#benedict bridgerton x reader one shot

[iwritefandomimagines]

NOT FOR HIM — BENEDICT BRIDGERTON

masterlist

pairing: benedict bridgerton x reader [plus platonic anthony x reader where he’s being a matchmaker/shitstirrer]

description: you may not have been the season’s diamond, but your debut had caused quite the stir in many a man’s heart — your childhood best friend benedict bridgerton included. however, given that the viscount had decided that he would marry this season, benedict cannot see why you would choose him over his brother.

warnings: kinda tiny bit of angst (if you squint) into tooth-rotting fluff !!! tiny bit of suggestive benedict at the very end but it’s not much !

author’s note: this is basically like a reverse to the anthony one i wrote because i have a big ol’ soft spot for benedict too after my latest rewatch. enjoy !!! [edited, but not thoroughly — will be returning to do so asap]

“You look astonishing, Y/N,” Benedict’s eyes were wide when he saw you, “Absolutely astonishing.”

You blushed crimson under the intensity of his gaze, “You don’t look too bad yourself this evening, Lord Bridgerton.”

You never called him that — you’d known him far too long to consistently comply with formalities — but considering that it was one of your very first balls of your very first season, you had to be the picture of manners.

“It is so strange to hear you call me Lord Bridgerton,” Benedict screwed his face up, “Even if it does give me some small hope that you might consider me too as one of your many suitors.”

You shook your head gently with a laugh, “Oh, Benedict, as if you would wish to court me.”

Before he had a chance to retaliate with stern disagreement at your idea that it was such a preposterous notion, your eyes snapped up to see his brother entering the ballroom.

“Ah,” you grinned, noticing that he had spotted you both immediately and was on his way over to you, “It appears your brother has finally arrived!”

You didn’t look at Benedict for long enough to see the frown on his face at your apparent excitement.

For years, everyone around you had speculated about the closeness of your relationship with Benedict.

Granted, you were close with the whole family, but the tenderness with which Benedict treated you had always teetered on blatant romance even if neither of you had seen it before.

Of course he was aware of it now — he’d realised he was in love with you long ago as silly young teenagers, and now that you were finally out in society (emphasis on finally, as you had delayed doing so as much as possible) he had hoped to make that clear.

But of course your eyes were fixed on his brother, the Viscount, who had finally decided he wished to marry and therefore seemingly snatched all of your attention away from him.

“Good evening, my lord,” you curtsied, and Anthony laughed, “Such formality! How are you enjoying your first ball, Y/N? I trust my brother has not let you leave his side?”

You giggled, and as much as Benedict adored the sound of your laughter he couldn’t help the clenching of his jaw at his brother’s remark and your evident amusement.

“He has taken great care of me, undoubtedly,” you smiled, hands resting on Benedict’s upper arm for a moment as you leaned into him, “How do you feel about your first ball on the hunt for a wife?”

Anthony scoffed, “Consumed with dread, as expected,” he joked, “Brother, would you mind if I stole Y/N away for one dance? Only so that I might enjoy one last moment of vague freedom before I endure the onslaught of mamas I see staring me down?”

Benedict swallowed thickly, because yes he very much did mind you being stolen away to dance with a man who could provide for you so much better than he could.

He had always been second best to his brother, but never with you.

And now he felt rather ridiculous as he nodded meekly and watched you saunter away at the side of his own brother, who would never love you like he did nor treat you as more than a friend and a commodity necessary to the life of an important man.

“Of course.”

You smiled shyly over at Benedict as you followed Anthony away, and made a mental note to confront him about the sad look gracing his features as you did so.

“My brother is staring daggers into my skull already,” Anthony chuckled as you took your positions to dance, “I rather wonder why he was not dancing with you if he is so bothered by my doing so.”

You bit your lip, “We have danced together twice already, Anthony. In fact, I’ve danced only with him so far tonight. I feel… safe with Benedict. This is all so terrifying.”

As Anthony beamed down at you knowingly, you realised quite what he had initially said, “Whatever do you mean by him staring daggers? Why would he be doing that?”

“Oh, my dear Y/N, you must see that my poor fool of a brother is overcome with jealousy at our interaction,” he laughed as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Particularly now that I plan to marry. He quite clearly thinks that it is you I wish to do so with.”

You looked down at your feet for a moment, suddenly feeling shy.

When you remembered that you were talking to a man you knew like he was part of your own family, however, your head snapped back up — a smirk gracing your face.

“Oh, am I not to become Viscountess? I so had my hopes up!” you feigned a gasp, “In all seriousness, Anthony, why on earth would Benedict think we might marry and more so why on earth would he care so much?”

Anthony heaved out a deep sigh at that as you danced, almost irritated by your blatant ignorance to what was so clear.

“I don’t believe I should tell you the answer to that if you are somehow quite unaware of it yourself,” he shook his head, briefly meeting the eyes of his brother as he spun you, and smiled almost teasingly at him, “I hope that after stealing you from him for this dance he might finally discuss it with you himself.”

You rolled your eyes, “You jest, Anthony, because if you are trying to imply that he has affections towards me I’m sure you are sorely mistaken.”

Anthony stopped abruptly, quirking his eyebrow at you, “You truly are oblivious?”

You looked at him curiously, doe eyed and inquisitive as you waited for him to continue — or to resume dancing so you didn’t continue to feel all eyes on your frozen frames.

“Right, very well. I am going to walk away now, all smiles,” he informed you, plastering a smile on his face and nodding at the onlookers as he kissed the back of your hand to show no ill-will had halted your dance, “I would suggest that you get some fresh air, perhaps? My brother might… Come to check on you.”

You forced a smile as he silently moved away from you and towards the buffet table at the other side of the hall.

With a sharp breath you took his advice, despite your confusion, and lifted your skirt a little to busy your hands as you traipsed out of the ballroom and onto the balcony.

Like clockwork, Benedict Bridgerton found himself at your side in mere moments.

“Are you waiting here for my brother?”

The tension in the air was palpable, his voice low as he failed to hide the disappointment at his suspicions.

“Not for him, no.”

“Then for another?”

“I suppose so.”

“Apologies, then. I’ll leave you to it.”

You spun on your heel now as he turned to leave, touching his shoulder, “No, Benedict, I was waiting— for you.”

“For me?”

The incredulous smile on his face made your heart swell with hope — perhaps Anthony was right.

Maybe what you had spent all these years perceiving as friendship truly was reciprocated love all this time.

“Anthony claimed he believed you jealous, and that you thought we were attached,” you giggled, and he swore his heart melted at the sound of your gentle laughter, “And I was utterly unsure as to why you would believe that, let alone be jealous of it. But then he told me to get some fresh air and that you might find me here and I became hopeful.”

“Hopeful?”

“Yes. Hopeful that perhaps the feelings that have steadily grown on my part throughout the time I have known you might be returned. That perhaps you were not joking when you said you hoped I might consider you a suitor this season,” you blushed crimson as you served him your honest feelings on a silver platter.

He cocked his head to the side curiously, not quite believing you entirely though you were evidently being sincere, “Do you not wish to marry my brother?”

You scoffed, quickly covering your mouth with your hand at the outburst, but then sighed as you looked deeply into his eyes, “Of course not, Benedict.”

“But he is a Viscount — he could offer you so much more than I, and he seemed taken with you.”

“He was taken with making you jealous enough to confront me, my dear Benedict. He spent our dance essentially telling me to wise up and talk to you,” you bit your lip nervously, “Because he knows that I have long loved you, and believes that you feel the same.”

The curious smile on his face grew now into a beaming grin, his hands flying to take yours within them and bring them to his lips for a gentle kiss.

“I—, Y/N, I cannot— I cannot even begin to express the joy that those words have brought me,” the words tumbled from his lips like he couldn’t think fast enough to convey his feelings, “I have been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I settled for cherishing mere friendship because I feared I would not be… I would not be the man for you beyond that.”

You shook your head, “Benedict, surely you know how dear you are to me? I— at the very least in my heart, you are the man for me. I’ve been certain of it for so long and that is why I feared entering society so much. I didn’t want to marry for the sake of marriage and have to have the man I truly love as a mere friend. You are more than enough for me, Benedict, I feel safe with you — you are home to me.”

“And you are home to me, Y/N,” he was trying so very hard not to kiss you, his words soft and delicate as his breath fanned over your face due to your newfound close proximity, “If you would allow me to… I would like to court you. In fact, I would propose to you now if I was to allow my selfishness to take control. But I want you to be sure it is me you want, even if it hurts to see you dance and converse with others.”

“You’re all I could ever want, Benedict,” you spoke like it was utterly obvious, “And when you do propose, you can be certain of my acceptance. For now I am happy to share every dance with you and pretend we need to get to know each other to form an engagement. We have all of the time in the world.”

“We do.”

You were both breathing heavily, eyes glossy with the sheer emotion of the confessions you had just shared.

“I wish so badly that I could kiss you right now, but I fear I may not be able to control myself in future once I do,” his voice was barely above a whisper as you licked your lips, swallowing thickly.

“I wish— I wish you might kiss me too,” your reply was hardly even coherent, too love drunk to properly formulate your words, “More than anything.”

He was still holding onto your hands, and so he brought them up to ghost another kiss over them again, settling for this as he fought his urge to press his lips to yours instead.

“As you said, my love, we have all the time in the world,” there was a subtle undertone of what you might describe as lust in his tone now, intertwined with the love struck lilt he had been speaking with.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his lips ghosted up your forearm briefly before he brought them back down to your hands.

“And I cannot wait.”

———

horny benedict at the end to satiate my own need for that despite the intention for this to just be fluffy hahaha. hope you enjoyed !!!

feel free to keep requesting — and in the mean time here is my masterlist.

[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.”

[subparslytherin]

bridgerton fic recs 2

🐝 = fav

masterlists

bridgerton @inpraizeof

anthony bridgerton

i really care about you @marie-swriting 🐝

no longer in denial @iwritefandomimagines

benedict bridgerton

not for him @iwritefandomimagines

bb’s posts @clemswinecorner-socials

(be)longing @fayes-fics

simon basset

a lady of the greatest honor @multifandomfix

[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.

[marie-swriting]

Choice - Benedict Bridgerton

Masterlist

Speak Now TV Masterlist

Summary : You are in love with Benedict but you have to marry another man.

Warning : angst, happy ending, feeling trapped, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 4.3k

French version

Song inspiration : Speak Now (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

Your wide open eyes on the ring in front of you, you’re speechless. You knew this day would come. This dreadful day where Duke William Edmonstone would put a knee down and would ask you the question that sounds like a death sentence. You raise your gaze and look around you in the ballroom. All the guests of the Duke’s family are waiting for your answer impatiently. It looks like everyone knew this ball was for this specific event.

Setting your eyes on your right, you find your mother. She nods with strength. You look down on the man in front of you and force a smile.

“I would be honoured to be your wife.”

At your sentence, everyone cheers. Glad, William stands up and puts the ring on your finger. He kisses your left hand, knowing it’s the only proper physical contact he can give you. 

Your fiancé abandons you to talk with his friends while you stay put, paralysed. You can’t believe you just pronounce your own condemn. You only want one thing : to run away from here as fast as possible. However, the arrival of young women of the ton prevents you from it. They start talking about weddings, decorations, vows and even babies ! You listen to them without giving your full attention and answer from time to time to be polite. The ring on your ring finger weighs more as the second goes by.

During the whole night, you stay in this numb feeling, not knowing how to act. You should be happy to have secured a match yet, you can’t help but feel sad. You wish  there had been another man at the end of the ring.

When you come home from the ball, you keep acting like a puppet until you get in your bedroom. As soon as your door is closed, you let go of a sigh. You get closer to your dressing table when your maid enters your room. She invites you to sit down in front of your mirror to undo your hair. She takes two pins off then your mother makes an apparition and she dismisses your maid. Your mom gets behind you and keeps undoing your hair. You don’t know the reason why she came to see you but you know she’s going to tell you in a few minutes. When your hair is finally loose, your mom puts her hands on your shoulders and looks at you through the mirror. 

“You do not seem happy, my child.”

“I am, mama. I just cannot believe I am finally getting married.” you say with a fake happy tone.

“You have doubts. No need to deny it. I used to be at your place before. Tell me what the matter is.” your mom tells you with a soft voice.

“I am not sure I am made for the Duke.” you admit, avoiding her gaze.

“What do you mean ? You have been raised all your life to marry a man of his rank.”

“Is his rank that important ?”

“Of course, it is !” your mom answers as if it was obvious, “You cannot marry a man whose rank is inferior to ours. The Duke is perfect. Furthermore, he is a nice man and he will give you a decent life.”

“But, I do not love him, mama.”

“Love !” she exclaims, rolling her eyes. “Love is not important when it comes to marriage. You must choose your survival before thinking of something as futile as love.”

“I wish I could have a marriage of love.” you insist, looking down.

Your mother puts a finger under your chin to make you raise your head to her.

“Do not worry about love, you will discover it when you will have children.”

“Do you not love papa ?”

“I care about your father dearly. And one day, so will you with the Duke. Y/N, finding love in a marriage is something rare. The small portion of people who do are lucky.”

“The Bridgertons seem like a lucky family then.” you mutter.

“All of these doubts are because of the second born Bridgerton, is it not ?” your mother questions, arching a brow. “No matter if they are a respectable family, he is a second son and even if he was the first born, he would only be a Viscount. You cannot keep having what you two share.”

“I do not know what you are talking about.” you deny, clearing your throat.

“My child, I see the glances you give to each other.”

“Mama, I promise you-”

“I know nothing happened.” she cuts you off with a smile. “I haven’t said anything because I trust you. I knew when the moment would come, you would make the right choice, in other words : marrying the Duke. However, you must stop talking to him.” she orders with a firm voice. “I noticed it quickly and you should be grateful I was the only one. If Lady Whistledown were to write about it, it could ruin your marriage. Have I made myself clear, Y/N ?”

“Yes, mama.” you sigh.

Satisfied by your reaction, your mom kisses your cheek and leaves the room. Your eyes fill with tears and you quickly make them disappear when your maid comes back to help you out of your ball dress. 

Since your proposal, you can’t sleep. Your nights are busy with your thoughts. Your fears are taking over, despites your mother’s attempts to reassure you. Like she confirmed to you several times, you did the right thing by accepting the betrothal, the Duke Edmonstone is a good catch and only three years older than you. He’s also a good looking man and cultured. You should feel fortunate. You could have found yourself with an old and disrespectful man. Yes, the Duke will give you a decent life. Notwithstanding, the Duke is not the only matter in your mind ; you don’t want your life to change. You don’t want to have to leave your childhood home for an unknown place with a man who doesn’t care for your mind. Above all, you don’t want to say goodbye to Benedict.

You two met a few months ago and you bonded instantly. You’ve never felt this before. You feel like someone finally understands you. Your passion for the art has helped your relationship a lot. It’s not rare for you two to sneak out to a more discreet location during social events. Nothing scandalous ever happened, like you promised your mother, unless falling in love is considered as such. Benedict didn't officially court you because your father is always saying his daughter will never marry a man who isn't, at least, an Earl, let alone if he’s not a first born. In other words, your relationship was doomed before it even started but it didn’t stop you from getting closer. Now that you have to marry, you have to leave Benedict behind. Your mom hasn’t stopped reminding you to do it several times. You thought about the way you’re going to tell him ; you ended up deciding it’s better to go straight to the point. You don’t want to make yourself suffer even more so it’s useless to make a tragic speech to bid farewell.

The next vernissage seems the perfect moment to do it. You’re sure he’ll be there. Generally, Benedict avoids balls. He, sometimes, makes an apparition only to see you in a beautiful dress and sneak out with you to discuss your ambitions in life. Consequently, the events regarding art are the only occasions where you know you’ll find him.

Once you’re at the gallery, you walk slowly, admiring the paintings carefully. Your mother is not really far away, even if she keeps a distance to allow Benedict to talk with you.

You enter the second room where there aren’t a lot of people. You stare at the painting depicting a forest during a summer day when Benedict appears next to you. Seeing him, you play with your gloves, needing a way to evacuate your stress. By your side, Benedict smiles as he looks at the tableau in front of him. You turn your head and from afar, your mother gives you a sign to hurry. You sigh before clearing your throat and avoid his gaze.

“Benedict, we should stop seeing each other.”

“Because of your wedding ?” Benedict asks after a long second of silence.

“I cannot risk a scandal now.”

“Of course. Congratulations on your engagements.” he states emotionlessly. 

Without holding forth, Benedict doesn’t glance at the other paintings and goes to another room. Your eyes sting however you pay no mind to it. You did the hardest part. You can’t cry now or people will wonder why you’re in such a state after exchanging a few words with Benedict. You quickly blink and when you’re sure you’re not going to cry, you go to your mom. She locks her arms in yours to comfort you.

Benedict is officially a part of your younger self's past. You, now, have to focus on your future newly-wed life.

The next month is rythmed by the wedding preparations. The Duke insisted on having a marriage quickly. You got asked for your opinion for the reception but you let your mother handle everything. You don’t want this wedding so what does it matter if you like it or not ?

You haven’t seen Benedict since then and this hasn't helped with your gloominess. You wish you could leave everything behind and go find him, unfortunately you can’t make this choice so you keep getting ready for your new life. All your life, you have been raised to be the perfect wife but now your mom is taking things to another level. Given that you’re a future Duchess, she wants to ensure you won’t make a single mistake. She wants you to be perfect. If she lets you have one flaw, she’s worried your future husband will decide to abandon you. Lately, the pressure is more suffocating than your corset. You can’t breathe anymore and you feel like you’ve passed out and no one is paying attention to you.

Your last day as a maiden goes by at the speed of light. In a blink, the night has fallen and you’re in your bed staring at your wedding dress. You glare at it, knowing everything it represents. It’s a prison embellished by a white fabric. Objectivally, the dress is beautiful, Madame Delacroix has outdone herself, but you hate it. You keep looking at the object of your fear until you hear something hitting your window. You frown yet don’t move. When you hear the same noise again, you leave your bed, glaring one last time at the dress and open your window. On the ground floor, in your garden, you find Benedict. His tie is untied, the first buttons of his shirt are undone and his hair is messy because of the numerous times he runs his hand through it.

“Benedict, what are you doing here ? You need to go.” you order, trying to not speak too loud.

“Please, I need to talk to you.”

“You cannot be seen here. If Lady Whistledown-”

“Give me five minutes.” he cuts you off with begging eyes.

You stare at him, weighing the pros and cons. You miss him, though talking to him would be a mistake. However, your feelings for Benedict are stronger than your morale.

“Don’t move.”

You close your window and take your dressing gown. Before leaving your bedroom, you look at yourself in the mirror. You put back in place some strands of your hair and open your door. You glance right and left before leaving the room, walking on tiptoe. The light of the moon gives you enough visibility to walk down the stairs without falling. 

Once you’re in your garden, you find Benedict pacing back and forth. When he sees you, he moves to hold you in his arms and right away, you take a step back. Noticing your movement, Benedict keeps his distance and his arms fall on his legs.

“You cannot stay here, Benedict. I am to be married tomorrow.” you remind him, crossing your arms on your chest.

“I know but tomorrow, I will not be there and I needed to see you.”

“Why are you not coming ? Your family has been invited.” you question, eyebrows furrowed.

“Your lovely mama paid me a visit and she got me to understand I was to stay away from you.”

Hearing your information, you wish you could feel anger for your mother however you’re grateful. You know if Benedict was here, you wouldn’t be able to marry the Duke. Notwithstanding, having Benedict in your garden the night before your wedding is surely no better.

“Nevertheless, I could not let you marry the Duke without talking to you one last time.” he adds.

“What do you wish to talk about ?”

“Y/N, do not marry him.” he announces point blank. “Tomorrow, do not say ‘yes’ or say a single vow. You deserve to marry another man than him.”

“How dare you say that ? The Duke is a gentleman. He will treat me right.” you get mad.

“But do you love him ?”

“I care about him.” you answer him after a silence.

“So you do not love him.” Benedict specifies, seeing right through you, “You cannot marry a man you do not love. You deserve to be with someone you love and who loves you back.”

“Love is not important. I need to think about what's best for me and the Duke is the best option.” you argue, your mother’s words resonating in your mind.

“The best option according to whom ?”

“I do not have another choice, Benedict. I cannot afford to be picky. I do not have the luxury to tell my mama I want to wait before getting married or to focus on my art. I cannot afford to make that choice, contrary to you.”

“It is not too late to make another one.”

“You are being insensitive right now. You cannot come here, the night before my wedding, and tell me to not marry the Duke.” you retort with teary eyes.

“If you loved him, I would not have uttered a word, but it is not the case.”

“And what do you propose instead ? Because if I leave the Duke at the altar, I will be without an option.”

“I will be here for you.” he promises as if it was a magic remedy.

“You cannot be serious.” you sigh, rolling your eyes. “Did you think about the scandal it would cause ? Your family’s reputation would be destroyed and your sisters need to marry as well.”

“It would be worth it. I love you, Y/N and I know you love me, too.”

“The fact is, it does not change anything about my situation. Tomorrow, I will be married and I will finally be what I have been raised for all my life : a faithful wife.”

“Faithful !” Benedict laughs humorlessly, “And you think your dear future husband had the same education as you ? The Duke might act as a gentleman but he keeps seeing other women and he will keep on doing so after you are married. He does not have any regard for you. He just wants a wife. He cannot give you what you truly want.”

“And you think I do not know that ? I am well aware of this fact. Except the world is like this and I cannot change it.” you affirm, desperately.

“Is there not a thing I could say to convince you ?”

“My destiny has been written for a long time. You need to leave me alone.”

“Very well, but before this,” he starts, getting closer to you and you let him do it, “would you allow me to kiss you ? I have wanted to do it since we first talked.” he adds putting his hand on your cheek, “And I wish to do it before you’re someone else’s.”

“Benedict, it is improper.” you object, without moving.

“If your future husband can currently be with another woman, I think you deserve to make the choice of kissing someone you really love before it is too late.” Benedict mutters but you stay sceptical. “No matter if you accept to give me this honour, just know you will not hear from me ever again, I promise you.”

You stare in Benedict’s blue eyes, trying to resist the temptation of tasting his lips. Your mother’s words and the fear of finding yourself on the first page of Lady Whistledown’t next issue are the only things holding you back. However, when Benedict's second hand touches yours, your mind doesn’t think of these things anymore so you hold your hand before whispering.

“You may kiss me.”

With a smile, Benedict leans in and softly presses his lips on yours. You kiss him back in an instant. You wish you could kiss him since the moment your eyes met his. Like you expected, his lips are soft and fit perfectly with yours. You kiss lovingly, enjoying this moment, this last choice you made.

Without adding something else, you leave Benedict alone and get back home while he leaves your grounds. 

The guilt isn’t eating you alive, only joy is exploding in yourself. You will always keep this moment in your mind and you know it will nourish a lot of your nights when you’ll be next to your husband. You don’t regret kissing Benedict because, for the first time in your life, you finally put yourself first. Arriving in your bedroom, your wedding dress seems to judge you but you pay it no mind and lay down on your bed. At the same time, the joy leaves your body, not for remorse, but for sadness ; you will never live this moment again. You will never feel this feeling again.

When the sun rises in the sky the next morning, your stomach twists. Meanwhile you’re getting ready, you live an out of body experience. Your body's here and dressed up however your mind is lost in the memory of the night before. This memory is nicer than your reality.

When you’re at the door of the chapel, you gain consciousness again. You know this is your last moment as Y/N Y/L/N. You take a deep breath whilst your father comes next to you. He gives you a comforting smile, seeing your state.

“Do not be afraid, my dearest. You are ready. Your whole life has been made for this moment.”

You cannot count how many times you've been hearing this since you're out in society. It's supposed to make you feel better and yet, it only makes you feel even more trapped. 

You don’t answer your father, fearing you might throw up on him due to the stress. Your father makes sure your veil is set correctly on your head then he locks his arms with yours and guides you through to the chapel. The music starts playing and for you, it doesn’t sound like a wedding song but more like a death march. You walk down the aisle, your heart beating loudly in your ears and your flowers are practically strangled by your grip. While walking, you take notice of the guests, wanting to avert your attention from your future husband. When you glance on the right side of the aisle, you find the Bridgerton family. Violet Bridgerton’s eyes are filled with softness that helps you to feel more at ease, despite the fact you’d still like to run away. Taking a closer look at the Bridgerton family, your eyes find Benedict. You do your best to not show your confusion. He wasn’t supposed to be here. You don’t understand what he’s doing here. He cannot be here. You have to go through with this wedding. Not wanting to be more disturbed, you finally dare to watch your future husband. He looks good in his suit yet, you can’t help but think Benedict is more handsome. 

When you’re at the altar, your father kisses your forehead before letting you go to the Duke. Once your father lets go of your arm, you want to catch him and beg him to not let you go. You don’t do it. Tightening your grip on your bouquet, you give a forced smile at the Duke. The music stops and the Archbishop announces to the guests they can sit down. When they did and the ceremony has finally started, tears form in your eyes.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony ” he states solemnly.

The word ‘matrimony’ echoes in your mind and you can’t listen to the Archbishop’s voice anymore. You can only watch the scene unfold in front of you until you willingly press a finger on a thorn from your bouquet to bring you back to reality. You can’t dwell in your own world anymore, you have to face your truth. In spite of yourself, you look furtively at Benedict before landing your gaze on the man in front of you again. At the same time you get back in the chapel, you hear the Archbishop exclaim : 

“If anyone thinks this man and this woman shall not be joined together, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

After the Archbishop's sentence, there is a silence for a second and you’re afraid your fast heartbeats can be heard. You wouldn’t be surprised to find your heart out of your chest.

As there is no protest, the Archbishop opens his mouth again to finish the wedding when your name echoes in the chapel. Every pair of eyes, yours included, land on the same spot, on Benedict, standing on his feet with a broken but determined gaze.

“Y/N, I know I told you I would leave you alone but I cannot.” he starts with trembling hands. “You need to hear me out, do not marry him ! You should not be obliged to marry a man you do not love… I love you too much to let you make this mistake.” he adds and at these words, Anthony tries to make him sit again in vain. “If you become his wife, you will not be happy, you will be miserable. We both know it. You should not be marrying the wrong man. You have always told me you wanted to marry a man you love dearly and who supports you in everything. And this man is not the Duke.” Benedict carries on and you feel the heat in your cheek. “I am not saying you should marry me, if this is not what you wish for, even if I would be honoured to be your husband. Just please, do not become his wife.”

Following his tirade, Benedict takes a deep breath. The room is filled with horrified looks, especially Anthony’s and your parents. No one knows how to react, not expecting this interruption. Benedict doesn’t pay attention to the others, he is only looking at you as if you were alone in the chapel. You can see all the tenderness and love he has for you.

As for you, your eyes are wide open in shock. Benedict’s intervention cut your growing anxiety off and you stay on your feet, not moving an inch. You don’t dare to say a word, not knowing what is going to happen next. The moment stays frozen in time for a whole minute before Anthony stands up and forces his brother to leave the chapel. Your eyes follow the two Bridgerton brothers until they’re out of sight.

Once everything is calm again, the Duke takes your hand to bring back your attention to him. He asks if they can resume and to answer him, you let your bouquet fall at your feet. You mutter a quick apology and walk up the aisle while your father is ordering you to come back.

As soon as you’re outside, you find Anthony reprimanding Benedict. Without paying a mind to it, you throw yourself at the man you love. Taken aback by your gesture, Anthony takes a step back. Understanding the situation, the Bridgerton first born knows he has to handle a delicate situation so he goes back to the chapel. You keep embracing Benedict in your arms for several seconds before putting your hands on his cheeks and kissing him with passion. Benedict stumbles, surprised by your action, before deepening the kiss. You keep kissing until you’re out of air. When you break the embrace, you keep your hands on both sides of his face, joyful tears in your eyes.

“You are right. I cannot marry him. I know what we have just done will have consequences but I do not care. I want to be with you. I want to be able to choose and I choose you. It is you I want by my side. I love you, Benedict.” you confess with a genuine smile, the first one in a month.

“I love you so much.” he answers, pecking your lips.

“I am so glad you were around when they said ‘speak now’. Had you not intervened, I never would have had the strength to run away.”

“I told you I would be here for you.” Benedict reminds you, stroking your cheeks. “We should leave while they are still in shock.”

You agree and Benedict takes your hand. You look at each other with love and without wasting another second, you run out of the place, you undo your veil and let it fall down on the ground. You know you’re in a complicated situation but it doesn't matter to you. You love each other and you will get married and even if it means going to another city and suffer the wrath of your parents once you’re back. You chose each other, it’s all that matters.

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{This is my side blog so I'll be answering comments under the username @marie-sworld}

[atlabeth]

hi, i hope i’m putting in this request correctly (sorry if i’m not). but could you do a benedict bridgerton one-shot/blurb with the prompt: “(She’s/he’s/they’re) just a friend.” “We used to be friends to be ‘just friends’ too.”

or really any friends to lovers kinda thing with him, i’m just a sucker for it. thank you!

not just - benedict bridgerton

summary: benedict realizes he does not just want to be friends with you. not anymore.

a/n: hi!! thank you so much for this request, im sorry it took approximately 100 years to come out but yeah. i tried to make this different from my other friends to lovers fic w him, and this is my first time writing daphne so hopefully she's accurate lol. i hope you enjoy, once again sorry for the wait!!! (also i changed the prompt a bit to fit more but it's still the same meaning)

wc: 2.3k

warning(s): an overuse of commas and em dashes, signature bridgerton boy obliviousness. also i wrote this in one go when the inspiration finally struck so i apologize if it's kinda messy

Benedict had let out, likely, his hundredth sigh of the night. It was certainly bothersome to those on the outskirts alongside him, but he could not have cared less. 

Not when you were on the dance floor, dancing with a man that was not him.

Benedict did not quite know why the sight of you twirling with another annoyed him so. It must have been the man you were with. Lord Arthur Annesley was, frankly, a good match for any lady, especially as the well-regarded son of a viscount—just not you. 

He knew that the two of you would not be a good match—he was certain of it. Not when he had overheard the man talking of how he viewed women as nothing more than accessories, to birth children and then be shown off on a man’s arm. Benedict still remembered that night, Colin having to stop him in the middle of Mondrich’s gentleman’s club from clobbering the brute.

The worst part was that, with the wealth he partook in due to his ancestry and the good breeding afforded to him by his family name, Benedict could do nothing about Annesley if he decided to court you. Yes, your family had money of its own, but not nearly enough to allow you refusal should he propose. If he made the choice, you would be forced to accept, no matter your feelings or thoughts of him. His bigger fear was that you actually felt affection for the man.

Well, he thought helpfully, he could always challenge him to a duel. And though it seemed like an excellent idea to him, Benedict doubted his siblings nor his mother would allow him to do anything of the sort. 

And thus he was doomed to stand on the sidelines of the ballroom forever, watching you dance with another, eventually marry another, and leave him fully behind. 

So his statement could not exactly be counted as true. He did know why the sight of it annoyed him.

It was because he was in love with you, and you were not in love with him. It was as simple as that, and yet it could not have been a more devastating truth.

Benedict supposed that was what he got for never being brave enough to tell you of his feelings. But that did not mean he had to like the outcome. 

“What has got you in such a twist, dearest brother?”

Benedict glanced over as Daphne took the open spot next to him, a glass of champagne held tenderly between her gloved fingers. She was the image of perfection, as usual—ever since his sister had become a duchess, she seemed to always emanate light. He was proud of her, but he could not help but feel a bit inferior in comparison. His sister was years younger than him, and yet she was while she was the walking body of grace with a duke for a husband, he could not even tell the object of his affections how he felt of her. 

Benedict supposed it was no surprise she had managed to seek him and his poor mood out. She’d always been good at knowing when he was upset, even when they were children. 

“No reason,” he muttered, plucking a glass of his own from a passing servant and tossing it back in one motion. “I am simply not enjoying the party.” 

“Ah,” she said, fully disbelieving, if simply by the fact that he could not possibly dislike a party organized by her, “is that why you are attempting to assassinate Lord Arthur with your gaze alone?” 

“I—” Benedict huffed and looked elsewhere. “I am not.” 

“You were,” she said. Daphne looked to where his attention was prior, and it only took a moment for her to realize. 

“Ah.” Daphne pursed her lips as she turned back to her brother. “It is Miss Stanton.” 

“It is not,” Benedict quickly covered up, realizing only a moment too late that he should not have been so hasty to reply if it was the truth. 

“Do you have affection for her?” Daphne asked, and though coming from another it might have been mocking, his sister was anything but. 

“No,” Benedict said, and he shook his head. “No—I do not. The only affection I have for her is of the friendship sort.” 

He did not quite know why he was so adamant in denying his feelings for you. Perhaps because he thought it would make it easier—if he did not accept the truth, then he would not have to accept he was losing the woman of his dreams when you took the surname of another and left him behind. He would not have to accept that it was a very likely story that you would be out of his life far sooner than he would ever wish. 

Yes, he thought, that was it. Though it brought an unexpected sadness alongside the revelation. 

“That certainly is not the way that a man looks at a woman he feels nothing but friendship for,” Daphne murmured. “I recognize it very clearly.” 

“Then maybe you have had a bit too much to drink,” Benedict said, “as you could not be more wrong.” 

She did not take offense at his words, instead allowing the briefest glimpse of amusement to pass. “You are the one attempting to drown his sorrows in nothing but champagne. I regret to inform you, brother, that it will not likely work.” 

He let out a long sigh as he crossed his arms across his midsection. “What is it that you recognize then, Daph?” 

“I recognize,” Daphne said, “the very same way that I looked at Simon. When I was first beginning to realize my feelings, with no hope of them being reciprocated and yet all of the love in the world to give to him.” 

Benedict shook his head with a huff. “That is nonsense. We are nothing more than friends.” 

Daphne’s lips quirked up at the edges. “Simon used to be nothing but a friend as well. And now I have been madly in love with him for two years.” 

Sometimes Benedict wished his sister was not as attentive and caring as she was. There were plenty of other sisters in the ton, sisters that would not think twice about the sour moods of their brothers. If that were the case, he would be able to revel in his misery for the rest of his life instead of being forced to confront it instead. 

“...Fine,” he conceded. “I do have feelings for her. I… I love her. And I have for quite some time. I love that she is my friend, and I could not think of a life without her, though I cannot help but want so much more. But I fear if I speak up I could lose her.” 

“Benedict,” Daphne said softly, “if you do not say anything, you will lose her anyway. You will never know what could have been, simply because of a fear that may not even be reality. Do you truly think you could take that chance?” 

Benedict did not respond. It was a heavy question—one he did not quite know how to answer. 

He did not want to lose you—of course not. It was unimaginable, his world without you in it. But just as well, by confessing his feelings, he could lose you all the same. He could push you farther into that lecherous man’s arms, and he would not be able to do a thing. 

But deep down, Benedict knew the truth. 

“No,” he said. “I could not take the chance.” 

Daphne smiled, fully this time, and she patted her brother on the back. “Then I believe you know what you must do.” 

As if by perfect timing, the orchestra ended their current piece, and your dance with Annesley was complete. You bowed to him and him to you, and he grimaced as he touched your shoulder and said a few words. You said a few back to him, then exited with a polite nod and a smile. Before Benedict could question his next actions, he had handed his empty glass to his sister and started towards you. 

“Miss Stanton,” Benedict started, and then he shook his head, “Y/N. I wish to speak with you, if that is alright. It is… it is an urgent matter.” 

Your eyes alit with concern as you took his offered hand. “Benedict, whatever is the problem?” 

“There is no problem,” he said, and he did not think he could be stumbling through this harder if he tried. “I just wish to speak with you, if you have the time.” 

You smiled, and Benedict thought it was the most stunning thing he’d ever seen. “Why, of course. I always have time for Benedict Bridgerton.” 

He smiled back. “And I am eternally thankful for it.” 

Benedict guided you out of the ballroom, checking behind him every so often to ensure they weren’t being followed—he could only imagine the sort of scandal this would cause, and he did not quite feel like giving his mother a heart attack tonight—and eventually, the two of you were in a quiet but well lit hallway of the Basset’s enormous summer home. 

“Now I am truly worried something is the matter,” you said wryly. “What, with all this secrecy.” 

Benedict chuckled, but he could not stop his hands from fidgeting. In another split second decision he took your hands in his own, the warmth a welcome comfort. You did not even flinch, instead looking at him with the softest expression imaginable. 

Great God, how he loved you. 

“Nothing is the matter,” Benedict said, his voice a bit shaky, and he gave himself approximately two seconds to prepare for what he was about to do. “I’d rather say things have the opportunity to go quite well.” 

“And why is that?” you asked with a coy smile. 

“Because I have a confession to make,” he said. “I… I could not stand watching you dance out there tonight, to tell you the truth. And— and it is not because of you—you were as perfect as you always were—but because of your partner. Arthur Annesley is nothing more than his title, and he is not worth any more of your time. And— and I tell you this, because—” 

Benedict took a deep breath, and it was as if a dam had been broken, the way the words came tumbling out. 

“I do not just want to be friends,” Benedict rushed out, “and I have wanted much more for so long. I love you, Y/N Stanton, and I have loved you since the moment you walked out the doors for your debut. I have loved you since you pushed me in the mud and ruined my clothing just to get me out of French lessons. I have loved you since you sat with me for hours in silence whenever I needed you after my father’s death. Y/N, I have loved you for as long as I have known what love is. To me, you are what love is. And I love you—foolishly, wholeheartedly, completely in love.”

“Truly?” you asked quietly, your eyes slightly wide from such a sudden confession. “That is… truly how you have felt about me, all this time?” 

“For quite some time,” he admitted, and the light of concern in his eye was telling of his nerves. “You consume my every thought, Y/N, my every waking moment—you are all I dream of, day in and day out. And I cannot bear the thought of you being near that wretched Annesley any longer. I beg of you—please, do not marry him.” 

“I was never going to marry him,” you said breathlessly, and you could not help but laugh, however inappropriate it might have been. “Benedict, every moment I spent with him was to humor my mother and his father over their own delusions of a courting. I harbor nothing but ambivalence towards that man. You,” you reached your hand up and cupped his cheek with it, and you could not help but smile as he unconsciously leaned into your touch, “are the one that I love. Foolishly, wholeheartedly, completely in love.” 

It was Benedict’s turn for his eyes to widen, to repeat your own words. “Truly?” 

“It is the most truth I have ever spoken,” you whispered. 

Benedict immediately pulled you into a kiss, the feeling of his lips against yours like pure fire dancing through you. It was maddeningly addictive, passionate, the complete opposite of gentlemanly, but everything you had ever needed. Everything you had been longing for, for a longer time than you’d known. 

“I love you,” he said, breathless as he pulled away for just a moment, just enough time to say the words before he was back on you with an unrivaled fierceness. “I love you so much.” 

Your entire body was heated to the touch when you finally pulled away, your lips sore and swollen and Benedict’s hair a complete mess thanks to your combined efforts. You could not help but laugh at the sight—it was beautiful. He was beautiful, and he was the man you loved.

The man who loved you. 

“I love you too,” you murmured, and you suddenly could not believe you had managed to go so long without saying the words you now knew were etched into your soul. 

Friends, you thought with an inward laugh. The notion seemed so silly now. 

Benedict Bridgerton was your best friend, but he was also the man you loved the most. You could hardly believe you nearly passed it up from some half-hearted fear of rejection. 

You had never been so glad to not be friends. 

No—you weren’t not friends. 

You simply were not just friends. 

And that was not just good. It was perfect. 

-

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77 @simonsbluee @kwyloz @masteroperator

bridgerton tags: @theonewithallthemilkshakes @rach2602 @milkiane @korol-lantsov 

[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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[saintlike78]

Forever an artist [B.B]

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Navigation

Pairings: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!wife!reader

Words: 2k

Request/Summary: “Benedict teaching wife reader how to pleasure herself & he’s drawing her while teaching her”

Warnings: NSFW 16+, fingering, guided masterbation, fluffy, Benedict being a simp. As always lmk if I missed anything.

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The soft sounds of the city waking travelled in from the open window, along with the warm morning breeze that ruffled the curtains.

More often than not you found that sleeping completely bare was very appreciated by your husband, who often rewarded the action as he was now - by muffling your breathy sounds with his lips and moving his hand between your open thighs.

Benedict lay completely against you on his side, his prominent bulge resting against your leg that was thrown over and in between his own to keep you open for him. Your breath caught in your throat and your eyes fluttered with each pump of his skilled fingers in your weeping cunt and pass of his thumb on your clit.

“Benedict,” you moaned into his mouth, muffled by his tongue dancing with your own.

A low groan escaped him, from feeling your cunt squeeze his fingers. A small drop of pre-cum dribbled down and onto your thigh; you couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of his hips moving with stuttering thrusts - barely even noticeable - along with the movement of his fingers.

His lips parted from yours, pulling back slightly to take in the look of bliss on your face. Benedict always loved to admire you - your slightly parted mouth and your lust-filled eyes, still somewhat heavy with sleep. He believed that he could cum just by looking at you, if he didn’t have any self-control - which he often didn’t - only with you.

“How I wish to capture this look forever,” Benedict mused, moving his fingers in just the right way to achieve the look of pleasure blown out in your eyes. He rubbed a slow hand along your hair, only slightly obstructed by holding himself up enough to look down at you.

He slowed his movements, wishing to draw out the morning for as long as possible, wanting to watch you squirm on the mattress, to listen to the angelic sounds fall from your puffy lips. Just as he was about to allow you to slip over the desirable edge an idea came to him, stopping his movements. You whined, nuzzling into his soft chest tears brimming in your eyes.

“But,” you frowned, muffled by his chest, voice almost breaking by a sob of discontent.

“I apologize, my darling - please no tears,” Benedict cooed, guiding your face from his chest, feeling somewhat guilty for the unshed tears that lay on your waterline.

“Why did you stop?” You pouted, moving yourself even more against him as the dull ache in your abdomen made you clench around air.

“You see, my sweet, I wish to draw you.”

“Now?” You cocked your head, raising a confused brow.

Benedict chuckled lightly, “yes, now. This face, this look… I must keep it forever.”

You didn’t give any protest except for a small whine when Benedict crawled out of bed and the cool air met your body; you watched as he quickly stumbled into a pair of loose trousers before moving back to you. Scooping you out from beneath the covers he helped you to your feet and into one of his loose billowy shirts, covering your dignity before he could haul you through the house and into his study.

You pouted up at him, clearly still upset at your husband for stealing your orgasm from you.

“Do not give me that look, sweetheart… I promise you’ll feel good in a bit,” Benedict promised with a soft smile before wrapping his arms around you, “now, up you get.”

With a nod you jumped into his arms, letting him carry you through the house. Your face instantly fell into the crook of his neck, inhaling his intoxicating scent and trying to ignore the prying eyes of the household staff.

Benedict slowly eased you onto the loveseat that stood in front of his easel - purposely placed for you to read when he painted, but for this morning it served another purpose.

“Alright, my love… let us get this off,” Benedict murmured, his eyes soft as he looked at you and helped his shirt off of your body, leaving you nude before him once again.

“Benedict, how am I to feel good if you are to be over there drawing?“ you questioned, rubbing a soft hand over his chest.

He gave you a soft look, caressing your cheek. You nuzzled into the gentle touch, closing your eyes and releasing a long breath.

“You are to touch yourself and make yourself feel good.”

Your eyes opened in surprise, looking at him with interest and uncertainty. Suddenly you felt rather bashful, your eyes failing to meet his adoring gaze, “I do not know how.”

Benedict gently guided your gaze to his, smiling with nothing but love and adoration, “I will teach you.”

An exaggerated pout pulled at your lips, your hands scratching lightly at his chest, “but I want you.”

“I know, my girl… - I swear that I will make it up to you, but for now let me draw this beautiful face,” Benedict cooed, swiping a thumb over your pouting lips before giving them a small peck.

“- now, lay back… just like that… and allow me your hand,” Benedict guided, smiling when your head hit the soft pillow and you allowed your dominant hand to slip into his.

Slowly he let it run down and over your body, letting you feel your own soft skin under your fingertips with Benedict’s large hand right on top.

“Do you feel what I feel?” Benedict whispered as your fingers traced over your stomach, inching closer and closer to your sensitive cunt.

Your head lazily moved with a nod, your focus on Benedict’s face as he watched your hand closely, a grin breaking out on his already gleeful face when your legs parted without prompt.

A small gulp caught in your throat when your fingers lightly glided over your aching clit, the smallest amount of stimulation making you gasp.

“You remember how I touch you… remember how it feels, do you not?”

Again, you nodded and whimpered, “I do.”

“Excellent, my darling,” Benedict grinned, leaning forward to smear a kiss over your perspiring forehead, “move your fingers in small circles here in this spot.”

You do as he says, body tensing from your own touch, your body so sensitive after the denied release not even fifteen minutes earlier. Benedict’s touch lightened from your hand, letting it hover above yours as you moved your fingers as he had instructed - trying to mimic his usual movements.

“Go slow, sweetheart, enjoy it and let me hear you,” he slowly moved away from you to stand by his easel, looking back and forth from you to his charcoal - fishing everything out with rushed movements.

Breathy sounds escaped your slightly parted lips as you continued to draw circles. Your face felt incredibly hot, the heat of your slight embarrassment travelling up your spine and neck to warm your cheeks.

“Look at me, sweet girl, allow me see that face,” Benedict instructed; the faint sounds of the scraping of his pencil bouncing around the study.

Your hooded eyes landed on him; his shirtless figure, muscles moving with his movements on the paper, his glorious hands - already somehow covered in charcoal - it truly was a sight to behold and you couldn’t keep in the desperate moan that escaped you.

“Please, may I go faster?” you whimpered, fingers twitching to up their movement.

Benedict chuckled slightly, “of course… but try moving your fingers further down and tell me what you feel.”

Benedict watched intently when you did as you were told. He was sure if he asked you to show him your fingers they would be glistening with your arousal; he could feel his cock straining in his trousers at the mere thought of you dripping onto the velvety loveseat.

“It is so wet, Ben,” you moaned softly, feeling your own arousal coat your fingers.

A groan rumbled from Benedict’s throat, the movements on the paper pausing, drawing a breath to compose himself.

“Amazing, darling…-now, remember how I use my fingers inside of you?”

You whined, redirecting your eyes to the floor out of embarrassment, but gave a subtle nod and an almost inaudible ‘yes’.

“Do as I would do, my love, use two fingers and use your other hand to rub your sensitive spot in time with those pretty fingers of yours.”

A gasp fell from you when you let two of your fingers slip into your needy entrance - doing as Benedict said and letting your other hand fall down above it to rub at your clit as you did before. The movements were sloppy and unpracticed; it was almost frustrating to try and please yourself when you knew how much better it felt when it was Benedict’s long fingers working on your cunt instead of your own - your own fingers barely reached the places that made it feel like floating. But you kept going because it’s what Benedict wished and it still felt amazing, even more so when you watched Benedict draw in deep breaths when his focus faltered when he let his gaze travel up and down your body instead of drawing. You could tell how he willed himself to speed up the process of his art every time a lewd moan slipped past your kiss swollen lips and a squelch sounded from your fingers moving in and out of you.

“Benedict,” you moaned, getting lost in the way his body moved, the rise and fall of his chest with every breath. God - the way his tongue would lick over his lips to wet them. Your own mouth seemed to go dry from the sight.

“You will tell me when you are close, my darling,” he said - although his voice worked closer to sounding like a grunt.

You whimpered and nodded, “I am close.”

The movement of your hands was growing more frantic and sloppy, working your untrained fingers on your cunt to work you closer to the sweet blissful feeling of release.

“Good job, love… you are doing fantastic,” Benedict praised with a proud smile, wanting nothing more to release himself from his trousers and relieve the ache in his cock.

“Ben, I cannot hold it,” you moaned, shutting your eyes tight as your body tensed, trying to hold back the inevitable.

“You need not hold it… just look at me,” he ordered.

Willing your eyes to open - trying to suppress the flutter of them as you continued your movements - the squelching grew louder and louder, along with your laboured breaths and loud moans.

Your cunt clenched around your own fingers and suddenly you understood what Benedict felt - the pulsing feeling around yourself as you came with a moan of your husband's name. Your legs tensed and closed around your hands even when you tried to keep them open; you tried moving your fingers on your clit for as long as you could stand to before the sensation was too sensitive.

“There you are, my love,” Benedict purred before dropping his pencil and rushing to your side.

His charcoal covered fingers grabbed your face, forcing your hazy gaze upon his pride-filled face. You were too blissed out to care about the greyish black smear that decorated your cheeks when you were too busy focusing on Benedict’s lips as they met yours in a deep kiss.

“You did an amazing job, my dear,” Benedict whispered when his lips parted from yours to allow you to draw a much-needed breath. His thumbs caressed your cheeks gently.

“Thank you,” you whispered back with a bashful and dazed smile, “did you finish the drawing?”

“I did,” he answered, a smirk twitching at the corner of his lips.

“Are you content?” You spoke lowly, sitting up slightly to wrap your arms around his neck and bury yourself in his warmth.

His arms held you in a tight embrace, his fingers tracing softly up your back, “absolutely.”

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A/n: to be notified of future writing follow @saintlike78slibrary and turn on notifications

[jjmaybankxx]

Prompt List

- JJ Maybank, Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton

fluff

1."I think I love you"

2."You're comfy"

3."your lips are getting really close to mine""

4."can you picture it? you and I dating?"

5."you're my favourite person"

6."you are more than enough"

7."those are really cheesy pick up lines"

8."can you stop laughing and just kiss me"

9."i don't want this to end. I don't"

10."yes please draw me like one of your french girls" "piss off"

11."move your blanket. I wanna lay down on your lap"

12."you make me proud, you know that right?"

13."i'm only doing it because your cute"

14."stop moving. I'm almost done!"

15."you..you don't even have to love me back you know?"

16."isn't it obvious how much I'm obsessed with you?"

Angst/ jealousy (all will have happy endings)

17."you deserve more"

18."i know you still love me"

19."please look at me"

20."why did you lie?"

21."since when did you guys get so close?"

21."No, don't cry. I hate it when you cry"

22."am I not good enough for you?"

23."i'm not jealous. fuck off"

24."i don't fucking care your supposed to be mine!"

25."you were staring at her ass"

26."im not stupid. who is she"

27."it's not you I don't trust"

28."Do you regret it?"

29."please don't hurt me like this"

30."im fine, stop asking"

31."I was only using you"

32."i give up"

smut

33."friends don't do this"

34."there's people here"

35."always so fuckin tight for me"

36."oh fuck. don't stop"

37."no, I'm supposed to be making you feel good"

38."im still sore from last night"

39."i want to hear you scream"

40."i had this dream and-fuck I need you to make it a reality"

41."shhh, just look at me baby"

42."c'mere, you can sit on my lap"

43."is all of this for me?"

44."dont you dare over up the hickeys"

45."hmm no panties?"

46."were not just friends and you fucking know it"

47."up for a one night stand"

48."all you had to do was ask"

[ijustwant2write]

A Secret Romantic-Benedict Bridgerton x Reader x Eloise Bridgerton (Platonic)-(Part 5/?)

(GIF credit to @inglourious-imagines​)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Tags: @marvel-ousnesss @myficplace-blog @yelenas-lova @rockbumlowlavxnder @s-unflowxr @appledressing @xceafh @seppys-return-to-madness @ellesmythe @too-many-fandoms-and-what-abt-it @nycbaby21 @teenagedirtbag087 @scorpiomindfuck​

Summary: As (Y/N) and Benedict’s relationship starts to develop, Lord Belby starts his plan to get the girl he wants.

Characters: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader, Bridgerton Family x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Forwardness (?), but mostly a LOT of fluff

                                      *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Bridgerton's cheered as (Y/N) scored a strike as they bowled. She gratefully smiled at them, thankful that she wasn't making a fool of herself.

"Are you a sportswoman Miss (Y/N)?" Anthony asked in disbelief."We are only three turns in and that is your third strike!"

"My father used to play this all the time with me when I was a little girl. It's also his favourite game because he always wins. Or used to that is."

They laughed. Benedict's loving smile hadn't left his face since they linked arms. Although his family made him nervous, in case they said something outlandish, he loved that everyone was getting on. It was as if he and (Y/N) were already married.

Oh, marriage.

Of course the thought had crossed his mind. He wouldn't pursue the lady if he didn't see that kind of future together. But it still shocked him that the thought came to him so casually.

Anthony was next to bowl, he was desperate to also earn a strike. Not only because a lady was beating him, but he couldn't believe how poorly he was doing. Everyone watched in anticipation as the eldest took his turn, hitting nine pins, the last one wobbling teasingly. Holding his breath, Anthony groaned when it didn't fall over.

"Perhaps Lady (Y/N) should be giving you tips brother." Daphne giggled.

"Perhaps she should. Though I don't suppose you've ever played Pall-mall?"

"Only a couple of times. Why, is that your area of expertise?"

"Do not get him started." Benedict mumbled.

Anthony ignored him."I am a humble man, though I do seem to win every time."

"Because you threaten us otherwise." Daphne smirked.

"My siblings jest."

"Well, perhaps I should give this Pall-mall game another go, it would be delightful to beat you at your own game Viscount Bridgerton."

The siblings were all laughing under their breath. (Y/N) worried for a second that she had gone too far, until she saw Anthony smirking at her. It was easy to banter with the Bridgertons, she felt so comfortable with them.

"Where's Eloise?" Gregory asked, looking around.

"I thought she was sat over there, reading a book." Colin said.

"She didn't even have a book with her."

"That makes a change."

"Can she not do as she's told for one day?" Anthony sighed."I apologise for my sister, Lady (Y/N)."

"There's no need to apologise. I'm sure she's content wherever she is."

Eloise sat on a stone bench away from the party, scribbling in her small, conceivable notebook. Lady Whistledown was still out there, writing away just as she was. Whenever she thought she found something to get her closer to the answer, Eloise found herself ten steps back.

"You're fond of that notebook, aren't you?" Lord Belby startled her.

"Uh, pardon me my Lord, I-"

"Not used to talking to men I see?"

"Do you always converse by asking questions?"

He chuckled, taking a seat next to her. Eloise shuffled away, not being subtle about it.

"Eloise Bridgerton, it doesn't surprise me to see you out here alone."

"Have you been spying on me?"

"You're the talk of the ton, Eloise."

"Am I?"

"Of course. With a fiery personality such as yours, how could anyone ignore it?"

"I really must go Lord Belby, it is inappropriate that we are alone." she abruptly stood.

"I don't think you're one to play by the rules."

Eloise halted."I am not. But I also will not be the centre of idle gossip amongst this infuriating ton. Good day my lord."

She swiftly turned again, her pace quick as she tried to get away from Belby. They couldn't be seen together, it was one of the top rules in society. Eloise had already caused her mother enough stress, she wouldn't add this. Glancing back, she saw Lord Belby still sat, gazing at her with a cocky smile. Something about him made her writhe, he was uncomfortable to be around, you knew he was going to do or say something that you wouldn't like.

Belby kept a calm demeanour, cursing on the inside. He thought she would be a somewhat easier target. Not a lot of men went after her, Belby believed she would be swooned by him. Although frustrated, Belby held his composure as he thought of another plan. It was going to be more difficult than he thought.

Meanwhile, Lady Danbury was up to her matchmaking antics. Well, she had no need to make the match, that part was already done for her. However, she saw how the newest couple were antsy, they wished for more time together. Needing to abide by the laws of society, Lady Danbury took Violet and Lady (Y/L/N) aside, suggesting they chaperone the couple away from the guests. The mothers were on board straight away, smiling mischievously as they approached (Y/N) and Benedict.

"They definitely don't look as if they are up to something." Benedict whispered to (Y/N), following where he was looking.

"We better stay as a team then." she replied, her grip slightly tightening on his elbow.

"We were about to take a walk around my new extention of the garden. Care to join us?" Lady Danbury casually asked.

Benedict and (Y/N) knew that this was all part of some plan, but agreed anyway. To their surprise, they followed behind the women, thinking that they would want to spy on them. Neither of them complained, feeling relieved as the guests thinned out, walker slower on purpose as to distance themselves from the others.

"This is nice." (Y/N) cringed at her wording.

Benedict grinned down at her."It is. I hope this isn't too brash (Y/N), but I have been wishing for more time together everyday."

"That is nowhere near harsh Benedict, seeing as we were alone only the last time we saw each other."

"That is true. And I would take that risk again."

"Would you?"

"Yes. Would you not?"

"Oh, I would." (Y/N) was blushing.

Benedict could see she felt cheeky by saying the truth. He liked this side of her, it was fun, honest.

"I would enjoy your company in my home. Would you and your parents care to join us for dinner one evening?"

"Of course! Mother will be thrilled!"

"And your father?"

(Y/N) hesitated."He has been strange these last few days. I'm not sure what is wrong with him. But he does favour you Benedict, do not worry."

"And you are sure of this?"

"Yes! How could he not?"

"You charm me Lady (Y/N)."

"Good, my plan is working then."

Eloise decided against telling her family of the occurrence with Lord Belby. It would only cause disruption, especially from her brothers. No harm came of it and no one saw them. The sun was setting, signalling the end of Lady Danbury's event. Families began leaving, slowly trickling away, each thanking their hostess. The Bridgertons and (Y/L/N)'s made their way out of Lady Danbury' s home together, chatting away until they found themselves outside the home.

"Lord (Y/L/N), my family would love to extend an invitation for dinner at our home." Anthony asked.

"Oh marvelous!" he joyfully replied."Yes, we would gladly accept."

"I shall have the details sent to you. It has been a pleasure to speak with you again."

Formalities were shared as everyone said their goodbyes, heading to their carriages. Benedict made sure he and (Y/N) were the last to leave.

"I await your visit." he said.

"With much anticipation." (Y/N) replied.

If no one was looking, she could have kissed him there and then. Of course, she didn't actually have the confidence to do so, but she couldn't stop thinking about it. Benedict hesitantly left, keeping an eye on (Y/N) as she made her way to her carriage. He watched as she climbed in before getting in himself.

"You are truly smitten Benedict." Daphne teased as they set off.

In (Y/N)'s carriage, the tone was slightly different.

"Darling, where's Lord Belby?" (Y/N)'s mother asked.

"He will no longer reside with us."

"Why not?"

"He is not the respectable gentleman I thought him to be. I don't want him anywhere near our daughter either."

"I always had a suspicion about him, he was far too confident."

"The servants will start packing his belongings as soon as we step foot in our home. I am sorry I let a man like that near my girls."

"Oh darling," Lady (Y/L/N) put her hand on his,"do not apologise. You are doing the right thing now."

"We just need to look to the future now. We have a dinner to attend to in a few days, and we must be ready."

"You make it sound like a military operation." (Y/N) joked.

"And I have the best soldiers with me."

Violet was ecstatic to have the (Y/L/N)'s for dinner, things were moving swiftly. However, she was a nightmare for her children as she tried to quickly plan the evening. What food would they serve? What entertainment could they provide? Would her children behave as they should?

"Benedict, how could you not ask her what her favourite dessert is? You knew we were going to ask them for dinner." Violet stressed.

"It wasn't exactly the first question I thought to ask mother." Benedict defended himself.

"I'm sorry dear, I just want everything to go well."

They had been walking the halls of their house when he stopped her.

"It will. The (Y/L/N) are not a snobbish family, they are grateful and respectful. Even if (Y/N) hated something she would still be polite as to not hurt anyone's feelings. Please mama, just calm down."

Violet smiled."You really like this girl, don't you?"

Benedict nodded, cheeks tinting red slightly, but he wasn't embarrassed to talk about his feelings. It was still young love after all.

"I really like her too, Benedict."

"You definitely approve?"

"I have approved from day one. And I think Anthony has taken a liking to her too. He didn't stop talking about his defeat in bowls yesterday."

"That makes me very happy. I would never bring someone into the family who did not get along with everyone."

"She is going to be very lucky to have you Benedict. I'm so happy for you."

Violet pulled him in for a hug, wishing he was a little boy again so she could pick him up. Almost all of her children were grown, her boys were certainly men and much taller than her; she had to squeeze extra tight to ensure it felt like a proper hug.

"I shan't pester you any longer."

Benedict slowly loosened his grip."How about I help you finish the menu for the dinner?"

Violet grinned, holding onto his hand as they headed to the kitchen. It was all going to work out.

(Y/N) checked over herself in the mirror for the fifth time, checking she had all of her accessories and not a hair was out of place. She was questioning her outfit. Was it the right dress? It was beautiful, maybe too much? So many flaws screamed at her. She knew the only reason she was nervous was because it was a more intimate affair, both families stuck at the dinner table, having to make conversation that flowed for the evening. They couldn't rely on other families in case there was nothing to talk about. Oh God, would her and Benedict run out of things to say to each other?

"(Y/N), we must make haste." her mother cheerily called.

Sighing, (Y/N) hoped her worries would fade away. Everything was headed in the right direction, so why was she worrying? This is what she wanted. She didn't want anything to ruin it. What that could be, she didn't know. Dismissing her thoughts, (Y/N) hurried to meet her parents in the foyer, excitement rising as she thought about Benedict.

It had been so much more peaceful in the house since Belby had left. There was an air of tension he brought, but you didn't realise it until he left. All of his things were gone, he had left in such a huff, it was hard for (Y/N) not to laugh.

The Bridgerton House was beautiful. It suited them, it was obviously majestic yet humble. It helped that it wasn't garnished with hideous and outrageous decor like some homes. The Bridgertons waited in their own foyer, hearing the carriage pull up.

"Right, best behaviour everyone. This is a potential future Bridgerton." Violet instructed.

"Mama-" Benedict rolled his eyes, but straightened up as the door opened.

"Lord and Lady (Y/L/N) and Lady (Y/N)." the doorman announced.

Benedict almost lost his breath. (Y/N) was dazzling. Her dress was sparkling under the lights, the catching reflections hitting her skin, somehow her eyes were more captivating than usual. Even when her parents approached the family to greet them, his eyes never left (Y/N), mouth slightly open in awe.

Once everyone had exchanged their kind words, they headed to the dining room, Benedict and (Y/N) trailing behind, arms linked.

"Are you alright Benedict?" (Y/N) asked.

"You look stunning."

"Oh, Benedict-"

"Sorry, I do not mean to be forward. It is true though. I cannot fathom how you become more beautiful everytime I see you."

(Y/N) was quite flustered."You flatter me too much."

"It's not enough I'm afraid. You shall have to endure many more compliments from me."

"No one has ever been so sweet to me."

"And I intend to shower you with all the affection you deserve."

"I am sorry that I am no so talented at complimenting you."

"There is no need."

(Y/N) wished they hadn't made it to the dining room so quickly. Benedict directed her to her seat, pushing in her chair as she sat and taking his place beside her. He grimaced slightly when he saw Eloise on the other side to her, wishing it was Daphne instead. He knew they got along, but Eloise was getting more comfortable with (Y/N), meaning she could blurt out anything.

"Isn't this lovely?" Violet happily chirped.

"Thank you for welcoming us into your beautiful home Lady Bridgerton. We were most gracious to receive an invitation." Lord (Y/L/N) said."And it is wonderful to meet the rest of the Bridgerton's I have heard so much about."

"All good things I hope." Anthony (mostly) joked.

"Oh of course!" Lady (Y/L/N) smiled."Eloise, I hear that you are on the hunt for Lady Whistledown."

The table went silent. Eloise knew her mama would not want this to be the topic of conversation, especially since they had been here for all of five minutes. But she had also been told to entertain their guests, why not amuse them?

She had a smug smile as she spoke."Yes. I believe she is among us in the Ton."

"Really? Any ideas whom it could be?"

"Well, yes and no. I do not have the sufficient amount of evidence to pinpoint anyone in particular. Lady Whistledown is very smart, she knows how to cover her tracks."

"Or he is." Gregory teased.

"It is definitely a woman, a man could not write in the way that she does."

"Perhaps it is a man and a woman?" Benedict suggested. All heads turned to him, waiting for an explanation."Well, I mean, the papers sell well, she must be earning a lot of money. Perhaps a man thought of a business opportunity to sell gossip and no one suspects a woman in the first place. Also, it is much easier for women to overhear gossip."

Everyone thought about it for a moment. It was a good theory. Eloise scoffed.

"Although I admire the thought behind it, I still think it is one lone woman writing these articles."

"That's because you want it to be a woman."

"But in answer to your question, Lady (Y/L/N), I will still be conducting my investigations for a little longer."

"It's all very scandalous isn't it?"

(Y/N) quietly giggled at her mother. She got so excited over things not deemed proper in high society. The appetisers were soon brought out, ending the conversation much to Violet's relief. Everyone started their own conversations with one another as they ate.

"I am sorry about my mother, Eloise." (Y/N) said."She loves Lady Whistledown, like all mothers do. She was very excited when I was mentioned in the paper."

"I just don't think it's right. She's allowed to overhear gossip and spread it around the Ton, yet no repercussions come to her. Even the Queen can't do anything, this woman is impossible to find."

"You'll be able to figure it out. It might take a little longer than you like. You finally have a worthy opponent."

Eloise smiled.“Yes, it appears I have.”

“(Y/N),” Benedict stirred her away attention away from his sister,“um...”

Now he didn’t know what to say. He knew he wanted to talk to (Y/N), but he had panicked, thinking Eloise may say something regrettable. 

“Are you alright Benedict?”

“Yes, I...I was just going to ask how you were finding the food?”

“Oh, it’s lovely, thank you.”

“I hope my family aren’t too much.”

“Of course they aren’t. What gave you that silly idea?”

“I mean, sometimes we can be a little-”

“Benedict, you are by far the loveliest family I have ever met, and I am not trying to butter you up. I mean it. I;m very happy spending time with you and your family.”

What she really wanted to say was how lucky she would feel being a part of this family, but (Y/N) thought that might be too much. The pair shared a sweet smile, going back to their food until the doors opened.

“We’re not qiute ready for our mains yet.” Violet said to the butler.

“Pardon the intrusion.”

Violet turned in her seat at the unfamilar voice, frowning when she saw Lord Belby dwaggering into the room. He looked extremely smug.

“I just hate missing out on dinner parties.”

[iwritefandomimagines]

NO LONGER IN DENIAL

masterlist

pairing: anthony bridgerton x reader, bestfriend!benedict bridgerton x reader

description: anthony has made no secret of not wanting to marry, despite it being more than clear that he is head over heels in love with you, his “best friend”. benedict decides he is fed up of anthony’s denial, and takes matters into his own hands — by inciting jealousy from his older brother.

warnings: angst, jealous!anthony cos i’m a sucker for him hehe, benedict being a shit stirrer who i adore, fluffiness at the end <3

“Lady Y/N is joining us for dinner this evening, I believe,” Benedict hummed, a small smirk gracing his face as the eldest Bridgerton’s head snapped up, “Mother told me she hopes to, anyway.”

Anthony watched as his sisters fussed excitedly over seeing you, for it had been at least a week since you had graced Aubrey Hall with your presence and they missed you dearly.

Anthony had too, of course, though he’d never admit it was for any reason beyond how highly regarded you were in his family and how much he enjoyed your friendship.

“I very much look forward to seeing her,” Benedict continued, still smirking devilishly, “Though I did have the pleasure of bumping into her as she left Modiste yesterday.”

Anthony furrowed his eyebrows at his brother, “You didn’t tell me that, brother.”

“Must I share every occasion I see Lady Y/N with you, Anthony?” he quipped in reply, crossing his arms over his chest as Colin stifled a laugh, well aware of what was going on, “One might think you jealous.”

“Jealous? You jest, brother. She is my closest friend, I am simply surprised you would not mention even in passing that you saw her,” Anthony spoke through gritted teeth, “Regardless, I look forward to seeing her.”

“Ah, perfect timing!” Francesca grinned as Lady Y/N’s arrival was announced moments later, and in you walked with a gloriously bright smile on your face, though this faltered as you saw the bitter look on Anthony’s face.

“Is everything alright, my Lord?” you asked shyly, taking a few steps towards Anthony, whose expression softened at this, “Have we chosen a bad day to visit? If so I apologise—,”

Suddenly Benedict was at your side now, “It’s quite alright, my dear Lady Y/N. We are all pleased to see you. Might we take a turn about the room? We have some things to discuss!”

“No fair! You saw her yesterday, I want to show her my embroidery,” Hyacinth pouted, though Benedict raised his brow at her and flickered his eyes in Anthony’s direction as if to explain his actions.

Everyone in the family was well aware of the affection shared between you and Anthony, even if he dared not admit how he felt because of his apparent desire not to marry.

Benedict believed he just needed a push to see that you had myriad other options, and that he could only push away his feelings for so long.

“I’m sure Benedict has something important to share, my dear Hyacinth, but I would love to see your embroidery promptly after,” your voice was like honey to the eldest Bridgerton, who fought off the desire to make his own request for a moment of your time, “There is enough of me to go around! My brother will be arriving shortly, also.”

Benedict began whispering almost as soon as you had crossed the room, endeavouring to make you well aware of his plan so as not to cause any discomfort to you.

He didn’t wish for you to be confused by his sudden flirtation, so immediately indulged you with the details of his concocted plan to induce jealousy in his older brother that might finally allow him to be honest about his feelings.

With some hesitation, you accepted his plan.

Benedict was well aware of your feelings for his brother, and you knew this — after all, you had confessed it to him yourself because you trusted him dearly. Much to Anthony’s dismay, nowadays Benedict was your closest friend of all.

Anthony had once filled that role, but as each year passed and your youth slipped away, you had fallen far too in love with him to be so satisfied with a friendship as you were with Benedict.

Benedict was your best friend — Anthony was the love of your life.

Though he did not admit it, you were the love of his too. This is why Benedict’s interference was so necessary as far as the second Bridgerton son was concerned.

It was unfair for you to believe your love unrequited when it was merely his stubborn refusal to see beyond his ‘duty’ as Viscount and head of the household that prevented him from giving in to his feelings.

The plan seemed already to be working by the time you were seated for dinner, far closer to Benedict than to Anthony who sat at the other side of the table.

He scowled as he watched his brother gossiping with you, still irritated by both his earlier remark about seeing you yesterday and his persistence with being the only person in the room to maintain your attention.

“It is working, my dear friend,” Benedict beamed across at you, leaning forward to both better execute his plan and so that you could hear him better, “If looks could kill, my brother would have seen me long since dead and buried.”

You brought your hand to your mouth, hiding the giggle that escaped as you waited to calm before looking across at Anthony, “Benedict!”

You drew in a deep breath, composing yourself before glancing across at the Viscount and catching his eye immediately. His glare was suddenly no more, his lips curling up in a smile that sent your heart racing.

You mouthed a small “Hello,” to him, blushing crimson at the intensity of his stare. Despite the conversation going on around him, all he could do was look at you.

The staring contest you seemed to find yourself in was swiftly broken by Benedict’s voice calling your name again, returning you to conversation with him.

The rest of dinner passed much the same — small conversations here and there with the other Bridgertons, longing stares from an increasingly restless Anthony, and teasing comments from Benedict, who was certain that Anthony would be confronting you tonight.

“We should probably call for our carriage, I suppose,” you smiled sadly, disappointed with both how quickly the night had passed by and the fact you’d hardly spoken to Anthony throughout, “I’ve had such a lovely evening. I only wish I could stay longer!”

“You could!” Anthony exclaimed, an unusual outburst for the eldest sibling but one that made all at the table laugh as he rose to his feet, “We could have a room put up for you. It is late, and Wellsbury Hall is quite the distance.”

You bit your lip, smiling at him as he sat back down again, “Oh we couldn’t trouble you with that, my lord.”

“Perhaps my dear friend is right,” your brother disagreed, “It is getting late, and if it is no trouble we would be incredibly grateful. And I hope we might repay you with an invitation to Wellsbury in the near future? I hope to host a ball before the season ends so that my darling sister might finally find a husband.”

His eyes flickered between Benedict and Anthony for a moment and you realised that he must have been in on Benedict’s little plan.

You looked around the room cautiously at every smiling face, before settling your gaze on Anthony with a nod, “Very well then. I’d be delighted. The many childhoods spent staying here overnight are often much missed.”

Lady Bridgerton grinned, “Fantastic. Then it is settled,” she turned to the maids stood by the door, “Please prepare two rooms for our guests as quickly as possible. It is, after all, late, and I’m sure they will soon wish to rest.”

The way Anthony watched you for the rest of dinner made you impossibly nervous.

When the maids told you which rooms were readied, you stood to retire to bed, but not before Benedict offered to show you to the room as it was in his opinion the best decorated.

“Brother, I don’t believe it’s appropriate for you to show Lady Y/N to her room,” Anthony huffed, having had enough now of him being stuck to you like heavy-duty glue, “Perhaps you should allow one of our maids to kindly do so.”

“It is quite alright, Anthony. We are in the comfort of our own home, and I know Y/N quite well enough,” Benedict sing-songed, “Unless you would prefer to show her? The maids are quite busy clearing up.”

Anthony’s jaw clenched at his brother’s comment about knowing you ‘quite well enough’ and so he found himself at your side quickly.

“In fact yes, perhaps I should,” he agreed, a sternness in his tone you’d become used to again today. He was so much gentler with you, but today with you so seemingly far from him he has grown stoic again, “After all, I am the head of this household and you have not let me spend a minute with my closest friend, hm?”

Colin interjected now, aware of all eyes on the conversation, “Perhaps Lady Y/N can make the decision herself?”

“I—,”

“Fine, I concede,” Benedict raised his hands in surrender, “I suppose I’ve not let her leave my side this evening, though you cannot fault me for that. I will bid you goodnight, Y/N. Goodnight brothers.”

He took your hand in his, lifting it to his lips for just the gentlest of kisses to the back of it, before he bowed and quickly left the room.

With Anthony facing the other way, towards you, Benedict turned to shoot you a wink before leaving, and nerves bubbled in your gut at the unknown of what was to come.

The kiss to your hand was the final straw for Anthony, who linked his arm with yours and lead you out of the room without another word to anyone else.

You were silent for the walk, but once you stopped still outside of the room you were to sleep in Anthony turned to stand in front of you, his breathing jagged as his eyes searched your face for clues to why he was feeling so furious at your friendship with Benedict.

“Is my brother courting you?” he came right out and asked it, his chest heaving and yours doing so now too as you shook your head.

“Not at all, my lord,” you bit your lip again, before looking down at the ground to avoid his gaze.

He brought his index finger to your chin, lifting your face so that you were forced to look at him again, “And do you wish him to be?”

Again you shook your head, but his finger never left your skin for a moment.

“I was so sure—,”

“Forgive me, my lord, I have just been finding comfort in his friendship of late as I see him regularly about town,” you frowned, suddenly even more conscious of how little time you spent with Anthony in recent weeks.

He leaned ever so slightly closer, “Finding comfort in his friendship? And what of ours?”

“Our friendship, my lord? I—,”

“I apologise, Y/N, but I do not like to see you so close with my brother. Not least because of the fear of a scandal if others saw his behaviour,” he gritted his teeth, “He touches you too often. Leans too close to speak with you and it… it is misleading.”

You gulped, “Why would you be so infuriated by the notion of him courting me, my dear Anthony? He is your brother, and he cares for me. Even if it is not him I wish did so.”

He cocked his head in confusion now, before his eyes widened in realisation of his brother’s scheming. And in considering that, he realised that it had worked.

He’d never wanted to marry, and especially never for love.

But with you stood right there at his finger tips, smiling up at him nervously with a twinkle in your eyes, he threw caution to the wind and realised that you had changed that in him.

He could no longer deny his desire to hold you, to have you entirely as his, to make you his Viscountess.

“Who do you wish to treat you as such, my lady?”

“Surely you can see the answer for yourself, Anthony.”

“I simply wish to hear you say it. But if I must do so first, as a consequence of my foolishness in not seeing it sooner, then so be it. I dislike your closeness to my brother because I miss your attention being mine. I wish to have you at my side always, to laugh with you and dance with you and just talk with you all evening. I do not wish to see Benedict court you because I wish to do so myself.”

“Anthony—,”

“Please, my love, let me finish. I have most probably been in love with you for as long as I have known you, and yet chosen not to see it out of my own stubbornness. If not for my scheming devil of a brother, I might still be in denial. But I love you most ardently, Y/N. And if you feel at all the same then I should like to make you my wife. My viscountess.”

You were speechless, perhaps for one of the first times since meeting Anthony.

You had always told him everything, always saved your last dance for him at balls, always rooted for him in every game of Pall Mall even as his competitor.

And now here he was, the famously anti-marriage Viscount asking if you too wished to wed him.

“Anthony, I had hoped it was clear as day that I too have been unfathomably in love with you for longer than I can explain,” you blushed crimson again under his gaze as a smile spread across his face, “To marry you, well, would be the only way I might find joy in marriage. I know you’ve never sought a match, let alone a love match, but I love you most dearly, my dear Anthony.”

He captured your lips with his as soon as you stopped speaking, knowing that he shouldn’t do so but hoping nobody was around.

Besides, he would soon make you his wife, and he couldn’t contain the excitement.

“I know I’ve previously had my reservations but I am no longer in denial, and I’m sorry for taking my liberties with you by kissing you before we are wed but I could not help myself. And I wish to spend a lifetime kissing you, Y/N. Will you marry me?” he looked shy all of a sudden, which you had never seen before, and you grabbed both of his hands in yours to kiss them.

“Of course, my dear, there is nothing I would like more!”

His smile became impossibly wide, and once more he kissed you out of sheer excitement.

“I’m sorry that this was so abrupt, and I have yet no ring. But my mother will be ecstatic and I plan to give you her betrothal ring because— you are the only woman worthy. And I shall spend our whole life ensuring that I make up for taking so long to do this,” he was vulnerable now, still shy under your careful gaze,

“I had no desire to marry because I had no desire to put the woman I love through the pain of losing me like my mother did my father. She was distraught but— I see now that it is no good wasting time with this fear. However long I might live, I wish to spend those years loving you and making you happy, so that any pain might be worthwhile.”

You kissed him now, tearing your gloves from your hands and reaching up to cup his face and kiss him, “I love you, Anthony Bridgerton. Always. And I cannot wait to be your wife. It will be the greatest honour.”

You were both hot and flustered, and it was taking everything in him not to push open your bedroom door and sweep you off your feet.

But for you, he was a gentleman, and so he settled for one final kiss atop your head and a sweet goodnight.

“We shall tell the others as we break fast tomorrow, perhaps?” you could see the dizzy joy in Anthony’s eyes as he asked this of you, and you nodded profusely.

“I cannot wait, my dear.”

“Then I will bid you good night, my love. I will dream of you, and look forward to seeing you in the morning. Sleep well, my future viscountess.”

“Sleep well, my love.”

As you went to part, you heard a rustle a little way down the corridor, both looking up to see a smug Benedict smirking, leaning on the wall just down the hallway.

“Even I underestimated my own plan. Congratulations, brother. You finally saw sense.”

———

hello! i know this is completely random as i’ve been writing for djats lately but i has this idea and felt the neeeeed to write it. feel free to request more bridgerton fics, as i’m inspired at the moment and rewatching it.

in the meantime, here is my masterlist!

[writtenfangirl]

Kismet

In which Anthony Bridgerton contemplates the meaning of life, death and love

I’ve had this scene in my notes app for so long and I always found it so beautiful but couldn’t find a character to write it for UNTIL Anthony Bridgerton came along.

Pure fluff but mentions of death.

Anthony had always been afraid of death, as much as he’d been afraid of love.

It was difficult not to be when you witness both of your parents’ deaths.

He’d seen the way his father collapsed, face purple, breaths coming out in gasps before they suddenly stopped. He saw his father’s mortal body die, saw the light in his eyes dim before they completely sputtered out. And afterwards, when the doctors could do nothing to help him, he saw his mother’s soul die with him. Her cry of anguish as Edmund Bridgerton collapsed onto the soft grass, the days after the funeral when she would not speak and she only had that vacant look in her eyes, without any sign of that light Anthony grew up seeing.

Death was not a foreign concept to Anthony Bridgerton. The fragility of his mortality and the concept of his demise, as well his failings as the Bridgerton patriarch were his most intimate friends. These were the thoughts that plagued him at night. They were the covetous brothers Benedict and Colin were not. While his brothers of flesh and blood may have been content to let him keep the title, those thoughts had looked over his shoulder, had watched his every move and decision, had waited for a single misstep for the right moment to strike.

They absolutely terrified him.

So much so that he had stopped living.

What good was it, truly, to live and to love, when life could end in a flash. When nothing you do in this world matters, when you realize that everything you held dear could be taken from you in a blink, you begin to believe that such things weren’t worth the risk.

He loves his family, that much he was sure. It was difficult not to love them when they seemed to reside in his very heart, woven into the fabric of his soul. He had no choice but to love them.

But he had a choice when it came to romantic love. He did not have to go through the pain of losing someone else, nor would he ever damn another person into loving him and losing him too. On that, he could decide.

Or, at least he thought he could.

Because love certainly came for him, as surely as he knew death would one day come for him. It came to him in the form of the most beautiful woman in the world.

Y/N Y/L/N. She was the niece of the Viscountess Heathwood. By the ton’s standards, she was nobody. Beautiful yet still, unimportant and without any significant title or dowry aside from her relation with the Viscountess. Had it not been for her staggering beauty or her education and graceful countenance, she would have been dismissed.

If you had asked the Anthony of five years ago what he thought of when he imagined his wife, a woman like Y/N would have been last on his list.

But the Anthony of five years ago was an idiot.

Because Y/N, with all her grace and beauty, had a fierce determination that not only made her befitting of the title of viscountess but also made her a great addition to the Bridgerton family.

And to Anthony, she was everything.

Love in the shape of Y/N knocked on his door, and when he had refused to answer, love barreled its way into his heart like a disease. It burrowed itself into his skin until he flushed at the mere thought of her, wormed its way into his heart until his heart beat only for her. Then, love pounded its way deep into his soul and staked a tether that tied his soul to hers.

Anthony knew that one day, death would come knocking. It would take its bony hand and place it on his shoulder, beckoning Anthony to his side.

He was still undoubtedly terrified of it.

But for Y/N, for the love his life, he would live.

“What’s got you in so morose a mood so early in the morning?” Her voice, sweet and calming, pulled him out of his stupor.

Bathed in the golden light of the dawning sun, she looked breathtaking. It should have been impossible, to be so beautiful when she’d just woken up, but Anthony knew that if anyone could make the impossible possible, it would have been her.

She was pressed against his side, her body warm and flushed against his own. His arm, wrapped around her as her head rested on his chest. The only thing that separated them was the thin fabric of their sleeping clothes but even with them on, he could feel the contours of her body. The rolling curve of her hips, the softness of her skin as his hands trailed down her arm and up again.

He’d awoken to his wife in his arms for three years now but he could never take this feeling for granted. Everyday he woke up like this was a day he was truly thankful for.

Anthony placed a tender kiss on his wife’s forehead, the little hairs on the tip of her forehead tickling his nose. “I was just deep in thought, my love.”

“About what?”

He contemplated lying to her. Admittedly, his thoughts were far too dark to share so early in the morning. But Y/N had always been adept at sussing out any falsehoods, most especially his own.

“Death.”

Her brow shot straight up, pulling away from him and propping herself up on an elbow. The thin strap of her nightgown slipped past her shoulder revealing her glorious skin, her long hair trailing down her back. The golden light that bathed her had turned into a halo against the backdrop of the window, turning her into one of God’s sacred angels. “Why the bloody hell would you think about your death so early in the morning?”

“I wasn’t thinking my death. Just death in its most general sense.”

She gave him a pointed look. “That’s not very reassuring.”

He grinned at her. He couldn’t help it, not when she was looking at him in that certain way that always had him believing he was in trouble but would receive a reward rather than a punishment. “I assure you, it is not so morbid. I was simply thinking of life’s ephemerality, and how one ought to live it for the right people.”

She didn’t look reassured but nevertheless, she laid back down, Anthony’s arm instantly enveloping her, hand absentmindedly resuming its task of drawing lazy circles on her arm. “You would think, that with my husband celebrating his birthday today, he would think of happier things. His beautiful wife, perhaps, or his kind mother, or the veritable gaggle of siblings who adored him. You would think that, perhaps, his mind would wander towards the child his wife is currently carrying. But alas, he thinks of death. I never thought death to be a celebratory topic, but to each his own.”

He flicked her nose playfully at her sarcastic tone, her mouth pulling into a grin. “If you must know, death was on my mind because today marks the day that I am officially older than my father was when he passed.”

Suddenly, whatever joy filled the air died. “Oh.”

It was the truth. In the weeks since his birthday, his every waking thought had been consumed by his father. His father, Edmund Bridgerton, who was 8th viscount of the Bridgerton family. His father, who’s death marked the biggest change of Anthony’s life. His father, who lived through the first 18 years of Anthony’s life but lived no longer.

It was a sobering thought to realize that he would have to live longer than he knew the man he looked up to his whole life.

And it was these thoughts that plagued him.

“He has been on my mind,”he murmured but he knew she would understand, “I wonder if he is proud of me.”

“Of course he is.” She had said the words with such surety, it was difficult to argue with her. But Anthony would certainly try.

“How can you be so sure?”

She gave him a leveling stare, as if he was an idiot for even asking such a question. “I never had the pleasure of meeting him, but I know he is proud of you, as proud of you as I am.” Y/N placed a hand on his cheek, the pads of her finger soft against his stubble. “How can he not be, when you have done right by your siblings? By your mother? How can he possibly feel anything but pride at his eldest son for taking care of his whole family?”

“I make such a mess of things.” He frowned. His thoughts weren’t always so desolate, not since he married Y/N. It was difficult to keep his countenance bleak when he was married to the kind of person who smiled at a family of squirrels, or grinned at the sight of a little girl giggling through the window of a shop. But today of all days, his mind strained to his faults.

But his wife, bless her, would hear none of it. “You are human, Anthony. It is in our nature to make mistakes. I am certain your father once thought his mistakes egregious but yet still, he remains great. As sure as I am of your own excellence.”

“I go days, sometimes, never thinking of him. And when I remember him again, I feel such tremendous shame and grief at having forgotten him that sometimes, I can scarcely breathe.”

Another truth, one that Anthony had been too ashamed to admit. To forget one’s father when they were alive is one thing. To do so when he was dead was another thing entirely.

Y/N’s eyes could only be described as kind. “Did you know that a person dies twice. Once, when they are well and truly buried. The second is the last time their names are ever mentioned.“

This time, it was Anthony’s turn to look at his wife in sarcasm. “This is not the reassurance you think it to be.”

But she simply gave an indulgent grin before her eyes turned serious. “I mean to say that I will never let you forget him. I will say your father’s name everyday, if I must. And one day, I will teach our children to do the same. And they will teach their children, and their children will teach their children. Edmund Bridgerton will not be forgotten under my watch.”

His heart swelled with love. It was a lofty declaration but Y/N was never one to make vows lightly. She would do it too. Y/N was relentless in the pursuit of her goals and once she set her mind on something, she did it no matter what. It’s one of Anthony’s favorite things about her and the reason why he fell in love with her in the first place.

He pressed his lips on hers. Kisses with Y/N always felt like coming alive, like an empty house suddenly having new tenants. She felt like the cool spring air turning into the summer breeze. She felt like hope and joy all at once.

When he pulled away from her, her lips were swollen, eyes twinkling. He would never take a life with her for granted, and so when he spoke, his words came from that little space in his heart reserved for Y/N that no longer trembled at the sight of death. “When I die, I shall have your name carved into my bones”

She looked at him with skepticism. “Your bones?”

“One day, in the very distant future, when my grave is found and my tombstone is missing, they will see my bones but they will say your name. I will allow the world to kill me twice but I will not let it do the same to you.”

Her eyes gleamed silver, a joyful grin pulling at her lips.

There was no declaration of love more serious, more profound, than that. For the woman who taught him to live in spite of his fear, who taught him to love because of it, he would embrace death with open arms. If only so he could meet his wife’s soul once more. Because he was certain of his need for it, as certain as his need to draw breath every morning.

They were kismet, in this life and the next.

[slut4colinbridgerton]

Bittersweet in my mouth|| COLIN BRIDGERTON

PROMPT: “People warned me about you. I didn’t listen… God I wish I did.”

Requested?: No

Ship: Colin Bridgerton x Reader

Warnings: AFAB pronouns, Colin being an oblivious cunt (please let me know if i have to add something else)

Summary: idk man there’s just angst

A/N: Hey guys! This is my first one shot/imagine, so any constructive criticism is welcome!! Also I will be taking requests, however i would like to stick to bridgerton atm. I hope you enjoy :)

“Are you ok?” Y/N looked up to see Eloise standing behind them.

“Yeah.. Yeah I am.”

Eloise rolled her eyes,

“I don’t think people hide behind bushes would be considered ‘fine’. Definitely not sane that’s for sure-”

She was cut off briefly with an elbow to the stomach “What the hell Y/N?, you’ve been acting weird since…” she trailed off.

“Oh. Oh.”

“Eloise don’t. I’m not in the mood to talk about my feelings. I just want to wallow in self pity.” She sat on the bench and fiddled with the silk fabric of her dress. Eloise simply sat next to her on the bench.

“Y’know you’re not too late.” Eloise said, staring into the air.

“What, how can I not be? He’s now engaged to Marina, I can’t do anything more.”

“Y/N, no offense but shut up. You are a wonderful person, you’re elegant, an academic, any man would be lucky to have you! If Colin can’t see that, then it’s his fault, not yours.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me, and about romance for that fact.” Y/N chuckled.

“Yeah, it is. That’s how much I’m rooting for you and him.”

“Rooting for them and who?”

They both stood up and snapped around, to see the man they were just talking about,

“Why are you both looking at me like that? Have I got something on my face?”

Eloise cleared her throat,

“No one, nothing, I should go-”

“Eloise no, don’t you dare!” Y/N straggled to get a hold of Eloise’s arm, but failed, and Eloise sauntered off.

“Y/N, are you feeling ok? Have you come down with an illness?” He says, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead, “You’ve been acting off this whole party.”

Y/N stepped back from Colin,

“ Colin just leave it, I’m ok, I’m just sick of everyone asking me that!”

Colin raised his hands in defeat,

“Ok ok, just please, tell me what’s troubling you. It’s unlike you to be this.. reserved.”

“Colin what would you know what I’m like? You’re hardly around me anymore.” Y/N yelled out.

“Pardon?”

“Do not act like you haven’t been. You’ve been so infatuated with Miss Thompson, You have hardly spent any time with anyone else!”

“Why are you acting like this, is because you are jealous? I mean I don’t blame you! Marina has had more luck on the marriage market in a few weeks, more then you’ve had for the last few months! And it will probably stay that way.”

Y/N’s blood seemed to drain from their face,

“Y/N I’m so sorr-” She held up a finger to cut him off,

“Save it.”

Y/N turned away and stormed out of the garden, Colin just stood there, just watching her walk away.

Eloise was stood talking with Penelope, when she felt a sudden tap on her shoulder; she turned around to see Y/N standing there, her eyes heavy and red.

“Hold on Penelope-”

“Oh ok then,” Penelope was confused, but then again she was used to Eloises antics.

Eloise grabbed Y/N’s arm and lead to to a more secluded part of the occasion,

“What did he say, you must tell me!”

“He told me that I was jealous, due to the fact that Miss Thompson had more luck this season then I’ve ever had.”

Eloise balled her fists,

“Oh I’m going to kill him-”

“Eloise, don’t.”

Eloise sighed, then sat down; Y/N joined her,

“I’m getting a real sense of deja vu here.” Y/N laughed bitterly,

“Sat down? You crying because of my idiot of a brother? I think it’s starting to become our thing.”

Y/N looked at Eloise,

“I’m sorry for unloading this all on you-”

“Don’t you worry, it gives me something else to to other than listen to the mindless suitors of the ton.”

Y/N chuckled.

They heard footsteps coming from behind them, and they turned around; and once again they had a sense of deja vu.

It was Colin.

“Can I-”

“No.”

“Eloise I need to talk to-”

“Not in your wildest dreams brother.”

“Why not? I need to say-”

“What? Are you planning to insult her again? Planning to demean her further? Oh why don’t you just insult her family-”

“Alright I get it! Just please, tell me where she is.”

“Fine, she’s behind me.”

“What?”

Y/N poked her head out,

“Hi.”

Hello! Thank you so much for reading my first imagine/one shot. There will be a part 2, due to the fact that I just could not put it all in one. Hoped you enjoyed this and will read part 2 :)

- caitlin/sage <3

[marie-swriting]

The Only One For You - Benedict Bridgerton

Masterlist

Summary : You've always been insecured about Benedict's past as he's been with a lot of women before you and knowing he still has to watch naked women for his art doesn't help your fears to go away.

Warnings : reader is insecure and a little bit jealous, sexual innuendos, mention of nude paintings, fluffy ending, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some and if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 2.4k

French version on Wattpad

French version on Tumblr

Song Inspiration : All Your Exes by Julia Michaels

Your reading is interrupted by the arrival of Benedict who just got back from the Academy. You close your book and find him at the entrance of your home while he’s taking his jacket off. You chastely kiss your husband to greet him. He smiles at you and picks up a painting wrapped in paper.

“Is it another one of your masterpieces ?” You ask him, smiling.

“Yes, I was finally allowed to bring it home. Come, I want to show it to you.”

Benedict takes your hand and brings you to the room dedicated to his passion. He orders you to close your eyes while he unwraps the paper and put his painting on his easel.

“You can open them.” 

When your eyes find the painting, you can’t help but be surprised when you see the nude female body in front of you. You feel your cheeks getting a little heated. You try to force a smile before talking.

“Oh ! It’s another nude.”

“Well, we have to learn how to paint the human anatomy.” He laughs.

“That’s what I understood. Your painting is beautiful, Benedict.” You genuinely compliment. “You’re getting better with each new painting. Despite my lack of art knowledge, I can still notice your skill is improving every single day. You perfectly capture… the beauty of the female body.” You state, trying to keep a calm voice.

“Am I hearing some jealousy in your voice ?” Benedict asks with a mocking smile.

“What ? Of course not ! That’s ridiculous.”

“I thought.”

You roll your eyes, pretending to be annoyed after his last remark. You try to hide your emotions as best as you can, but Benedict can see right through you. He puts his hands on your hips and gets you closer to him while his eyes are full of love.

“You know that no matter how many women there might be at the Academy, you are the one I could admire all day without getting weary. You are the only woman I see.” He clarifies while insisting on the first word.

“I hope so.”

Benedict holds you closer against him while he delicately strokes your shoulder. Your head rests on his torso and you remember you’re the only one who can be against him.

“And you”, he adds, mischievous, “you are the only one who has the privilege of admiring this beautiful body from every point of view.”

“Benedict !”

You break the embrace, flustered by his innuendo while he laughs loudly. You hit his shoulder, making him chuckle harder. You hide your face in your hands. He always has the ability to embarrass you in an instant. You know he just wants to ease the atmosphere with his last sentence, but you can’t help but have a part of you who is upset. You know observing naked women is only for his art and nothing else, but your fears grow at every new painting.

During the weekend, you go to an art exhibition. Benedict has been talking about it for the past month. He was waiting for it impatiently. Even if art is still an unknown subject to you, you’re always curious to see the different pieces. You, especially, love listening to Benedict’s comments. Generally, he doesn’t hold his word back, but when it comes to a piece of art, it’s worse. He doesn’t even wait to create a full thought before talking. He explains what he feels as soon as his eyes lay on the art.

At the art gallery, you and Benedict look at the paintings and statues at your own pace. Your arm hooked on his, you listen to Benedict rambling as you try to find every detail he points out. While he’s in the middle of a reflection about a painting representing a forest and a lake made by an anonymous artist, you let your eyes go from the painting to his face. You watch as he frowns before his eyes go wide. His face goes through so many emotions in an instant, making his thoughts even more alive. Benedict feels your gaze on him so he stops his comments and turns his head towards you with a crooked smile.

“You do know the painting is in front of you ?”

“I know.”

“I talked too much again, didn’t I ?”

“Indeed”, you confirm and he looks embarrassed for a second, “but I like it. Without you, I would not be able to understand what I am looking at so keep going.”

“You are the only person who is so eager to listen to me. Even Eloise becomes fatigued from listening to me rambling”

“I am your wife for a reason. So, do you have anything else to add about this painting ?”

“I have nothing else to say, but I think I am still going to look at it a little bit. You can go on, I will catch you up in a few minutes.”

“Great.”

Benedict kisses the back of your hand, making you smile. You walk away toward the next wall where you find a portrait of a woman with a child. You start looking at the characters, waiting for Benedict’s presence to come next to you at any given moment. But ten minutes later, he’s still not next to you. You turn your head to where you left him, frown and see him talking with a woman. At first, you don’t know who she is and you guess they’re having a friendly conversation. As you pay more attention to the woman’s face, you realise you might know her, but you can’t put your finger on it. You mentally debate before deciding to join them with a polite smile. 

“Oh, dear !” Benedict starts when he sees you. “Sorry, I was about to come to you.”

“Good afternoon.” The woman says.

“Y/N, this is Miss Tessa Brown. She was at the Academy.”

“The Academy ? I thought women were not allowed to study there.” You ask her, confused.

“It is correct. I was working as a model to be able to listen to the lessons.”

“I see.” You state, understanding where you know her from, before looking her up and down, despite yourself. “Pardon, I have not introduced myself yet. I am Y/N Bridgerton, his wife.” You add, insisting on the last word.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Miss Brown was telling me she is the artist of this painting.” Benedict informs you as he brings your attention back to the art.

“Really ?”

“Yes, I finally mustered up my courage to present my art. I am very proud of it.”

“You can be, your art is beautiful. I hope one day you will be able to claim it.” You say, genuinely.

“I hope so, too. I apologise, I must make haste. Have a good day, Lord and Lady Bridgerton.”

“Goodbye, Miss Brown.”

You can’t help but let your gaze follow her while you try to understand the nature of her relationship with Benedict. You know you’re being ridiculous, but Benedict has seen her body from every angle for his art and that’s enough for your brain to imagine the worst scenarios. Suddenly, you remember Anthony mentioned her in a discussion with his brother, discussion he stopped when he saw you entering the room. You never questioned Benedict about it, knowing you weren’t supposed to hear the conversation in the first place. But after meeting Tessa Brown, your curiosity is coming back.

For the remainder of the exhibition until your trip back home, you stay silent. You try to act normal but your thoughts are being too loud for you to talk. Fortunately, when you arrive, you have the perfect excuse to run away and think calmly as you claim you want to read. You keep staring at the same page while you hear Benedict drawing with his charcoal. Your anxiety grows at every one of your thoughts. Your rational side can’t find a way to your mind so you keep panicking. You quickly shake your head, trying to erase all of these thoughts. You really try to read this time when Benedict puts his sketchbook aside and comes in front of you.

“What is the matter ?”

“What do you mean ?” You ask, pretending to not understand.

“You almost have not said anything since we left the exhibition and you have been staring at the same page for the last twenty minutes.”

“I have not…”

“I know you, Y/N”, he cuts you off, worried, “something is wrong, I know it.”

“It is nothing.” You reassure him.

You close your book and stand up from the sofa. You’re about to leave the room when he delicately puts his hand on your arm, stopping you.

“Are you upset ?” Benedict questions genuinely. 

“Why would I be upset ?”

“Do not think I did not see your face when you met Tessa Brown.”

“What has this to do with it ?”

“You stared at her and you were a little bit cutting with her.”  He clarifies, offending you instantly. 

“I literally complimented her work.”

“Do I have to remind you the way you introduce yourself to her ? You emphasised on the word ‘wife’, not that I do not like it, I love when you specify it, especially if you are jealous.”

“I am not jealous.” You argue. “I have no reason to be, like you said last time, I am the only one who has the privilege to admire you from every angle, right ?”

“It is true. So, tell me what is wrong then.” He insists and you lower your eyes.

“It is ridiculous.”

“Y/N, talk to me.”

He puts a hand on your cheek, forcing you to look up to him.

“It is just that… I know you painted her before and I feel like you knew her pretty well. Was there something between you and her, before us ?” You ask, breaking the embrace a little.

“Yes, I have to admit we had an affair, but it meant nothing !”

“I am not blaming you, Benedict”, you assure him, “It would be stupid of me to do so. You had told me you had many women before me. I know it and I am not angry with you. And I know our society is not as strict with men having affairs as it is with us, women. I know it.” You insist, overwhelmed. “But I can’t help but think about it. I wish we were on an equal footing.”

“What do you mean precisely ?” He wants to know, curious.

“Benedict, you had a whole life before me”, you start, exposing your fears, “You danced with a lot of women, you kissed even more women and shared numerous nights with them and there are others you’ve seen naked for your art and you had feelings for some of them. It is not the same for me. I danced with a few men, you are the only one I kissed, the only one I shared my nights with and have feelings for. I can not help but think that, on that matter, we are so far away. And I know it was before me and meeting this women are now a part of who you are, but I wish they did not exist. I wish I was the only for you like you are the only one for me.” You admit, vulnerable. “I know, sometimes, there are parts that your brothers leave out to be considerate of me, but it would be so much easier if we were on the same level playing field. I would not have to worry anymore, wondering if you were once close with the woman you’re talking to and if you were, how much. Again, I know these fears are ridiculous. I know you love me and you would never hurt me. I trust you, but I want to live in a world where you do not have all of these memories with these women, a world where they would not have had an affair with you.”

Your monologue over, you take a breath. You hadn’t noticed you were talking fast. You don’t dare to look at Benedict, fearing he might judge you, even though you know he would never.

“Y/N, I feel bad knowing I am the cause of such worry, even if it is unwillingly. I wish you were the first woman I had met, because if it was the case, I would not have waited a second before putting a ring on your finger.” Benedict states as he takes your hand. “No matter what I had with these women before, what I might once have felt for them is nothing compared to what I currently feel for you. You are the only person I have ever truly loved and I will always love you until death do us part. You are the only woman that matters to me. If I can do something to ease all these fears, I will do it because I love you. I hate knowing you are torturing yourself, especially if I am the reason.”

You look at him lovingly, grateful to have such a considerate husband. You take his other hand in yours and smile at him.

“I just need to fully accept that you have known other women. Like I said before, I trust you. It is just my insecurities talking. I will overcome them. But I am glad we talked about it. I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.”

“I am delighted to hear it. I love you, Y/N. You are and you will always be the only person in my heart, don't you forget it.”

Benedict gets closer to your face before kissing you softly. Your kiss only lasts for a few seconds but it’s full of love and passion. When you break apart, you plunge your eyes in his with a smile.

“I love you, Benedict.”

You put your head on his torso, listening to his heartbeats while he holds you close to him. He kisses the top of your head before pressing his cheek on it. The more you stay in your embrace, the more your fears vanish. You finally let go of a sigh while he delicately strokes your arm. You close your eyes, cherishing this moment until Benedict brings his mouth close to your ear with a mischievous smile.

“We can go to our room and I will prove to you you are the only one in my eyes.” 

“Benedict !” You scream, mortified while he bursts out laughing.

“Seeing you embarrassed is the thing I love most about you.” Benedict states as he presses his lips on yours and you melt at his touch.

Masterlist

{This is my side blog so I'll be answering comments under the username @marie-sworld}

[multifandomwriter56]

Promenading With a Twist

A/N: Okay, here it is! My first Bridgerton fic. I hope you enjoy it. The divider I used in this was made by @firefly-graphics​

Summary: Y/n Bridgerton feels it is her duty to get her eldest brother to have fun; and she takes her job very seriously. 

Characters: Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Violet Bridergton, Lady Danbury, Bridgerton!Reader

Warnings: uhhh... none I can think of... maybe time period inaccuracy because there is a chance of that

Word Count: 1,292

*gif is not mine*

Y/n is the youngest child of Edmund and Violet Bridgerton, twins with Hyacinth; and her eldest brother’s worst nightmare. 

Don’t get him wrong, Anthony loves his baby sister; but she holds the trophy for being able to rile her brother up the most. She can get under his skin like no one else. 

Y/n believes her eldest brother is always stressed out, reading ledgers and working to provide for their family; but he never takes the time to have fun.

So Y/n made it her sole job to force her brother to have fun as much as she can. 

Most of the time, she just does harmless tricks or innocently questions his actions; but sometimes she takes it too far and Benedict has to intervene between the two siblings. 

Y/n Bridgerton loves spending time with her family, but she would rather be in her room alone than promenading around, watching her older siblings looking for their future partners.

Anthony is walking stiffly next to her as he watches Eloise ignore every man who attempts to talk to her, making sure Benedict sticks to her side.

“Why are you upset now, brother?”

Anthony glances down at his baby sister, hating how well she can read him. “I am not upset, Y/n.”

“Whatever you say, brother.” Y/n says with a roll of her eyes. 

Anthony frowns down at her, not a fan of the attitude but knowing she is right and he shouldn’t take his annoyance at Eloise out on the young girl; so he restrains from scolding her. 

That is, until Y/n starts mocking him by squaring her shoulders and marching besides him. 

He lays a hand on her shoulder, stopping them both. “If you are going to mock me, you can walk with Mother and Lady Danbury.”

Y/n gapes at her brother, anger rising in her chest. “But Lady Danbury scares me!”

“Now, young lady.”

Y/n stares up at her brother, her brain trying to think of a way to convince him to take his words back, but nothing comes to mind. So with a loud huff, letting Anthony know she is upset with him, Y/n turns on her heel and starts walking to where their mother is talking with Lady Danbury. 

Anthony bites back the smile threatening to show as his sister unintentionally imitates his angry walk. 

There may be almost two decades in between them, but Y/n reminds Anthony of his younger self, how he was before their father died. 

Y/n drags behind the two older women, reminding herself to not roll her eyes at the topic since it seems Lady Danbury has eyes in the back of her head. 

She glances in between the two women, her eyes narrowing at seeing her brother laughing with some woman who she doesn’t even remember her name. 

Benedict looks over his shoulder, making sure his youngest sister hasn’t run off. When Y/n is stuck with the females of the family, she takes advantage of their neglectful nature to watch the child. 

Not that Benedict believes his mother is neglectful, far from it actually, but the viscountess sometimes forgets just how mischievous her youngest is. 

Speaking of mischief, Benedict curses under his breath when he sees his sister’s mischievous smirk. Only trouble follows after that look. Before Benedict can make it to his sister, Y/n bumps into her eldest brother as they walk past him, causing him to lose his balance and fall into the pond.

“Y/n Bridgerton.” Benedict admonishes as he rests his hands on her shoulders.

“What?” Y/n looks up at him, smirk still in place. “He needed to cool off.” Her smirk turns into a victory smile when Benedict chuckles. 

Benedict tries to stifle his laughter when his mother and Lady Danbury arrive at his side, but he knows he’s doing a terrible job at it.

“Y/n!” Violet exclaims.

“What, it was an accident.” The young girl exclaims.

Violet huffs, not believing her daughter for a moment but when she glances at her eldest who is struggling on getting out of the water, she can’t help when a small giggle escapes between her lips. She glances at her friend, relieved to see a smile on her face. 

Benedict chuckles again when he sees that his mother is not angry with his sister, but smooths his features when he glances at the eldest sibling; who is just about out of the water.

“Run, run.” Benedict whispers to his little sister, gently shoving her to get her moving.

“What? Why?” Y/n questions. She was too busy gawking at her mother and Lady Danbury as both women seem amused at her antics to see her angry brother pull himself out of the water, his murderous glare aimed at her. 

“Y/n, run!” Benedict pushes her this time before stepping in front of his brother who attempts to grab the running eleven year old.

“Y/n Bridgerton!” Anthony shouts, glaring at the people who are laughing and cheering on his sister who is getting away.

Benedict immediately puts his hands up, hoping to avoid his brother’s wrath when that murderous glare is now on him. “Now, brother. It was a harmless trick and-”

“Harmless?! I am soaking wet!”

Benedict bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing, but his brother sees right through him if that glare means anything. 

Y/n was able to avoid her brother for the rest of the morning as she decided to ride with her friend’s family who was kind enough to drop her back off at home. Her mother will not be pleased that she rode in the carriage of another family but she needed to give her brother time to cool off before she’s within arm’s reach of him. 

She slowly steps into the house, listening for any signs of her eldest sibling. She sighs in relief when all she hears are the maids getting supper ready. 

She makes her way up the stairs and to her room where she immediately notices the metal bathtub in the middle of her room. 

She shrieks when strong arms wrap around her waist, pulling her into the air. 

“I think it’s time for a bath, sister.” 

Y/n struggles in her brother’s arms. “Anthony, put me down!”

“Don’t worry, sister, I will.”

At her brother’s words, Y/n realizes just how much closer they are to the bathtub. “Anthony, don’t you dare! Ahh!” 

Anthony laughs at his sister’s screams, folding his arms over his chest as he bends forward from laughing so hard.

Y/n wraps her arms around her body, pouting. “It’s cold.” She whines.

Anthony grows serious at his sister’s words, reminding him as to why the water is cold. “Ah yes, that’s what happens when you ride with another family and are hours late.” He leans down, his eyes stern. “Bridgertons ride together no matter what the situation is at the moment. Understand?”

Knowing her brother is right, Y/n nods her head. “Yes, brother.”

For a moment, the viscount just smiles down at his baby sister, his love for her showing in his eyes. He places a hand on her cheek. “Thank you, sister. I needed some laughter today.”

Y/n smiles up at him, glad he’s not upset her. “It was funny, wasn’t it?”

Anthony rolls his eyes as he helps her out of the bathtub. “It is now, yes.” He gently leads her away from the bathtub. “Why don’t you get out of those wet clothes and I will have a maid add some hot water for your bath.”

Y/n nods her head. “Thank you, brother.”

“Anything for you, my little sister.”   

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