on-your-left-birdie:

Bitches be asking ‘Where the fuck is my Bridgerton fanfic???’ after inhaling the show in a day

You guessed it. It’s me. I’m bitches.

1 & 2

But imagine;

It was yet another season for society to put their most eligible bachelors and bachelorettes into the Marriage Mart and that means more nights of balls, dancing, and courtships filling the columns of Whistledown, along with the latest scandals.

Like any other ladies, your anxiety grew stronger the longer you stayed on the shelf. It wasn’t because the ton lacked gentlemen who would make suitable husbands, no, but it was because after a few callings and promenades around the lake, you found that there is nothing more to them than their name and title (and perhaps money). To some, financial security is the only requirement for one to accept the proposal, but not you.

You had hoped to skip this season like you did last because everyone knew as the years go by, you are only getting closer to being a spinster, and at this point, you felt rather hopeless that you’d ever find a man that would make you happy. But alas, your mother had decided that one year away from society was more than enough for her daughter and therefore, there you were, at yet another ball, day after day.

You were standing by the corner of the room, trying to avoid the men whom you had once refused, but had strong persistence and determination like Mamas during the season. The lovely music filled the room as chaperones fill in each other on the latest scandal and as you were trying to appreciate the graceful dancers, a rather loud group of men laughing caught your attention. You turned your head, intending to show how annoyed you were with their happiness, when one of them looked up, a huge grin on his face, his eyes twinkling from the laughter.

All the annoyance dissipated as you stood there mesmerized by the smile. The man looked away after giving you a small nod and returned his attention to his group. You blinked a few times, pulling yourself out of the reverie.

“Something caught your eye, my dear?” Your mother asked as she made her way to you.

You almost laughed out loud, rather unladylike. Somehow mothers have the best intuitions.

“I’m alright, mother. I was just going to grab another glass of lemonade.” You walked away after giving your mother a reassuring smile, hoping it was quick enough for you to get away before she pushed another gentleman along your way.

As your hand grabbed a small glass, you heard a voice behind you and you had to assume that he was talking to you as there was no one else at the table.

“Can I have the next dance, miss?” The voice had asked. It was deep and unfamiliar, so thank the Heavens, it was not from men whose proposals you had turned down.

You turned around and there he was, standing there waiting for an answer, looking breathtaking as he did a few minutes ago.

And at that moment, you were glad that your mother had dragged you back out into society that season.