#benedict bridgerton oneshot

[lydiimae]

Infatuation

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

MDI!! 18+

Part 2 <3

Warnings: Heavy drinking, mentions of opium use, mentions of prostitution, rough sex, fingering, oral sex, semi-public sex, squirting, marking, thigh riding, vaginal sex, dom benedict and sub reader, brief spanking, possessive benedict, LOTS of dirty talk

A.N: hi again, i'm back on my bullshit <3 first of all, thank you so very much for the love on my first Benny fic AND my first fic ever. liiiiike seriously, that was so sweet <3 T-T. anyway, this fic is another Benny fic- a smutty one at that. it is vaguely based off of the infamous party where Ben has his threesome, however, i changed it up quite a bit so take it at face value hehe. i am planning on making an Anthony one next, probably some more filth so I can practice getting my wording to a place i am proud of. also, i think i will maybe make this into a series??? so do let me know if you like it so i can get an idea >.< enjoy, ily, and THANK YOU AGAIN <3 ^-^

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You were never one to go to parties, especially the ones your dear friend Genevieve Delacroix invited you to. She had a knack for finding the most raunchy, wanton, artists who would throw parties full of courtesans, sex, opium, alcohol... the whole of it.

Being a maid for such a wealthy and well-known family, the Featherington's to be exact, meant you knew the secret lives that many lords and ladies lead outside of the stuffy confines of the ballrooms.

You were lucky to be the lady's maid of the sweetest Featherington, Penelope, and therefore you were even luckier to hear about the Bridgerton family. From what she told you, they were all kind and polite, just like anyone else. She had also hinted, quite shyly, to the men of the family being gorgeous. The third born being her favorite.

You had seen glimpses of pearly white teeth, dark blue tailcoats, and their chestnut brown hair but were never lucky enough to see a full image of any of them but Eloise and her sister, Daphne.

When Genevieve insisted on you tagging along with her and a friend from a higher-up place, you begrudgingly accepted. It was lucky that the young debutante you worked for insisted on having something important to do, so you snuck out and walked through the streets of London to the modiest's shop.

Genevieve dressed you in a tight but, incredibly beautiful, dark blue corset and a pair of black pants, to which you raised an eyebrow. "I look as if I am soliciting, not as if I am curious about this party you have been nagging me to go to." You comment, looking in the mirror.

"What if you solicit, hm? Where is the harm in spending a night with a lord or even another servant?" She returns, tightening up the laces on the corset before stepping back and looking over her work. "Besides, look at yourself. You have a body that would make any one of those silly debutantes jealous, why not show it?" She grins.

You sigh and turn to her, a small cheeky smile on your face as a result of her teasing. "You owe me for this, Viv." You tease and she laughs, putting on her cloak as she hands you your own. "There she is. The Y/N I know. We will have fun, I swear it." She says. Once your cloak is tugged over your shoulders, the both of you make your way out of the shop and towards the house where the party is being held.

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Benedict never snuck out, not before he got invited to Lord Granville's house. The man was nice enough about him completely insulting his art to his face, nice enough to recognize an artistic eye and even the hint of talent that Benedict possessed through merely speaking about art. He thought the gathering was going to be one where he would meet artists and practice his craft. He was wrong.

Of course, he was experienced in the world of sex, drugs, and drinking. He attended the gentleman's club with his brothers after almost every ball he attended, much like every other lord in the ton. He has shared his number of passion-filled nights with nameless women, some of which he cannot remember. The only remenice being the ache of a hangover, and the taste of expensive whiskey still lingering on his tongue.

He would have never thought that the artist had such a scene hiding behind such an unassuming townhouse.

He followed the artist in and was met with quite the scene. The room was hazy with the smoke of expensive cigars, the candlelight casting a low gold hue on the entire house. He followed the artist deeper and was met with courtesans soliciting men at every turn, to which he grinned.

Even further and he was led into a room where women were posed naked, in quite compromising positions, for eager artists who were trying to master the anatomy of a naked woman. Or so that is what Granville claimed.

He grins crookedly at the sight. "Quite the room, is it not?" Lord Granville piques up from behind him. He turns to face the man and nods. "Quite. Might I stay here? I have found myself needing practice of anatomy as of late and this is the perfect place to do so." He says, a playful glint in his eye.

Granville, of course, picks up on it and nods. "Of course, Lord Bridgerton. Do enjoy yourself." He returns with a knowing smile and a wink before exiting the room. Benedict sits at one of the free easles, one of the other men lighting a cigar and offering it to him. He accepts, and puffs on it as he begins to work.

He could get used to this.

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Genevieve leads you through the party, grabbing two glasses of what looks like scotch off of a passing servant's tray. She settles for meeting her friend, who you quickly learn is the wife of said artist who is throwing the party, on the stairs.

After a while of chatting you learn that the young woman's name is Lucy and her husband is Henry Granville, an artist whose work you always found interesting. You also are clued into the fact that their marriage is one of convenience, rather than love, as Lord Granville has no romantic nor sexual interest towards the opposite sex. You find no issue in what the young couple has, after all, you have seen much worse when it comes to marriages in the ton.

"Viv, might I go explore, or am I to only solicit?" You tease as you push off the wall. She laughs and shakes her head. "I am not your keeper, Y/N. Go and do as you wish, just be careful." She says, a hint of genuine protectiveness seeping through her tone of voice. "I promise. I will find my way back to your shop if anything goes awry." You assure before walking down the steps with a quick wave to both of the women.

You duck into a small room with a door that leads to a balcony after grabbing another glass of scotch from a passing servant. However fun it is coming to these things with Viv, you find them quite overwhelming. You are more attuned to the quietness of your servant's quarters, spending countless hours curled up with a good book that your young mistress so generously gifts you from time to time.

You walk out on the balcony, leaning heavily on the metal railing as you look up at the stars. The scotch, and the fact that you get much drunker much quicker than most, is making a delightfully warm feeling bloom in your chest. You take a deep breath of the fresh air to calm your senses before ducking back into the party.

You make it all of two steps before colliding into a broad chest, which sends your alcohol down the front of your torso.

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He was in that hazy, alcohol-filled room, long enough to get just drunk enough to where he was clumsy. He catches the woman he so foolishly clambered into on his way out of the room he was painting in by the waist, which sends her drink out of her hand and down her front.

"My God, I am so incredibly sorry my lady." He rushes, gazing down at the mess he made. His eyes widen at the sight that lies in front of him.

She's a young woman, young enough that she can not be past the age of two and twenty, in a very revealing corset top and black pants. Her hair is tucked up elegantly, yet a few unruly waves have fallen as a result of the night's activities. Her cheeks are pink, probably from the embarrassment or perhaps even the anger, of getting drenched in scotch.

The liquid drips down her neck, and he follows a drop from her neck to where it travels right between her breasts. The tops are peaking out from being hugged so tight. They are full, so very full. He wonders what it would feel like to run his tongue over the smooth skin, what it would feel like to roll her nipple between his teeth and suck.

He shakes himself out of it and meets her eyes once more before he gets any more aroused than he already is.

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You recognize him immediately as a Bridgerton, though you have no idea which one. He has a silly crooked smile on his face that you cannot seem to draw your eyes from, he also sports the undoubtedly Bridgerton chestnut brown hair.

He has longer hair than the one Penelope speaks of, but only just. Your eyes roam from his face to his chest, where he is wearing only a loose undershirt, his waistcoat long forgotten in drunken activities you're sure. His suspenders hang loose on his shoulders, just barely hanging onto his black trousers.

"You're a Bridgerton." It slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, the effects of three glasses of scotch. He grins wider, chuckling a bit. The noise makes your entire body heat up. "I am. Benedict Bridgerton in fact." He says, his eyes never straying from yours.

"And you are?" He ponders after a moment of silence from you. You jump at the question, having been too distracted by the look of his lips to even notice he was speaking. You clear your throat and adjust your posture. "Y/N L/N." You answer shyly.

"Well, Y/N L/N, can I take you to a room and clean up the mess I made of your top, or is that entirely too forward for a gentleman to ask within mere moments of meeting?" He grins, the alcohol he consumed only ebbing on his already large confidence when it comes to women. You only nod shyly, afraid that if you speak you will make a stuttering fool of yourself.

He offers an arm, which you take happily, and begins to lead you through the party.

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He pulls you into a room and, almost immediately, his hands encompass your waist. "You... are the most stunning woman I have ever had the pleasure of looking at." He murmurs, sending your heart soaring. You rest your hand on his chest, newly emboldened by the liquid courage you have been sipping on the entire night, returning his cheeky smile. "Is it too forward for a lady to say the same within mere moments of meeting?" You return.

He lets out a chuckle when you parrot his past words and he leans down. "A witty woman as well as a beautiful one, what else do you have up your sleeve Miss L/N?" He purrs, running a flattened hand up your back until it meets your hair. He tugs it down from its pins, sending it tumbling over your shoulders.

"Perhaps, if you are lucky Mister Bridgerton, I shall show you." You whisper, leaning in so your lips are but a hair's width away from his. Something dangerous and incredibly intoxicating passes over his features as he lets out a noise, a growl, that causes your core to dampen.

"You are a very forward woman, Y/N. I find it quite... infatuating to say the very least." He whispers before capturing your lips. You close your eyes and tangle one of your hands in his thick hair, the other finding his collar and giving it a slight tug.

He groans into your mouth, his hands enveloping your bum cheeks and pulling you even closer. He wants to feel the rise and fall of your breasts as he makes you pant. And by god does he.

You moan into his mouth as his hands squeeze the soft skin of your ass through your trousers, which gives him the perfect chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes smoky, like cigars and whiskey. It makes your clit throb painfully.

As if reading your mind, and body, he spreads your legs with his knee and slides his leg between them. His thigh presses against your closed cunt and you gasp, breaking the kiss to throw your head back. He smirks and holds you right where you are by moving his hands to your hips.

"So sensitive." He whispers and groans as you begin to move your hips back and forth against his thigh, chasing the feeling it gives you. "Fuck, you are just full of surprises aren't you darling? I did not even have to tell you what to do, you just did it," He praises, his eyes locked on the place where your clothed core meets his leg.

"Riding my thigh like a bitch in heat. I might have to keep you." He gusts over your shoulder as he begins to kiss the exposed skin there. Oh God, how you would love that. To be able to fuck him whenever you saw fit, yes please Mister Bridgerton. "Please." Is all you manage to strangle out as you begin to grind down on him harder.

He bites down on your shoulder, leaving a bright red mark there, which he smirks at before he slowly guides you to the dark red chaise that lies in the corner of the room. He lays you back, slowly unlacing your corset with his slender fingers. He throws it across the room when it is off, his mouth immediately taking in one of your hardened nipples.

You cry out when he sucks, watching him look up at you with a shit-eating grin that makes your cunt even more soaked than it already is. He sucks and bites your bud before turning his attention to the other, giving it just as much attention. "The least I can do is clean up the mess I made." He whispers over your nipple, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure straight down to your core. Cocky bastard, you think to yourself as you grip his hair.

You are a whimpering, moaning mess by the time his face returns over yours. He presses a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to your lips before sitting up and stripping himself of his suspenders and his shirt before returning his attention to you. He takes off your shoes and then unbuttons your trousers, slowly sliding them down your legs.

He groans lewdly at the sight. Genevieve had insisted quite heavily when she was dressing you up that you forgo panties. She said it made trousers more comfortable, less tight, so of course you agreed. You decide tonight, that if wearing no underwear will illicit that pretty noise from his lips, you will never wear them again.

"God you are soaked. Drenched from riding my thigh and a quick suck to your nipples." He whispers as he kisses the insides of your thighs. You whine and buck your hips up toward his face, which results in him quickly grabbing your hips with one of his hands and pressing you down into the cushion so you are unable to buck and writhe. "Perhaps I was right in my assessment of you, Miss Y/N. You really are just a bitch in heat. So desperate to be full of my cock, painted with my seed." He murmurs before licking a stripe up your slit.

You cry out and grip his hair with both hands, needing something to ground yourself as his tongue swirls around your clit. He lets out a growl at the taste of your dripping cunt, so sweet and yet so tart. Utter perfection. The noise you make in return has him wishing he could drink from your body for the rest of his days, die with you sat atop his face. Riding his mouth to oblivion.

He moves his hand down to his trousers, fumbling with the buttons to free his aching cock. He slides two fingers into your body without warning and you keen, your eyes rolling back as he collects your juices. He pulls his fingers out just as quick as they went in, and spreads your wetness on his length, stroking himself hard as he drinks from you.

"Ben... oh fuck.... so close." You babble as his tongue presses inside your hole, drawing the most heavenly noises from your body. He pulls away just as you start to see stars and you grasp at his hands, tears forming in your eyes from your denied release. "Please... Please..." You sob, desperate for the feeling to come back.

He chuckles deeply, hooking your knees over his shoulders. "I've got you, love." He assures, kissing away your tears before pulling back with a cocky grin that sends your heart fluttering. "You look like a masterpiece, crying for my cock. All flushed and swollen." He murmurs. You do not know if he is talking about you or your pussy, but you never wish for him to stop.

"Please, my lord. Please, please... I need you. I need..." You babble, completely free of any thought other than his pretty dick plunging inside of you. He curses and bends down, claiming your lips with his before thrusting into you without warning. He bottoms out, and both of you moan, the kiss becoming a mess of tongue and tooth alike.

He begins at a brutal pace, slamming into you so hard that the chaise creeks against the hardwood floor. You scream at the heavenly feeling of pain and pleasure, the sound muffled over his lips. Sweat splashes from his collarbone to yours as the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, the sickly sweet smell of sex enveloping your senses.

He grunts and breaks the kiss, holding one of your legs by the calf, his other hand cupping your jaw. Your mouth falls open as soon as his lips are gone, a loud moan coming from somewhere deep within slipping out before you can try and stop it. He grunts and sticks his thumb past your lips, afraid that someone will hear from outside the thin walls.

You happily oblige and close your lips around his digit, swirling your tongue around him to the rhythm of his thrusts. He moans at the sight of you sucking on his thumb like it's a cock, as his cock slams into your pretty pussy. "Fuck. I am keeping you. You are mine," He accentuates the word with a slap to your ass cheek, causing you to cry out over his finger and clench down on his cock. "Forever. No one else will ever-fuck.-be able to fill this sweet hole of yours. It is all mine. You are all mine." He grunts as his thrusts become sloppy.

He yanks his thumb from your mouth and attacks your swollen, throbbing, clit. He rubs it hard and fast, to match the rhythm of his thrusts and you cry out. He quickly intuits that you are as close to climax as he is and bends down, covering your lips with his own so that you can scream freely.

You do as he expected, letting out a long scream into his mouth as stars rush over your vision and your body burns hot. Your juices soak both his pant-covered leg and the velvety fabric of the chaise below. The feeling of your fluttering cunt tightening even further sends him over and he releases deep inside you before he goes limp over your body.

He pushes himself up after a moment, relishing in the sight below him. Your cheeks are flushed, lips swollen and bruised. You have a bite mark on your shoulder, your hair surrounding your head like a messy halo. Perfection. A ruined, beautiful, masterpiece made solely by him.

He brushes the hair out of your face and presses a sweet kiss to your brow. "Might I be privy to those many secrets you were so keen on hiding, Miss L/N?" He teases softly, grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket and beginning to clean the mess of mixed juices on your thighs.

You giggle. "The next time we meet, I promise to tell at least one." You return, your heart fluttering at the way he so delicately slides your trousers back over your legs after cleaning you up. He grins as he buttons them up, his hands encompassing your waist to pull you up to a sitting position.

You use the opportunity to wrap your arms around his neck, and it is his turn to laugh. "Next time, then. I will wait with held breath until then, I assure you." He whispers, helping you into your corset. "But for now, I owe you a lovely night, hm?" He murmurs as he pulls the laces of your corset tight. You sigh and nod. "I would like that very much." You whisper back, resting your head on his shoulder.

He smiles cheekily, "Is it entirely too forward for a gentleman to say he would like to do this every night from now on, mere hours after meeting?" He whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

No, Mister Bridgerton, it is not.

[writtenfangirl]

Madness

I wrote this so long ago and then abandoned it because I didn’t know if the ending was satisfactory or not. I thought it would have a greater plot as well but when I couldn’t find it, I was dissatisfied until I reread it and realized the prose was too good not to publish.

Fluff but also a little bit of angst if you squint hard enough.

In which Benedict Bridgerton finally reveals the truth.

She was beautiful. Too beautiful, if Benedict was being perfectly honest with himself. Not the kind of beauty that had him picking up a paint brush and painstakingly striking an easel with lovely swirls of color but the kind of beauty that distracted him, made him brood in a dim corner of the room, watching the little twists of her mouth and the subtle way she arched a brow. Beauty to the point of distraction, like spending hours watching shooting stars dash across the night sky, not realizing as dawn approached on the horizon.

It was utterly maddening.

She was utterly maddening.

How was he meant to live, to exist and breathe, to witness such great beauty and yet have none of the capacity, the right, to keep it?

Just a glance from her, a single curve of her lips, and Benedict could feel his faith in God strengthening as easily as he could deny the Lord’s existence. Only a benevolent God could create such ecstatic beauty and yet no benevolent God could exist in this world if Benedict had to bear the cruelty of Y/N’s indifference.

Maddening.

He sighed, the sound bereft as he continued to watch her charm the eligible men of the ton. She had a veritable cabal of men gathered around her and if any other debutant had been in her position, they surely would have been overwhelmed by now.

But not Y/N.

Never Y/N.

With her head held high and her smile demure, she directed the men as easily as if she was holding court. A slight clearing of the throat and already, someone had a glass of lemonade in their hand while a flap of her hand would have the men falling over themselves in an attempt to get her a chair.

A queen holding court, indeed.

Benedict rolled his eyes at the man to her right, who practically shoved at the man on his left in order to catch Y/N’s attention. Not that it really mattered though, especially not when Y/N’s attention was focused on Benedict.

Even from across the room, the tension between them felt palpable. Exhilarating. It always had been with Y/N. Thick and smooth, the connection between them as tangible as their own beating hearts. Just a shared look between them and the world fell silent, the edges of his vision practically darkening at the edges until he saw only her.

Beautiful. Even as her face contorted with hurt for the briefest of seconds, her eyes pulling away from him and returning to the crowd of men that surrounded her.

Benedict gritted his teeth, the only sign of annoyance he let himself show.

“I see you are not quite so enamored with our diamond.”

Benedict’s head whipped to the left, finding Lady Danbury watching him with those shrewd eyes of hers. The old crone had her cane gripped tightly in her hands and Benedict fought his grimace at the phantom pain that shot up from his ankles. The dowager countess had a terrible habit of whacking gentlemen she didn’t like with that sturdy cane of hers and Benedict had felt the brunt of that pain far too many times for his liking.

Still, as a gentleman, he couldn’t very well ignore the woman. It would have been terribly rude of him to and it went against every fiber of the etiquette that had been drilled to him as a child.

He spared Y/N another glance before he spoke. “You think all those men enamored with her?”

“I think they think themselves enamored by her,” Lady Danbury said. “She is quite a beauty and accomplished too, I hear. Are you acquainted with the young lady?”

He had been, when he was young. As recently as a few months ago, Benedict had counted Y/N as one of his dearest friends but with everything that transpired between them…

“We are familiar with one another.”

Lady Danbury arched a brow, directing her attention back to Y/N. She was animatedly speaking with Anthony and Colin, the only time the entire evening where her smile didn’t seem a little bit forced. “Your brothers seem friendly with her. Why aren’t you?”

Because he was a stupid, bloody, idiot who didn’t know how to keep his damn mouth shut, that’s why.

But his pride would never let him say that, especially not in front of Lady Danbury. “We are familiar with each other.” He repeated, voice tight.

Lady Danbury’s eyes flickered. “I seem to recall your mother telling me about how you and the Lady Y/N were thick as thieves not so long ago.”

Bloody hell, the old crone was relentless. He didn’t want to talk about his and Y/N’s falling out, especially not with her.

He suddenly whirled, cocking his head to the side. “Oh, I believe I hear someone calling me.”

No one was calling him but not even his impeccable manners could make him stay.

Lady Danbury harrumphed. “I may be old, boy, but I am not deaf.”

“Definitely hear someone calling me.” Benedict even cupped a hand, placing it on the side of his mouth before he yelled a quick, “I’ll be right there!” He turned back to Lady Danbury, who was looking at him as if she knew his claims were a lie. “Lady Danbury, if you’ll excuse me.”

The dowager countess simply gave Benedict a knowing look yet let him go.

He ducked into the crowd towards… bloody hell he couldn’t find anyone he would rather talk to. His brothers were still off speaking with Y/N and he didn’t feel like speaking with his mother, who would likely hound him about his fight with Y/N. Which left the last person of their party, Eloise. A quick scan of the room revealed his sister in the other side of the room, conspiratorially whispering to her best friend, Penelope Featherington.

He zoomed towards them, turning his back on Y/N and Lady Danbury.

Eloise caught his eye as he approached and her lips pursed in displeasure. “Why do you look as if you’re expecting me to bail you out of a horrible situation.”

“Can’t I see my favorite sister with joy in my face without being suspected of ill intent?”Benedict said with a grin before bowing to Penelope, who returned the gesture with her own curtsy.

Penelope ducked her head to suppress a giggle.

Eloise rolled her eyes at him. “What do you want?”

“To ask you why you’re sulking in a corner instead of dancing despite—“ he pulled at the dance card in her wrist, every single line filled with names that were unfamiliar to him. “Did you put fake names in your dance card?”

Eloise snatched her wrist back. “Yes. I thought that with Y/N grabbing the attention of so many of the gentlemen, I would be spared the embarrassment of having to entertain any gentlemen tonight. Unfortunately, I was wrong.”

Benedict turned to Penelope. “How many approached her?”

“Six,” Penelope smirked, “and those six quickly turned right back around.”

“Well with a full dance card, I’m not at all surprised.”

Eloise rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Spare me the lecture, brother. I’m sure I’ll hear enough from mother tonight.”

“She caught you?”

“After Eloise turned down the sixth one, Lady Violet began to suspect,” Penelope explained.

Benedict grinned. “When have you known me to lecture you?”

She gave him a saccharine smile, the kind that Benedict always knew would end with her barbed words. “Aren’t you meant to be fawning over Y/N? You’d done it most of our life.”

He bristled at her words.

Penelope shot them a curious look. “You never told me you were acquainted with the lady?”

“Hadn’t I?” Eloise frowned. “Lady Y/L/N’s family and ours have been acquainted for ages. Of course, she rarely ever came to London and if it hadn’t been for her father’s recent passing she wouldn’t have had a season at all. Mama had held hope that perhaps one of my dear brothers would begin to take some responsibility and marry her.” She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper that was so loud, it still reached Benedict’s ears. “Personally, I always thought Benedict would offer. He and Y/N had a special bond growing up. Even Daphne thinks so.”

Benedict had never hit a woman before but perhaps, just this once, excuses could be made for one’s sisters.

“So, well acquainted then,” Penelope said with a slight smile.

“I do recall Benedict pining after Y/N for years,” Eloise mused, uncaring as Benedict’s mood soured. “You never did tell me why it is you suddenly became estranged”

“Not that it’s any of your business.” He grumbled.

Eloise batted eyes innocently. “Irritable today, aren’t you, brother? Could it possibly be because of the cadre of men that hound every one of Y/N’s footsteps?”

“I have changed my mind. Francesca is now my favorite sister.”

“I love you too, Benedict,” she all but grinned.

He turned his attention back to Y/N, who, to his surprise, had taken her leave.

“She’s in the garden, if you wish to speak to her,” Eloise said, noting his wandering eyes and nodding towards the open veranda at the side.

“What gave you the impression that I would like to speak to her?”

Eloise simply rolled her eyes before tugging Penelope’s arm. “With Y/N taking her respite, I imagine there will be a sudden influx of gentlemen who would like to dance. Let us make ourselves scarce.” And she pulled Penelope along, the red head offering Benedict an apologetic look.

He glanced at the crowd once again before letting his feet carry him through the veranda and out towards the garden. There were still many people milling about outside that granted them protection from scandal but it was much more intimate than the loud din of the ballroom.

The night was cool, the spring air serene compared to the humidity of the ballroom.

He spied Y/N, her back turned against the door. Upon hearing his approach, she sighed. “Good sir, if you did not understand me, I wish to be al—“ she turned and her words died at her lips at the sight of him. “Oh. It’s you.”

She looked even lovelier up close. She always did. Whether dressed in a simple frock with her long hair flowing down her back or dressed ornately with jewels adorning her, she always looked lovelier up close.

“What do you want, Benedict,” Y/N said, dropping that societal mask she employed inside.

“To apologize.”

She shook her head. “There is nothing to apologize for. You asked for my hand under false pretenses, I rejected you. End of story.“

“Under false pretenses?” He echoed, his own tone turning sharp. “You think my proposal to be insincere? Is that why you rejected me?”

“I did not think it insincere, I knew it to be insincere. I heard you and the Lady Violet discussing me. I heard when you declared your intention to ask for my hand in marriage simply because she had asked you to.”

Oh.

Oh.

He remembered then, the conversation he had with his mother right before he proposed.

“Propose to her,” Violet had urged just as breakfast had been served, with only Benedict and Violet dining.

“I am not even courting her, mama,” he replied exasperatedly. It had been far too early in the morning to entertain his mother’s insistence on seeing him wed to Y/N. She’d pestered him about it in one form or another even before the Y/L/Ns had come to visit the Bridgertons and Benedict knew she would not stop until he and Y/N were formally engaged.

But Y/N had just ended her mourning period for her father. And though societal mandates dictated that it was perfectly reasonable for Benedict to ask for her hand in marriage, he knew how deeply she mourned the man, especially since his death had placed her in such a precarious position. The late patriarch of the Y/L/N family had been fond of his only child, even if she had been born a girl. And Y/N had loved him, even if his death left her and her mother saddled with financial debt despite coming from the longest line of barony in England.

“What does it matter that you are not courting?” Violet demanded. “You have known her since you were both children. You’ve been courting her all your life.”

“Mama, please leave it well enough alone.”

“What is it that you do not like about her?” She insisted. “She is beautiful and accomplished and you have known each other your whole lives. Any young man would be fortunate to be bound to her in marriage.”

“I never said anything that would imply otherwise.”

“Then why do you refuse to ask her for her hand in marriage? Doing so would spare her a season in London and limit their financial troubles.” And then she had gasped in indignation. “Or is their financial troubles the very reason why you refuse? I never raised you to be avaricious!”

Bloody hell. “I am not avaricious, mother. I do not care about her dowry or lack thereof!”

“Then what is it? Do not tell me it is because you do not love her. I have seen the way you look at her.”

Benedict had eyed his fork, had wondered if perhaps, it would be a better to shove it in his ears than listen to his mother’s hullabaloo.

Instead he took a scone, spreading a generous layer of clotted cream and jam so his hands had something to do rather than maim himself.

“And how is it I look at her, mother?” He drawled.

“The same way your father used to look at me.”

At that he had paused, scone half-raised to his mouth. He hadn’t known what to say anymore. Mentions of his own father had always been capable of silencing his mind.

Finally, he had decided on telling her the truth, that his mother may finally stop pestering him.

“Asking Y/N for her hand in marriage had always been the plan, mother,” Benedict relented. “I was simply waiting for the perfect moment.”

Violet smiled at her son kindly. “There are no such thing as perfect moments, dearest. Only moments that can be made perfect. And whether you ask her later or tomorrow or next week, that moment will be perfect by virtue of you asking.”

She was right, of course. Violet Bridgerton was so rarely incorrect especially in matters of the heart and love.

Benedict had given her a smile, and said, voice dripping in sarcasm. “Well, since you so graciously asked me to, I shall propose to the Lady Y/N, if only to make you happy.”

That must have been what Y/N heard. Not the whole story but the end, when Benedict had teased his mother.

Now he was convinced that God existed and that he must be cruel. Only the machinations of a cruel God could have lined up the timing perfectly.

Y/N’s eyes flickered as she regarded him. “I do not wish to bind you in marriage with someone you do not hold any affection for. You have fulfilled your promise to your mother and have asked for my hand. I rejected you. We no longer have any obligations with one another. Good night.” She made a move to pass him, to walk back to the ballroom to her gaggle of men but Benedict’s hand shot up, gripping her arm and keeping her to him.

His hands were gloved and even Y/N’s arms were sheathed in silk. And though he had never felt gloves to be particularly offensive, he wished to burn the ones that covered their hands. If only so he could feel her smooth skin beneath his fingers.

The heady scent of her perfume wafted through his senses. She smelled divine, like walking through a garden of roses under the cover of moonlight as the stars twinkled above his head. Utterly mouthwatering, and capable of driving even the sanest of men into insanity. The scent of distraction.

Always so distracting.

Benedict forced his mouth to speak before his brain could forget the words he needed to say. “Do you think so little of me? Capable of such cruelty especially when it comes to you.”

Y/N’s brows met, a flash of pain in her eyes and then it was gone. “It is the opposite, really. I think the world of you, Benedict. Only a gentleman would offer to marry a girl he has no obligations to simply because of her precarious position in life. You are an honorable man and any woman would be lucky to call you their husband. It is why I cannot accept your proposal, not when you do not love me. Not when there is no one on this world more deserving of love than you.”

Benedict frowned at her. “Why do you continue to insist that I do not love you?”

“Because you do not!” She pulled away from him, wrenching her hand from his grasp. Her eyes were pure anguish as she looked at him and the very sight of her pain had him staggering back. “If you truly held any affection for me, I would know. I have studied you all our lives, Benedict. And in all the time we shared together, you had never shown any affection for me beyond that of a friend. Your proposal hurt, Benedict. I have loved you in every way a man could be loved for so long and for you to ask for my hand in marriage out of pity—“ She choked, eyes widening as if she didn’t mean to say the things she’d said.

“You love me?” He echoed, heart beating quickly in his chest. He wondered, briefly, if his fast beating heart marks the day he really lived. If Y/N’s confession had been the reason he truly felt alive for the first time in his life.

Her face crumpled in pain as she stepped back. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have said those things. Please take your leave, Benedict. That I may salvage whatever scraps of my dignity is left.”

But Benedict did no such thing.

Instead he took her hands and lowered himself into a kneel, setting his eyes upon her. The arching light of the manor spilled over the veranda casted her in a soft glow that took his very breath away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in alarm and whatever pain she held there was washed away by her surprise. “Benedict, what are you doing?”

“Begging you for forgiveness.”

“What? Benedict, get up.”

But he held firm, his determination cementing his knees to the ground. “Forgive me, Y/N, for my grave transgressions against you. That you had ever lived your life doubting my affections for you, or wondering if I cared for you as more than a friend are sins I will carry with me to my last breath. It will be my great shame that I had not made it abundantly clear that I love you. Because I do love you. Most ardently.”

“Benedict, get up. This is madness—“

“You are right. It is madness. The way I feel for you would drive the sanest of people into lunacy. But if loving you is madness then I don’t ever wish to be sane.”

Her eyes gleamed silver with unshed tears that threatened to fall from her pretty eyes. “B-But that morning, the day you proposed—“

“I did not propose to you out of pity for you, I did it out of pity for me. I needed to put myself out of my misery and finally marry the only girl I ever had the privilege of falling in love with rather than continue pining after you in secret.”

She let out a a laugh through her tears, the sound like bells chiming during a storm. Light and beautiful despite the pouring rain that threatened to drown it out. “Ask me again.”

His heart leapt to his throat, pounding so quickly he struggled to get the words out. But they came nonetheless, the words clear and betraying none of his anxiety. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

[sarahisslytherin]

𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐌 || 𝐁.𝐁.

summary: you’ve been receiving love letters from a secret admirer and you’re desperate to reveal his identity. contains: benedict being fucking adorable, fluff n’ angst! a/n: first part of this multi-chapter fic.

It was a day like any other. You woke to the humming of the maid, the hum-drum of life about the house. You rubbed sleep from your eyes as you reluctantly got out of bed. You selected your gown for the day after scouring through your wardrobe of various shades of pastel. You bid good morning to the servants as you made your way downstairs and joined your family for breakfast. There your mother urgently reminded you (as if you had forgotten from one day to the next) the importance that you find yourself a suitor, someone of good rank.

But you barely had any mind to pay her; for it was elsewhere, with another. You cut your breakfast short, unable to bear any more talk of suitors and marriage and a life without love. You were buttoning your coat when an angel descended the staircase. Well, it wasn’t truly an angel; only your lady’s maid, but the letter she held in her hand couldn’t have been any more sacred to you. She passed it to you and your eyes met hers, the looks you exchanged almost like those of two best friends trading gossip, or in this case, your own little secret.

You slipped the sealed envelope into your coat pocket before finally stepping out the door and down the front steps. Outside, London was alive and full of the colors of spring. Though you could’ve walked the streets for hours on end, you opted to head straight to the park and sat down on the nearest bench. You sifted through your pocket, pulling the envelope out. You couldn’t help noting that it smelled of lavender and cinnamon as you gently broke the seal. There, the words you had been waiting anxiously to read.

Dearest,

I dreamt of you last night. I dreamt of those eyes so deep I was tempted to swim in them. Of that laugh so melodious I was tempted to turn it into a symphony. Of the lips so sweet I was tempted to kiss them. Alas, I know not if I shall ever reveal myself to you. I know you must be dying to figure me out. But you must understand I couldn’t bear to be rejected by you. You drive me mad! When I am awake, you occupy my every thought, and when I sleep you visit me in dreams! I am a tormented man, but oh, how smitten I am with my torment! I clutch it to my chest and carry it with me wherever I go. How could I not? When it was you who gave it to me. Such a state of delirium is the one you have driven me to, simply by existing. Anyway, all this to say that I love you and always will. Write to me, my love. I’ll be waiting.

You pressed the piece of paper to your heart, beating faster than ever. You folded the letter back and let it fall into your pocket once more before starting for the Bridgerton house. It took every fiber in you to go on with this written affair for months on end without uttering a word to your good friend Daphne. But you felt it was something too precious, too fragile to speak of; like a creature as easily spooked as it is beautiful. 

This was what you repeated to yourself in your mind when you arrived at the Bridgertons’, and Daphne swore you had a glow about you only people in love wear. 

“Come now, who is it?” she teased as she delicately sipped her tea. “You must tell me!” 

You shook your head with a playful roll of your eyes. “There truly is nothing to tell, Daph. You must believe me.”

“Nonsense!” she poked on. “I wish to know the lucky gentleman who has you so obviously smitten.” It was then that the others entered the parlor. Anthony, with Kate on his arm, and Colin and Benedict following suit. “Fill us in on today’s gossip, sister.” jested Benedict as he lounged on the nearest chaise with his usual happy-go-lucky air. How handsome he looked today, his jet black hair shiny as ever, his grey eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“There’s nothing to share, you busybody.” Daphne scolded him lightly. “Mind your own affairs.” At this, Benedict shot you a cheeky look, one you couldn’t help but return. You wondered if your secret admirer was as handsome as he was, as sweet and boyish.

“Oh!” Daphne exclaimed suddenly. “I forgot to tell you! We are holding a ball this weekend! Isn’t that exciting?” You felt yourself light up at the news. Exciting indeed. Many things can happen at a ball, dances shared and souls intertwined, and perhaps a certain identity revealed.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @holdthegirrrl

[captainsophiestark]

Bad Timing

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Bridgerton

Day 25 Prompt: "Do I look like I knew that?"

Summary: When Eloise needs help with a problem, she knows she can count on her brother and his new wife for help.

Word Count: 1,047

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"You know, lazy days like this are by far my favorite," I mused, curling into my husband's side as we laid in bed together. "No galas, no gossip from the Ton. Just the two of us."

"I certainly have to agree," said Benedict, my husband, as he traced patterns on the bare skin of my back. "Although, I do enjoy watching Colin wade through the swarm of Mamas every time we go out, now that he is the only unwed Bridgerton son. At least until Gregory gets a bit older."

"I'd say you were being mean, but he did ditch you and Anthony for quite a while in his travels."

"Yes, he did. So he deserves this."

I laughed, shaking my head a bit at my husband's antics. A moment later, he pulled me tighter to his side, rolling us so I laid completely on top of his chest. I rose up on my elbows to meet his eyes and found him looking at me with a mischevious smile.

"You know, it's just occurred to me," he started. "There are quite a few ways I can think of that our time would be better spent than talking about my brother."

"Oh really?" I asked, grinning and leaning down closer to Benedict. "And what might those ideas be?"

"Well for starters..."

With that, he brought his hand up to the back of my neck and pulled me into a searing kiss. I rested all my weight on him, kissing right back, until a knock at the door jarred us both out of the moment.

Reluctantly, I pulled away, and Benedict let me. We shared a look.

"Maybe whoever it is will go away if we ignore them," he whispered in suggestion. As if he'd willed it into happening, a voice from the other side of the door called out.

"Y/N! If you're in there, please, I need to talk to you."

Eloise. Benedict's little sister, who I'd become close with throughout the course of Benedict courting me. I gave Benedict an apologetic look.

"No," he whined as I rolled off of him, quickly wrapping a robe around myself and heading for the door.

"I have to," I replied. "I can't ignore her. Make yourself decent."

With that, I turned from my husband and went to open the door just wide enough to see Eloise on the other side, and for her to see me.

"Oh, thank goodness!" she cried, moving to push past me and into the room. I let her, just hoping that Benedict had done as I'd said. Eloise and I had done this a few times as we'd gotten closer, and whenever it happened, I knew she really, truly needed me.

I turned around to follow Eloise back into the room after shutting the door behind me, only to find her frozen just a few steps from where she'd come in. Benedict stood next to the bed, looking tired but resigned to our new morning activity as he laced up his shirt.

"Good morning, Eloise," he said, a little edge of teasing in his tone. "You know, I was trying to enjoy the morning with my wife-"

"Do I look like I knew that?" she cried. I fought back a laugh as I walked forward to wrap my arm around her shoulder.

"It's alright, Eloise," I said. "Benedict and I were about to get up for the morning, anyway."

Benedict shot me a look with his eyebrows almost into his hairline, and I glared right back, imploring him to go along with me. He cleared his throat.

"Right. That we were. What did you need help with, sister?"

She hesitated, so I walked around to face her, putting both of my hands on her shoulders and blocking her eyeline to Benedict. I gave her a small smile, so she'd know everything was alright, then spoke in a low voice that I knew Benedict wouldn't be able to hear.

"If this is a ladies' problem, or one you don't want your brother to know about, El, I'll throw him out of here right now and we can talk, alright? But if you're embarrassed about knocking when you did, then you truly don't need to be. We love you, and we'd both drop far more important things to help you whenever you need it."

Eloise sighed, nodding a little as she did. The bright red blush that had risen to her cheeks started to fade, and she at last met my eyes again.

"Thank you. I... suppose it wouldn't hurt to have Benedict's input as well," she said. I nodded, giving her a bright smile before turning around to face my husband.

"Put your problem-solving hat on, Benedict," I said. I started drifting for the couches by Benedict's turret window, one of my favorite features of his room. "We've got a family matter to deal with."

They both beamed at me as they started following me over to the couch. I'd considered a few of Benedict's siblings as good as family for a long time now, but it felt amazing to be able to say that and have it be completely true.

Benedict and Eloise settled into the couch on either side of me, Benedict resting his arm across my shoulders. Those kinds of casual touches would've been scandalous before we were married, but now we could do them whenever we wanted to, which also made my heart sing.

Eloise gave us both one last look with a raised eyebrow, then launched into her explanation of the problem that had brought her to our doorstep, which had something to do with a boy of virtually no social status who'd caught her attention. Benedict and I spent the rest of the morning, helping her as best we could, in the way only we could.

Although I hated that Eloise had to deal with the problems she dealt with, a small part of me sang the entire morning as Benedict and I worked together, the perfect team, to help his little sister. This was going to be the rest of our lives, with Eloise and maybe someday with children of our own, and I couldn't be happier thinking about that future with Benedict. We made the perfect team.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Seduced By Your Scent (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Summary: Swayed by rave reviews, you purchase a perfume that endeavours to make any man fall for you. But you don’t want just any man; you want your beloved husband.

AN: Based on a perfume review I saw on twitter/from discord, and my friend got me back into Bridgerton so here we are. Potential part two to Subtle-tea but can be read as its own fic. 

Content Warnings: Reader wears a dress, is referred to as “my lady”. Suggestive language and actions, 18+ readers only, minors DNI

Masterlist // AO3

“You must try this elixir! It’s like they’ve bottled Venus and sent her to solve all marital issues!”

Not that you and Benedict needed any kind of aphrodisiac or marital advice. After your glorious wedding and the honeymoon of your dreams, you grew more enamoured with one another with each passing day. But you couldn’t help but become intrigued by your companion’s impassioned declarations.

Here was where that curiosity led you: sitting at your vanity, staring at the bejewelled and beautiful bottle – fitting of its praise and hinting at the power of the perfume it held. It cast rainbow refractions across your room as you rotated it with a scrupulous gaze. The glass stopper released with a delicate pop and you gave the opening a tentative sniff. Sparks of something musky with a hint of whimsy reached your brain. It seemed to caress your sense of smell, lull you into a foggy serenity whilst curving the corners of your mouth into a smile.

A light knock at your bedroom door did very little to pull your from this haze, and your maid stood awkwardly in the doorway as you dragged your eyes away from the bottle and over to her.

“Breakfast is ready, my lady,” The maid bobbed a curtsey.

“Thank you.” And, as she closed the door behind her exit, you gave the bottle one more look.

Well, it couldn’t hurt.

With care, you tipped the bottle then dragged the soaked stopper across one wrist. It pressed together with its partner then paired against your neck to seal the scent in.

The moment you stepped into the dining room – empty besides your beloeved husband - Benedict rose from the head of the table and drew out the chair beside him for you to sit. It was part of your routine, in your home and wherever you went, as was the smile with which he greeted you. Often it was broad and beaming, like today. Sometimes it was more subtle but with his eyes just as bright. On one or two occasions, it arrived with eyelids sunk and a hand to his forehead that pounded with consequences from the previous night’s actions, but still he smiled even though (and these were his own words) it felt like his skin was being melted from his skeleton like candle wax.

“Good morning!” He called to you while you crossed the room, his arm outstretched to clasp you close then guide you into your chair.

Continuing the routine, you kissed his cheek before sitting down, “Good morning.”

Now, this was when Benedict would push your chair in then sit beside you, ready to dine and run over your plans for the day ahead. And he started as normal. However the rate with which he pushed your chair into place was as if he was encased in jelly.

You clocked his new blank expression, “My love, are you alright?”

Instead of speaking, Benedict bent over the back of the chair and kissed your cheek. A short and slight sniff dragged up where his lips had pressed. He withdrew gradually, just a few inches, his brow was creased in thought.

“Hmm.” His jaw twisted and he clicked his tongue. Then he leant back in, this time his nose drew a tickling line down your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Benedict,” You felt your face grow hot as you resisted the urge to tense when he planted a quick kiss on the curve of your shoulder.

But your mild embarrassment only warmed the scent on your skin and spread it further around you until Benedict was encased in it beside you. Just one of your thoughts was spared in thanks to the fact that you and Benedict had stipulated that you dine alone – no butlers, no maids, no interruptions unless someone was dying.

“Have you been bathing in an aphrodisiac?” Benedict mused. Without turning away from you, he dragged his chair loudly across the floor so that he could perch himself beside you. Taking your hand, he kissed your loosely closed fist and breathed deeply in before finishing his question:

“Or are you just naturally this irresistible, and you’ve been hiding from me?”

“I can’t think what’s gotten into you,” You said, your voice wobbling when Benedict raised his eyebrows at you.

“I think you know exactly what’s gotten into me.”

Melting under his sparkling stare, you weakly nodded at his plate and setting, “Your breakfast is getting cold.”

Benedict didn’t look away from you, “I know what I’d rather eat.”

A laugh bubbled up your throat and you found yourself bordering on hysterics as Benedict’s eyes creased and he leant in close to you to titter and teem with joy.

After taking a few deep breaths, your face aching from the grin, you managed to say, “You must be drunk from the alcohol in that perfume.”

With a hand clutching at his cravat, Benedict gasped, appalled, “How dare you? Must I be drunk to show my wife some affection?”

“Nevertheless, you approve?”

“Oh yes, but only when we’re at home. Can’t let anyone else catch a whiff of this. You’ll seduce them, make them all fall in love with you, make them fall to their knees.”

“We absolutely cannot have that. Only you’re allowed to do so.”

Very suddenly, Benedict rose and kicked the seat from beneath him, pulling and pivoting you around so that you faced him. Knelt before you, you let him kiss you whilst you pet through his dark hair. His affections did not distract you from his hands tracing up your legs. The skirts of your dress caught on his wrists and exposed your sensitive skin to him.

He mumbled dreamily, “I could not agree more.” Then, with another deep inhale pressed into the side of your neck and his hands drawing down your undergarments, he drew from you the first of many delighted sighs that mingled with the lingering scent of your new perfume.

[make-me-imagine]

Truth Unseen

Plot/Trope: We're best-friends and I didn't realize I was in love with you, until I saw you with someone else.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x GN!Reader *Used 'Mx.' In place of Miss/Mrs/Mr, etc

Warnings: A kiss at the end, but that's it!

Words: 4k

-

The sound of mixed conversation, music, laughter and clinking glasses filled your ears as you entered the large room. You swallowed hard, and took a deep breath, your chest tight with anxiety.

"See? Isn't it lovely?" Your mother asked as she ushered you further into the room.

"Yes. Lovely." You smiled at her, trying to subdue your anxieties.

Your first proper ball for your first proper season. You had managed to delay one year, but your parents would never allow you another year off. You had delayed as long as you could, now, you must find a spouse, much to your dismay.

As your eyes grazed over the crowds of people, you felt a rush of anxiety when you met the eyes of an approaching man. Bowing to your mother in greeting he stepped towards you.

"Well, don't you look...shiny." Benedict said, trying to hide an amused smile.

Quickly, you reached out and pinched his arm, unnoticed by anyone else. Letting out a soft gasp he smiled even wider. "Manners." He teased as he reached out his arm for you to take.

Looping your's through his, he lead you further into the room. "I don't need your incessant teasing Benedict, not tonight. I have enough I need to deal with." You attempted to sound playful, but Benedict could easily pick up on your anxiety.

Leaning his head a bit closer, he spoke softly. "You'll be fine."

You locked eyes with him, and he smiled encouragingly at you. Returning the smile, though it held mostly anxiety, you looked out into the crowd of people, wondering how many, if any, would wish to dance with you.

Benedict felt anxiety in his own chest as he saw your nervous eyes flicking around the room. He knew you had been dreading your first season, and he in turn had been anxious for you. Though, the pit in his stomach seemed unusually intense. Just because it is your first season, does not mean you will meet someone.

Maybe it wont happen. Though, surely he wanted it to? For you to meet someone you could fall in love with? Why did that thought seem to terrify him so? Was it the fear of losing his best friend? What if your marriage lead to you being whisked off far away? Yes, that was why he was anxious. He did not want to lose his friend.

"Alright. I think I best be off. I don't want to scare off all your suitors." Benedict said softly as he stepped away from you. Smiling one more time at you with an much encouragement as he could convey, he walked away, leaving you alone in the crowd.

As you watched him walk away, you felt your stomach knot. You wanted to reach out and drag him back to you. Beg him not to leave your side. But more than that, you felt pain shoot through your chest as you forced yourself to accept that those years spent waiting for him to see you as anything more than your friend was over. Time was up.

Letting out a soft breath, you looked around, meeting the smiling faces of some of your friends. Suddenly, your eyes locked with a handsome man you had never met. He smiled at you, and you felt your face grow hot. Then, he began to approach you.

Benedict let out a drawn out breath as he settled beside his brother. The further he walked away from you, the worse he felt. He convinced himself it was his protective bond over you. And an unusual guilt and fear of leaving you to the wolves in a way.

His eyes immediately looked up to find you, but you were lost in the crowd. Feeling eyes on him, he looked to his left, to see Anthony staring at him.

"What?" Benedict started.

Anthony stuck out his lip a bit and shook his head. "Nothing. How's Y/n?"

Benedict instinctively looked out at the crowd again. "Stressed."

Anthony nodded his head. "And you?"

Benedict looked over at him and furrowed his brow. "Well, I suppose I am anxious for them."

"Is that all?"

"What do you mean?" Benedict asked turning towards him.

Anthony shrugged his shoulders a bit. "I'm just wondering if that's all you feel. I expected you to feel...more, is all."

"More? More than wh-?" Benedict questioned as his eyes flicked to the crowd. Suddenly his words dies on his lips when he spotted you arm in arm with a man he did not know. You had a shy smile on your face as you moved to the dance floor with him.

Benedict watched as you began the dance. The man circled you, keeping his eyes on you in an intense stare. He said something to you, and you laughed. Benedict felt his gut clench and his chest tighten.

"Ah, Viscount Hawthorne." Anthony commented, seeing who you were dancing with.

"A Viscount?" Benedict asked. "Surely Y/n wouldn't be interested in him."

"What's wrong with a Viscount?" Anthony asked definsively.

"I just mean Y/n doesn't want a title, nor would they want the duties that come with it. Surely there is someone better they could be dancing with."

Anthony smiled as he watched his brother. "And are you going to tell Y/n that?"

"Well, no. I don't know. Maybe. If I did, I would be acting in Y/n's best interest."

"Are you sure you're not acting in yours?"

"What does that mean?"

"I just mean, maybe you don't want to let go of Y/n."

Benedict looked back at you, watching as you smiled and danced with the Viscount. He felt his heart pounding at the sight. Shrugging his shoulder a bit he looked at Anthony. "Well, I mean, who would want to watch their best friend be taken away?"

Anthony rolled his eyes and shook his head. Lightly patting his brother's shoulder, Anthony gave him a small incredulous smile before walking off, leaving Benedict confused and speechless.

Benedict found himself looking for you again. His eyes watched you as you gracefully danced among the crowd. You were by far the most attractive person there. He found himself smiling fondly at you, admiring the smile on your face. This was the first time he was seeing you dance from a distance. Usually he was the one across from you, the one smiling and talking with you while dancing.

Realizing that the song playing was different than before, he figured out you were dancing twice in a row with the Viscount. If that was so, then you must truly be interested in him.

Benedict felt his heart drop at this thought. Suddenly he thought forward in time. Seeing you less and less as you spent your days with the Viscount. Him courting you. Then you getting married. Him never getting to dance with you again. Benedict watching you smile and laugh for him instead. Watching you love another man. Another man that wasn't him.

Just then, your eyes stretched out along the room, locking with Benedict. Your eyes seemed to brighten a bit, your smile widened, just for him. Only for a moment, but he saw it. For the first time, he saw it.

'Oh.'

Benedict stared at you, his heart racing, his head spinning. The realization coming over him that what he had been feeling all this time wasn't love for a friend. It was more, it was romantic love.

Suddenly everything else flashed through his mind. The way he would seek you out in every room. How you knew all of his secrets, his dreams, and fears. And how you were never afraid to tell him yours. The sudden desire he would get to take your hand in his when you were walking together. The way his heart would race when he saw you enter a room. How happy he was when you danced together. How you could make each other laugh and smile like no one else.

How had he convinced himself that he still only saw you as a friend? When did it change? When had you become more important to him than anyone? When had he fallen so deeply for you?

Suddenly it donned on him what Anthony meant. 'Are you sure you're not acting in yours?' He was. He did not wish to drag you away from the Viscount for your own good. He wanted to do it for his. So he would not lose you. So he would not lose the love of his life.

Anthony had seen it when Benedict did not. Looking across the room, he locked eyes with his brother. Anthony's face changed as he could see the realization in Benedict's eyes, and the uncertainty. Anthony motioned his head towards you before looking back at Benedict and nodding encouragingly.

Benedict's eyes landed back on you. The song was over, another would be starting soon. You were smiling and talking to your friends, sparing a glance or two at the Viscount, who watched you closely, as though you were prey.

Benedict felt another knot of jealousy in his gut, and before he knew it, he was striding across the room. He noticed the Viscount making his way back towards you, and noted another nearby man watching you. Swiftly Benedict stepped up beside you, and your eyes shot up to meet his.

"Ben." You greeted with a smile.

Reaching out his hand he smiled at you. "Dance?"

He could see you were surprised at his actions, having thought that he would stay away from you throughout the night. Leaving only suitors to approach you. But unbeknownst to you, Benedict now saw himself as such.

Though you were surprised and a bit confused, you took Benedict's hand with a smile. You would always be ready to accept a dance with him. Though suddenly, a sad thought passed through your mind, telling you this might be one of the last.

As you began your dance with Benedict, you noted the way his eyes seemed to shine a bit differently. There was something there, that hadn't been before. His eyes never seemed to leave you, and he looked at you in a strange way. Not an unwelcome one, but it was new.

Stepping closer, your hands hovering in front of each others, faces close, you spoke softly. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Benedict's smile grew a bit more as you stepped away from one another, circling with the music. With a step closer, came his answer. His voice low, but strong, his smile bright, but not teasing. "You look amazing."

Your voice caught in your throat at his compliment. He had never once complimented you like that. He had told you you looked nice, proper, elegant, or he would tease your tailored shiny clothes, or un-moving hairstyles. But never once had he said you looked "amazing" Why was he saying it now? And why did he say it like that.

He noted your loss of words, and the slight change in tint of your face, and smiled to himself. He kept his eyes locked with yours throughout the dance, relishing in the soft touches of your hands or shoulders as you crossed paths during the dance.

Every time he had danced with you before, he hadn't picked up on the electricity that ran through his skin every time you touched. But he knew there was something that always made him want to dance with you, and never stop.

Much sooner than he wanted, the song ended, and you were now standing in silence across from each other. His eyes were still steady staring into yours as he found the courage to speak again. But just as he opened his mouth, he was interrupted when your mother approached.

"Me and your father have someone we want you to meet." Sparing Benedict a smile, your mother began to drag you off before he could say anything.

As you were pulled away, you looked over your mother's shoulder, locking onto Benedict's eyes one more time before he disappeared in the crowd.

Benedict felt his courage falter as your mother took you away. She must think he was working with you to avoid suitors. And though in a way that was what he was doing, it was not for the reason she would think, or expect. For she had long since given up hope that you and Benedict would become betrothed, though the thought had many a time crossed her mind over the years.

Benedict sought you out various times throughout the night, but was thwarted each time. He suffered throughout the rest of the ball, watching as you danced with man after man, and the Viscount two more times by the end of the night.

His mind was racing the entire time, as he pleaded for the ball to end. And by the time it did, he was tormenting himself with 'what if's' and 'what now', as he saw your carriage speed off into the night before he had to chance to see you again.

Anthony must have seen, or understood what had happened, for he did not bother or question his brother. But patted him on the back as he passed.

Benedict thoughts kept him up throughout the night. He sat alone in the studio, paper and pencil in hand as he sketched his thoughts away. At his feet sat a pile of crumpled and thrown out drawings.

Ripping off another page and tossing it to the floor, Benedict sighed, looking around the room at the paintings on the walls. His eyes paused on an old painting, a portrait. As Benedict stared at it, he noticed similarities to you. The eyes were a similar color, but the shape of the face wasn't right, nor the color of the hair.

Suddenly feeling the inspiration to draw you, he began to sketch, quickly, yet precisely. He had drawn you before, when you agreed to help him study the curvature of hands, or how to properly draw a nose. But now it felt different. Your face appeared on the paper from memory, every delicate feature he didn't know he knew so well.

By the time the morning light began to fill the room, the drawing was done. He smiled at it, as he looked at the familiar profile. Every curve, every feature, every freckle or spot, directly from memory, where you lived so permanently. It was perfect. It was you.

Looking at the clock, he began to feel restless, he wanted to see you, needed to. You would be waking soon, and then you would be getting ready to meet your suitors. Rising, he looked down at his disheveled appearance before rushing to his room to change.

-----

You spent your morning watching as your mother paced in and out of the room, making notes on your appearance. Reminding you of the do's and don't's of meeting suitors. All while you sat in a silent panic, worried for what was to come. Looking out the window, your mind wandered to Benedict.

Throughout the rest of the ball the previous night, you often saw him watching you. The look in his eyes, his demeanor, it was different. Your mother even noticed and commented on it, saying he was being protective of you. You knew that could be it, but something in you told you it wasn't, that it was something more. The way he looked at you when you danced, he had never looked at you like that before.

You kept catching yourself imagining he had finally seen that you had feelings for him, causing him to feel them in return. You shunned the thought, thinking it childish. Those kind of feelings, those deep feelings that you had for him, took years to build. Surely he couldn't have suddenly developed them over night.

No, surely not. You would have to accept it. This was it. Your feelings for him would have to be pushed away. You had to accept someone else in exchange. Perhaps the Viscount? He was nice, handsome, and certainly interested in you.

Sighing you shook your head. No, it didn't matter who walked through those doors with compliments and flowers. None of them could hold a candle to Benedict.

"Are you alright Mx.?"

You looked up, seeing the reflection of your maid in the mirror, looking at you with worry. You had known her for so long, she was one of the few people who knew of your feelings toward Benedict. You even mentioned his odd behavior last night.

You smiled, and nodded. "Just nervous."

She smiled at you. "Yes, I can imagine." She paused, seemingly thinking for a moment before she spoke cautiously. "Do you think he'll come?"

You met her eyes in the reflection and then looked down, feeling an ache in your chest. "No. No I don't think he will."

-----

Benedict ran through what he was going to say as he marched down the street. His stride was long and fast, and his face must have been one of determination as people watched him past with wonder, or stepped quickly out of his path.

Walking up to your door, he let out a breath of relief as he saw he had arrived before any suitors. He knew he was far earlier than anyone was expected at the house, but he could not wait any longer.

As you sat in the sitting room, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve, your mother fitted around the room with a servant, preparing for the suitors. Both of you wre surprised when the door swung open, and a visitor was announced

"It's much to early, who would come at this time?" Your mother asked only moments before Benedict appeared in the room. "Oh, Benedict." Your mother exclaimed as she let out a breath of relief. "What on Earth are you doing here so early?"

Your eyes were wide with surprise and uncertainty, waiting for his response. His eyes passed over your mother and landed on you, you saw the nervousness in his gaze, and you held your breath.

Before he could speak, your mother began to talk again. "Oh, is it that you are worried about who will come? Protective as ever. With you here, the suitors might all run off." She joked.

"That's not why I'm here." He finally spoke. "I mean, I'm not here as a friend."

"Has something happened?" Your mother asked, missing the point of his words.

You however understood them, as you stood up quickly, your heart jumping in your chest. His eyes stared past your mothers shoulder, and straight into yours.

Your mother noticed this, and turned to look at you, seeing how your eyes were locked with his. Suddenly realization crossed her features. "Oh. Oh I see. Very well then, I will step out and give you two a moment."

You stood nervously by the couch as your mother all but sprinted from the room, giving you once last glance as she closed the doors behind Benedict.

You and Benedict stood in silence, and for the first time ever, you felt awkward around him. Taking a step forward, you opened your mouth, but faltered.

Seeing that you were unsure of what to say or do, Benedict cleared his throat before reaching into his coat. "I have something for you."

You watched as he pulled out a rolled piece of parchment paper. Walking up to you, he gave it to you. Slowly, you unraveled the paper, and stared wide-eyed at the beautiful and detailed drawing of you.

"Ben, th-this is amazing." You smiled down at the drawing, and he felt his heart flutter.

"I would...like to put it down in paint some day." He said softly.

You looked up, meeting his eyes. "How long have you been working on this?"

He let out a soft chuckle. "All last night. I started it, and didn't stop until it was done."

You looked down at it again, noting the detail in every spot. You wondered how he could have done it in one night so perfectly. "Why?" You asked suddenly, looking up at him. There were so many questions all tied into that one word.

'Why now?' 'What does it mean?' 'Why are you here?'

Benedict smiled at you, it was faint, almost guilty. "Because I love you."

'As your friend' is what you expected to follow, but it didn't. And the look in hi eyes told you that was not what he meant. Your heart seemed to stop for a moment, your breath stopped, your chest clenched. This was too good to be true.

You shook you head and let out a scoff. "Don't say that."

Benedict frowned. "Why not?"

"Don't say it unless you mean it." You reiterated, your voice held a tone of desperation.

Benedict shook his head as he took a step closer to you, he was so close. You looked down at the ground, and closed your eyes in desperation as you felt him place his hands on your arms "Y/n. Look at me."

Taking a breath, you looked up, meeting his eyes. You spoke softly, afraid to speak any louder. "Please don't lie to me."

Benedict felt his heart ache in his chest. "I would never lie to you."

"If this is just some- some, ploy to get me out of having to marry someone I don't know, I, I can't handle that. You can't do that to me. Not after all this time, I've been pushing away these feelings, telling myself you could never feel the same. So don't- don't lie to me Benedict please."

Suddenly, before you could say more, Benedict pulled you forward. His lips crashed against yours, and you fell completely still. His hands cupped either side of your face as he deepened the kiss. Your mind went blank, and you felt yourself begin to give in, just as he pulled away.

Your eyes opened, and met his, as he still held your face in his hands. He whispered softly. "I'm not lying to you." He smiled reassuringly. "I was lying to myself. All these years I convinced myself what I was feeling was just friendship, but it wasn't. Last night when I saw you dancing with that Viscount, I realized I might lose you. And I was so scared of that. And then I realized why. I wasn't just scared to lose you, I was scared I was too late in realizing what I was feeling was love. I love you Y/n, I have for so long. And I am so sorry I was so blind to it. You are not just my best friend Y/n, you are the love of my life."

You felt your eyes beginning to tear up as emotion washed over you. "I was so afraid to lose you too Benedict."

Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "You wont lose me, now or ever."

You smiled at him, bright and gleaming, as relief and happiness washed over you. Seeing his eyes flick to your lips once more, you both leaned in, meeting in another kiss.

You felt as though your body was blanketed in electricity as you kissed. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you leaned against him. His arms wrapped around your waist as he held you close to him.

When you finally parted, you were all smiles as you pressed your foreheads together. Hearing a knock at the door downstairs, you and Benedict shared a similar thought.

"Oh no." You muttered.

"Suitors." Benedict finished.

You both let out a soft laugh. "Do you think your mother would listen if I told her to have them sent away?"

"I guess there is one way to find out."

Smiling at you, he pressed a quick kiss to your lips before pulling away. Walking away from you and towards the door, you watched as he left, sparing you a smiling glance as he disappeared. You stood in silence for a moment, looking down at the drawing of yourself.

Suddenly, from a nearby room, you heard your mother gasp, followed by a loud clap of her hands and a familiar joyous laugh. You laughed under your breath, knowing this was what she had wanted from the beginning of your friendship with Benedict. And a desire, just like you, she had begun to give up on.

xx End xx

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[imagines-all-day-everyday]

The Rake & the Spinster

Summary:

With the Bridgerton's and the Dappleton's having always lived side by side, *yn* Dappleton is the unofficial ninth Bridgerton sibling, and Benedict Bridgerton has been her friend for as long as she can remember. However, when *yn* officially makes her debut into society with every intent of finding a husband, Benedict begins to realise that perhaps it is more than a friendship that he seeks.

Warnings: none, this is pure fluff <3

Notes: This might be one of my favourite fics I have ever written. Big call I know but eeeee!

-------------------------

"Miss Dappleton, Lord Dappleton has requested your presence."

*yn*'s brow furrowed, peering over the top of her book at the servant that stood expectantly at the doorway.

"What ever for?"

"He did not specify, miss. He is in his study waiting for you."

*yn* sighed begrudgingly and placed the book on the couch beside her. "Honestly, that man can never do anything on his own." She grumbled under her breath as she rose from her seat.

She made her way through the various hallways and rooms that made up her home before coming to a stop outside the study door.

"Come in." A muffled voice spoke from within in response to her knock. She edged open the door, peaking inside to see Lord Dappleton seated at his desk, his head buried in a mountain of paperwork.

"Ah *yn*, come come." He beckoned her, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her hovering in the doorway.

"Is everything alright father? Do you need assistance with the ledgers again?" *yn* implored as she came to stand in front of his desk.

"The what - oh no no no." He fussed, shaking his head and chuckling as he pushed the papers away from him.

"It's about you. I've made an appointment at Madame Delacroix's for tomorrow at 10 am."

"Madame Delacroix's?" *yn* echoed, her nose crinkling in confusion. "What ever for? I have enough dresses to last me till the end of the season."

"Well you're going to need new dresses if you are to formally make your debut into society."

"My what?" She exclaimed. "But father we agreed-"

"-I know what we agreed. That you would debut when you were ready. But you are one and twenty now *yn*-"

"But-"

"No buts." He cut her off once more. "You know I have always championed your independence, but Lady Bridgerton and I have both agreed that-"

"Lady Bridgerton? Oh so you two have been scheming behind my back to decide my future?" *yn* scoffed, folding her arms in front of chest.

"Now *yn* you know that woman loves you like one of her own." Lord Dappleton scolded. "We both have agreed that this is what is best for you and if you want to have any hopes of finding a decent husband then you must debut this season. Now, Lady Bridgerton has offered to escort you to your appointment tomorrow. You do not have to accept her invitation of course. But, she will be coming over tomorrow afternoon to discuss the details of your debut with you."

"I really do not get a say in this do I?" She murmured as he turned his attention back to the papers before him, signalling that she was dismissed.

"No my dear, I am afraid you do not."

There was a pause as *yn* studied her father for a few moments. Her first instinct was to argue, but there was an edge to her father's voice, one that she had only heard a handful of times in her life. And every single time she had heard that tone, he had always gotten his way.

"She can come to the appointment I suppose." *yn* grumbled.

Her words made a smile twitch up onto her father's lips as he looked at her over his spectacles.

"Excellent, I will advise her."

------------------

"Well it's official. I'm coming out."

"Come again?"

*yn* brought the cigarette to her lips, inhaling deeply before tilting her head back and letting the smoke waft up towards the moon.

"I am making my debut into society."

"You're having a laugh."

"I'm afraid I am not dearest Benedict, I am to formally debut myself this weekend." *yn* twisted on the swing turning to look at the second eldest Bridgerton.

"At the Cowper's ball of all places no less." Her nose wrinkling in disgust.

"If this is your idea of a practical joke, you've done much better." Benedict smirked, exhaling a puff of smoke as he pushed his feet off the ground to move the swing.

"I wish I was joking." *yn* deadpanned. "Father spoke to me this morning, apparently him and your mother have decided that if I have any chance of finding a decent husband I must debut this season."

*yn*'s body jerked forward as Benedict planted his feet on the ground, the swing coming to a sudden stop.

"You're being serious." He stated, causing her to roll her eyes.

"That is what I have been saying." *yn* huffed as she rose to her feet. "I am to go to the dressmaker's tomorrow morning with your mother."

Benedict studied her for a few moments before he tilted his head back and let out a howl of laughter. "This is bloody brilliant."

"You're going to have to have one of those silly dance cards and everything. And you'll have gentlemen callers, oh you will love that." He cackled, clutching at his sides as he laughed.

"I am so glad you find my predicament so amusing Bridgerton." She huffed, placing her hands on her hips, a smile still on her lips despite her best efforts to look irritated.

"Oh I do, I really do."

"What are you two guffawing about?"

*yn* and Benedict glanced up to see Eloise Bridgerton making her way towards them.

"*yn*'s just informed me that she is making her debut this season." Benedict grinned.

"Oh no, not you too. I thought at least one of us would be spared the torture." Eloise despaired as she came to take a seat beside her brother.

"Unfortunately not dear Eloise. Apparently I am on the verge of becoming a spinster at the ripe old age of one and twenty." *yn* proclaimed causing both the Bridgerton siblings to burst into laughter.

"What about you and Benedict's plan to indefinitely galavant around and terrorise the ton with your rake and spinster ways?" Eloise asked as she glanced between them.

"Unfortunately only one of us has the pleasure of choosing when and if they will marry." *yn* answered, shooting Benedict a pointed look as she came back to join the siblings.

Despite her jokes and sarcasm, the thought of the impending season was making her feel quite ill. It was finally beginning to sink in that by the end of the season, she would more than likely have a husband. One who she might not even love.

"Do not fret sister, I will be enough of a rake for the both of us. Is that not right *yn*?" Benedict winked at *yn* as he pulled out a fresh cigarette.

*yn* ignored the pang in her stomach at his words, "that is right." She answered, forcing a smile onto her lips as she sat down on the grass in front of them.

"I cannot believe our society still demands this of us." Eloise complained as she lit a cigarette of her own.

"Do not despair El, with you, me and Anthony out this season it will at least not be a boring one." *yn* comforted her.

"I suppose you are right." Eloise sighed. "Plus Lady Whistledown has returned, that will make for some titivating drama as always."

"Well let us all pray that a scandal so big happens that Lady Whistledown forgets all about your family this season." *yn* remarked as she rose to her feet.

"You are leaving? So soon?" Benedict asked, straightening up on his swing as he studied her intently.

"Yes I should, I must be up bright and early in preparation for what I am sure will be a thrilling expedition to Madame Delacroix's." She sighed as she smoothed her dress out.

"But we had not even begun to discuss my dear brother's courtship and the sister sent to torture him." He complained.

"Come now Benny do not sulk." *yn* teased as she touched his shoulder comfortingly. "You can tell me all about this sister birthed from hell itself at the Cowper ball, goodness knows I will need something to pass the time." She sighed, shivering at the mere thought.

"El, I will see you at the ball too?"

"Sadly, yes." Eloise grimaced.

"Excellent, well with that I will bid you goodnight Bridgertons." She jokingly curtseyed.

"Goodnight *yn*!" The pair chorused back. *yn* grinned at them, giving them one last wave before she picked up her dress and made her way to the small hole in the hedge that divided their homes.

*yn* and her father had lived beside the Bridgertons in the ton for her entire life. Her mother had been taken by a fever before *yn* could even walk and with her father refusing to remarry, it had always been just her and her father.

Violet Bridgerton and Arthur Dappleton had always been close, and when *yn*'s mother died they grew even closer, with Violet helping a very hopeless single father with raising a daughter. *yn* had grown up with the eight siblings, closest to Eloise and Daphne given the age proximity. But as she aged, she found herself growing closer to the older brothers, particularly with Benedict. Now she would consider him one of her closest friends.

The fact that she had been in love with him for as long as she could remember did ever so slightly complicate things. But overtime she had learnt to suppress it, telling herself that nothing would ever come of it. It was easier that way.

"I cannot believe *yn*'s left me alone with you." Benedict complained once *yn* had disappeared through the hedge. He chuckled as Eloise shoved him playfully in response.

"You know." Eloise began as silence fell over the garden, the faint sound of birds chirping in the distance. "I always thought you two would end up together."

Her words made Benedict jerk upright, so suddenly that he very nearly slipped off his seat. Eloise stifled a laugh as her brother's hand shot up to grip the rope of the swing to steady himself as he turned to look at her.

"Who? Me and *yn*?" Benedict inquired incredulously.

"Do not be absurd Eloise." He shook his head when Eloise nodded. "She is like a fifth sister, to think of her that way-" He cut himself as he felt his cheeks growing flush under Eloise's stare.

"That might be one of the daftest things you have ever uttered and that is the last I will say on the matter." He muttered, taking a deep inhale of his cigarette.

"Whatever you say brother." Eloise mused, a knowing look on her features as she glanced back over at the Dappleton estate.

----------------------------

"How long are we expected to be here mama?"

"I too would like to know the answer to that question."

"Hush you two, Eloise you have not even had one dance yet." Violet dismissed her children. Eloise and Benedict both simultaneously rolled their eyes, shooting each other looks of displeasure before following begrudgingly after their mother.

"I have not caught sight of *yn* yet, she better be here." Eloise grumbled to Benedict as they weaved through the throng of people.

Both of them nearly collided into the back of their mother who had come to a sudden halt beside Lady Danbury.

"Oh Lady Bridgerton you have outdone yourself." They heard Lady Danbury say to their mother.

"Why thank you Lady Danbury."

Benedict and Eloise shot each other puzzled looks before hurrying to get around their mother.

"Woah." Eloise breathed out.

Benedict froze when his eyes fell on the source of Eloise's amazement.

He felt like his feet had been knocked out from beneath him as he studied her. She was in a beautiful violet gown with pale purple gloves to match. Her hair had been done in an intricate up style with diamonds adorning her neck, ears and were even woven into her hair. Her arm was hooked through her father's as she made her way through the crowd.

She was the most beautiful woman Benedict had ever laid eyes on. *yn* Dappleton, her best friend. Hushed whispers that circled him made him think that there were many others who thought the same thing.

"Benedict, let's go fetch a drink and then we can say hello." Eloise murmured, her wide eyes never leaving *yn*'s figure as she spoke.

"Benedict." She repeated when she got no response. She finally turned to see him completely mesmerised by *yn*, so much so that he had not heard a word she had said.

"Brother." She spoke, shaking his arm. This finally broke him out of his trance, wide eyed as he glanced down at his sister.

"What?"

Eloise tried to suppress her amused smirk, "I said, let's go fetch a drink."

"Oh yes." Benedict nodded as he adjusted the collar of his vest which had suddenly grown very restrictive. He cleared his throat, "let's do that."

----------------

"Lady Dappleton, would you do me the honour of another dance?"

"Why thank you Lord Dixon, the honour would be all mine." *yn* curtseyed back, "I am just feeling a bit faint, I think some fresh air will serve me well before we dance."

"Of course Lady Dappleton, I will be waiting for your return." Lord Dixon bowed.

The second her back was turned *yn*'s smile dropped and she rolled her eyes as she made a beeline for the balcony.

She let out a sigh of relief as she stepped outside and into the warm night air. Her feet were aching and she could barely breath in the corset that had been tied ridiculously tight. All she wanted to do was to go home. Or be sitting in the Bridgerton's backyard, on the swing with Benedict, talking about something entirely trivial.

"Psst- Dappleton!" *yn*'s brow furrowed, glancing around for the source of the noise. "Down here!"

Upon that instruction she peered over the balcony. "Benedict." She breathed out a sigh of relief at the sight of the second eldest Bridgerton.

"Where have you been? I have been looking for you everywhere!" She hissed.

"Well I went to go fetch a drink and just happened to spy an open window right beside the punch bowl, it was too good of an opportunity to pass up." Benedict responded, shooting her a cheeky grin.

"Come on, let's go." He continued, waving her down.

"Benedict I cannot go with you. I am unchaperoned. If anyone saw us-"

"No one will see us, come on." He beckoned her frantically. "Unless you want to go back in there that is."

*yn* bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder at the party. She winced at the sight of Lord Dixon glancing around, clearly looking for her. She glanced down at Benedict who was looking up expectantly, that heart stopping grin still plastered on his features as they locked eyes.

"Come on, we can have a party of our own." He urged, shaking the flask in his hand at her temptingly.

She withheld a sigh as she felt her resolve crumbling, shaking her head in defeat.

"I better not regret this Bridgerton." She grumbled before swinging her legs over the balcony railing.

----------------------

"I just cannot believe Dixon thought he actually had a chance with you." Benedict remarked.

"Oh come on, he is not that bad." *yn* mused as she pressed the flask to her lips, wincing as the liquor burned her throat.

"*yn* dearest, the man perpetually smells like off milk." Benedict's smile widened as he practically felt *yn*'s mouth drop as she turned to face him.

"How on earth did you know-"

"He was called The Milkman at university, why do you think my brothers and I always avoid talking with him for too long at these things? The stench seeps into your clothes. Impossible to get it out of them."

"And you did not think to forewarn me about this?" *yn* gaped. Benedict shrugged his shoulders and locked eyes with her, the pair eyed each other for a few moments before bursting into fits of laughter.

*yn* clutched her sides, feeling her eyes growing wet from how hard she was laughing.

"Oh we are horrible." She giggled, inhaling deeply as she tried to catch her breath.

"Maybe, but at least we are not dreadfully boring." He chuckled.

*yn* hummed in agreement as she leant her head back against the trunk of the tree. Her veins were singing with warmth from the liquid provided by the flask. Her body and mind were relaxing more and more as the minutes ticked by as the alcohol seeped into her.

The warm summer nights breeze was a beautiful reprieve from the Cowper's overcrowded and stuffy room. Her and Benedict were sitting side by side underneath an oak tree, so close together that their arms were nearly touching.

"I must get back soon, before anyone notices my absence." *yn* sighed after a few moments of peaceful silence.

"A full dance card?" Benedict queried, unable to help himself as he peered over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of the men who had requested a dance with her.

"Surprisingly, yes." She answered as she flicked her fingers through the pages of the dance card hanging from her wrist.

"Really?" Benedict spoke as he studied her, "I do not think it is the least bit surprising." He remarked, unable to hide the edge in his voice as he took a deep swig of liquor.

"And why is that?" *yn* mused, fully preparing for some sort of sarcastic jab as she looked up at him expectantly.

"Because you look absolutely breathtaking tonight."

*yn* felt like the wind had been knocked out of her at his words. They were so matter-of-fact that for a brief moment she thought that she had been hearing things. Her lips parted slightly as she studied him, trying to rack her brain for something to say.

"At least that is what I heard Lord Dixon and a few of his friends say anyway." Benedict added quickly as he looked down at his feet.

And just like that, the moment passed.

"Oh right." *yn* nodded, swallowing thickly as she tried to hide her disappointment. "And here I was thinking that Benedict Bridgerton was actually going to give me a compliment." She forced a teasing tone to her words.

"A compliment? Please you know me better than that Miss Dappleton." His words made a soft chuckle emit from *yn*'s lips as she fixed her eyes on her dance card, flicking through the pages absentmindedly.

Benedict silently cursed himself for saying those words out loud. They were meant to be his thoughts and his thoughts only. To remain in his head. Most definitely not thoughts for *yn* to hear. But when she had looked at him with that breathtaking smile on her lips, the words had spilled out of him before he could restrain himself.

"Lord Dappleton, I found them!"

The voice made the two spring up onto their feet, panic flooding both of them. They both exhaled when they saw Violet Bridgerton marching towards them.

That relief was short lived when they saw the furious expression on her features, one which was unfortunately mirrored in Arthur Dappleton's face who was hot on her heels.

"We have been looking for you everywhere, do you know how long you have been gone?" Violet demanded.

"Mother I am sorry we just-"

"-Benedict I do not want to hear it." She snapped, holding a hand up to stop him. "We were worried sick. And to find you both here, and unchaperoned of all things." She shook her head as disappointment radiated from her.

"I thought we taught you both better than this."

*yn* folded her arms in front of her guiltily as she glanced at her father who was yet to say a word. She did not recall the last time she had seen him look so disappointed.

"Come *yn*, we are leaving." He finally said after a few moments of tense silence passed.

*yn* nodded, knowing better than to argue. She shot Benedict a glance before following after her father who had already begun to make his way to their carriage.

"Honestly Benedict, do you know what would have happened if someone else had caught you two out here like this, unchaperoned?" Violet snapped as Benedict watched *yn*'s retreating figure.

Benedict knew the answer. He knew that it meant that the two would have had to marry with haste. Just like Daphne and Simon.

His worst nightmare of course, I mean marriage? No. Absolutely not.

Although, there was a small voice in his head that was telling him that being married to *yn* might not be so terrible.

In fact, it would not be so terrible at all.

-------------------

The ride to the Dappleton estate was done so in complete silence.

Neither *yn* nor her father uttered a single word in the carriage, nor did either of them say a word as they traipsed up the stairs and into the living room.

"Sit." That was the first word uttered by Arthur as he pointed to the couch.

*yn* complied. She watched as her father locked his hands behind his back and began to pace the length of the room.

"Do you have any idea what would have happened if Lady Bridgerton had not been the one to discover you?" He began. "It would have ruined you."

*yn* sat in guilty silence.

"I know it has always been just you and me in this house. And perhaps it was my fault that I have let you run around, doing what you please. Maybe I erred in not remarrying and finding a wife suitable to help raise you. To try and provide you with a brother to help care for you." He muttered, more to himself than to *yn* as he continued to pace.

"I did not need a step-mother. I have you. I have Lady Bridgerton."

Her soft words made him come to a stand still in front of her. "And I did not need another wife, you are all I need *yn*." He clarified as he studied his daughter.

"But I will not always be here for you. One day, when I am gone, this-" He gestured around the room. "- will go to my closest male relative. He will become Lord of this house. Not you. And you will need someone to provide for you, to give you a roof over your head, safety, company."

"But I do not want to have someone provide for me." *yn* spoke, her voice shaking with frustration.

"I know, but this is how our society works." Her father answered her firmly. "And I will not see my daughter left in destitute, I will not." He spoke forcefully, his voice increasingly growing louder as his anger also grew.

"And I will not let you throw your future away over that Bridgerton boy-

"It was not his fault he-"

"-Benedict has always done as he pleases, whenever he pleases *yn*, and he will continue to do so, with little consequence. You cannot pine for this boy any longer *yn*. He has made his thoughts on marriage very clear-"

"I am not pining for Benedict!" *yn* exclaimed, her cheeks growing red in embarrassment. "He is my friend."

Arthur's expression softened at her words, sympathy splashed across his features. "*yn*." He spoke gently. "You do not have to pretend with me."

She swallowed as she felt tears pricking at her cheeks. She stared down into her lap as the couch dipped beside her as her father sat down next to her.

"I love him." Her voice quivered as she spoke.

"I know." Arthur answered, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"But it is time to stop waiting around for him." He continued softly. "It is time for you to find your happiness."

There was a pause as *yn* fiddled with her fingers, blinking back tears as she did so. "Do you think I will find a love match? Like you and mother?" Her voice was so small that Arthur had trouble catching her words.

"Of course I do." He smiled sadly as he wrapped his arms around her and brought her into a tight embrace.

"But you must actually make an effort with these suitors. Promise me *yn* that you will." He murmured as she melted into her father's embrace.

She sniffed as she clung to him, trying to push thoughts of Benedict from her mind.

"I promise."

------------------

"Sorry I am late, what have I missed sister?"

Daphne glanced up at Benedict before turning her attention back to the dance floor. "Well, Anthony and Miss Edwina have been dancing all night, much to her sister's distaste." Daphne mused.

Benedict plucked a glass of wine from the tray of a passing waiter, his eyes searching the Featherington's ballroom for a particular figure.

"If you are looking for *yn*, she is dancing with Lord Mayfair."

"I was not looking for-" Benedict began before pausing as Daphne's words sunk in. "Lord Mayfair?" Benedict he exclaimed incredulously.

"Indeed, this is their third dance of the evening." Daphne remarked as Benedict's eyes finally found *yn*, indeed dancing with Lord Mayfair, a radiant smile plastered on her features.

"I think they look quite good together, do you not agree?" She continued, studying her brother's facial features intently.

"I suppose." He bit back as he tilted his head back and downed the entirety of his glass.

"He is quite the catch you know. He comes from an exceptional family." Daphne continued, an amused smirk on her features as she watched her brother glare at the pair.

Benedict merely grunted in response as he grabbed another glass just as the song ended. He watched as *yn* curtseyed to Lord Mayfair after finishing up their dance, laughing at something he had said.

"I will see you later sister." He spoke, not even giving her a glance as he watched Lord Mayfair head towards the drinks table, leaving *yn* unattended.

"I am sure you will brother." Daphne mused, shaking her head as she watched him go.

"There you are Dappleton."

*yn* turned around to find herself face to face with Benedict. Her stomach dropped at the sight of him, her father's words echoing in her ear.

"I have barely seen you this past week."

"I know I am sorry, I have been busy." She lied.

Benedict's brow creased, immediately picking up on her uneasy nature. "Never mind that, come on let's go."

"Go where?" *yn* queried, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"I spotted an easy escape route from one of the parlour rooms." Benedict answered, opening his jacket up to reveal the flask stashed in his pocket. "Come on, before Lord Mayfair comes back." He grinned.

"Benedict, do you not remember what happened at the Cowper ball?" *yn* blinked in disbelief, "That could have been a disaster."

"Ah but it was not." He winked. "Come on do not tell me you would rather spend the evening in here for heavens sake."

"I promised my father I would take this seriously." She shot back causing him to raise a brow. "Fine, dance with me then. That way you are technically not shirking your responsibilities." He grinned, extending a hand in jest.

"I said seriously, Benedict." *yn* snapped back, feeling herself growing irritated at his laissez-fair attitude. "I know it is all well and good for you to make a mockery of these events but I do not have that luxury. I cannot afford to when I intend on finding a husband by the end of the season."

Benedict's hand dropped to his side, all traces of humour vanishing from his face as he studied her.

"You are being serious." He stated in disbelief. He glanced over his shoulder to ensure Lord Mayfair was not in sight before turning back to her.

"With Lord Mayfair of all people?" His voice lowered as he leant in closer to her. "I mean come on Dappleton."

"Yes Lord Mayfair of all people." *yn* shot back, her voice nothing more than a hushed whisper as her cheeks grew red. She glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention before turning back to him.

"He is kind, well respected and has an excellent sense of duty towards his responsibilities as a future viscount, in particular the importance of finding a wife." She could feel herself growing increasingly angry the longer she spoke.

"I know that may be a foreign concept to you, but it is important to me. Which is why I cannot afford to galavant around with you at these events any longer" She hissed.

Benedict blinked, his mouth slack in disbelief as he stared at her.

"Now, if you will excuse me I must go find Lord Mayfair, I expect he is looking for me."

With that, *yn* stepped past him and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Benedict standing speechless and utterly shocked.

--------------

"Why is Benedict sulking?"

"Hmm?" Daphne queried, tearing her eyes from the dance floor to glance at her sister.

"He has been attached to that pillar for the past hour, the only thing that has changed is the amount of wine in his glass." Eloise remarked.

Daphne followed her gaze to see her brother stood leaning against one of the pillars in the corner. His eyes were glassy from drink, unwavering in their fixation on something, or someone, on the dance floor.

"Ah." Daphne murmured in realisation. "*yn* and Lord Mayfair."

"Ahhh." Eloise realised, nodding her head.

"Well I must say he is in quite a state. I saw him nearly trip over his own feet a few moments ago."

"Maybe it would be best if he retired for the night." Daphne remarked, her brow creasing in concern as she watched her bother pick up another glass of wine.

Daphne had only had her head turned for a few moments to see if she could spot her mother when Eloise tugged on her arm.

"Daphne, I think we have a problem."

Daphne turned just in time to see that Benedict had pushed himself off the pole and was making a beeline for the dance floor. Towards *yn*, who was mid-dance with Lord Mayfair.

"Oh no." Daphne breathed out and with that the two sisters rushed to intervene.

"Lord Mayfair." A slurred voice remarked. Lord Mayfair turned at the feeling of a tap on his shoulder to see Benedict Bridgerton swaying in front of him. *yn* felt her stomach plummet to the ground.

"I would like to steal the lovely *yn* for a dance."

"Miss Dappleton and I are in the middle of one, but you are more than welcome to ask her once we are finished." Lord Mayfair answered calmly.

"But I want to dance with her now." Benedict frowned.

"I am sure you can wait a few minutes." Lord Mayfair answered, this time irritation evident in his tone.

"She is going to say no. Because I am not 'serious' enough." Benedict mocked, hiccuping as he swayed dangerously close to them.

*yn*'s eyes darted around to see that people were beginning to stare at the spectacle that was unfolding.

"Benedict, I will talk to you about this later. Let me finish my dance. Please." She pleaded desperately.

"Brother, there you are!" Much to *yn*'s relief Daphne and Eloise appeared from behind Benedict, both looping an arm through his.

"I am so sorry Lord Mayfair, our brother is quite unwell. It has been making him act a bit out of turn." Daphne apologised, curtseying politely. "We were just escorting him home now."

"It is quite alright Duchess." Lord Mayfair bowed back.

"Unwell? I am not-" Benedict hiccuped. "Unwell, I am fine... see!" Benedict pulled out of Eloise and Daphne's grip, seemingly to demonstrate his sobriety. However, instead he tripped over his own feet, sending the contents of his nearly full champagne glass flying into the air.

Gasps echoed throughout the room as gravity pulled the liquid down and hit their mark.

All over *yn* Dappleton.

*yn* let out a gasp of her own as the cold liquid drenched her entire front, instantly seeping through the fabric and right into her bones. Her hair was sopping wet too, plastered to her skin as she felt her makeup begin to run.

"Oh my Lady Dappleton, are you alright?" She heard Lord Mayfair ask her, his voice faint in the background as her head pounded.

She glanced around to see people whispering and pointing, Cressida Cowper and her cronies giggling in one corner as they studied her.

"I- I-" She cut herself off as she glared at Benedict, who was staring at her wide eyed in shock.

"I have to go." She heard herself say. She could hear people calling out her name as she picked up her dress and hurried off, trying not to collide with anyone as she weaved through the crowd.

"*yn* wait!" Daphne called out but to no avail as *yn* disappeared into the throng of onlookers. She sighed, her hand falling to her side as she glared at Benedict.

"Well, I hope you're happy brother."

-------------------

"What in heavens is wrong with you?!" Violet demanded.

Benedict swallowed as his eyes darted around the room. He was met with disappointed and angry looks from all of his siblings, not a single sympathetic look in sight.

"First you take *yn* out into the garden unchaperoned, and now you publicly humiliate her in front of everyone in the ton. Including Lord Mayfair who has been vying for her attention since her debut and has every intention of courting her! Honestly Benedict, what would your father say about this?"

"I am sorry, I do not know what came over me." He answered guiltily, avoiding his mother's disappointed gaze.

"What has gotten into you Benedict? I thought you cared for *yn*."

"I do care for her!" He shot back, "of course I care for her."

"I think that is precisely the problem." Daphne remarked, earning a glare from Benedict.

"What ever do you mean Daphne?"

"Honestly mama, is it not obvious?" Daphne laughed as she folded her arms in front of her chest.

"Benedict is in love with *yn*."

"I am not in love with *yn*." Benedict scoffed.

"Oh please brother enough, even a blindman could see it." Anthony cut in.

"Anthony is right." Colin agreed.

"I have known it for quite some time too." Eloise nodded, "we all have, even mama I suspect."

Benedict glanced around at his siblings to see them all nodding in agreement, even young Hyacinth and Gregory were moving their heads.

Finally he turned back to his mother who was studying him intently. There was something in her expression, a softening of her features as she looked at him. One of sympathy. Of understanding.

"This is preposterous I do not love her, she is a close friend, nothing more." Benedict defended himself, although even as he was saying it, he knew it sounded unconvincing.

His words caused that sympathetic expression vanish from his mother's features, instead replaced by a hardened one as she glared at her son.

"Then you should have no problem in leaving her be for the rest of the season and letting Lord Mayfair court her." Lady Bridgerton answered him matter-of-factly.

"Because that girl is like a daughter to me and I will not let you ruin her future because you are too selfish to let her be happy with someone else. Do I make myself clear?"

There was a pause as Benedict studied his mother before once more glancing around the room, searching for any sign of help. When he received nothing but more disappointed looks he let out a sigh and nodded.

"Understood."

--------------------------

*yn* felt her stomach do flips as she stepped into Lady Danburry's ball.

It had been two weeks since the incident at the Featherington ball and she had not seen Benedict since.

Daphne, Eloise and Penelope had all paid her visits to make sure she was alright. With both Eloise and Pen assuring her that surely something much more scandalous would happen before Lady Whistledown's next issue was to be penned, enough so that the incident would be entirely forgotten.

By some good fortune, they had been correct. When the next edition of Lady Whistledown arrived, *yn* was relieved to see that her scandal had not even been mentioned by the gossip writer.

She had been both relieved and hurt that Benedict had not paid her a visit. Every night since she had stepped out onto her balcony that overlooked the Bridgerton's backyard. And every night she would see Benedict sitting on the swing, alone.

She wondered if he was waiting for her.

Even though every bone in her body was desperate to join him, the memory of the humiliation that he had caused her sprang to the forefront of her mind. No, if he did not even have the decency to apologise then she most certainly was not going to make the first step towards reconcilliation.

To make matters worse, Lord Mayfair had stopped calling in the past week. It was safe to say that the last thing *yn* wished to do was spend an evening at yet another ball with the rest of the scandal hungry ton.

"See? I told you the ton had an impressively short memory." Her father murmured to her as they made their way through the crowd. Indeed, the socialites barely even glanced in the Dappleton's direction, all too caught up in their own gossip and stories.

"You are always right father." *yn* mused.

After an hour of making small talk with a few acquaintances, *yn* was yet to spy Benedict or any other Bridgerton for that matter. She was beginning to wonder if that was intentional. A body colliding with hers made her break out of her thoughts.

"Oh my apologies Miss-" *yn* looked up to see Lord Mayfair standing sheepishly in front of her. "Oh Miss Dappleton, hello." He greeted, bowing politely.

"Lord Mayfair." She greeted, curtseying in reply. "Are you well?"

"I am indeed Miss Dappleton."

"That is a relief to hear, I thought you might have taken ill."

"Why would you think that?" He puzzled.

"Oh well, you have not called in the past week so I thought..." She trailed off, her cheeks growing pink in embarassment.

"My apologies Miss Dappleton but I am afraid I am vexed." Lord Mayfair spoke, his brow furrowing.

"I was under the impression that you were being courted by another gentleman." He continued when he noted the confused expression on her features.

"Another..." *yn* trailed off in surprise, "who ever told you that?"

"Oh it was..." Lord Mayfair trailed off as his eyes landed on something just behind her left shoulder. *yn* swung around, following his gaze.

She felt rage bubble within her as her eyes landed on none other than Benedict Bridgerton who was leaning against a pillar, staring at the couple. His eyes widened when he realised that he had been spotted.

The pair studied each other intently for a few moments before Benedict darted around the pillar, making a break for the patio.

"If you will excuse me Lord Mayfair." *yn* gritted her teeth, manoeuvring past the Lord to follow Benedict.

She faintly made out Lord Mayfair say something in reply but it was lost in the crowd as she hurried after him as quickly as she could without attracting attention to herself. She thought that she had lost him when she caught him sneaking out of a window and into the garden.

She glanced over her shoulder to make sure that no one was paying attention to her before she followed him into the garden. Goosebumps instantly rose on her skin as the crisp night air hit her with force. He was still quite a distance away as she picked up her dress and hurried after him.

"Benedict!" She called out. Thankfully his pace had slowed, allowing her to come within earshot.

"Do not dare walk away from me Benedict Bridgerton!" She shouted just as he reached the trunk of a giant oak tree.

He came to a stop at her words, causing *yn* to slow down as she approached him.

"Apparently Lord Mayfair is under the impression that I was being courted by another gentleman." *yn* spoke, her voice wavering with anger.

Benedict did not utter a word, his back still turned to her.

"Do you have any idea how he may have come to such a conclusion?"

The silence that she received in return gave her the answer she already knew to be correct. She let out a scoff, shaking her head as she folded her arms in front of her chest.

"I thought we were friends." Her words finally forced Benedict to turn to face her.

Benedict felt guilt flow through him as he saw the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

"We are friends, of course we are friends." He spoke quietly.

"Really? Clearly you and I have a very different definition of what it means to be friends. Because last time I checked, friends do not publicly humiliate each other and try to ruin their futures."

Benedict bit the inside of his cheek, glancing down at the ground to avoid her piercing gaze. His silence only fuelled her anger, her fists clenched at her sides as she took further steps towards him.

He had to clench his fists at his side as the smell of her jasmine scented soap consumed his senses. It was the first time he had been this close to her in what felt like an eternity, so achingly close to her that he could just reach out and-

"What have I done wrong? Was it something I said? Something untoward?" She pestered him, causing him to snap back into reality.

"What?" A perplexed look flashing across his features. "Of course you have done nothing wrong."

"Really? I must have done something for you to despise me so. Because as far as I can tell, the only logical reason for your behaviour towards me is that I have offended you in some horrific way."

"You have not-" Benedict cut himself as he inhaled sharply. "I could never despise you *yn*." He muttered as he began to pace back and forth in front of her.

"Then tell me what is wrong!" She demanded, her voice wavering as she felt angry tears threaten to spill down her cheeks. "Tell me why you have been acting this way."

She watched as Benedict took another deep breath and stressfully forced a hand through his thick hair. "I cannot paint." He murmured, so softly *yn* almost missed it.

"What?" Her brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you-"

"I cannot paint, no matter how hard I try to find inspiration. I cannot draw, I cannot eat, I cannot sleep." He continued, "because all I can think about is you."

His words made *yn* scoff and throw her hands up dramatically. "Well that is just splendid. You are telling me that I have done something so abhorrent, so reprehensible, so deplorable that you cannot even do what you love the most. Excellent, really, thank you Benedict."

"Good god *yn*." Benedict hissed in frustration, placing his hands behind his head as he looked up to heaven for some sort of solution. "For the last time you have not-"

"Just tell me what I have done that has aggrieved you so badly Benedict, please I-"

"I am in love with you, *yn*!" Benedict bellowed, his eyes wild with desperation as he finally stopped pacing and stood in front of her.

"Are you happy now?" His shoulders slumped in defeat, his breath ragged. "There is your answer."

*yn* grew completely still, a breath lodged in her throat as she stared at him. She thought that her heart might burst out of her chest and her feet give out beneath her.

"I am supposed to not care for marriage or commitment, I am supposed to go to art school and write poetry and cause Anthony and mother grief." He shook his head, letting out a bark of laughter as he began to pace once more.

"And then I saw how terrified you were of not finding a husband and I asked myself, how do you not realising that you are the most breathtaking woman that has graced the ton?" Benedict was on a roll now, talking so feverishly that *yn* barely had time to process his words before he was opening his mouth once more.

"Because I am not the only one who thinks this *yn*. No, no, I see how the rest of our society looks at you. You are the envy of every lady and the object of every lord's desires."

"Ben-" *yn* took another step toward him.

"And then I look at myself, an artist who cannot even get into art school - without his brother bribing them might I add, who no one takes seriously or even gives a second glance, and I know that I am not good enough for you." He muttered bitterly, shaking his head as he came to a stand still once more, finally turning to lock eyes with her.

"I know that someone like Lord Mayfair is worthy of you. But when I see you two together, it feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest and every fibre of my being is screaming at me to stop it." He continued as he watched *yn* close the gap between them, standing so close to him now that her gloves were nearly brushing his.

"I know it is selfish, I know how I have acted is childish and petulant." He spoke weakly, his voice growing hushed as he talked. "And for that I am truly sorry, please believe me when I say that."

They were both crying now, their breaths visible in the chilly night air as they exhaled shakily.

"Of course I believe you." *yn* managed to croak out as she brought a hand up to cradle his face, brushing a stray tear from his cheek with her gloved thumb.

"I will leave you two alone now." *yn* shook her head at Benedict's words, signalling for him to stop but he could not control his frantic rambling. "I will explain everything to him, I will tell him that he should propose and-"

*yn* did not know what came over her. She knew it was completely unacceptable, scandalous, totally un-ladylike, the sort of action that would utterly disgrace the Dappleton name. But in that moment, all she could think about, all she craved, was Benedict's lips on hers.

So she leant up on her toes and pulled his head down by the base of his neck, pressing her lips clumsily to his. Benedict did not even have time to process what was happening before she had pulled away.

"I-" *yn* cut herself off as she looked up at him with wide eyes, taken aback by her own actions.

"I love you Benedict." She heard herself say as she tried to control her breathing, "it has always been you."

Benedict studied her for a brief moment, letting out a shaky breath before a relieved smile appeared on his face.

"You have bewitched me, body and soul, *yn* Dappleton." He whispered against her lips, as he brought a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

His words made her knees weak and her heart pound. Benedict Bridgerton, the starving artist, had always had a way with words, with romance. But this was the first time that they had been directed at her, and it was enough to make her head spin.

This time, when *yn* tilted her head up and their lips met, Benedict was ready.

*yn* felt like she was seeing stars as their lips collided. Benedict's arms snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. *yn*'s head was spinning as the kiss deepened, one of her hands automatically burying itself into his hair. Benedict let out what could only be described as a sort of whimper at the contact. His hands dug into her hips as he tried to remember to breathe, to get some sort of oxygen to his brain, as he grew dizzy from being completely and utterly consumed by her.

The sound of a twig snapping made the pair spring apart. Relief washed over them when they saw that the cause of the sound was merely a bird poking around in the grass.

"We best get back to the ball." *yn* murmured, disappointment washing through her at the realisation that they could not stay out here like this for an eternity.

"Yes." Benedict nodded as he ran a hand through his hair, "Although I would probably give my right arm to stay here with you, we should."

"I will go back first, to avoid suspicion." *yn* spoke, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as Benedict smirked down at her, his hand brushing against her lower back.

"If I ask you to dance in there, will my request be taken seriously this time Miss Dappleton?"

"You, Benedict Bridgerton, want to dance?" She queried, raising a brow in disbelief.

"I am capable of doing more than causing you grief, you know." He remarked causing a small giggle to escape her lips.

"Yes Benedict, your request will be taken seriously." Her answer made him grin as he shook his head in amusement.

"I was supposed to be a life long rake." A wry smile on his features as his eyes shone with happiness.

"And I a spinster."

---------------------

"I am sorry, do my eyes deceive me or is that our dear Benedict willingly on the dance floor at a ball?"

"No, your eyes do not deceive you brother." Daphne shook her head, her eyes brimming with amusement.

"Well I'll be." Anthony shook his head in amazement.

"It really is a sight to behold." Colin remarked.

"Is that- oh my." Violet gasped as her and Arthur Dappleton joined the Bridgerton siblings to view the spectacle unfolding before them.

"They finally did it... the spinster and the rake." Eloise remarked, shaking her head in disbelief.

"What was that dear?" Violet asked, glancing down at her daughter.

"Oh nothing mama." Eloise spoke hastily, covering her mouth to stifle her giggles as her and Daphne exchanged smirks.

"Well, well, well." Lady Danbury spoke as she came to stand beside Lady Bridgerton and Lord Dappleton.

"Your match-making skills continue to amaze me Lady Bridgerton." Lady Danbury remarked.

"Please I cannot take all the credit, it was mainly Lord Dappleton's idea." Violet answered her.

"Is that so?" Lady Danbury asked, raising a brow as she studied the Lord.

"You are too modest, Lady Bridgerton. Everything I learnt, I learnt from you." Arthur's praise made a small blush appear on Violet's cheeks.

"Who would have thought all it would take for them to admit their feelings would be to get *yn* to debut." Lady Danbury mused.

The three of them joined the other onlookers as they watched *yn* and Benedict twirl around the ballroom floor. They both had grins that stretched from ear to ear, their eyes shining with adoration as they spun. Their hands mirrored each other, never touching but tantalisingly close as they circled each other. They were in their own little world, oblivious to their surroundings as they stared into each other's eyes.

Not even a fool could mistake them for what they were, there was no doubt.

A love match.

------------------

I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH <3 I'm so proud of it, I think I was born to write period pieces lol. As always, feedback would be super super appreciated and you can give it back HERE!

[sxftmusings]

when he sees me

summary: you have always been scared of the idea of marriage, but that all changes when you meet benedict

warnings/tags: fem!reader, brief mentions of abuse (nothing happens to reader i promise!!)

You have heard many stories of the horrors of marriage, how husbands would control their wives, while they have the freedoms to cheat on them with mistresses, and some go as far as to beat their wives. You never had the best model of marriage growing up, your parents were always fighting and were never affectionate, only ever being close in the public eye to maintain their image.

You grew up to believe true love wasn’t real, it was just something written in romance novels, and after hearing of your friend's cruel marriages, you were convinced love doesn’t exist.

You swore to yourself you would never get married, not wanting to live an unhappy life under someone’s authority and having the limited freedom you had as a woman taken away from you. But your life took a turn when you met Benedict.

You first met Benedict at a ball. You had successfully avoided any man that wanted to dance with you that night, and you were trying to blend into the walls, until you bumped into the brunet, causing the drink in your hand to spill all over your dress. His face morphed into shock and he apologized profusely. He tried to find something to help clean your dress, but you just giggled at his actions and insisted you were fine.

You and Benedict spent the rest of the evening outside in the fresh air, away from the stuffy, overcrowded ballroom. You two slipped into conversation easily, bonding over how much you hated social events and how you would much rather be doing what you love. You mentioned how you wish you could be writing at this moment, and he looked at you with intrigue.

“So you are a writer?” He asked.

“Well, it’s just something I do to pass the time, although I am very passionate about it. I will admit, I am not the best at it though.” You explained. “And what about you, Lord Bridgerton? What would you rather be doing than to be stuck here?”

“Sketching, or even painting.” He sighed, remembering his latest piece he was working on.

“So you are an artist then?” You have never heard of any Bridgerton being interested in art. It fascinated you.

“Yes, but much like yourself, I do not think of myself as any good.”

“Oh, I must see one of your sketches.” Your curiosity got the better of you, surely he can’t be as bad as he claimed to be.

“Only if I get to read what you have written. I am sure you humble yourself and that you are a skilled writer.”

“How can you be so confident in my skills when we hardly know each other?” You asked and he shrugged.

“Just a feeling.” Benedict sent you a warm smile, making you smile back at him. Your conversation continued until the ball ended, and a part of you was disappointed you had to leave him, wishing you could continue to talk with him until the sun rose.

After that night you and Benedict have become very close friends. As promised, you exchange one of your poems for a sketch of his. You admired it all day, impressed by his natural skill. The next time you saw him you told him how beautiful his art was and how it captivated you. He returned the compliment, saying how you have a gift of evoking strong emotions with just the written words. You could’ve sworn you blushed, but you brushed it off as someone complimenting your work for the first time and nothing more.

You two became inseparable. It was common to see you two together almost everywhere, your arms linked together, laughing at his jokes. For the first time in years, you have shared not only one dance but multiple dances, with Benedict. You never enjoyed dancing, especially when the men you’ve danced with before have talked too much and never let you state your opinion. But Benedict was different, he listened to everything you said and let you speak your mind freely. It was refreshing, and you wished all men could be like him.

You started to enjoy the social events more, feeling excited as one approached. You found yourself putting more effort into how you looked, and you mentally slapped yourself for it. You knew you were doing it for Benedict, and you told yourself you couldn’t fall for him, you refused to.

The next day, Benedict surprised you, visiting your house with flowers in hand and asking to court you. You were shocked but quickly gained your composure.

“I truly am sorry, Benedict. It seems I have led you on somehow. I have no interest in marriage.” You revealed and watched Benedict’s face fall, which broke your heart. He excused himself and you watched him leave, a feeling of regret sat inside you.

Your mother and father scolded you over how you could let such a perfect man get away, but you paid no heed to their words. You wished things were different, but you couldn’t court Benedict. It could lead to marriage, a concept you will always despise.

When you two met again, Benedict told you to forget about all the events that transpired. He told you he would like to remain your friend if you would allow it. You were relieved to hear that. You were certain he would distance himself from you after rejecting him, and you weren’t sure how you could live a life without him. Of course, he didn’t make his feelings forgotten. He would subtly drop hints to remind you of his interest in you and you reminded him of your disinterest in marriage.

You admitted to yourself it felt nice that he tries so hard to get you to change your mind. You never had a man interested in you like this before. If you were to reject any other man, he would have moved on to another lady, but not Benedict. You could tell he was determined to show you he was the one for you and it pained you to not accept him.

One day, you two were walking in the park. You wanted to feed the ducks and Benedict insisted on keeping you company. Currently, you were standing on the bridge, wanting to enjoy the view for a few moments. There was a comfortable quietness until Benedict spoke.

“You have denied my hand in marriage and make it clear you have to intention to marry, but may I ask why? You do not have to tell me if you do not wish to, but I do wish to know if it is something that I have done. Have I made you uncomfortable in any sort of way?”

You shook your head and said. “My refusal had nothing to do with you, my lord. You have been very sweet and kind to me. But you do deserve to know why I rejected you.”

He looked at you, ready to listen to every word you said. You explained, “All my life, I have been surrounded by unhappy marriages. My parents may seem like they care deeply for each other, but it is all an act. I have grown up in a household where my parents would scream at each other, and refuse to be near each other. I always believed love does not exist in the real world. Then all my friends got married, and it is horrible. They tell me how their husbands control them and how they have no say in what they do in their own life. Some of them even go as far as to bash their wives. I thought it was the most absurd thing. People are supposed to protect the ones they love, not harm them.

“I swore I would never get married. I am content living the life of a spinster. The only reason I participate in the season is because my parents force me to. I would rather keep whatever freedoms I have than be trapped in a miserable life.”

You looked out to the view, not wanting to see the look on Benedict’s face, and he sighed. “I am a fool. I could not show you just how much you truly mean to me.” He took your hands into his own, forcing you to focus on him. “Y/N, I-I love you. I love how passionate you are, how you don’t worry about how others may view you, and how kindhearted you are. I could never imagine stopping you from doing what your heart desires. I would rather die a thousand, painful deaths than ever hurt you. I love you.”

“I’m sorry, Benedict. I can’t.” You could see Benedict’s heart drop and you couldn’t stand being the cause of it. Overwhelmed with emotions, you tried to excuse yourself, pulling your hand out of his. “I have to go.” You ran away and didn’t look back.

You haven’t seen Benedict in days, which was the longest time you have gone without seeing him ever since you first met him. You kept replaying your last conversation in your head and how you wish you had the courage to tell him how you truly felt. Your mind kept reminding you of your vow but you could tell your heart was trying to tell you something else, so for once, you listened to it.

You knew deep down how you felt about Benedict. You loved him too. He was different than any other man you have met. He made you feel safe and happy. You could imagine a life with him, getting married and having children together. You knew what you had to do.

You showed up at his house with a single orchid in hand. You saw him sitting outside painting and you were relieved his family was nowhere near, wanting to see him in private. You walked up to him and he didn’t acknowledge your presence, which hurt a bit, but you did not let it affect you.

“May I sit?” He nodded, not looking away from his painting, and you sat next to him.

There was silence for a few minutes, before he asked, “What is the flower for?”

“It is for you.” You smiled, holding it out.

Benedict furrowed his eyebrows and finally looked at you, taking the flower from you. “For me?”

“I wish to court you.” He grew more confused and you clarified, “I realize it is not traditional, but everything else we have done is unusual, like falling in love before we have courted.”

“You mean-“

You nodded before he could say anything else. “I love you, Benedict. I have been denying my feelings for too long, living in fear of what I thought all marriages are, a loveless trap. But you showed me that I was wrong. You never made me feel inferior to you, you listened to me and showed me you care about me. I know I would never feel miserable with you, not when I feel like I can be my true self around you. I love you.”

Benedict didn’t say anything at first, which made you nervous that he would reject you. You knew it was a possibility with the way you rejected him first and ran away from him when he confessed his love. But before you could get up to leave, he pulled you in for a kiss. You quickly melted into it, but before it could go any further, he pulled away and said, “Yes, I will accept your courtship.”

You giggled and kissed him again. You felt fireworks erupt inside you and you knew this is what true love felt like.

[distinguisheddingus]

Since I'm again in my Bridgerton Era and a proud swiftie I suddenly felt the need to write a one shot for each of the Bridgerton Brothers based on a Taylor Swift song, so I will post three polls: one for Anthony, one for Benedict and one for Colin.

[since Colin and Benedict's polls don't appear in the feed I'm gonna repost them separately]

[lydiimae]

Jealousy

A.N: OMG I am finally starting this blog. I am so so excited. This is a Benedict Bridgerton fic ofc. The true loml. I'm still debating if I will write only Bridgerton orrrrrr others? I dunno... but for now, here is a lovely, smutty, cutie, Ben fic hehe <3

Warnings: semi-public sex, fingering, vaginal sex, drinking, dirty talk, heavy praise, talk of public heavy petting ;)

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Minors DNI!! 18+

He sighs from beside Eloise, shifting on the picnic blanket for what has to be the millionth time. "Brother, you worry too much about that woman." She mutters with an amused glint in her eye, taking a bite of one of the strawberry tarts the family maids had made for the occasion.

A family picnic was not a rarity during the social season, especially for the Bridgerton's. What was a rarity is that Benedict had invited a woman along, an incredibly important woman at that. Y/N L/N, a daughter of an influential Viscount. The woman he found himself to be head over heels in love with.

"I am not worried. I am merely observing so our brother does not make a fool of himself in front of her." He replies with a huff, taking a sip from his flask before tucking it back into his pocket.

You were merely speaking with his brother. His happily married older brother. He has no reason to be jealous, really, but something in him still tugs painfully at the sight of you speaking to another man. It is only when Kate comes to steal her husband away that you scootch back over to him, a bright smile on your face.

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You move back over to Benedict and look up at his cute pouty expression, smiling at the warmth that blooms in your chest as a result.

You wished to get to know his family before the inevitable happens. Marriage. You know, as well as he does, that you were both going to tie the knot as soon as it was acceptable to do so. You also know that he would scoop you up and marry you tomorrow if he had his way.

At the very first ball of the season, Lady Danbury insisted that she had someone for you to meet. Someone who enjoyed painting just as much as you did. So, she took your arm and led you away from your father to the Bridgerton family. You were confused, at first, when the already happily married Viscount, Anthony, turned to greet you. And then, as if the sea was parting, he appeared. A crooked grin on his face as he moved to see you. Benedict Bridgerton, although he is a second son, stole your heart as soon as you saw him.

From then on you waited with bated breath for every dance you would share, dreamt of him in your bedroom when you got home, and thought of nothing but him in between. You shared stolen glances at every event and even snuck off to any hidden corner or garden you could find for breathless kisses and entirely impolite words that sent your mind into a whirlwind you could not explain.

Soon enough, he started inviting you on promanades and even sooner he wished for you to dine with his family. Get to know his life outside of the stuffy ballroom, to which you found yourself falling even deeper in love than you could've ever imagined.

"You're pouting, Ben." You hum, taking a sip of your lemonade with an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Indeed. Perhaps if you were not so caught up with my brother I would not have a reason to pout, hm?" He returns, moving to take another sip from his flask.

He was jealous? Of his married brother? You sigh and move your hand over his, shaking your head slightly. You hand him a glass of lemonade. If he truly is jealous, the last thing he needs is whiskey.

"If you truly wish to hear what we were talking about, I shall tell you." You return as he takes a sip of the lemonade you gave him. He moves his hand over yours, just out of sight of his family. A possessive gesture that makes your heart flutter.

"Yes, in fact, do enlighten me." He grumbles with a sigh. "His wife, Benedict. He was talking about his lovely wife, which if you have forgotten, happens to be my dear friend." You sigh, running your thumb over his knuckles.

He looks over at you, his green eyes sweeping down to your lips, then your chest, before finally looking back up. "I care not of what you were speaking about, I should like you to speak with me when it is I who invited you." He practically growls, the tone of his voice making the place between your legs heat up and dampen instantly. A feeling that only happened with him, something he had explained as both desire and arousal.

"You know that I-" You begin, but are cut off by him pulling you to your feet. The glasses of lemonade are now completely forgotten. "Mother, I should like to promenade with Lady Y/N." He fibs.

What he would really like to do is rip the skirt of your dress open, spread your legs wide, and plunge his cock so deep inside of your soaked cunt that you forget everything else. He wants to paint your insides with his seed right here, in front of the whole ton, so that every man can get a glimpse of who you truly belong to.

"Of course, dear. We shall not keep you." Violet replies with a smile before delving back into conversation with Eloise, who also looks up with a confused expression but quickly rolls her eyes and continues to speak to her mother.

You shoot him a questioning look to which he just raises an eyebrow and offers his arm. You take it and he begins to lead you away from the picnic canopies that many families have set up to dine under.

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"Where are we going?" You question after a moment, realizing that you are not following the path around the lake but rather the path to the carriages.

He stops and tugs you behind a tree, pushing you up against the trunk. The bark bites into the little exposed skin the back of your dress grants you and your cunt flutters when you see his expression.

Desire is different for men, he taught you. You can see it in the way his trousers tighten at the front and in the way his eyes haze over. His hands move to your waist and he bends down, pressing kisses all the way up your neck until he reaches your ear.

"Agree to marry me and I shall show you." He whispers, biting the soft flesh beneath your ear causing you to shiver and whine. He grins and licks over the tender skin, soothing the sting.

"You already know very well that I would say yes to any proposal you give me." You breathe, leaning your head back as your eyes flutter shut. His hand skates over your stomach, running up the smooth fabric of your dress until he meets your breast. He cups one and swipes his thumb over your hardened nipple through the fabric.

He pulls away, swiping the saliva off his bottom lip with his thumb before picking you up. You squeal and he chuckles, paying the driver of his carriage off before tucking you inside. He closes the door and the curtains on the window, darkness enclosing the both of you.

"Benedict." You whisper as he lays you back on the velvety bench. "Hush, my love. I shall not do anything before asking I swear it." The title makes your heart almost burst out of your chest. He dips down once more, pressing his lips to yours briefly.

You pull him back down before he gets very far, chasing one of those open-mouthed kisses he gave you at the last ball. He groans, his tongue swiping over yours. He grins over your lips at the sound that escapes, moving his hands to yours where they rest on his chest before breaking the kiss.

"Ben please." You whine, wanting him to continue so desperately. He only smiles, taking off your gloves. "You must have patience, my sweet girl. I am going to ravish you in due time." He assures, pressing soft kisses from your palm all the way up to your shoulder as he takes off his gloves as well.

He reaches your neck, to which he takes a deep breath. Taking in your scent of lavender and citrus, making him groan as it always does. "Do you remember when I taught you to ride my thigh?" He whispers, running his tongue down to your collarbone, nipping the skin.

The memory makes you flood your underwear. You remember well, how could you not? He had lead you to the garden at one of Lady Danbury's balls and sat you down on his lap on the edge of the fountain. He hiked up your skirt and led your hips back and forth until something inside of you snapped so hard you saw stars and stained his trousers. That is where he taught you about his arousal, about yours.

"Yes." You breathe, your eyes fluttering shut as one of his hands moves under your skirt. His slender fingers skating teasingly up your thigh. "Good girl." He praises. He cups your cunt without warning and you cry out, your hips canting.

"Fuck. You are absolutely drenched." He whispers, relishing in the moans he draws from your body just from keeping a hand over your cunt. "And I told you about sex, do you remember that darling?" He murmurs, watching your eyes flutter.

He slowly pushes your skirt up so he can slide off your panties. He tucks them into his pocket, smiling to himself. "Yesss." You moan as the air hits your bare sex. "You told me it happens when we get married." You whisper between whines as his hand comes back, his fingers curling into your pubic hair.

"Such a good listener. So good for me." He praises, sliding two of his fingers along your drenched slit before finding your clit with expert touch. He rubs a slow circle on your button and you moan loudly, throwing your head back. "Now, when a man has honor he waits to take a woman's innocence. But my honor disappeared when I saw you with my brother," You try and protest but he pinches your clit and you cry out before you can get so much as a whisper out.

"So I will take you now. In this damn carriage." He growls, moving his free hand to your hips to hold you down. You whine when his fingers move down. "Fuck you are perfect," He breathes. "I'm going to slide one of my fingers inside now, darling, alright?" He murmurs, the switch from possessive to sweet sending your mind reeling. So overwhelmed, so mindless Just how he likes you.

You nod tentatively, your heart rate spiking which he picks up on. He shifts so he is over you, and kisses the crown of your head. "I'll go slow, hm? Nice and slow. All you need to do is pat my arm twice and I'll stop." He assures, calming your heart. You nod and nuzzle his neck.

He slowly plunges a long finger into your weeping cunt and you whine at the invasion. "Good girl, fuck you are so tight." You gasp and writhe as he curls his finger, the feeling sending a shock straight to your clit. He slowly adds another finger and you moan loudly, your eyes rolling back.

"Ben... so good. Feels...." You cry out when his fingers curl into a spot that sends waves of pleasure through you. He grins and begins to rock his fingers, drawing heavenly noises from your soaked cunt. The carriage filled with the sound of your moans and the squelching of your pussy.

He licks a stripe up your neck, beginning to suck as he rocks his fingers. You curl a hand in his thick curls and tug, your hips desperately trying to move against the palm of his hand.

He kisses your jaw, and then your chin, before finally capturing your lips. His tongue immediately sliding past your swollen lips and tangling with yours. You moan into his mouth as his thumb presses down on your swollen clit, moving clockwise as he rocks his fingers into your body.

He breaks the kiss and pulls out his fingers, much to your dismay, before unbuttoning his trousers. "Benedict... why did you stop? It felt so very nice..." You whine, grinding on nothing to try and gain some sort of feeling.

He groans at the sight, bending down and pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek. "My harlot of a fiancee. So needy for something she does not even know the half of." He praises as he slowly frees his cock, the sight along with his filthy words making you gasp.

He pulls back and strokes himself with the help of your delicious wetness, before looking back at your sweet face. All flushed and wide-eyed. He moves his free hand to your chin, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

"It will not fit, Benny." You whisper, suddenly frightened. His eyes soften and he moves down pressing a swift kiss to your lips. "It will, my love. We will go slow, I promise. Remember what I told you, two pats on my arm and we will stop." He hums, peppering your face with kisses which causes you to giggle and calm a bit. "Perhaps one pat for apprehension, hm?" He murmurs with a smile, pulling back. You nod.

"Good girl." He hums. He leans in and runs his length through your soaked folds drawing moans from the both of you. "Fuck. God, I love you." He grunts and you smile, draping your arms over your eyes to cover your blush. "I love you too, Benedict." You whisper back.

He slowly pushes into your body, throwing his head back at how tight your pretty pussy is. You cry out at the invasion, your hands shooting down to grasp at the edges of the carriage bench. The feeling is a strange mix of pain and something different. A tart taste on your tongue paired with a tingly feeling in your already hot womb. "Fucking hell." He groans before tucking his face in the crook of your neck, stopping halfway so you can adjust.

You whine and wrap your arms around his neck after a moment. "P-Please..... more. I need more, Benedict." You gasp after the pain subsides. God, he almost comes right there. He wants you like this all the time, mindless for his cock. Begging him to fuck you.

"Good fucking girl, Y/N." He grunts before bottoming out inside of you. You moan and toss your head back into the seat cushion and he groans at the feeling. "You feel so good, my love. So ripe, so wet. God, so very tight just for me." He praises.

He begins to move slowly, the slap of thighs meeting thighs filling the carriage. The feeling is so foreign but fuck you never want it to stop. Moans and whines slip past your lips before you can even begin to try and stop them, and you cry out as he speeds up. The noises he is drawing from your body would embarrass you if you didn't adore the way he feels inside of you to the point that you can think of nothing else. You wish to be like this as much as you can, full to the brim with his cock.

"Benedict." You moan and he stalls, gritting his teeth. "Never ever stop moaning my name, you vixen. God, I am a lucky man. The luckiest man in the world." He praises you as he begins to slam into you.

You grip his coat so hard you are surprised the velvety fabric hasn't torn. You cry out when his thumb finds your clit, the feeling sending you up to the clouds. "Come for me, my love." He grunts from above you with a slight slap on your thigh. That sends you over, your vision going white as you scream his name.

He thrusts a few more times before pulling out and pumping himself. He releases with a groan onto your stocking-covered thigh before collapsing on top of you.

After a moment he lifts his head to look at you, brushing your fallen hair out of your face. You smile, almost drunkenly, as you look at him. "That was heavenly." You whisper and he smirks, pressing a kiss to your lips.

"Just wait until we are married. I cannot wait to fill you with my seed and see you plump with my child." He murmurs. resting his head back on your shoulder. Your hand absentmindedly finds his hair, running through his messy curls.

"We have to go back." You whisper to which he shakes his head. "Not yet. I paid off the driver. We have as much time to rest as we wish, dearest." He hums, his eyes closed. You grin and close yours as well, slowly dozing off with him.

You are the luckiest woman in the world.

[writtenfangirl]

The Light

In which Benedict Bridgerton counts the ways he loves you.

I've had this idea for a while and this draft has been sitting in my draft folders for lord knows how long but I finally decided to publish it! After initially reading the Bridgerton books, I want the world to know that Benedict has always been my favorite Bridgerton brother because I relate to him the most.

Epilogue

I. In the quiet moments

Saturday morning was always quiet in Aubrey Hall, Benedict’s childhood home. With Aubrey Hall in the throes of summer, that meant the Y/L/N’s stayed with them. Her mother’s dearest friend had always been Y/M/N, having debut in society together. They had made it their tradition to visit one another during the summer and where Y/M/N, it usually meant Y/N followed. Y/N, who was Y/M/N’s only child with her husband, Y/F/N. She was two years younger than Benedict but they had always been close. 

He was always the first one up, and as the cook and the maids prepare breakfast, he would often sneak away towards Y/N’s room. He knew propriety dictates that such an action was uncouth but he was a child and Y/N was his best friend and so he snuck in anyway. 

He knocked first. That secret knock they devised just last summer so the person on the other side knew that it was them. 

Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.

The door swung open, as if already expecting him. Y/N was already awake and dressed, her hair tied up in a ribbon, her dress clean and pressed. Though Y/N only came to visit Aubrey Hall during the summers, the times that she did were some of Benedict’s favorites and they had their routine down to a tee. 

“What are we doing today, Benedict?” Y/N asked, as she did every morning. 

“We can go visit the lake and see how many animals we can see in the clouds in the sky!”

“Okay!” Y/N said with a childish giggle. 

Benedict gripped her hand, leading Y/N out of her room, past the gardens and towards the lake that bordered their estate. 

They spent the morning watching the sky, their backs pressed against the grass, giggles emanating from the duo as they argued about whether that cloud looked like a frog or a bunny. Their hands were still tightly held within each other’s grasp and they didn’t let go until they were called to breakfast and Benedict dared Y/N to race him back to the manor. 

He knew then that he loved her. She was his best friend and best friends loved each other no matter what.

II. In the loud moments

Benedict’s family was considerably large and though he loved his siblings dearly, he knew that there was never any quiet when it came with them. 

They were loud. And boisterous. Unless they had guests, dinners with the Bridgertons usually ended with dinner being flung across the table. Y/N’s mother had arrived sick with a head cold and had requested to have dinner in her room alone, leaving Y/N to have dinner with the Bridgertons all and on her own. And though Y/N was not a Bridgerton, Benedict knew how much the Bridgertons loved her, especially because she was privy to their chaos. 

Chaos, most especially seen in Aubrey Hall, where 10 year old Anthony had begun sending their father, Edmund, mischievous looks.

Violet, as if sensing the impending doom, had a warning tone already ready. “Anthony Bridgerton, don’t you dare.”

But Anthony paid his mother no heed. Instead, a mischievous smirk stretched across his face before he jumped on the table and loudly screamed, “FOOD FIGHT!” before proceeding to ham fist the mash potatoes, flinging it towards Colin’s open mouth.

Chaos irrupted from the table as everyone, including Benedict’s parents took their own food, flinging it across the other side. Benedict’s mother was laughing in glee despite her previous protestations and Edmund had declared himself Violet’s knight in shining armor, shielding her from the onslaught of lamb stew that Colin threw their way.

Almost instinctively, Benedict felt Y/N’s hand grip his own, pulling him down towards her before Daphne, who was but two and couldn’t possibly understand what was going on but could understand that fun was being had, could hit him with the mashed peas on her plate. 

Then and there, Benedict knew he loved Y/N. It would be difficult not to love her when she would willingly sacrifice her favorite dress to spare Benedict the green stains of mashed peas.

III. In the moments you do not share

He missed Y/N, terribly so. Being away to Eton meant he didn’t see Y/N nearly as much as he wanted to and though they wrote each other letters, it just did not suffice. 

She had been a constant in his life and her sudden absence felt like a rock wedged between his ribs where his heart should be. 

He enjoyed his time at Eton, he truly did. They were schoolboys and youth was their elixir of joy. It meant living life free of inhibitions, gambling and drinking and finding women to fill their beds. But none of his friends could ever hope to replace Y/N’s presence. With Y/N there was no bravado, no explanation. Just unhurried conversation and fun he could remember tomorrow. 

He couldn’t wait to see her and his much needed vacation in a week was enough to give Benedict a spring in his step. 

Today also happened to be mail day and though he knew he was going to see his best friend in a week, he still anticipated her weekly letter. 

With the letter slipped into his dorm at the end of the day, he quickly sliced through the wax that bore Y/N’s family crest, reading through its content. 

My dearest, Benedict,

I suspect that by the time you receive this letter, the time between us seeing each other will have considerably shortened. I miss you terribly. Summers in Aubrey Hall are simply not the same without you. Colin has turned whiny waiting for his two older brothers to come home and spend the summer with him. Daphne is growing taller by the day and Eloise has begun to learn how to read. She and Francesca are joined by the hip everyday. Your mother and father are as splendid as always and I suspect a Bridgerton whose name begins with G will soon join us.

I am quite alright though I am shamed to admit how terribly I’ve missed my greatest friend. My mother and father are also splendid as is the rest of my family. Do come home in one piece. I’m afraid I may go slowly mad with Colin pestering me everyday. 

The Light of Your Life, Y/N Y/L/N

Y/N’s words brought him all the comfort he needed. He loved his time in Eton but he could not deny it’s loneliness. His friends couldn’t understand how it is he could possibly miss his family but theirs was a strange existence. His parents valued love above all else and he had grown up alongside his siblings in a home full of love and laughter. 

And he knew then that he loved Y/N for her ability to assure him, to lull him into a calm that could keep his mood afloat for days.

IV. In the moments you do share

Oh how he missed her. He missed the way Y/N’s H/C hair whips through the wind, carrying with her heady scent. He missed her twinkling laughter, her teasing smile. He especially missed the feel of her hand grasped around his. 

They were growing up and though Benedict knew that their youth would still be with them, there was a certain kind of melancholy that came with the realization that things will not always be as they were. Y/N had informed him that with her debut to society next year, she would not be able to spend the summers with him. He couldn’t imagine Y/N married to anyone, let alone married to anyone unworthy of her and he had been insistent that he spent next year’s summer with her.

“Y/N, light of my life,” he said, his tone serious but his eyes lit with jest. He’d begun calling her that after he heard his father call his mother the light of his life and he knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Y/N was the light of his life. He pulled them to a stop, Aubrey Hall looming in front of them despite being a great distance away.

“Yes, Benedict, light of my life?” She said demurely. 

“Do you think you can make me a promise?”

“What promise is that?”

“You won’t marry someone unworthy of you.”

At that, she laughed. “If I have any say about it I shan’t marry at all. But I’ve held it off as long as I can. I’m twenty one now and mother is at her wits end.” But her eyes grew serious and somber, her laughter slipping from her lips. She looked at him as though she knew deeply, truly, what was inside Benedict’s heart. He reached for her, felt the silky lock of hair that fell from her chignon, her breath that feathered across his wrist as he tucked the strand of hair behind her ear. His eyes were fully trained on her face, at the way her lashes swept across her cheeks, the red flush that crept up her neck that Benedict knew would take him weeks to shade match. He wouldn’t deign call her cheeks rosy. She would hate him for comparing her to something so common.

If Benedict were to paint her at this moment, he’d call it Summer’s Embrace. It captured her beauty, the ephemerality of today.

He could feel the heat of her and it was as if that very heat burrowed itself within him, finding a home in his heart. When she spoke again, her words were but a whisper, the spoken promise of planets swearing fealty to their stars. “I swear to you, Benedict. I will not marry someone who is not worthy of me.”

And with her promise, it was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He could feel the rush of air in his lungs mixed with her heady scent, the scent of childhood and misty early mornings. He felt her hand squeeze his own in earnest and Benedict knew that she would keep her promise forever if she could. He loved her then, for that promise. How could he not love the way she loved herself? Fiercely and with a protectiveness that Benedict knew was reserved for him and only him.

V. In the soft moments

There were no nights as special as rainy nights and none were as special as the ones he got to share with Y/N.

Knock. Knock-knock. Knock. 

The door flung open, revealing Y/N. Her E/C were shiny with excitement, her face positively glowing. 

She was wearing her simplest dress, covered only by a black frock that Benedict had leant her once that she refused to return. Her feet was clad in her finest riding boots and Benedict nearly had to clamp his own mouth shut to keep from rejoicing. 

“It’s raining,” Benedict noted with a grin. 

“I gathered as much,” Y/N said with a grin as equally mischievous as his. 

“It would be the responsible thing to stay indoors. You are to leave for London tomorrow and I imagine that such a long journey may end in you getting a head cold.“

“Benedict, light of my life, when have we ever been responsible?” She looked at up at him, grinning like the devil. 

And before the both of them lost their nerve, Benedict grabbed Y/N’s hand, sneaking them down the stairs and past the gardens, letting the rain wash over them. 

Oh he adored the rain’s ability to wash away everything. And he knew how much Y/N loved the rain too. How she adored letting it fall on her skin as she jumped over puddles and danced on the wet grass.

Her long hair stuck to her forehead, giving her the appearance of a drowned cat but her wide smile more than made up for it. Even in the darkness that smile could light up a thousand lanterns and Benedict never found her more beautiful than she looked now. 

A sudden feeling seized him and before cowardice could choke it down, he was already pulling her to him. “Y/N, I must tell you something,” Benedict yelled over the din of the rain, catching her chin between his fingers. Drops of rain were caught between her lashes, her breath coming out in pants between her lips. 

Goddess Divine. That’s what he’d call this painting of her. 

“What is it, Benedict?”

He swallowed. An invisible force had consumed him, wrenching the words from his lips before he could stop them. “I love you.”

Her eyes widened, her mouth falling open in surprise. “W-what?”

“I love you,” he repeated, courage surging within him, his previous hesitancy evaporating like steam. His hand reached for hers almost instinctively. He felt her warmth, the way the heat of her hand seemed to jolt through his body like static. “Most ardently. In every way a man could love a woman, I love you. You are truly the light of my life and without you, I am pitched in darkness. You are the cracks in my heart but also balm soothes that it. I love you, Y/N. I have spent years of my life loving you in secret and I can bear it no more. I love you.”

He could see it in her eyes, the love she bore for him. It was the same love he felt for her, a garden in full bloom. But the words that followed her were not the words he thought he’d hear. “Benedict, I have been promised to someone else.”

VI. In the hard moments

“What?”

“I have no choice,” Y/N’s voice was cracking as hard as his heart. “My father has promised my hand to another. My debut, it is a farce, meant only to assuage his guilt for selling his only daughter. I am to be married to the Duke of Albany before the season ends and then he will ship me away to the colonies. He sold me to the Duke to pay off his debts. I have no dowry, no money. I thought to spend my last summer with the people who loved me, truly loved me. The Bridgertons have treated me as their own family. You have treated me as your own. Benedict, please I am so sorry.” She was rambling now, that much he could see. She always did that whenever she was close to crying, as if the fast words would somehow catch her tears before they fell.

He should say something, he knew he should but the words stuck to his throat like honey. It was all too much in too little time. Married? Shipped to the colonies? Benedict thought he had more time. More time to charm her parents and offer himself as a candidate for her hand in marriage. He’d already had every intention of marrying her but now his plans had turned to ash in front of his eyes. 

“This was a mistake,” Y/N muttered pulling her hand away his. “I never should’ve come. I should’ve left like my father had suggested. He was right. This is all too hard.“

Thunder clashed like rolling drums in the sky. What has once been a pleasant pitter-patter of rain had turned into a torrential downpour, soaking Benedict to the bone. Any warmth he had felt had dissipated, leaving him shivering. 

Before Benedict could stop her, Y/N was already racing towards Aubrey Hall, leaving Benedict with the bitter taste of heartbreak in his tongue.

VII. In the moments they shared with others

He was a fool. A right bloody fool who didn’t deserve her.

How could he have let her slipped free so easily? When Benedict had finally come to his senses, Y/N had already fled Aubrey Hall, taking her carriage and lady’s maid with her. Before Benedict could hope to give chase, Anthony had stopped him, citing that the heavy rain had made the roads treacherous. 

“All the more reason to chase after her!” Benedict bellowed, his insides twisted in worry. He was still dripping wet from the rain, the roaring fire doing nothing to dry him off. “If something were to happen to her, I could never forgive myself.”

“Dearest, you must calm yourself,” Violet said in a soothing voice. “Y/N is strong. She is more than capable of taking care of herself.”

“You don’t understand, Mama,” Benedict said clearly still agitated. “She is to marry!”

“It is her first season and she hasn’t even debuted yet,” Anthony said with a furrowed brow. 

“She is engaged to be married to the Duke of Albany. He means to live in the colonies and take her with him. He’s going to take away my Y/N. Mama, Anthony, please we must make haste and stop them.” He was begging now but he didn’t care. He’d beg on the very streets of London if it meant stopping Y/N’s wedding.

“The Duke of Albany’s 30 years her senior!” Anthony protested. “Her father couldn’t possible mean to marry her off to that odious man!”

“Hush, my darling,” Violet said as she pulled Benedict into hug despite their large height difference and how wet he was. “When the rain abates, I will join you myself in stopping their wedding.”

“Mama, I love her. I cannot. I—“

“I know,” Violet soothed. “It will be alright, Benedict. You shall see.”

But he couldn’t see. If Y/N reaches London, he knew in his heart of hearts that she would marry the Duke and sail off to the colonies without saying good bye. He knew it to be true because it is what Y/N would believe to be the best for them. If she left for the colonies, Benedict would never see her again and this would ease the heartbreak. At least, this is what she was likely telling herself to assuage her guilt. 

But Y/N didn’t know how much affection Benedict carried in his heart for her. He could never love another woman so long as she breathed and even if she were to pass before him, she would hold his heart in her bones forever. 

“I have to go get her.” Benedict declared, ripping himself away from his mother’s embrace. 

Ignoring his brother’s cries, Benedict ran from the sitting room, towards the stables. Grim determination had consumed him, his thoughts focused on Y/N and only Y/N.

He’d go on horseback. It will be faster and he was a decent rider, he could catch up to her. He had to. 

“My lord,” the stablehand stammered upon seeing him. The smell of horses permeated his nose though it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. 

“Help me, please. Our fastest horse.” Benedict panted, his breath winded from his short run. 

“But, my lord, it is pouring. I can prepare the carriage—“

“No, I’ll be faster on horseback. Please do as I ask.”

The stablehand simply nodded and ran through the notions of preparing their fastest horse.

He heard his brother first before he saw him. 

“Benedict, do not be rash.” Anthony was now as wet as he was from the rain.

“I am going and you cannot hope to stop me.” Benedict barely spared his brother a glance. “A little rain never hurt anyone.”

“Then I shall go with you,” Anthony motioned to the stablehand to prepare another horse. 

“Follow after me if you’d like but as soon as my horse is finished, I will ride.”

The stablehand moved quickly, cinching belts and hoops in record time and it wasn’t long before Benedict was on the saddle, the stable doors banging open as his horse leapt through them.

The horse felt fast beneath him despite the rain and moved with the same urgency its rider felt. He would not be deterred. If he had to stop the wedding at the altar, then he will do so. He cared not for dowries or money and properties and his family was wealthy enough for both of them. All he cared about was her. 

It wasn’t long before he saw carriage lamps up ahead and he knew that it was Y/N. The carriage was moving at a languid pace, no doubt the driver was worried about a potential accident caused by the torrential downpour. 

It only served to spur Benedict on. 

“Stop!” Benedict yelled at the carriage.

It was as if God Himself was on his side. By some miracle, the driver heard him over the loud din of the rainfall. Benedict kicked at his heels as the carriage slowed, letting his horse ride just a little bit further than the four horses that pulled the carriage.

“Master Bridgerton,” The driver said, his eyes wide in surprise but Benedict paid him no mind. He dismounted from his horse before circling towards the door of the carriage. And then he knocked that secret knock they shared as children.

Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.

“Go away, Benedict.” Her voice was muffled through the door. The window’s curtain was drawn but he could see her vague silhouette as well as the silhouette of her maid. 

“You do not have to say anything. You do not even have to answer me. But I implore you to listen.”

When Y/N didn’t say anything further, he continued.

“I wish to marry you,” Benedict said, his voice strong despite his pounding heart. For once in his life, he spoke to Y/N from his heart, let the words drip from his tongue like honey. He didn’t care that they had an audience, that Anthony was approaching from his own horse, that Y/N’s maid was in the carriage with her and that her driver was looking at him as though he’d grown two heads. Right now, all he saw was her. “Do you understand me, Y/N? I wish to marry you. I care not for your dowry or your money, I care only for you. If you wish to never look at me again, say so at once and I shall depart and I will never share in your presence until the day I pass from this world. I will endure the pain and the heartbreak because I love you and I wish only for your happiness. You need only tell me that you do not feel the same for me.

“But if you find that you cannot live without me the way I cannot live without you, tell me so. Let us end our own miseries and be happy. You, who deserve happiness more than anyone else in this earth.”

Despite the loud din of the rain, Benedict’s world grew silent, focused. His attention was on the carriage and the carriage alone. He knew that if Y/N told him to leave, he would do so without a moment’s hesitation. He will ride on his horse and turn his back away from her and he will never see her again. 

But then, the knob turned slowly then all at once. The carriage door opened so fast, Benedict barely had time to jump out of the way before the door could hit him. 

Y/N’s face was illuminated by the carriage’s lamps. She was still wet, wearing the same simple dress snd frock she had been wearing, having left Aubrey Hall in such a rush that a puddle had pooled at her feet, one that her lady’s maid desperately tried to wipe away. 

But neither of them cared about that right now. An asteroid could crash from the heavens and obliterate the earth but their dust would stay in an embrace for the rest of eternity if they could. 

She made her way out of the carriage, ignoring her maid’s protestations and making her way in front of Benedict. Whatever parts of her body that dried by her time in the carriage was immediately soaked by the rain once again.

She looked up at him, her eyes almost twinkling. 

Venus on Earth would be the name of the next painting. Of that, Benedict was certain.

“I love you too,” Y/N whispered before grabbing his lapel and pulling him down to a kiss.

In front of all these witnesses no less!

Y/N’s lady’s maid gasped in surprise while the carriage driver and Anthony averted their eyes but Benedict didn’t care. He leaned into the kiss, relishing the taste of her. She tasted like rain, like misty mornings and the sweetness of youth. And their kiss was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He’s kissed plenty of girls before but nothing and no one would ever compare to Y/N.

And when they pulled away, Y/N’s grin could only be described as incandescent.

“Now you two truly must marry,” Anthony said but there was no displeasure in his voice, only keen triumph, “lest Y/N’s father wants his daughter’s reputation in tatters. I will write to him tomorrow. Tonight I will write to the Archbishop of Canterbury for a special license and you two can wed before the week is out.”

“Thank you, brother,” Benedict said, finally feeling able to breathe.

He looked at Y/N, saw the triumph in her eyes. Y/N was one of the smartest people Benedict knew and though she knew kissing him would bring scandal nipping her heels, it would also force her father’s hand. The Duke of Albany wouldn’t want to marry Y/N if her reputation had been compromised.

It was no matter. To Benedict she was perfection and he wouldn’t have her any other way, tattered reputation or no.

“You are a bloody idiot, Benedict Bridgerton,” Y/N said but there was no malice in her voice. Just pure sprightly joy. “It took you this long to realize you loved me?”

He grinned, the kind of grin a man has when he knew his place in the world and his was beside her. “In truth, I fell in love with your fire long ago. Cowardice just seized me every time I felt the urge to tell you my feelings. But I do well and truly love you.”

“I love you, too.”

VIII. In their moments alone

Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.

Y/N’s door opened quickly, a strained smile on her face as she ushered Benedict in. Propriety dictated that their actions could only be deemed scandalous but Benedict didn’t care. He was marrying her tomorrow anyway. There was nothing and no one that could stop them.

It had been two days since the carriage incident and Y/N’s father had arrived on horseback to Aubrey Hall as soon as he’d received the missive.

“I have promised you to the Duke of Albany!” Her father had roared as soon as he managed to push his way through the butler, storming towards the sitting room where the Bridgerton family was having tea. Violet had the younger children ushered away from the confrontation, leaving only Y/N, Benedict, Anthony, and Colin.

“Who is older than even you, Father.” Y/N had said, the picture of serenity and calm. She was sitting on the chair closest to the window, the sun’s glow settling against her skin. She looked sublime. 

Ethereal Grace would be a befitting title for this painting.

“He is a Duke and 18th in line to inherit the British Crown! He is being sent to the colonies to govern. With his money, you will live a life even better than I could have ever provided for you as a baron!”

“I care not for his money, Father,” her voice had some heat to it now, “You sold me. Like some brood mare whose only purpose is to breed and pay off your debts!”

“I did not!” He sputtered. But shame coated him, his eyes nervously looking at the Bridgertons. While women in society were often betrothed without their consent, notions of selling were generally frowned upon. If word ever got out that Y/N’s father married her off for money, he would be ostracized by society. Even worse, if such word ever reached the King or Queen, he could be stripped of his peerage, becoming even more destitute than before. 

“I will be wed tomorrow to Benedict,” Y/N’s voice was hard now, all conviction and fire, “You cannot stop us. Anthony has acquired the special license and the Archbishop of Canterbury himself has agreed to marry us as a favor to Violet. You have come in vain.”

At that, Y/N’s father’s face turned thunderous. He took a menacing step towards her, one that had Benedict standing at attention, turning him into a protective shield. Her father eyed him distastefully and Benedict returned his venom. 

“You are making a terrible mistake. She has no dowry,” Her father hissed at him. “She has nothing.”

“She has me,” Benedict replied, his voice calm despite the rage simmering beneath his skin. If Y/N, despite all the pain and heartbreak wrought by this man, could continue to remain calm, then he shall do the same. “That is enough. She is enough.”

This time it was Anthony who spoke, his voice as hard as steel. “You will find, sir, that we care not for Y/N’s dowry, only of her happiness. Perhaps it is time you depart, before you do something you will regret. Colin, get the door.”

Y/N’s father’s fists turned white but just as Benedict thought he would swing, he turned and walked away. 

But before he could cross the threshold, Y/N called out to him, “Our wedding will be at noon tomorrow, Father. If you and mother would like to bear witness, it would bring me great joy.”

But Y/N’s father simply continued walking. 

It had broken Y/N’s heart, which is why Benedict came to her room that evening. 

He pulled her close, letting her sob for the first time since seeing her father. He knew that tomorrow will be the happiest day of their lives but for now, for tonight, Y/N was allowed to grieve. 

“I love you. I have never been prouder of you than when you stood up to your father,” Benedict said, tucking her head beneath his chin and pressing a chaste kiss on her head. “Everything will be alright, you’ll see.”

“Do you mind staying with me tonight?” Y/N asked with a sniffle, her voice hopeful.

Any other time, the word yes would have fallen from his lips like the water of a fountain. But if there was ever a time for Benedict to try and make her feel better, it was now. So rather than a simple yes, different words flew from his lips, teasing and accompanied with an affronted gasp b“Ms. Y/L/N, do you mean to compromise me? I am a gentleman! Unhand me, at once, you cur!”

Y/N gave him that look, the same look she always gave him when they were children and she knew Benedict was trying his best to cheer him up but, nevertheless, Y/N’s once somber expression lifted into her own mocking look of surprise as she wiped away her tears. “I will have you know, Mr. Bridgerton, that I am a lady! Your insinuations are greatly unfounded. Leave my room at once before you leave me with a sordid reputation.”

But Benedict did not leave. Instead, he took her hand and pulled her towards the bed, letting her body mould against his like he was a sculptor and she was wet clay. 

“My mother and father kept one bedroom, did you know that?” Benedict said as Y/N settled against him. He let his fingers roam, letting it comb through her hair before journeying down her neck, down her arms before resting on her hand.

“Oh?”

It was unusual for members of the aristocracy to like their spouses let alone love them as most marriages were arranged based on factors such as dowries and wealth. Spouses tended to keep separate bedrooms, choosing to spend an evening with the other only if there was a need to but Benedict’s parents were a true love match. They stayed in one bedroom until the day his father died and even then, his mother refused to leave. Better a love lost than a love never found were words Violet often used as an explanation. 

“Is that something you’d like for us?” Y/N asked, peering up at him through her lashes. “A single bedroom?”

“I intend to stay with you tonight and every night after we are married. It would be quite a challenge to do so in separate beds.”

“Alright then,” she said with a giggle, “a single bedroom it is.” 

“What about you? Any requests for our future home?”

“A sunroom would be quite nice. With many shelves filled with books that I can read. The light would be heavenly and you could paint while I read. It would be beautiful to have tea there rather than have a sitting room.“

“Your wish is my command, Y/N, light of my life.”

“Oh and, several bedrooms. I think I’d like to return the favor and host the Bridgertons every summer. And several more rooms for our future children, whenever we are ready to have them.”

“Of course,” Benedict said with a nod and smile. 

“And a garden. Large and beautiful. Full of flowers of all shapes and sizes.”

“We will fill it with all of your favorites.”

She paused and then she frowned. “What if my father was right and we are making a terrible mistake?”

He squeezed her tightly, letting his enveloping his fingers around Y/N’s hands. “Then we will make this mistake together and we shall have no regrets. I cannot see the future, my love, but I greatly remember our past. I know that whatever troubles may find us, we will face it together and so long as we are together, we can face anything.”

He watched her brow smoothened as another smile entered her sweet face. 

“Now, what else would you like for our future home, Mrs. Bridgerton?”

And as they planned their future home, their future lives, Benedict couldn’t help but think just how lucky he was in that moment they were alone. Perhaps he was being too idealistic. He had lived a life of splendor most people could only wish for, with no real adversaries besides the problem he’d encountered with his love life. Perhaps saying that they could face anything together only proved to tempt destiny into hurdling them towards trouble. But he did mean every word he said. He could face anything, be anything so long as Y/N was by his side. Y/N, who would always help him look past the darkness and see the light. Because that was what she was. The light of his life. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[redheadspark]

benedict with

[ CLOSE ] sender reaches out and pulls receiver into their lap as they’re walking by.

and

❝ i don’t think i can share you with anyone today. ❞

would be perfect!!

A/N: Very cute Anon! Thanks for the request!

“No….no no….absolutely not!”

Benedict hummed as you were walking back and forth with papers in your hands, going through each ball invitation with precision and filll attention. It was the start of the season and balls were coming left and right. Picking the right ball to attend was a matter of social life or death. Benedict was at his favorite chair with a notepad on hand, pencil sketching away at you as you looked at another invitation and grimaced.

“Not in the slightest,” you grumbled, “The Bravarlis are hosting a ball next weekend, but after the last incident at their home, I’m sure that this ball will also be a disaster,”

“Who knew that table was flammable anywho,” Benedict hummed as your snorted, getting another invite to rummage through

“Poor Reggie. He was roaring drunk when he thought he could light a small candle stick,” you said in amusement, huffing at another letter, “I’m invited to an outing with the other ladies of the area, again. Gossiping of our husbands no doubt,”

“I thought you hated those,” Benedict said a he poked his head up from his work.

“I do! But if I don’t make appearance, I’ll be seen as a hermit,” you advised as you were about to walk past him, “Besides, I’m needed in an hour to see your Mother,”

“Nope!” Before you could at anything, an arm was around your wait and yanked you. The letters went flying and you squawked, falling into Benedict’s arms on the lounge chair he was in. His own pencil and notepad fell to the ground in a heap as you both giggled,

“Benny! The invitations!” You lightly protested

“I don’t think I can share you with anyone today,” he hummed as he kissed your cheek and neck, “You’ve been too busy for me this past week. Come, I’ll take you for a walk and we’ll discuss balls later,”

You rolled your eyes as you leaned into his kiss against your cheeks, a walk you do you some good anywho, and you wouldpicked up the invitations later.

“Fine, but we’re not gonna be late for your mother. I happen to like her,” you warned.

The End.

[captainsophiestark]

More Than Just A Pretty Face

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist - Join MyTaglist!

Written for my Year of Olympians, part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023​ which features a ton of awesome creators and runs all year! Go check it out if you haven’t already!

Fandom: Bridgerton

Prompt: Hera; The Queen, Women, Family

Summary: Benedict runs into a woman who might just be the love of his life at a friend's underground artist party, but things might get complicated outside the walls of the artist's haven and in plain sight of the rest of the world.

Word Count: 3,745

Category: Fluff, little bit of angst maybe? Not *really*...

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Benedict smiled to himself as he stumbled down the dimly lit hallway, people crowding in on either side of him. He was absolutely sober as far as substances went, but drunk and giddy on the feeling of being surrounded by so many artists, living lives happily as themselves and nothing more. No expectations of families or the Ton could reach them here, and it was a thrill like none other to join them any night he could.

After making a quick pit stop to grab himself a drink (he didn’t want to spend the night completely sober, after all), he continued to wander the hallways, looking for a place to pick up a paintbrush. This was one of the few locations he felt completely free to do so, with no outside pressures to weigh on him, and he’d be damned if he didn’t take advantage of it.

He swung through the doorway of a salon towards the back of the house and, as he’d hoped, found a circle of canvases around a few models in the middle. He started for an open canvas, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what one of the other artists had painted on theirs.

The light and colors seemed to jump off the canvas, representing the subjects in a more abstract and yet equally beautiful way. The brushstrokes and blending combined into a unique style, truly unlike anything he’d ever seen before.

“This is… incredible,” he breathed, having drifted unconsciously over to stand beside the artist, getting a better look at the canvas in the process. He blinked a few times, trying to shake the stupor, then turned to face the person responsible for the masterpiece before him.

His breath caught in his throat as he made eye contact with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Cat got your tongue?” asked the woman with a raised eyebrow. She surveyed him critically, not looking entirely friendly, and his heart stuttered a little in his chest.

“I… I’m sorry,” he said. Was he stammering? He hadn’t been nervous around a girl since the time when Anthony had been his only sibling!

“What do you want?” she asked, continuing to stare him down mercilessly. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, trying to gather himself as he looked between her and her artwork.

"I’m terribly sorry to bother you,” he said, clearing his throat and gaining just a hair of his regular confidence back. “I just couldn’t stop myself from coming over when I saw this masterpiece.”

She turned to him with a scowl, but it quickly changed to a look of surprise when she found him referencing her painting.

“You came over here because you liked… my painting?” she asked, her tone an equal mix of suspicion and pleasant surprise. Benedict raised an eyebrow and gave her a lopsided smile.

“Well what else?” he asked, a slight teasing tone to his voice.

The woman glanced down, unable to completely hide a smile that broke onto her face before she looked back at him. “I… historically, when strange men approach me, it’s nothing to do with my skills or who I am as a person.”

Benedict shot her a roguish smile, all of his normal comfort and confidence finally returned. “Fortunately for you I suppose, even the most beautiful woman in all of existence can’t quite outshine this incredible painting.”

She stared at him, her eyes dancing with light and mischief as a smile again tugged at her lips. Despite her best efforts, she was clearly fighting a losing battle to remain stoic and critical.

“The most beautiful woman in all of existence?” she challenged, humor in her tone.

“I’d certainly say so,” he said, beaming at her and feeling a swell of pride at how flustered she seemed to become. “I’d have to go sing the news of who I’d just found to strangers in the streets, but it’s been overshadowed by the news of having found the most wonderful painting in the whole of existence.”

She laughed, and the sound sent jolts of electricity racing through every inch of his body. They shared a smile, and any doubts Benedict might have had about the truthfulness of his statements evaporated. They were facts, and nobody could change his mind.

“Well come on then, you flatterer,” she teased, patting the seat next to her. “If you’re here it means you’re an artist too, so let’s see what you’ve got other than a prolific affinity for flattery.”

He beamed at her as he took the seat next to her, securing a paintbrush and artist’s palette of his own.

“I can’t promise I’ll live up to anything like what you’ve painted, but I’ll certainly do my best.”

She shrugged. “Art is subjective. Anyone who tries to make objective value statements is a fool.”

He laughed, feeling lighter than he had in ages.

“I suppose you’re right.”

The pair spent the rest of the night and even the first few hours of the morning painting, laughing, and talking together side by side, making art and more importantly enjoying the creative space and their time with each other. Despite his initial moment of being tongue-tied, Benedict couldn’t believe how easy it was to talk to this woman, like they’d known each other for ages and not just a few hours. He knew his brothers would mock him, but with each passing second he could feel himself falling deeper and deeper in love.

When the time came to say goodnight and for each of them to go their separate ways, his heart broke a little in his chest. Still, he said goodbye all the same, both of them promising to meet again the next time one of these gatherings happened. Benedict resolved with his entire being to make it happen, no matter what, and even that was barely enough to actually get him out the door.

For the next week, Benedict found himself completely distracted by thoughts of the mystery woman he’d fallen in love with in a matter of hours. He hardly thought of anything else, and his head was even more in the clouds than usual, much to the annoyance of his siblings. Anthony finally managed to snap him out of his daydreaming long enough to drag him to a long-awaited ball that had been the talk of the Ton for quite some time, although Benedict had done his best to avoid the commitment.

“The Queen herself is going to be there, along with plenty of high-ranking, eligible young women who only come out for the absolute highest society events,” lectured Anthony as the Bridgerton carriage approached Lady Danbury’s house, where the ball was to be hosted. Benedict sighed and stared out the window; he’d already heard this speech a thousand times. “Now that Kate and I are married, it’s your turn to start looking for a wife.”

Benedict rolled his eyes, knowing just how much it would irritate his brother.

“Suppose I want to die a male spinster,” he said, deciding to have some fun bothering Anthony. Anthony, as predicted, glared and sighed heavily through his nose, which immediately lifted Benedict’s spirits. He gave his brother a mischievous grin, and then it was Anthony’s turn to roll his eyes. Benedict’s fun was cut short, however, when the carriage at last arrived to the ball. Now he’d have to suffer through endless pleasantries and vicious Mamas trying to set their daughters up with him for the evening, with no support from his brother.

As predicted, the start of the night was incredibly boring. Benedict grabbed a drink as soon as he was in the door, and spent the next hour or so ducking every social encounter he could. He hovered on the edge of the room with Colin and Eloise, until finally, Anthony tracked him down and dragged him by the elbow back into the main room.

“The Queen just came out with her daughter,” Anthony hissed into his ear as they moved through the crowd. “You need to at least make an introduction.”

“Anthony, I don’t even know where to begin explaining to you how much I do not want to court the Queen’s daughter-”

Benedict had been in the middle of hissing back a terse response to his brother when he caught sight of the woman Anthony kept shoving him towards. Y/N, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and the best artist he’d ever met, stood next to the Queen in an absolutely magnificent dress, chatting politely with a suitor she didn’t appear to have much interest in. His heart stopped dead in his chest and his legs almost gave out under him. Anthony, unaware that Benedict’s world had suddenly stopped spinning, continued to push him over, until Benedict fell forward, almost knocking straight into the woman he’d spent every spare moment and then some thinking about.

She turned to him in surprise, her face lighting up for a brief second at the sight of him before her courtier’s mask quickly dropped back into place. Even that brief crack in the polite, vague interest was enough to make Benedict’s heart stutter in his chest. He just kept staring at her, still a little dumbstruck, until he heard someone clear their throat from his right.

“Mr. Bridgerton.” He turned to find the Queen herself staring down at him with raised eyebrows. He quickly righted himself and tried to regain his composure. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Y/N disguising a laugh as a cough, and had to resist grinning and shaking his head.

“Your Majesty,” he said instead, dropping into as low a bow he could. He stayed down for longer than usual, and when he finally straightened, the Queen looked grudgingly pleased.

“I assume you’re also here to speak to my daughter, now that you’ve paid your respects, like every other unwed man in this room?” she asked, a slight tone of amusement to her voice (much to Benedict’s relief).

“I…” he glaned at Y/N, slightly unsure of himself, but when he found her smiling back at him that confidence immediately returned. He turned back to the Queen, back straight and a smile on his face. “Yes, M’am. I’d love the chance to speak to her, if you’d allow me and if she’d have me.”

The Queen gave him the smallest smile of approval, then turned to her daughter.

“Well, Y/N? What do you say?”

Y/N smiled slightly at Benedict, then sighed dramatically and flapped her fan around before dropping it back at her side.

“I suppose,” she said, flailing dramatically a bit more before taking his arm with a smile. “Mr. Bridgerton, shall we?”

Benedict beamed back at her, his whole body feeling like it was about to combust in the best way possible. They strolled off through the room, walking rather quickly towards the exit to the garden, where they might actually get a bit of privacy. Anthony beamed approvingly at Benedict as they went, and Benedict made sure to shoot him a glare in response.

Every man in the crowd they passed gave Benedict a look to put his pointed scowl towards Anthony to shame, jealous venom rippling off every one of them. Benedict completely ignored them all. He was in heaven, and no one could ruin it if they tried.

Quickly, the fresh air of the garden washed over Benedict, and he took a deep breath in before letting out a contented sigh. He slowed his pace, Y/N slowing to match him as they transitioned into a relaxing stroll.

Once they were far enough away from the ballroom, definitely out of earshot of any nosy, problematic courtiers, Benedict turned to Y/N with an arched eyebrow.

“The Queen’s daughter?” he asked. She turned to him, a slightly accusatory look on her own face.

“Says a Bridgerton son, a member of one of the most prestigious, talked-about families in the Ton.”

“First of all, you and I both know talked-about often does not equal prestigious,” he said. Memories of everything to do with Daphne and Anthony as they went through the creation of their marriages flashed through his head. What nightmares. Entertaining, but nightmares. He shook it off, then continued, “And second, being the second son of a notable family is distinctly different than being in line for the throne, as well as the most sought-after woman in all of England.”

She gave him a small smile, the first he’d seen from her that was tinged with sadness, none of the light or attitude he’d come to enjoy seeing from her to be found.

“Surely you can see why I wanted to escape it all for a bit, then. Most wanted woman for my position and the power I offer a husband, and maybe my looks. Nothing else. Nothing of substance.”

Benedict felt as if an arrow had been shot straight through his heart. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Y/N, who came to a stop a few steps later to stare back at him curiously.

“Have you truly been made to feel this way?” he breathed, his stare never leaving her face. He remembered her mentioning something of the sort when they'd first met, but not with so grave a tone. She hesitated, giving him a scrutinizing look similar to that one a week ago before she'd realized his more innocent and sincere intentions, then finally sighed, apparently deciding to give him her trust for a second time.

“It’s more than being made to feel that way, Benedict,” she said softly. “I can see it and know it in every interaction I have with suitors who approach me.”

“Y/N…” Benedict took a step forward and reached for her hands, his heart squeezing at her words, but then thought better of himself and stepped back. He took a deep breath, then met her eyes, doing his best to convey nothing but absolute sincerity. “I almost didn’t come to this little party tonight, for the same reasons. My brother finally forced me to come, and now I’m very grateful he did, although I’d never tell him that.”

Benedict shook his head, momentarily distracted by the idea of how obnoxiously smug Anthony would be if ever told he was right, then managed to refocus on Y/N and the issue at hand.

“What I’m trying to say is… every time I come to one of these things, especially now that Anthony is married, I have nothing but piranhas and sharks circling me, trying to convince me to marry them or their daughters. I have money, and I’m the next closest thing to the head of the Bridgerton family, and that’s all anyone ever seems to care about.

“I can’t pretend to understand exactly what it’s been like for you, since I have quite a bit more autonomy than you, both as a man and as a second son. But I can imagine what you mean when you say you’re usually looked at for superficial traits and what someone stands to gain from marrying you, and nothing else. And if I’ve ever played a part in making you feel that way, then I am truly, deeply sorry. You deserve far more than that.”

Benedict watched Y/N, his heart absolutely hammering in his chest. He wasn’t even sure what he was hoping for, but her reaction felt incredibly important to him all the same. She glanced down, lips pursed, then met his eyes again with a small smile and that twinkle in her eyes that he’d come to love so much. He could’ve collapsed on the spot from relief and happiness.

“I can happily tell you, Benedict, that you’re the first man I’ve met in a long, long while who doesn’t make me feel that way, and never did. So… thank you, for that.”

He beamed back at her, his heart soaring and making him feel as though he was floating.

“Well, I’m very glad to hear it. Perhaps, if you’re interested… I could do more of that?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, a small smile playing on her lips as she took a few steps closer to him.

“And what exactly do you mean by that?”

He grinned, leaning in closer to her. His whole body burned, and he thought he could see a bit of the same excitement on her face.

“Well, as much of an honor as it would be for me to be allowed to court you the traditional way, it can be a bit… boring. As two fantastic and creative artists, we should be able to do a bit better than that, don’t you think?”

Her smile took on a bit of a giddy quality as she continued to look at him, and Benedict felt himself getting sucked into the same energy, riding high as he continued.

“What say you we have another artists’ rendezvous next weekend, at that same mutual friend’s house? We can find an empty room—surely there will be one in the entire house—and then draw, paint, and talk to our heart’s content. You can tell me about your favorite artists and things to do when no one else is forcing you into courtly activities, and I’ll tell you my favorite ways to upset my siblings and about the time my brothers and I almost stole the neighbor’s dog thanks to a game of dares that got wildly out of control.”

“I would like that very much,” she said, beaming back at Benedict. He swore her light put the shine of the sun to shame, and the warmth emanating from her made him completely forget the cold of the night air in the garden where they spoke. “But I have to ask… what shall we do in the meantime? After all, next weekend is an awful while to wait.”

He could’ve done cartwheels right then and there. Instead, however, he controlled himself enough to smile back at her and speak.

“Well… what would you like to do?”

She grinned, then glanced around their surroundings. Once she seemed satisfied that no prying eyes were watching too closely, she grabbed his hand and pulled her to him, linking her arm through his to return to the way they’d been walking before.

“This is going to be quite forward of me,” she warned, smiling all the same as they resumed their turn about the garden. Towards the far end, they turned back before getting improperly out of sight of any other people, making a slow, steady return towards the party they’d so badly needed an escape from.

“I’d expect nothing else from such a bold, strong woman such as yourself.”

“Well… what if, on top of our unusual form of courting that you so brilliantly suggested… we did the normal, proper society courting as well?”

Fireworks exploded in Benedict’s chest, but he did his best to tamp them down and sound somewhat put together when he responded.

“Do you mean regular courting as in… publicly spending time with each other, after I call on you to make clear my intentions to get to know you and, perhaps eventually… propose?”

Now she seemed to be the nervous one, fidgeting a bit as they got closer and closer to returning to the party. Benedict watched her with a smile, enjoying this brief role reversal.

“Well, I mean, that is… if you’d be interested in that. Of course there’s absolutely no pressure, I wouldn’t want to make you feel like you had to-“

Benedict came to a stop again, taking Y/N’s hands and pulling her to a gentle stop with him. They were only a few steps from the doors of the ballroom now, in clear eyesight of many guests of the party as Benedict smiled lovingly at this wonder of a woman he’d somehow lucked into meeting.

“Y/N… I can think of no greater honor than being allowed to court you publicly, perhaps with the intention to propose. Despite the fact that I will hear endlessly about it from my brother, I am quite confident you would be worth it.”

Y/N beamed back at him, joy clearly written all over her face. The two shared the purest, happiest smiles and held each others’ stares for a few more beats, then finally, Y/N cleared her throat and moved to take Benedict’s arm again.

“Of course, any potential proposal would hinge on our non-traditional method of courting going well,” she said as the two of them at last headed back towards the ballroom.

“Obviously,” Benedict agreed, ignoring the jealous looks of the other suitors around him and the smug expression he could see on his brother’s face even from across the room. “I could never shackle myself to someone without knowing she would be more than a pretty face to stand next to me, with whom I’d have nothing in common.”

He shot Y/N a mischievous sideways look and found her beaming back at him. Then, at the sight of Anthony quickly crossing the room, either to speak to him or to try to speak to Y/N (and either way ruining the moment), he spun to speak to Y/N again.

“So, in the name of proper courting… may I have this dance?”

“Of course you may,” she replied, a happy smile still on her face. He took her hands and they spun onto the dance floor together, then once they were chest to chest to begin the routine, she whispered so only he could hear, “And don’t think I didn’t realize you asked me to dance in order to avoid your brother.”

Benedict gave her a quick wink, then twirled her out from him in the opening moves of the dance. They were a bit sloppier than everyone else around them, which earned them both some disapproving looks from their family members, but neither of them cared.

They were both happy and having fun, and after spending so much of their time in court absolutely miserable, they deserved this. Although they couldn’t spend the entire night together, no matter how much they both wanted to, they took the moments they could and found solace in the fact that they’d be together again soon, and in a place where they’d be in private, enjoying each others’ company for hours with no interruptions. It was too early to declare it to anyone, his brother and Y/N included, but Benedict had fallen completely and totally in love, and he couldn’t wait to spend every possible second in his future with the woman he felt certain was his soulmate.

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Subtle-tea (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Summary/Prompt: “You’re only semi-lucid and are sort of reaching for my face, and for various reasons I shouldn’t kiss YOUR face but your hand is right here and I still need to convey affection.”  AKA. You and Benedict drink too much of Colin’s special tea and it spurs you to act upon previously hidden feelings. 

AN: Benedict is the bee’s knees, just a silly lil art guy. I got inspired and I’ve got two more Benedict fics coming out rip. But it’s just so difficult to write for Bridgerton cus you can’t write any gay stuff without it being tragic and/or a secret. Oh well, don’t expect me to write much more female reader content of my own volition/not inspired by my friends.

Content warnings: Reader uses she/her, use of Y/N and L/N, is referred to as “wife” 

Masterlist // AO3 

You had no idea what on Earth was in that tea. But you would have to ask later, because currently you felt as light as a feather and giddy as a giggle, laying on the sofa in the art studio as Benedict was launching himself between two walls, orating about his great desires to create. By far, you were experiencing the greatest emotions on the whim of your artistic associate.

“There’s just so many colours that we are privy to, and we take every single shade for granted!” He declared, his arms wide open to the heavens.

You pointed at him in an accusing manner, “Have you seen purple recently? It’s glorious! No wonder it was the colour of status in the Roman Empire, I too would want it all for myself and my friends.”

“How selfish you are, Miss L/N,” Benedict scolded, “Surely everyone should be given the chance to wear such a colour.”

His anger faded fast. As endearing as it was, it was nothing compared to that grin of his. So naturally you decided to make him smile even more with a ridiculous notion that just jumped into your woozy mind. 

“Do you know what would happen if my mother knew where I was?” You said in a loud whisper. 

Benedict pouted and nodded, riddled with pantomime guilt as he leant over, “You. Me. In a room. Alone.”

“Unchaperoned,” You said then gasped, your hands clapping against your cheeks in shock, “I would be ruined!”

Benedict mimicked your appal by dropping to his knees before you, “We would have to marry to save your reputation!”

“Imagine me, your wife!” You threw your head back as you flashed your bare left hand to him. Somewhere in the back of your mind, an inhibition screamed at you to stop lingering so openly on something your sober self was set on not happening

But your heart grew gleeful as Benedict grasped your hand gently. 

“I shall imagine it!” He declared and lowered his lips, and planted a loud kiss upon your knuckle - right where the engagement and wedding bands would sit. You lowered your chin just in time to see this with your own eyes before Benedict met your gaze again, still beaming with roguish delight, “Oh what a beautiful imagining it is.”

Your legs curled up beneath you on the couch, and you fell over in hysterical giggling. You clasped your hand to your chest and cradled it like a newborn. As you lay sprawled out, Benedict popped into your field of view with his hands either side of your head, tactfully avoiding your hair. 

“Your laugh is like music! As your husband, it would be my purpose to make you sing at least once a day.”

“Then kiss me again, you silly man!” You squealed, offering your hand once more. 

Balancing on one arm, and completely unaware that this compromising position was aiding in your dizzy frenzy, Benedict kissed the same spot then turned the palm against his cheek. He held it there as he said:

“Look, it’s like you were sculpted to hold me.”

Euphoria ran riot across your body, your heart beating so fast you thought you would die from delight. 

“And you were carved to be held by me.” From your vantage point, with newly founded confidence, you tried to pull his lips down to yours, but Benedict resisted. 

“We shall not kiss ‘til we are married.”

Eyes wide, you squeezed the back of his neck to keep him close, “Is this a proposal?”

“I do not think we are in the right state of mind to make rational decisions,” and Benedict bumped his nose to yours, causing a little laughter before continuing: “But marrying you is the sanest idea I’ve had all evening.”

[sxftmusings]

comfort

gif credit

summary: reader has had enough of her mother’s insults and benedict comforts her

warnings/tags: fem!reader, reader’s mom is mean, established relationship, attempted regency talk, fluff

a/n: this is my first oneshot ever!! i hope you like it 🤍

You stormed out of your house, not knowing how much of your mother’s taunts you could take before you go mad. You took deep breaths, trying to keep your tears at bay as you make your way to a place where you knew you could clear your head and escape from your realities for a while, the Bridgerton house.

 The Bridgerton’s and Y/L/N’s have been friends for years, living right next to each other. You practically grew up with the Bridgerton siblings. The families spent most of their time together during the season, and during the off-season, they were at each other’s houses in the countryside.

 Your mother’s voice swirled in your heard as you walked away from your home, saying how you would never be good at anything, how you would never be enough for anyone. Her ridiculing laugh echoed in your brain, and you tried so hard to ignore it.

 You trudged through the Bridgerton grounds until a familiar set of swings came into your view. You stepped towards one of the swings and sat down, good memories started to replace the mental images of your screaming mother. You remembered when you and the older Bridgerton siblings were children and how you all would play together out here until the sun set.

 You looked beside you at the empty swing, reminiscing how one spring day, during your early teen years, you and Benedict sat out here. He had somehow grabbed ahold of your diary and teased you with it by holding it out of your reach. You turned red when he started to read your latest entry about your crush on a boy your age, whose name you couldn’t remember now. Benedict told you to stay away from the boy, how he would only break her heart. You thought he was being silly, until you overheard a conversation between your crush and his friends, saying how you weren’t pretty enough.

 You were heartbroken, not in the mood to talk to anyone. Benedict found you and wouldn’t leave you alone until you revealed to him what was bothering you, so you told him what you overheard. Benedict wanted to gloat about how he was right, but he could sense that you just needed a friend and instead chose to comfort you in his arms. He told you how you would always be beautiful in his eyes. You thanked him but brushed it off, thinking he just meant it as a friend.

 You were quickly taken away from your thoughts as you heard a voice behind you. You froze, thinking you had been caught by someone who would kick you out. You turned around and relaxed when you saw your betrothed, Benedict, standing there.

 Benedict’s and your’s engagement was arranged by both families, and you both had agreed since you were close friends and comfortable with one another. It was much better than being forced to marry some old earl. You thought he didn’t hold any romantic feelings towards you until he confessed early on in your engagement how he has always loved you, ever since you were children. You revealed that you felt the same, and since then, almost nothing has changed between you two, except for the terms of endearment you called each other and a lingering touch every now and then.

 You wiped the tears from your eyes, plastering a smile, hoping he couldn’t see past your act. “Benedict, you gave me quite a fright.”

 Benedict knew you better than that. He could see how your smile didn’t light up your face as it normally did, and he noticed the liquid that filled your eyes. He walked over to you and asked, “Y/N, are you alright?”

 It was a simple question that you could have lied through, yet all the tears you were trying to keep to yourself came out. You wiped them ferociously, not wanting to show Benedict your tears. You felt embarrassed until you sensed a pair of arms wrap around you and pull you up from the swing.

 “Shhh. You’re alright, I got you.” His soft voice filled your ears. You broke down, and you buried your head into his chest.

 Benedict has never seen you cry in all his years of knowing you. When you fell and scraped your knee as a child, you never shed a tear, and when you felt your heart was broken for the first time, you did your best to put on a smile. It shocked him at first to see tears pouring out of your eyes, but quickly acted, feeling you would need a source of comfort right now.

 When his father passed away, he was a wreck. He felt alone, especially since his older brother started to drift away from him. But you never left him alone during that time, even when he was annoyed by your presence. You comforted him when he broke down, never judging him for crying and showing emotions that men were taught to hide. You were there in his time of need and now he was going to be there in yours.

 After a while, you pulled away, feeling a bit better. He smiled at you, which sent butterflies to your stomach.

 “You don’t have to tell me if you do not wish to, but would you like to talk about what troubles you?” He spoke so kindly, you couldn’t deny telling him. He made you feel comfortable, it felt like you could tell him anything, which was a foreign feeling to you. You always felt like you had to hide your worries from others, not wanting to bother them, until now.

 You took a deep breath and said, “My mother can be the absolute worst at times. She laughs at every mistake I make and belittles me for them. She just spent the last hour yelling about everything I can’t do, despite everything I have learned to do. I learned how to speak four different languages, how to play three different instruments, as well as how to sing. I have read books on history and great literature just to seem well-read. I learned every dance, how to walk and talk like a proper lady, never making a mistake once, all for her. I gave up my dreams and aspirations to be the perfect daughter and it’s still not enough for her!” Your voice got louder with each sentence. You muttered lightly, “I will never be enough for her.”

 There was silence for a couple of minutes, reality settled in and you realized how you had exploded in front of Benedict. You felt shame that you let your emotions get the best of you. You thought he was going to throw you out, not knowing how to deal with your emotions.

 “Forgive me, I should have never come here. I ruined your night with my complaining and burdened you with my problem, you don’t deserve that. I shall bid you goodnight.” You tried to leave quickly, saving whatever face you had left, but Benedict was quicker to stand up and took a hold of your hand.

 He shook his head as he stood in front of you. “You have nothing to be sorry for, my love. I would never judge you for ranting about your issues, everyone needs to let everything out once in a while. Besides, we are to be married soon. Your problems will be my problems, and you will never be a burden.” You gave him a watery smile as he wiped a stray tear that has fallen on your cheek.

 “And don’t pay any head towards what your mother has told you. You are one of, if not, the most talented, brilliant, amazing woman I have ever met. You are strong, you never let anyone see what troubles you may be facing, but you never have to through anything alone anymore. I will be there to help you through everything and you may lean on me in your times of need.” You looked into his soft eyes and saw he was telling the truth. You were reassured by his words, you would never have to hide your troubles anymore.

 For the first time that night you genuinely smiled, and you knew Benedict was going to be an amazing husband. Despite being friends for so long, you still had your doubts at first, but the way he comforted you tonight has shown you what a sweet, thoughtful husband he would be. You have never shown such an emotional side to anyone before, and now you couldn’t wait to call the man in front of you your husband. You couldn’t believe your luck that you found someone as wonderful as Benedict and that you would spend the rest of your lives together.

You wrapped your arms around him and he quickly did the same, warmth immediately surrounding you, and you wished you could live in this moment forever.