Anthony grabbed y/n’s hand pulling her directly into his chest as his lips fell onto hers. It was something he had wanted to do for weeks now and he couldn’t help but do it now, even though just moments before he realized she vexed him but his love for her outweighed all of the hurt they had both gone through.
started writing a request at 6am so there may be a Anthony x reader request coming out today!! im almost done with it and will get it out as soon as I can <3
and now I see daylight | Benedict Bridgerton x reader
Paring | Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
Request|omg can i request benedict bridgerton with taylor swift song ‘Daylight’ please
What To Expect | Benedict being so in love with reader, some Bridgerton sibling banter, Eloise is friends with the reader and Taylor Swift lyrics ( listen to Daylight here!)
Word Count | 2.1K
Author’s Note | keep the Bridgerton boys x Taylor Swift song request coming loves!! I really loved writing this one and I’ve come to the conclusion Benedict would be a Lover stan. hope you all enjoy this cute little fic! (not my gif!)
Tag List|@evqans (reply to be added to the tag list!)
There are so many lines that I’ve crossed unforgiven\ I’ll tell you the truth, but never goodbye
Benedict Bridgerton did not think he would settle down so fast. Then again, after watching his eldest brother fall for Kate, something he thought was impossible, Benedict should have known the same faith was laid out for him.
The moment he had seen her, everything seemed to make sense. Every song that played made him want to dance with y/n. Every love poem he read made a warm feeling settle within him because it reminded him of her. Every sketch or painting he made always led back to y/n.
just a reminder, i do accept request but they might be delayed! i have an exam this week and after it i will try to get as many requests out as i can but i am also a full time college students so sometimes it’s hard to write. i just want to thank everyone for sending requests <3
okay I know I’ve made Taylor Swift songs x Bridgerton boys (Anthony and Benedict) like my brand BUT who would like a Benedict Bridgerton x reader to ‘favorite crime’ by Olivia Rodrigo??
I already have a plot in mind for it but I think this song would be so cute and heartbreaking for Benedict x reader. let me know what you think!
and now I see daylight | Benedict Bridgerton x reader
Paring | Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
Request|omg can i request benedict bridgerton with taylor swift song ‘Daylight’ please
What To Expect | Benedict being so in love with reader, some Bridgerton sibling banter, Eloise is friends with the reader and Taylor Swift lyrics ( listen to Daylight here!)
Word Count | 2.1K
Author’s Note | keep the Bridgerton boys x Taylor Swift song request coming loves!! I really loved writing this one and I’ve come to the conclusion Benedict would be a Lover stan. hope you all enjoy this cute little fic! (not my gif!)
Tag List|@evqans (reply to be added to the tag list!)
There are so many lines that I’ve crossed unforgiven\ I’ll tell you the truth, but never goodbye
Benedict Bridgerton did not think he would settle down so fast. Then again, after watching his eldest brother fall for Kate, something he thought was impossible, Benedict should have known the same fate was laid out for him.
The moment he had seen her, everything seemed to make sense. Every song that played made him want to dance with y/n. Every love poem he read made a warm feeling settle within him because it reminded him of her. Every sketch or painting he made always led back to y/n.
But with every good feeling came with hurt from his past. Benedict Bridgerton had lived a life of a rake. Carefree and out of the way of ambitious mama’s wanting a Bridgerton to marry their daughter. He had spent many days drinking and laying with women he wouldn’t not remember much about the next day. A past he knew he could leave but not run from. Too many people knew of his reputation especially after Anthony had gotten married it seemed like all eyes were on him, the second eldest Bridgerton son who was still living the life of a rake.
But that lifestyle he had lived changed when you walked into that ball. A ball his mother threw at the Bridgerton home. He had spotted you from across the room, speaking with Eloise and suddenly, he felt this warm feeling he had only read about in stories and poems or felt through art.
He knew you were a lady. By the way your hair was perfectly in place, delicate gloves reaching your elbow and the way you stood straighter compared to Eloise. Clearly your mama had put effort into your ways of being a lady. Benedict wondered what you spoke so enthusiastically about with Eloise, perhaps books or how terrible another social season is. He knew it must be the ladder because in that moment y/n giggled at something his sister had said and Benedict could feel it cast a smile on his lips.
Shaking his head, Benedict grabbed a drink and fled. He had not known you, he had only seen you for a few minutes and in that time he saw her there something blossomed within him. It might not have been love in that moment but it was a deep desire to hear her voice, watch her laugh and not from afar, to be the person who made her laugh. Benedict had all these wildest dreams for a lady he just saw across the room.
A few minutes later, out in the gardens, Eloise found him on the swings. A scene the pair of siblings were all too familiar with.
“You look like you’ve experienced the feeling of love, dear brother. Or perhaps, love and heartbreak all in one evening?” Eloise jokes, taking the swing next to him.
Benedict huffed out a puff of air for an answer, then with surprise to himself and his sister he asked “Who were you talking to near the drink table Eloise?”
Eloise tilted her head, “That would be y/n, she’s just arrived in London. Made quick friends with her this evening, Penelope’s not here but when I found y/n in a corner trying to escape a dance I knew I had to be friends with her.”
Benedict grinned, waiting for Eloise to continue.
“Her mama is hoping for a marriage at the end of the season though y/n does not want the same.”
“You do both have that in common,” They both laughed. “Would you introduce us?”
Eloise’s eyes widened like she had just figured out a puzzle, “Is she the one who is making you feel these things, Benedict? You didn’t even know her name before this.”
He didn’t but her beauty capatived him in an instant, was what he wanted to tell Eloise. It was unlike anything he had experienced before, Benedict wanted to get to know y/n. He didn’t just want a night with her, no, he wanted a life with her and if it was too soon to speak of Benedict’s heart didn’t care.
Instead, he pushed her on her swing making the siblings laugh before they went back inside.
I’ve been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night/ And now I see daylight, I only see daylight
Eloise had introduced them that night.
Though y/n’s mother was quick to interfere as she had discovered there was a Duke in attendance who was looking for a wife. Benedict could tell y/n did not want to go, she tried to make up a story that Benedict had asked her for a dance but when a mama of the ton was eager for a wedding, nothing could come between that. Not even Benedict Bridgerton.
So, Benedict watched y/n dance with the duke and after, he watched her talk with him, a bored look on her face as he looked enthusiastic about whatever nonsense he rambled on about. Before he could think, Benedict was making his way to her and soon he cleared his throat getting your attention.
“Ah! Mr. Bridgerton, what a lovely party your mother had thrown. It was so kind of her to invite me,” Said the duke Benedict did not care to catch his name.
“Yes, thank you.” Benedict turned to y/n. “Excuse me Miss. y/l, but I believe my name is on your dance card for this next dance.”
It was a lie. Her mama did not even give Benedict time to ask for a dance but something about the way y/n smiled made him think she was perfectly okay with this lie.
“I believe you are right Mr. Bridgerton. Apologies, your grace. I did, however, enjoy our conversation.” Y/n placed her hand just over Benedict’s but not enough to touch. “Oh! And thank you for the dance.”
As he took her hand, the music started playing and a bright, fuzzy feeling erupted in Benedict. Her touch made him see daylight even in the darkest of nights that could be seen from the windows in the ballroom.
“You saved me Mr. Bridgerton,”
“Call me Benedict.” He whispered.
Matching his low volume y/n leaned in and said, “I do not believe the ton will think that proper.”
Of course he knew she was right but in that moment he would have given anything to hear her speak his name and not just Mr. Bridgerton, something everyone called him and his brothers. Benedict wanted to hear his name fall from her lips like a sweet melody only meant for him.
“Forgive me Miss y/l but if I am correct, you do not care for what the ton says. Eloise told me that much, no wonder you two became fast friends.”
“Well, I suppose you are right about that.” She smiled as Benedict twirled her around then came back to face him. “I am glad Eloise introduced us, Benedict.”
There it was. His name on her lips. A perfectly sweet sound he wished to never stop hearing. His breath hitched for a second, he had hoped she did not notice the way she made him feel, not that he was embarrassed by it but he was confused, to say the least.
He had had many lovers. Good ones he left wounded by his rake lifestyle and ones who were not so good that he placed too much trust into. Benedict Briderton was carefree but he had put up walls for many years, never letting too many people in. But in this moment, with his hand on her waist and her breath against his neck, he let those walls down.
I once believed love would be (Black and white)/But it’s golden (Golden)
To y/n’s mama’s dismay, y/n had begun seeing Benedict more often. After the first couple days of going over to the Bridgerton house with the excuse that Eloise, her new friend, had a book to show y/n, Benedict made it official that he was courting y/n.
It wasn’t until Lady Whistledown started writing about the pair weeks after the Bridgerton House ball that both families seemed very interested in the relationship between Benedict and y/n. The pair had even caught their mother’s talking about who would hold the wedding breakfast and Benedict watched y/n laugh it off with a simple smile, he had blushed because he had thought about a wedding like their mothers.
In a matter of weeks y/n had captured his heart and he had begun to dream about what a life with her might look like. Something Benedict had never done with any of the women he had encountered.
“Benedict? Did you hear me?” y/n called. She had been at the piano with Francesca and Hyacinth
who begged her, the second the couple walked in, to show her the piano forte they had been working on. That was over an hour ago.
“Apologies y/n, can you repeat that?” He sat up straighter.
Next to her the two youngest Bridgerton girls giggled, “He’s in love!”
“Are you dreaming about your wedding to y/n already, Benedict?” Francasica teased.
Y/n laughed, “Do every single one of you Bridgerton’s really want us to get married? Your mama and mine seem to have it all planned out!”
This made the girls even more excited. Though, from behind them they heard a groan from Elosie who had snuck in at some point. She came over and slumped on the couch next to Benedict.
“Do you really have to marry one of my friends? If so, I might say I regret introducing you two.”
Y/n looked over to Benedict. His face was as red as ever, he slowly lifted the sketch book to his face trying to hide from the madness his sisters had created. He shook his head, not to dismiss the idea of marrying y/n but to try and shake away the embarrassed feeling in his stomach.
Around an hour later the couple would be left alone. Though not totally alone as a maid was cleaning up the room and keeping an eye on the pair. Benedict was still sketching under candle light now as the sun began to set. Y/n held a book in hand, just raised enough so it looked like she was reading but really she was looking at Benedict.
The talk of marriage had gotten to her. It was something she had recently thought about as she had had a strict “no marriage” rule this season, something she even expressed to Eloise the night she met Benedict but now it did seem like something she wanted. What she wanted was to be with him and only him.
But it seemed like her and Benedict had skipped over the topic every time someone brought it up and y/n was curious to know what he would say.
“May I ask you a question?” She placed the book down, folding her hands in her lap.
“Of course, dear.”
Y/n stayed on the couch across from him, if she had to escape the door was right behind her. “Is marriage something you want?”
Benedict’s hand quickly stopped his sketch, “Um, in general or…?”
She shook her head, “To me. Married to me, Benedict, is that something you would want? It seems like our families cannot stop talking about it and it’s gotten to my head. I apologies if this is not what you want,”
Benedict quickly got out of his seat. Kneeling down, taking her hands in his stopping her words but not before bringing her chin down so their eyes met. He smiled, a bright and beautiful lopsided smile. One that y/n had memorized, one that sent a perfect feeling throughout her whole body.
“My dear y/n. You have no clue how long I have thought about marrying you. From the moment I met you, something pulled me in and I could just imagine a life with you so easily. You make me a better man. You are like the warm feeling of a sunny day. You are the daylight breaking through my darkest of days telling me I will be alright. In your arms, I feel safe and I hope you feel the same, my love.”
Benedict stopped to place a hand on her cheek, his thumb gliding over the top of her cheek. “So yes. Y/n I do want to marry you and if you would like to marry me, I will try my hardest everyday to give you the best life I can.”
Without saying a word, y/n leaned down. Placing a kiss on his lips; soft and gentle but so full of love and passion they pair held for each other.
Request: can i have a Anthony Bridgerton OS in which Y/N has known the family for life as she lives next door to them and has also loved Anthony for as long as she can remember. One morning in Lady Whistledown it is written that Y/N loves Anthony and she tries to avoid him and the rest of the family I don’t know exactly how it’s supposed to end, but please have a happy ending
TW:
Word Count: 921
A/N: As always, I am taking my favorite parts of both the books and the show and deciding that that is my canon.
It is my honor to share with you that Daphne Bridgerton has been announced the diamond of the season. However, that is not the only good news the Bridgerton family has received as of late.
Miss (Y/N) (L/N) has officially entered the season. As to why she waited so long to join, the ton is full of speculation. It is in this author’s opinion that she waited until she was certain Lord Bridgerton himself would be present at all functions. Now that his presence is guaranteed, I am certain Miss (L/N) will do her best to tame the Rake.
After all, no woman can spend that much time with him without expecting something to come of it.
You throw the pamphlet down. Lady Whistledown has written some truly egregious things, but you never gave them much mind. Until she wrote about you. It would have been bad enough if she had just written mindless gossip, but she had to insinuate that you were-oh! You don’t even want to say it.
“Can you believe what she wrote?” you exclaim.
Your mother takes the pamphlet from you, skimming it before finally saying, “It really isn’t that bad, dear.”
“That bad? Not only did she-”
“(Y/N),” she interrupts, “everyone in the Ton believes you to be in love with the viscount. At least with a confirmation, they will be vying for your attention.”
“I suppose.”
“Plus, it could make the viscount finally take an interest in you.”
“Mother!”
She shrugs. “I’m not saying you have to marry him. I am only saying that if you wanted to, this could be helpful.”
You roll your eyes. “Right now, I do not want to see him. I simply want Lady Whistledown to find a new scandal to write about.”
“Miss (L/N), Lord Bridgerton is here to see you,” your butler announces.
“No,” you protest before your mother can invite him in. “No he is not, and I am not here.” You move up the stairs before anyone can stop you, leaving the three of them standing in the sitting room.
When you get to your room, you fall against the door. What Lady Whistledown wrote was not entirely false. You hadn’t exactly waited to announce your participation in the season until you were certain that Anthony Bridgerton would be part of it. That is not to say that that had not been an added bonus.
You had always seen Anthony Bridgerton as someone you could marry. He is smart, dependable, wealthy, a viscount, and he is not too terrible to look at. You could see yourself living quite a happy life with him.
At least, that is all you are willing to admit to anyone who will ask. As long as that person is not Anthony Bridgerton. That man, if you can help it, will never know how you feel about him. Not even in the slightest.
You know that the moment you see him, he will want to develop some sort of plan to solve this predicament, and you just cannot handle that right now. In fact, you are not sure you can ever handle it.
Though, society still demands your presence, no matter how much you want to avoid it all.
You walk into the ballroom, wanting nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow you whole. The only thing in your favor is that the Whistledown article was published a few days ago, and people have begun to forget about it.
However, that is the only thing in your favor.
As soon as you enter the room, Anthony finds you. “Miss (L/N),” he greets, “care for a dance?” If societal rules did not dictate you say yes, you would have refused. No one knows that better than Anthony.
“Of course, Lord Bridgerton.”
He smiles, taking your hand and leading you into the center of the room. “I was sorry to hear that you were feeling poorly when I came to your house the other day.”
“Thank you.”
“I had wanted to talk to you about the Whistledown article,” he states, gauging your reaction. When you do not respond, he continues, “My sisters found it quite interesting. I must confess, it is not something I would generally read, I found it quite interesting.”
“Did you?” you squeak.
“It seems that a dear friend of mine might have something she wants to tell me. Do you have any idea what that might be?” he teases.
“I’m sorry, my lord, I do not.”
He bites back a laugh. “You, Miss (L/N), are truly something. If you wanted my help this season, you should have just asked.”
“I can assure you, I am doing just fine on my own.”
“Well then, you weren’t bothered by the column at all?”
You shake your head, not trusting your voice.
He hums. “Then I suppose it is coincidence that you got over your illness only moments after I left your house the other day.”
“Must be.”
He smiles as the song ends. “For a moment I was worried that the article had been true and that you intended to court me.” When your face falls, his lightens. “So, Miss (L/N), if I were to call on you tomorrow, do you think you would be feeling well?”
You feel your cheeks heat up. “I think I might.”
“Let me go grab a glass of lemonade for you.”
“Please.”
He turns around, mistakenly glancing at his mother, who smiles widely.
