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gracieheartspedro · 4 months

Text

About You

how to help gaza

pairing: colin bridgerton x f!reader, brief benedict bridgerton x reader action

description: finally ready to get off the marriage mart, your family arranges a marriage to a bridgerton. but not the one you have always desired.

word count: 2.4k words

author’s note: hiiii folks. this is part one so more coming soon. I wrote it in an hour after I watched pt1 of season 3. I only edited it a couple times. plus there’s a lack of colin content on this website. so i’m here, filling the void ❤️

You had waited for this night your whole life. The night you would be proposed to.

Your mother had ensured you wore your finest gown, a soft purple dress with beautiful sparkles and embellishments. She even gifted you a necklace your grandmother had worn the night of her engagement.

It was a huge moment for everyone involved. But you could not help but feel a pit in your stomach. You wanted to call them nerves, but it was more so you knew you were making a mistake.

When you arrive at Lady Danbury’s estate, you and your parents step out of a horse-drawn carriage and into a beautifully decorated ball. The candles lined the entrance, and red and white roses encapsulated the entire space.

You did the typical introductions and curtsies. You thanked Lady Danbury for throwing such a captivating event for your special moment. She smiled and told you that it had to be mesmerizing for such anticipation. You felt light-headed thinking of all the eyes that would be on you tonight.

You found your way to the ballroom, where ladies and gentlemen alike were already dancing. You find your way around the room, instantly finding a group of ladies you had made acquaintance with before. The four of you chat and they all share that they cannot wait to watch the Bridgerton boy propose to you in front of the masses.

It makes you sick to your stomach.

You excuse yourself to find some lemonade on one of the many tables. You would prefer some champagne, but alcohol does not make it right for you. It does not allow any clarity. So, you stand alone, trying to collect your thoughts and not freak out too much before anything happens.

“There’s my gem.”

His voice is deeper when it’s right in one of your ringlet curls. It also doesn’t help that he’s saying it for your ears only, making the comment even more sensual.

Colin Bridgerton was terrible at being just your friend. He was always too close to you, always searching you out in a crowd, and constantly waiting around for you at social events.

He had been doing it for years before he disappeared on a world tour. You knew your time on the marriage mart was over when your mother and father, a Duke and Duchess, pulled aside Violet Bridgerton and begged her to pawn one of her sons off onto you. And while she would have easily convinced Colin, he was in Italy learning about The Pantheon and had stated he had no intentions marrying.

So, Benedict would have to do.

You turn to face the taller gentleman, ensuring your posture was fixed to that of a Lady.

“Mister Bridgerton, what do I owe the pleasure?” You falter to formalities, rather than your normal banter with him. You knew people would be watching you like a hawk, as tonight was the night Benedict was going to try to secure a proposal.

“I have not seen you in a year and suddenly you speaking to me as if I am a stranger,” His voice is confident, but his eyes read the same insecure boy you remember.

You let out a sly chuckle, “Well, we practically are at this point, are we not? You are the Ton’s most eligible bachelor as soon as you returned from your tour and I feel like the man gracing me with his presence is not the man I once knew.”

He seems taken aback by your comments, his face dropping a bit.

“I’ve been hearing whispers amongst the Ton that you’re getting a proposal,” He halts, taking a sip of the lemonade slid between his fingers, “From my brother?”

You hear the jealousy laced in his voice, but you try your best not to call him out on it. You turn around, still shoulder-to-shoulder with the man. “One can only hope, Mister Bridgerton. It would only be my pleasure to join the family.”

“As Benedict’s missus?”

You want to scream at him, but your trained politeness is engrained deep within every fiber of your being.

“Well, I have you know, that it was arranged by your Mama and my parents. It is simply a way to join our families. You know my Mama and yours have always taken to one another. I did not know you would have such an issue with it.”

Before he can say more, you spot Benedict across the ballroom chatting with Eloise and Francesca. He meets your eyes and gives you a curt nod and smirk. You nod back, knowing that he would approach you once the conversation concludes. You had this whole act down to a science.

Because that’s what it was for you. An act. A way to make your parents get off your back. It was no love match, it was only practical. Benedict was a gentleman, into the arts, comfortable with moving away from the city. He was everything you needed, just not what you wanted.

“I leave for a bit of time and suddenly my own brother is courting my best friend,” Colin groans, shifting in his spot. You return your gaze back to him, trying to understand why tonight had to be the night that he fought for you. The term best friend had a bite to it, as well. While you were a lady, you had already shared a kiss with a few boys, including Colin. While you two were underage and not able to make such distinct decisions on marriage, you knew that the feelings you had for him were shared.

What was so frustrating was that he could never actually confess such feelings. You could see it in his eyes when you glanced his way, but the words never slipped his lips. He only shot flirtations at you and then there was no action as a follow-up. It made your mind race and spin. You started to believe that it was not flirtations at all and it was all just teasing.

“I think you are missing out on the key point in your conjecture, Colin,” You lick your lips, moving only a bit closer to him so no one can hear your words, “You left me. I stayed here and pondered what another season would be like without you. And of course, at the very end of such an event, you decide to be cruel.”

“How am I being cruel, Miss? I am simply stating that you are choosing someone I care about for expedience and not for love.”

“You are being cruel by approaching me and acting like you are even half aware of the circumstances you are speaking of.”

He chuckles, trying not to entertain your comments. “I am well aware that you have always wanted a love match. You know that is not what you are getting with Benedict, Gem.”

Your throat tightens because you know he is right. You have dreamed of a love match since you were a precocious child, enduring all the teasing him and Eloise about it.

And you knew deep down that the love match you wanted was with him.

The damn nickname he gave you years ago continues to get a rise. You can feel your face get flushed, the heat rising all the way down your neck and chest.

“Who said I needed a love match, Mister Bridgerton?!”

You never meant to be loud, but as soon as the words leave your mouth, you realize everyone staring your way. You had seriously messed up.

Colin did not even look away from your completely shell-shocked expression. He was not focused on the glares and whispers, he only cared that the woman he was in love with was about to marry his brother. He could not let that happen.

The feeling of embarrassment made every part of your body jittery. You decided that the exit seemed like the best option, so you made your way past everyone and ran to the back garden of the Danbury estate. The flowers that lined the railings made the tears in your vision sparkle like fireworks.

You try your best to suppress the useless waterworks, but the emotions get the best of you. You felt humiliated that you had to explain your motives to a man who hardly knew you anymore. What does he know?

You find a corner to hide in, making sure your face is hidden away from the exit. When you hear footsteps approach, you pray it’s not a Bridgerton. Sadly, you’re disappointed.

“What did Colin say to you?”

You remove your cream glove, ensuring no tear touches such an expensive fabric. You needed to collect yourself a bit before turning to face Benedict. So you dab your eyes with your fingertips and spin to face him. He looks concerned, his hand reaching for yours.

“I am so sorry, Lord Bridgerton. He got the better of me and he still knows how best to irritate me,” your eyes well up again with tears, “I do apologize for not being more put together.”

He squeezes your hand reassuringly, “Do not apologize. I expected him to be a bit tormented by the whole situation.”

You furrow your brows, quizzically. “What ever do you mean?”

“Well, he told my Mama last season that he did not want to marry because you were courting Lord Jacques. That is why he left early for his travels.”

The revelation makes your heart skip a beat, “Why would him marrying have anything to do with me?”

You try to play dumb so maybe you could get more out of the man, but instead of answering you, he just shakes his head. His focus drops, and as soon as you lose fixation on his actions, you notice Colin loitering around the exit. You drop Benedict’s hand and sidestep to get the man in your line of vision.

“You have never been good at hide and seek, Mister Bridgerton,” You say with spite, “Step into the light.”

His slow meander only makes you more angry.

“Now, why is my brother alone with my best friend in the garden? Seems like a scandal waiting to happen.”

Benedict snickers, “Seems like we were never alone, brother. You appear to be around every waiting corner.”

You cross your arms, annoyed with both men and sick of the mortification. You could not help but appreciate Benedict’s snarky nature, it has always thrown Colin off his game. You clear your throat, bringing their eyes to you.

“I wish to understand why you lied to me about leaving early last season.”

Colin’s disposition changes as soon as you say it. Last season, Colin left abruptly and wrote you saying it was because of a learning opportunity in Vienna. You took his word for it, but based on what Benedict had just told you, that was a lie.

“Pardon m-”

“Colin, why did you lie about leaving the season early?”

“Gem, I really do not know where you got this information.”

“Oh, give me a break, Colin. You told me and Anthony that you did not wish to marry unless a girl like her came around. When you realized she was interested in another, you left.”

Colin races forward, grabbing onto the man to your left. He tugs his vest coat and brings him inches from his own face. The action rattles you, but you remain composed.

“I told you that in confidence!”

“And you are making her upset with your mind games! If you had just said what your heart’s truth was, you would be the one celebrated tonight. Instead, you stand by and fume over a woman you can no longer have.”

Colin clenches his teeth, “Who said I can no longer?”

Your stomach flips, unsure of how Colin could be so possessive of you. Benedict seems shocked as well because he nudges the man off of him and glances over at you. You realize that this is Colin’s way of confessing his intentions, but you cannot believe that he has to say it on the night of your engagement.

“You are brazen to concur such a thing.”

Colin finally looks at you, taking note of your shaky voice. “So, you are going to marry him?”

The unsettle in your heart has never gone away ever since you were told about the arrangement. You knew that your heart was telling you to run the other way, but you did not want to let down your family. You had taken kindly to Benedict, promenading almost every other day to get to know one another.

“I have not been asked yet, so I am not quit-”

Colin steps forward taking your hand, “What if I asked you first? Would you accept me? My hand, I mean?”

Benedict steps forward, touching his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Gem, will you marry me?”

A tear slips past your lashes, your heart just about exploding within your chest. Colin’s eyes are desperate, pleading with you. You are not sure what to say, every possible word escaping you.

You realize you are panting, the breath leaving your lips labored in panic. You flick your sights over to Benedict, who is stunned but not trying to get Colin to retract his query. You revert your gaze back to Colin’s deep blue eyes.

“Why now?”

He takes a deep breath, “Because I am absolutely useless with my emotions and I have only humiliated myself when I express them. I did not think you would ever consider my hand and had I known that you thought kindly of me I would have told you the first moment you debuted. But I cowered in silence, hoping the emotions I have felt since I was a child would subside. But I have searched every corner of this world and I did not find one lady that made me feel the same emotions I feel when I even just look your way. I hate that it took me so long to realize that you are the only woman I will ever really… love.”

The confession is exactly what you need to change your mind. Because you felt the exact same way. All this time you have been running from the emotions you felt every moment Colin stared in your direction. You thought them immature and vain. But every time you watched him dance with another, the fire within you would burn. You were sick of loving him from far away.

“The Ton believes me to be promised to Benedict. The embarrassment he will suffer if I accept your proposal could be deafening-”

“Do not worry about me, Miss,” Benedict says, pacing with his hands on his hips, “I could never fully live with myself coming between two lovers. I only waiting for him to realize what we have all been subjected to the last 3 years.”

Colin smirks at him, “And what’s that?”

“The torture of loving someone and not giving in to temptation.”

#colin bridgerton #bridgerton #colin bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x female reader #colin bridgerton smut #netflix #gracieheartspedro #colin bridgerton one shot #penelope featherington #benedict bridgerton #anthony bridgerton

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writtenfangirl · 6 months

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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?” He tried to do his best nonchalant impression but not even Benedict was convinced of his own performance.

Eloise simply rolled her eyes at him 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.

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.”

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lady-whistledowns · 3 months

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Bridgerton (2020-present)

3.08 - "Into The Light"

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storiesforallfandoms · 3 months

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by the lake ~ benedict bridgerton;bridgerton

word count: 2675

request?: no

description: in which she flees from a pushy suitor, only to find a lovely alternative painting by the lake

pairing: benedict bridgerton x female!reader

warnings: period accurate stuff, use of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

Whenever perpetual bachelors would moan about the courting season, I couldn't help but laugh. Sure, eager mamas trying to force a connection with their daughters could be tiring, but as a man it was fine to turn down potential wives and live a life of bachelordom. For women, that wasn't an option. The moment we come of age we are expected to find a husband and bare children. If we don't, we are spinsters that essentially become outcasted from society.

Not to mention that some male suitors can be just as pushy as the eager mamas.

One example of this was Lord Windsor, a middle aged Lord who had gone a number of seasons without finding a wife and had gotten noticeably desperate. Lord Windsor was okay on the eyes, but not overly handsome. He came from a prominent family, but was the youngest of the three brothers. And, the worst of all, he had the personality of a wet napkin. He was awkward and bored anyone he spoke to to tears.

And I was his current victim.

I was attending an event in town with my family when Lord Windsor's attention fell on me. He began talking to me - or rather at me - not noticing how desperately I was trying to escape him. I kept trying to make eye contact with anyone who passed by to try and silently ask for help. Some gave me a sympathetic look as they passed by, while others merely snickered at my misery.

I was becoming overwhelmed with his persistence. I would do anything to get away from him.

In a moment of desperation, I said, "Can you get me a drink? I am parched."

He seemed almost perturbed by my request, but went off to get me a drink anyways. Once he had mostly disappeared into the crowd, I turned and ran off. I had no idea where I was going, but I needed to get away. Not only from Lord Windsor, but from any other desperate and pushy suitor who would try and approach me.

I found myself stumbling down a trail and coming out by a lake. It was peaceful - the water bright blue and calm, and the area was empty. Well, almost empty. There was a gentleman sat facing the water, with a canvas set up in front of him, painting a lovely portrait of the calming lake. I gasped as he turned and I recognized who it was: Benedict Bridgerton.

"I-I am so sorry," I said. "I did not realize - "

"No need to apologize," he said, smiling at me. Oh my, his smile was so handsome. "This is a public place. I lay no claim to it. And I will not complain about the company of a beautiful lady."

I felt my cheeks light on fire at his compliment.

He glanced behind me, as if expecting someone else to be there. I realized then that by fleeing Lord Windsor, I had also left behind my mother, who was supposed to be my chaperon to the event. Now I was here, alone with a man, far away from the event. It would be a scandal if anyone found out, and the Bridgerton family had had enough scandals in the last year or so.

"I should go," I said, turning to leave.

"I don't mind some company," he said. "And perhaps a lady should not wander on her own."

"I suppose not."

Benedict gestured to a nearby bench. I sat down and watched as he returned to his painting. It was a truly beautiful creation. Better than some of the portraits mama had on her wall. It was a perfect recreation of the scene in front of him.

I had heard about Benedict's artistic abilities. The whole Ton had. It was quite the surprise when Benedict Bridgerton, one of the most sought after bachelors in the Ton, had decided to pursue art instead of a wife. Many hopeful debutantes thought that he would only do it for a short period of time before finally taking a wife. I could still hear mama ranting about it after reading that morning's Whistledown. But watching him now, I could see his talent and passion for the art. I didn't blame him for not wanting to give this up just to get married when he clearly had no desire to take a wife.

"What are you doing out here by yourself?"

I jumped when his voice broke the silence. He turned to smirk at me and I felt my face light on fire, as if he had caught me doing something wrong.

"I was attending the event in town but...I needed some space," I explained.

"Ah, I understand. Those events can be tiresome. Many people either gossiping or trying too hard to remain in some arbitrary social circles."

"You are one to speak when your family is part of the most respected social circle."

"I did call it arbitrary, did I not?"

I chuckled and nodded. "Yes, I suppose you are right. My biggest plight are the suitors, though."

Benedict paused with his hand raised to his canvas. He lowered the brush back into the paint to look at me again. "You are unmarried?"

I nodded. "Not for the lack of trying on my mother's part. I just haven't met anyone that I click with yet. Unfortunately, the marriage pool is becoming very shallow. I was being pursued by Lord Windsor today."

Benedict cringed. "Oh, I definitely understand your need to get away then. Lord Windsor is...a man...to say the least."

"That is one way to describe him."

He smiled. I watched him run his brush through the cup of water before drying it in a cloth and standing. I watched as he began to pack away his painting supplies. "What are you doing?"

"I have a carriage waiting by the road. I am going to bring my art supplied back there, then I will walk with you around the lake before returning you to your family in the town." I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off by saying, "I was finished with my painting anyways, and I must make an appearance there, no matter how brief it is. I would not mind arriving with such a beautiful lady on my arm."

He knew exactly how to shut me up and he had only met me moments prior. My mouth shut instantly and, for a third time in such a short period of time, I felt like I was blushing. Benedict smiled at me again, almost triumphant, before going to his carriage with his art supplies. I remained seated on the bench until his returned, in which he extended his arm to me and I took it.

Our sides were pressed firmly together as we began to walk. My arm, hip, nearly my legs if it were not for my dress, were pressed against his. The parts that were touching started to feel warm and fuzzy. I wondered for a moment if there was something wrong with me, until I looked up at Benedict and his eyes met mine, and suddenly that warm and fuzzy feeling was running through my entire body.

Of course I always knew Benedict Bridgerton was attractive. I had eyes that could see his beauty, and I had ears that could hear all the gossip from other mamas and debutantes about him. But being here, with my arm laced through his and our bodies so close together, was much different than observing him from afar.

"How many seasons have you been through?" he asked, breaking me from my thoughts.

"This is my third," I responded. He gave me a look that made me giggle. "What?"

"You were not married in your first season?"

"I believe that is what I said, yes. Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Well, forgive me for sounding like a broken record, but you are incredibly beautiful. If I know anything from my years observing the marriage markets, it is that beautiful women usually have a very easy time finding a husband."

"I am flattered by your compliments, and you would be right that I had no shortage of suitors asking to court me, but the thing is is that I am looking for something that many seem to think is impossible: a love match."

Benedict scoffed. "Impossible? I have three siblings that would argue with you there."

"They are exceptions, not the rules. Of course there are people who marry for love, but there are still others who only believe in marrying for looks and for titles. And it seems there are very few suitors who are looking for a love match. Most of them just want a beautiful lady who they can take to bed and produce heirs with, and once that job is done they will return to the brothels."

"You would get along exceptionally with my sister, Eloise."

I smiled. I squeezed his arm a little as I asked, "Why have you not married then, Mr. Bridgerton?"

"Please, call me Benedict," he said. "Which reminds me, I have no caught your name yet."

"(Y/N)," I told him. "And do not avoid my question."

"I would never!" he said in mock offense. "My answer is just more selfish than yours."

"That does not make me want to hear it any less."

He chuckled. "I have just never had the desire to take a wife. My older brother, Anthony, is the Viscount, he was the one expected to find a wife and produce little Viscount heirs. Daphne was the first daughter to come of age to join the season, and her love match has made our mother much more intent on having similar experiences for my other sisters. Colin, Gregory, and I are not under the same pressure as our other siblings. Colin had his travels, Gregory is far too young to consider marriage as it is, and I have my art. I thought Colin and I were in agreement about our thoughts on marriage, but it seems he has changed his mind."

"Have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Changed your mind?"

Benedict stopped walking a moment, pulling me to a halt next to him. He looked thoughtful for a moment before he said, "I have not decided."

We continued to walk in silence for a while. It was a beautiful day, and the lake was an ideal place to be. The water shimmered under the bright sun, still calm without a single ripple, and the sky was clear without a single cloud. It was a beautiful day, and I was walking with Benedict Bridgerton. It truly could not be a better day.

"Your painting was beautiful, by the way," I told him. "I understand why you would choose art. You have quite the talent for it."

"Thank you," he said. I could see a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. One that was genuine, maybe a bit flustered at the compliment.

"What do you do with your art? Do you sell it or hang it yourself?"

"Oh no, my mother usually takes whatever I paint and hangs it around the estate. I think most of the artwork in our house is all mine now. She loves to gush over what I have painted, almost embarrassingly so."

"Well, I would love to have one for my home, if you do not mind having another client."

He looked down at me. "Really?"

I nodded. "I believe your painting to be more beautiful than some of my own mama's choices of artwork. But keep that between us."

He smiled. "I will not tell a soul."

We began walking up a path that led back to the town, and suddenly I could heard the bustling of the event. The light and happy feeling I had since running into Benedict had slowly began to fade into dread as I realized what our arrival at the event meant. With any luck, my mother would want to leave the second she found me and I would not have to endure Lord Windsor for any longer.

I expected to be surrounded the second we came into view. I thought, for some reason, that mama would know of my disappearance and would be worried sick. I expected lots of questioning, and then for her to whisk me away quickly where she would likely continue to question me at home.

To my surprise, no one approached us at first. No one even noticed our arrival for a few moments, until one person glanced at Benedict and I as we walked past, and then did a double take to make sure they had seen correctly. Suddenly, there were dozens of prying eyes and hushed voices, with us at the centre of all their attention.

"I told you," Benedict whispered in my ear. "All gossiping."

"Seems we may find ourselves in the next issue of Whistledown," I said.

Benedict gave me a playful smile and said, "May as well make that count then."

He led me through the crowds of people, all whispering and watching us go. I was beginning to feel a little insecure under all their watchful eyes, until I noticed Lord Windsor as one of the many who was watching us. His face looked sullen as he watched us go by, holding two cups in his hand - he still had the drink I sent him to get. The thought of him standing around with it in his hand this whole time made me giggle to myself, and then I found myself standing up straighter and leaning into Benedict more. Lord Windsor seemed to have gotten the message loud and clear.

I found my mama with a group of other mothers, and when we began to approach they all fell silent. Mama looked at us and her eyes widened with shock.

"Mr. Bridgerton," she said, looking between myself and Benedict. "How lovely it is to see you."

"I hope you do not mind my borrowing of your daughter, my lady," Benedict said. "She was most excellent company for a walk around the lake nearby."

Mama looked to me like she was trying to figure out why I had left without telling her. I merely smiled at her, mentally willing her to leave that question until we returned home.

"Of course I do not mind at all, Mr. Bridgerton," mama said. "Although, next time I do hope there shall be a chaperone with you."

I opened my mouth to tell her there would be no next time, but Benedict cut me off by saying, "Of course. I was hoping to call on her tomorrow afternoon, if that is alright with you."

Mama seemed just as dazed as I was. She managed to stutter out an agreement, which amused Benedict to no end. She turned back to her friends as Benedict and I stepped away to speak once more.

"You are giving her some false hope," I told him.

"What do you mean?"

"You are making her believe that you are going to court me. She will be more heartbroken than I when she realizes that is not the case."

"Who said I do not intend to court you?"

It was my turn to be at a loss for words. I tried to form a coherent sentence, but I just stood there with my mouth open, no doubt looking tremendously stupid.

"You seem like a lovely lady, (Y/N)," Benedict said when I could not find the words to say. "I truly did enjoy our time together today. I would like to spend more time with you, if you would allow it. And I must bring that painting to you at some point, remember?"

I nodded. "Yes. Yes, I would very much like to spend more time with you as well."

His smile was bright and genuine once again. I couldn't help but smile back at him. "Perfect. I shall see you tomorrow afternoon then."

"Yes. I suppose you shall."

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #luke thompson #luke thompson imagine #luke thompson x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #netflix #imagine #one shot #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom

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bunnykaye · 2 months

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💚BONUS Polin Week💚 day three | Mutual Pining

#bridgerton #bridgertonedit #polin #polinedit #dailybridgerton #perioddramaedit #perioddramadaily #perioddramasource #bkbridgerton #weloveperioddrama #gifshistorical #onlyperioddramas #polinweek #polinweek2024 #polin week #netflixedit #*mine*#bunnykaye #bkpolinweek #can you believe we didn't get tit for tat pining BUT A MUTUAL ONE?????? 🤌🏽🤌🏽🤌🏽🤌🏽🤌🏽#and we got MARRIED!POLIN PINING????#i would've included scenes from 3x08 but they were both in the frame when they pined so hard for each other #and i kinda liked these scenes when they're looking at each other (whether at the same time or no) and they had their own close shot. CINEM #also THIS IS MY THIRD ENTRY FOR THE THIRD DAY I KNOW I'M FCKING CRAZY LOL #that's why the second half will suffer LMFAO i've barely finished my sets for days 4-7 JLSKDJSLKDKASDA

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iwritefandomimagines · 1 year

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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.

#bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton imagines #benedict bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton one shot #bridgerton one shot

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whispersoftheton · 1 year

Note

This idea has been on my mind for a while… Anthony seeing you in the bridgerton blues for the first time, can either be smut or fluff :) thanks

Ahhhh I love this so much, thank you for sending it in! :)

Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: kissing, fluff, smut, p in v

Word Count: 1.2K

The family gathered around the room on another sweltering summer day. Hyacinth and Gregory bickered over yet another sworn tie in their endless chess matches while Eloise quietly read her book in the opposite corner. Anthony sat between his brothers, Benedict telling him of his endless tales from class among the unspoken soirees he discreetly attended from time to time and Colin of his many travels. Anthony found himself growing bored, awaiting your arrival. You were to accompany him and the rest of the Bridgertons to the races this afternoon, as it would be your first outing as a family since your marriage to the Viscount. And he could not bear to listen to another one of Benedict's tales for one more second; he needed to see you.

"Mother." Anthony stood hurriedly from the gold-trimmed sofa to approach Lady Bridgerton as she entered the room. "Where is she?"

"Now, calm down, Anthony; she is nearly ready." Lady Birdgerton assured him while straightening out his neckline to perfection. She knew Anthony's antics well enough by now to understand his growing impatience was only a product of his theatrics.

"I feel as though I have been waiting an eternity. Surely she must-" Anthony made his way past his mother and into the hallway, his words stammered as soon as his eyes landed on you. You'd been making your way to the main room when he appeared in your path, a smile gracing both your lips. There was no word in the English language to describe how beautiful you looked. The most impeccable dress draped over every curve in a more delicate shade of blue than he wore but complimented his outerwear perfectly. Warmth blossomed in Anthony’s chest at the sight of you in that color. His color. He never thought he'd see the day when the one he loved, the one his heart eternally yearned for, would wear the color that meant so much to him and his family. He would never tire of how easily you overpowered him whenever he was in your presence.

"Do I look alright?" You nervously patted your skirt, ensuring everything was as it should be. Hesitation apparent in your tone as you approached him.

"Alright?" Anthony's eyes widened as he took your hands in his. He couldn't believe you would use a modest word such as 'alright' to describe how exquisite you looked right now. "My love, you look…absolutely stunning. Beyond words, truly." Heat filled your face, and your stomach fluttered at his flattery. Anthony had a way of making you feel as though you two were the only person on the face of the earth, easily melting under his gaze. It was an exquisite feeling you wished to relish in forever. Anthony glanced around and took advantage of the privacy to steal a kiss. His lips were warm and soft against your own. They parted slightly, allowing you to move more passionately as your hunger for one another became apparent in mere seconds. It shouldn't be surprising, seeing as you and your husband could hardly keep your hands off each other since your wedding night. The moment grew heated with every swipe of his tongue, hands caressing the soft flesh of your waist and hips hidden beneath the restricting fabric of your dress.

"Mother!" Anthony reluctantly pulled away, panting, and shouted. "Go ahead without us. We will join you shortly, as promised." Without so much as a second thought or a response from anyone, he whisked you away toward a nearby closet in a closed-off hallway he was sure no one wandered by.

"Anthony, what are you doing? The races are starting soon." You protested before he cut you off with another chaste kiss and shut the door behind him.

"We will join them in a moment. I must have you right now." The passion flowed through his words, making you squeeze your thighs together in anticipation and a chuckle escape you. He pulled you close, continuing his ministrations. His lips scattered kisses along your neckline and down to your chest as your hands tangled in his hair. His hands worked tirelessly to remove as many barriers between your bodies as quickly as possible as he gently guided you to lean on the wall behind you. Your dress was bunched up toward you as Anthony hastily removed his trousers just to his upper thigh. You panted under him, his lips never leaving your skin, leaving a trail of marks and bruises as a reminder of his love for you.

"Seeing you in our family color," Anthony spoke between kisses. "You are so beautiful." He was rambling as he often did when he was this worked up. The way you looked, how your body responded to his every touch. Every beautiful sound he was able to pull from you, it drove him mad. He couldn't take it anymore; he had to have you now. Anthony abruptly lifted and pressed you against the wall, your fingers tugging at his hair and desperately nipping at his lower lip, pulling an animalistic groan from his chest.

"Anthony, please." You practically whimpered when you felt his cock prod at your entrance, clenching around nothing as the tip slid over your sensitive clit. He lined himself up and pressed his lips against yours to swallow any sounds you made as he gently pushed inside you. You moaned into each other in unison, and he waited, letting you settle as you nodded for him to move. Anthony began to plunge into you, easily slipping through your folds, feeling your warm cunt swallow him whole. He cupped your breast over the fabric of your dress, kneading it in his hands while breathing heavily as he bottomed out inside of you, holding you there for a moment, reveling in how impossibly soft and warm you felt around him as low whimpers escaped you.

A low grunt rumbled from his chest when he felt you fluttering around him. His hand outlined from the swell of your breasts all the way down beneath your hips, memorizing every curve, feeling the way your chest was rising and falling with every breath of pleasure that surged through you; even the way your hips instinctively moved to meet his own drove him insane. Anthony craved and wanted nothing more than to be close to you; even being inside you now, it was never close enough for him. He began to stroke your clit, already aching for attention. Your bodies rocked in sync with one another, desperate for relief. Anthony felt you whine quietly as your orgasm crashed into you. Waves of heat overwhelmed your body as you pulsed on his cock, pulling Anthony to spill himself inside of you.

Anthony pulled away from you after a moment of stolen kisses and delicate touches. He made sure you were settled on the ground and took the time to adjust himself. Moving quickly to assist you in fixing your dress and ensuring everything else was in order before opening the door to confirm no one was outside and stepping out of the closet. You may have missed the race's first leg, but with the knowing smirks and blissed-out looks on both your faces, it was well worth it.

Tag List: @bugnug @queenofmean14 (let me know if you would like to added here or dm me if you’d like to be removed)

I do not consent to having my work reposted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. if anyone sees my work anywhere that is not ao3/tumblr or under any other username that is not whispersoftheton, it has been reposted without my permission

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thecharacterchronicler · 17 days

Text

Muse || Benedict Bridgerton x reader || Smut

GIF credits: @vengerb3rg

Outline: Your husband wants to paint your portrait but you feel a bit insecure about yourself.

Word count: 2’939

Warnings: parenthood with a newborn baby, insecurities/self deprecation about post-partum body, explicit smut.

Author’s note: this is prompt # 25 as requested. It gave me a whole new obsession for Benedict Bridgerton. Yikes.

You sat on the sofa, trying to focus on the book you were reading but couldn’t help but glance in Benedict’s direction instead. You were always eager to see what beautiful paintings he may be working on but tonight, it felt all the more special as his model was sound asleep in the crib next to him. A little over a year ago, when you had said your vows and became Mrs Bridgerton, you were absolutely certain that it wouldn’t be possible for you to love him more than you already did, you were head over heels for him, in admiration in front of his artistic talents, in adoration of his personality and unconditionally in love with every part of his soul… Yet, watching him so focused on his task, as he carefully observed his son before painting his traits on the canvas in front of him, eyes so full of tenderness for the sleeping infant and a smile that told the world how incredibly proud he felt to be a father was making your heart melt.

Even if you didn’t want to disturb him in his work, you couldn’t help but stand and saunter up behind him, to take a look at the progressing portrait. Your husband was blessed with a rare talent for art, his paintings always captured a beauty overlooked by most and displayed emotions in the most poetical ways, the first portrait of his son was no exception, already a masterpiece in your eyes.

“Perhaps it was preposterous of me to think myself capable of painting his portrait, I fear that, no matter how much time I spend on it, I’ll never do justice to how angelic our baby looks.” He said, as he added some pink hues to the image.

“I think you are doing well, it looks beautiful.” You reassured him, your arms coming around his shoulders to hug him from behind. He placed his palette on his lap to bring a hand up to touch yours, his thumb stroking your wrist as he leaned back against you.

“But look at him, no one could possibly paint such beauty accurately.”

You both turned to look at your baby, both of you sighing in admiration in unison as your son yawned in his sleep.

“It is true that he is particularly gorgeous.” You admitted, still having trouble to believe how blessed you had been to bring such a healthy and beautiful child into this world.

“It’s because he looks like you.” Benedict replied, without hesitation. “Ethereal beauty just like his mother.”

You blushed and hugged him a bit more tightly.

“He takes after you too.” You added, because it was the truth. If Benedict found your son beautiful because of the features you had passed on to him, you thought your baby was extremely handsome because of how much he resembled the love of your life too. “He has your eyes and your smile. The ton better be prepared for such a devastatingly handsome gentleman.”

Benedict huffed a laugh and planted a kiss on the back of your hand. He tilted his head up to look at you, with a familiar spark of mischief in his eyes.

“How about we bless the ton with a few more of our divine offsprings ?” He suggested, his fingers already trailing up your arm in a tantalizing caress. “Or perhaps I could paint another nude portrait of you tonight ?”

“Wouldn’t that lead to the same result ?” You playfully replied, which made him laugh loud enough to cause the baby to grimace and stir in his small crib. “I don’t think we need another portrait of me - especially naked - there are already too many in this house, and if anyone sees them I’ll be mortified.”

“Don’t worry about that, darling, the nude ones are for my personal enjoyement only.” He said, standing up from the stool and turning around to plant a feverish kiss on your lips.

You kissed him back, arms around his neck as he stepped forward with the intention of guiding you to the couch. But you stopped him with a hand on his chest, turning your head before he could press his mouth to yours again.

“He is sleeping like an angel, I do not want to wake him.” You told your husband, glancing in direction of the crib.

“You are right, we do not want him to wake up to the sound of his mother’s screams.” Benedict nodded, leaving you to go back to his son.

“Excuse me ? I do not scream.” You retorted, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to look vexed by his remark.

“Oh you do scream, my darling. I don’t think you realize but you are very loud when you’re enjoying yourself, it’s my favorite thing.” He confirmed, a laugh escaping his lips when he noticed how you blushed at his words. “So I’m going to bring little mister Bridgerton back to his room, where he hopefully won’t hear you and then I’ll make you shout louder than ever.”

You exchanged a smile with him, your heart melting once more as you watched him carefully and gently pick up the baby from the small crib, cradling him in his arms with tenderness. He walked in your direction so that you could place a kiss goodnight on your baby’s forehead before he left the living room with him, already humming a soft lullaby to keep him sound asleep.

Once he got back, he stopped on the threshold to speak to one of the employees of your estate, requesting to not be disturbed for the rest of the night. You felt yourself blushing yet again at how painfully obvious what he was up to might be for your staff.

He closed the living room doors behind him with a satisfied smile but it instantly disappeared as his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened at the sight of you, waiting for him with your dress already off.

He sat back on the stool in front of his easel, carefully placing the portrait of your son next to him as he switched it for a blank canvas. He looked over at you with attention, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips and a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

You did your best to pose, not daring to do it as suggestively as you used to back when you were newlyweds. Benedict had painted some filthy scenes involving you, and sometimes him too, and kept those paintings locked up in his office upstairs, making it a gallery devoted to his passion for you.

However, despite him being very clear on how much he loved every part of you, you couldn’t help but feel self conscious since the birth of your child. Your body had changed in ways you weren’t prepared for and, if your husband had seen you without garments on since, he had not painted your portrait in a while. The way his eyes were scrutinizing you, tracing round curves and long lines on the canvas, made you feel increasingly uncomfortable.

“Could you rest your arm over the edge of the sofa ? And perhaps part your legs slightly ?” Your husband asked, his brows furrowed in concentration.

You positioned yourself as requested, unable to silence the trembling breath that escaped your lips.

“Is something wrong, darling ? You seem tense.” He remarked, letting go of his pencil to fully focus his attention on you.

“It’s nothing to worry about.” You assured him, forcing a smile but he looked at you as if he could see straight through you.

“Mrs Bridgerton,” his tone was playfully severe, but hearing him call you by your new last name - his last name - sent a wave of emotion through your body. “If something - or someone - is bothering you, I must know immediately. I will not tolerate for my wife to be upset about anything as I vowed to care for you, always.”

“And you do it perfectly.”

“Then tell me, so I can take care of this issue too, whatever it is.” He pleaded.

“It’s nothing, really. I just don’t feel comfortable with the way I look lately.”

“The way you look ?” He repeated, standing up to keep the canvas from stealing his attention away from you. “What do you mean ?”

“I mean this.” You placed your hand on your belly, the skin not as firm and elastic as it used to be. Then, you moved it to your chest to point at your breasts, swollen and hanging lower than they used to. “And this.”

“But these are some of the best things about your body!” He exclaimed, clearly shocked that you could be so rude to yourself.

He walked to you with determination, getting down on his knees next to the sofa to level his face with yours, looking at you with a concerned expression on his face and heartbreak in his eyes, as if he was hurt about your own feelings about yourself.

He brought his hand to your belly, gently caressing it like he used to do when it was round and stretched out by your baby’s kicks..

“You grew a healthy and particularly gorgeous son in here.” He told you, tenderly. Then he moved his hand upwards, until he could caress the tender flesh of your breast. “And these are even bigger and softer than before, there is really no reason to feel so bad about yourself, you are a goddess, darling, you created life within your body.”

“So you’re not disappointed that I don’t look like I used to anymore ?”

“Absolutely not, how could I be ? I adored your body then, I still adore it now. I could fill a museum with my paintings of you, you obsess my every thoughts, you’re the only one I want to worship, for the rest of my life.”

“Benedict…” You breathed, your heart swelling with the intensity of your love for him.

“If you don’t believe me, darling, then I can show you exactly what the sight of your perfect body does to mine.” He suggested, his familiar somewhat mischievous grin returning to his face. He approached the couch on which you were lying down and began undoing his trousers, an eager expression on his face.

“Did you not want to paint me ?” You playfully asked him, with a knowing smirk.

“Always, darling. You know there is nothing I enjoy more than to look at the alluring curves of your body for hours but right now, I believe I’ll do a better job if I get my muse to relax a bit first.”

He pushed his pants down, his erection gloriously swinging up in your direction, hard and ready. It always amazed you how, knowing some of the promiscuous things he did in the past, the mere sight of your bare skin could get him in such a state. Sometimes, it happened during dinner, when you’d lean over the table slightly too far and he’d catch a glimpse of your décolletage. Sometimes, it was more inconveniencing, like when you shared your carriage with someone and the simple proximity of your body pressed up against his caused the blood to flow down to his shaft, always so alert and ready to take you, no matter if alone or not.

You knew he wasn’t lying when he said he loved your body as it was now, his puppy eyes and his gentle smile told you everything you needed to know when it came to his sincerity. Yet, you still felt slightly uncomfortable.

“Maybe I’d feel better if you were naked too.” You suggested, and he didn’t hesitate an instant, popping the buttons of his shirt one by one and letting it fall down to the luxurious carpet that covered the living room floor.

He dropped back on his knees next to the couch, his hands careful and gentle as they caressed your thighs, very subtly positioning you so that he could have access to the most intimate part of you. When, finally, your last bit of restraint faded underneath the warm kisses he pressed against your thighs, you allowed him to spread your legs apart and bury his face between them.

You instantly felt his tongue swirling around your clit and hungrily sucking on it until a moan fell from your lips. The tip of his tongue then continued its downward slide between your folds, tasting your arousal and mixing it with his saliva. Once he was as far down as the couch allowed him to go, you felt his tongue tentatively exploring your entrance, as if he was waiting for another moan to confirm that he was on the right track.

He placed his hand over your center, pressing down on your lower abdomen and flicking your clit with his thumb as he pushed his tongue past your tight walls, gently penetrating you with delight. His other hand went up to your chest, finding hold of your boob and squeezing it between his fingers as he increased the speed of his movements to follow the rythym of your whimpers that now were filling the room and his ears.

When you looked down at him, your head swimming from the intense jolts of pleasure he kept provoking inside you, you saw his gaze fixed to you, attentive to your reactions and sounds to tailor his next actions. They were filled with lust and adoration, as if you, writhing in front of him while he relished in your taste, was the most beautiful image he had ever had the privilege to witness.

You couldn’t help but buck your hips up in tune with his tongue, trying to get him in deeper. Since it still wasn’t enough to give you some relief from the intense pressure building in your core, you reached down to him, your hands pushing his head against you, probably suffocating him but you couldn’t help it, you needed to feel the bliss only he knew how to give you immediately.

Your orgasm suddenly washed over you, your entire body becoming oversensitive to eveything as it trembled and tensed. You squeezed his head between your thighs to stop him from continuing, unable to take it anymore, your chest heaving and your sounds of contentment still resounding in the room.

“Look at you, my darling. You’re absolutely bewitching when your pleasure makes you blush and your eyes shine with grateful tears.” Your husband said, freeing himself from the snare of your thighs around him. “There’s only one thing missing.”

You opened your mouth to ask what but you still were panting too rapidly to say a word. He rose to his feet, stroking his impressive cock in his hands a few times and you noticed how the pink tip glistened with precum, his thumb gently spreading its wetness along his entire length.

Then, he pressed his tip at your entrance and thrusted his hips forward, making you gasp from the sudden sensation. He buried himself entirely inside you, effortlessly, thanks to how soaked he had made you.

His rythym started out slow and gentle, giving him the opportunity to lean down to lovingly kiss your lips. But his speed progressively increased. You were already close again, the sensitivity between your legs still persisting, intensifying every sensation.

When his thrusts grew deeper and brutal, you had to hold yourself to the couch, your finger digging into the expensive fabric for support as you cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure. His mouth was still on yours, tugging at your lower lip and swallowing your moans each time they uncontrollably dripped from your mouth.

His eyes were still on you, intense and focused, as if he was trying to memorize every single inch of you so that he could paint it later on his canvas. You reached another orgasm, mouth wide open as you gasped but no sound made it to his ears. You squeezed your eyes shut, trembling from the power of your climax, wondering if such extreme pleasure could kill you, because sometimes it sure felt like it.

“There it is, the way your mouth hangs open when you come for me, with your lips dark and swollen from how hard I kissed you… You are a masterpiece, my love.”

As soon as he said those words, he groaned and released himself deeply inside you, his body suddenly growing weak and numb.

With one more kiss to your lips, he pulled out of you with a satisfied sigh and a tender smile.

As if on cue, the cries of your newborn son suddenly pierced the brief moment of silence in the house.

“He probably misses us.” You said, and attempted to get up but Benedict stopped you, desperate.

“No, no, no! Don’t move, you’re perfect like this, that’s exactly what I want to immortalize on my canvas.” He pleaded, quickly putting his clothes back on. “I’ll go see him and make sure that he is okay. But please, stay exactly like this.”

He left the living room with his shirt roughly tucked in his pants and his hair disheveled, a sight making what you both had been up to pretty clear to all the employees he may meet on the way.

Eventually, the cries came to a stop, meaning that Benedict had probably reached your son and managed to soothe him back to sleep like only he knew how to. So you relaxed on the couch, still naked and ready to shamelessly pose for your adoring husband, already wondering if it would lead to another passionate moment of lovemaking later on.

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ijustwant2write · 1 year

Text

Reunion Of Sorts-Anthony Bridgerton x Basset!Reader

(GIF credit to @mrsbridgerton)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hi! If your requests are open I'd love to request an Anthony Bridgerton x Basset!Reader where the reader's Simon's sister. Prompts 14 and 15 please? Thank you so much, your works are amazing!’

14) 'It's only good news depending on how you look at it.'

15) 'I just wouldn't have expected this!'

Characters: Anthony Bridgerton x Basset!Reader, Simon Basset x Basset!Reader (siblings), Daphne Bridgerton x Reader (platonic), mentions of Bridgerton family

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Just extreme fluff!

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

"Are you quite alright, (Y/N)?" Simon asked his sister as they journeyed in their carriage.

(Y/N) had started fanning herself a little faster."I don't know why I'm so nervous. I just hope to make a good impression."

"Of course you will. I'm sorry you haven't met them sooner."

"I could have at least met your wife at the wedding, if I had been invited."

"We have been through this, (Y/N)."

"Yes, and I'm not trying to argue with you, Simon. I know you married in haste, and I know why, but you must admit, you've left this far too long. You have a son now!"

"You have been cooped up in that house with your matron as father intended. I think she would have had my head if I tried to get you out of there."

They laughed together.

"Simon?"

"Hm?"

"I am very excited to meet your wife and my nephew."

As usual, the Bridgerton house was abuzz with excitement and chaos. Eloise didn't understand why she had to dress up so much for this visit, Gregory and Hyacinth were bombarding everyone with questions about Simon's sister, Colin and Benedict tried but failed to escape the madness, Anthony watched everything unfold and Daphne nervously bounced her baby boy on her knee.

"Daphne, do not fret. His sister will love you." Anthony tried to reassure his sister.

"What if she's like their father? What if she heard all the rumours about us and judges me for it? Simon has never spoken of her, I have no idea what to expect."

"I met Simon's sister many, many years ago. She was nothing like the things you are dreading. (Y/N) was a lovely, respectable young lady, I'm sure she hasn't changed."

Daphne let a small smile grace her face, trying to convince herself that everything was fine. Simon had kept his family such a secret, she just wanted to ensure that his sister would want to stay and be part of theirs.

Simon playfully rolled his eyes as (Y/N) asked how she looked, not in vain, but in anxiety. Her dress was beautiful, her hair perfectly in place, her jewels glistened but they weren't ghastly, nothing was wrong. Her nerves were getting the better of her. Just as she was about to ask again, the carriage stopped. Simon chuckled at her panicked look, already stepping outside.

He held out his hand for her."You'll be absolutely fine. Just be you."

(Y/N) took a deep breath before taking her brother's hand, being extra cautious to not fall on her face, especially since the entire Bridgerton family were stood on their front steps.

As head of the household, Anthony was ready to start introductions, until (Y/N) lifted her head, showing her dazzling features. He had only admitted to himself that he had a fancy for her when he was younger, though who wouldn't? She was beautiful, smart and didn't try hard to impress anyone; she was just joyful to be around. (Y/N) had never pined for Anthony or tried to grab his attention at every moment, or any man for that matter. He definitely considered her a friend, he was somewhat angry at himself he hadn't written to her over the years. But seeing her now, it was a mystery as to why she hadn't been married yet? That was quickly solved when he remembered Simon was her brother.

Simon stuck beside his sister until Daphne stepped forward. They shared a short but loving kiss, before Simon took their son into his arms, cooing and laughing as the baby gurgled. (Y/N)'s heart melted at the sight.

"Oh, how we've missed you." Violet beamed, greeting her son-in-law.

"I apologise for the delay, the weather was not suitable for travelling. Nevertheless, everyone, this is my sister, (Y/N) Basset."

(Y/N) curtsied as all eyes were on her."Thank you for welcoming me into your beautiful home. I have been so excited to meet you all."

"Well, why don't we go inside? We can have proper introductions in the warm." Daphne hid her nerves, presenting herself well.

Everyone agreed, leading (Y/N) inside. The family lined up like soldiers, with Anthony stepping forward to introduce everyone.

"I hope I don't have to reintroduce myself." he teased.

"Of course not, how could I forget you, Anthony? After all the trouble you and Simon got into?"

He chuckled, but cast a worried look towards his mother. He quickly continued.

"My mother, Violet, sisters Daphne, Eloise and Hyacinth, and my brothers, Benedict, Colin and Gregory."

"And your nephew." Simon added.

(Y/N) reached out a finger for the baby to hold."Yes, he's bigger than I thought he would be."

"Children do grow so fast." Violet said.

"But you're here now to see him grow." Daphne quickly added. "And we're all very happy that you're finally here."

Everyone knew that it was Simon who had kept (Y/N) away. He loved his sister with all his heart, which is why he never saw her; she was living a happy life, he didn't want to dampen that.

"The chefs have prepared a marvelous lunch. The table is all set if you are hungry now?" Voilet asked.

"Oh, yes, as long as everyone else is."

As soon as (Y/N) agreed, Colin, Eloise and the two youngest were off. They were starving, even though they had eaten only a few hours ago. (Y/N) giggled to the relief of the others. They slowly followed behind, but Simon was hesitant. (Y/N) gently nudged him forward.

"Go, see your family. I have all the time in the world to get to know Daphne."

Simon thanked her, still carrying his son as his other arm wrapped around his wife. Another arm appeared in front of (Y/N), ready for her to take it.

"May I escort you to the table?" Anthony said.

"Thank you, I much appreciate it."

They both knew they were being dramatic, though it was sweet of Anthony to make the gesture.

"How many years has it been?"

"Too many."

"I'm sorry your brother hasn't involved you. If the...situation between him and Daphne had been different, I know you would have been here straight away."

"I know. And I understand how stressful that all was. But as said before, I'm here now. I must say Anthony, I have missed you."

"Really? Even after all those times Simon and I riled you?"

"Yes. Although annoying, you both had your tender moments. I remember one evening, you and Simon were returning from your club, and you both had found yourselves in a quarrel with some other members. They followed you home, and I was waiting by the back gate to sneak you back inside. They were closer than expected, and do you remember some of the horrible things they said to me?"

"Unfortunately I do. And I unfortunately remember what happened next."

"It was very chivalrous for you to defend me, though you needn't have fought. Your nose wouldn't stop bleeding!"

"But you were right by my side, holding a handkerchief for me."

"Yes, because if you got blood on the carpets, you would have something worse than a bruised nose."

The pair were laughing to themselves as they walked into the dining room. Most were already seated. Anthony guided (Y/N) to her chair, next to Simon, who stood to tuck it in, but Anthony beat him to it. Simon watched his friend's moves very closely, knowing deep down that Anthony was just being polite; however, he wasn't too fond that they were sat opposite each other, able to gaze into each others eyes.

Simon tapped his glass with a knife once everyone was sat, standing with said glass in his hand."Before we begin eating, I would like to propose a toast."

Everyone immediately grabbed their own glasses, except Eloise, taking her time as she huffed; couldn't they at least toast after the meal?

"To my sister, (Y/N). I am so happy that you're here with me, with us. I'm sorry I haven't been a better brother but that will change now. And I can't wait for you to get to know this loving family, who made me one of their own, as I know they will you."

"To family." Benedict finished.

"To family." Everyone cheered.

"Now the food. Please." Eloise needed a plate in front of her.

All through lunch, Simon kept a close eye on his sister and Anthony. He was awful at keeping up with conversations, slow at eating, he just had a weird feeling when he glanced at them both. Simon constantly apologised to Daphne, blaming the long journey for his daydreaming.

However, Anthony and (Y/N) might as well have been dining at their own table. They were in full conversation, of course others chimed in to join, but they couldn't stop reflecting on the past and laughing. It was impossible to not notice how well they were getting along, and Violet had a glint in her eye as she saw how much Anthony was smiling. He never smiled this much, and the way he was looking at (Y/N) reminded her of how her husband used to look at her.

After dinner, they retired to the drawing room, sipping on fresh lemonade as Hyacinth showed off her new skill on the piano. Simon sat with his child in his lap, Daphne by his side, and although he was thoroughly enjoying the time with his family, he couldn't stop gazing over at his sister.

Unsurprisingly, (Y/N) and Anthony were cosied up, still smiling ear to ear as they continued talking. How could they have so much to talk about?

"Let's put him to bed Simon, for a nap. He's getting fussy." Daphne interrupted his thoughts.

Simon didn't want to cause a scene, agreeing to put their son down together. Even as they left the room, Simon's eyes lingered, and he immediately became tense once they were out of sight.

"Has my brother dazzled you?"

Simon was quiet as he laid down his son."Hm?"

"Well you haven't stopped staring at him all night."

He sighed."Was I that obvious?"

"You were indeed. Would it be so bad?"

"What?"

"Would it be so bad if my brother loved your sister?"

"Daphne-"

"Has he been disrespectful? Has he done her wrong? Has he done anything that we did?"

He was stumped. Although his brotherly instincts were kicking in, wanting to protect (Y/N), realistically he knew Anthony would never hurt her. Anthony was trustworthy, he knew him inside out and just from tonight, there was something there.

Simon didn't reply, but Daphne knew he wasn't ignoring her. She could see him thinking it all over as he walked to the window.

"It's only good news depending on how you look at it."

"I know, but it will be fine-"

"No, look!"

Daphne quickly joined her husband at the window, trying to see what he was looking at. Down in the gardens was Anthony and (Y/N) taking a stroll. The pair were lit by the setting sun which was casting a beautiful orange and pink glow across the garden. Although they had not stopped talking through the afternoon, now they were silent, both silently worrying that the other had no more to say.

"(Y/N)-"

"Anthony-"

The spoke at the same time, pausing for a moment before laughing. Anthony said nothing, being a gentleman and letting (Y/N) speak.

"I was just going to say how much I have enjoyed our time together. It feels as if no time has passed since the last time I saw you."

"How long will you stay?"

"Sorry?"

"Well, are you staying for a short visit? Or perhaps an extended time?"

"Simon and I have not discussed that as of yet. I am to be staying with a friend of mine who lives in the Ton, so I shall be here for a little while."

Anthony couldn't help but smile."Good, that is good news."

They were quiet again as they continued walking, only taking small steps as they wee nearing the end of the garden. They were standing close to one another, and although they had linked arms before and been sat on the plush sofas, this held more tension. Perhaps it was the way neither of them wanted to startle the other, despite their desperate want for affection. As their minds drifted off to where this was leading, their hands ever so delicately brushed. Both were startled, halting their steps and looking at each other.

"My apologies-"

"Anthony, it's fine. I...I just wouldn't have expected this."

Anthony thought for a moment, glancing down at their hands that were no longer close. He didn't like it. He wanted to be bold and take the next step, even if it was just holding one another's hand. But this was Simon Basset's sister. And it was (Y/N), who he had the upmost respect for.

"Miss Basset?"

"Anthony, why are you calling me that?"

"May I enquire into the address of your new lodgings?"

"Yes? Why?"

"So that I may call on you in the morning?"

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton imagines #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton one shot #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton fan fic #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton fan fiction #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagines #bridgerton one shot #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fan fic #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fan fiction

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alloftheimaginesblog · 3 months

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intoxicating {benedict bridgerton}

plot: you're an old family friend of the bridgertons', benedict hasn't seen you in years and when he does, boy does he fall fast.

character: benedict bridgerton x plus size female reader

note: i'm back bitchessss :)

You wrung your hands nervously in your lap as you waited for the carriage to stop. A gloved hand took yours, "Do not fret, my darling," your mama said, voice as sweet as honey, "they are old friends, you need not worry."

"I know, mama," you said forcing a quick smile, "I wonder if they will recognise me, it has been quite an age since we last met."

She rolled her eyes with a teasing smile, "Of course they will. You and Colin still keep in regular contact, hm?" You nodded. You and Colin had been the best of friends growing up, Violet Bridgerton had always teased maybe the two of you would grow up to fall in love but you were just friends, that is all. You and Daphne had been close too, with her just two years behind you, she was like the sister you never had. "And Daphne, of course... Perhaps Benedict will be there." She hadn't forgotten your crush on the elder Bridgerton brother.

Despite yourself, your cheeks felt hot and you quickly ducked your head trying to not show your mama your embarrassment, "Mama, hush." She laughed knowingly.

It had been years since you had last set eyes on any of the Bridgerton family and yet, Benedict still had a hold on you. You were a few years younger than him but growing up beside the Bridgertons', you couldn't help the crush that formed. And now, almost a decade since you had last seen any of them, he still had some sort of control over you.

"That was all but a childhood crush," you frowned, "I do not still like Benedict Bridgerton."

Oh but how wrong you were.

The carriage stilled and a moment later, the door swung open and you were looking out towards the Bridgerton house, the home you used to run around the halls of.

Oh dear lord.

Music and chatter filled the hall as people flocked inside. Tonight, the Bridgertons' were throwing a ball in honour of the late Lord Bridgerton as this is what would be his anniversary. You and your Mama had been invited and after just moving back to London, you jumped at the chance to reconnect with old friends.

Almost immediately, your mama was whisked away by Lady Danbury, "Go," your mama encouraged, "find your old friends. Have fun." You did not want her to go. If anything, you wanted to latch onto her the whole time. Being here, in uncertainty, filled you with dread and anxiety. You watched her go before you tentatively stepped further into the hall, looking around trying to catch a glimpse of a familiar face. Then, you saw him.

Benedict Bridgerton.

He was older, of course he was, he would be eight and twenty now with you four years behind. His dark hair was tousled to absolute perfection, his eyes glinting in the light as he laughed with some men you looked very similar - Colin and it must've been Anthony. They were all so extraordinarily handsome; same dark hair and same sharp jawline. Seeing Benedict sent a flurry of butterflies into your stomach. He was so handsome, so effortlessly charming; one smile and you were gone. All at once, you felt like you were thirteen again giggling and blushing at the mere sight of him.

It was then a squeal sounded from beside you, "(y/n)!" And you were enveloped in a warm hug. It was Daphne, you realised and eased into the hug, "Oh, (y/n), it is simply delightful to see you again!" When she pulled away, you could appreciate how she had grown up into a beautiful young woman.

"Daphne," you beamed, "you are... Look at you!" You hugged her tightly again, "It is so wonderful to be back."

After your hellos, Daphne linked arms with you and began to walk with you, "I heard from my Mama that you met your match with a certain Duke of Hastings." At the mention of her new husband, Daphne's face split into a wide grin.

"Oh, we have so much to catch up on, (y/n)!"

It had been an hour or so since you had arrived at the Bridgerton Ball and you and Daphne had stood in the corner of the room catching up on any and all life events over the course of the last decade. You may have still written to each other every month but it was different getting to explore such events in person. She was wed to the Duke of Hastings which meant she was a Duchess, "Oh, you shall have to come and visit us. It is just so grand!" She clutched your hand and smiled so wide and you could feel her happiness radiating from her being.

"How rare it is," you mused, "a love match." You had always hoped it would happen to you but it just did not. A marriage was not your first priority at the minute but you did always hope for a love match as rare as they were.

"It was not always going to be one. At first we drove each other mad but soon, it developed and now..." She looked down at her lemonade with a wide smile, "and..." Her eyes shifted ensuring no one else was watching and when she finally landed back on you, her eyes were aglow with excitement, "we have a secret." Her left hand fell to her stomach and it took everything in you to not scream with excitement for her.

"Oh, Daphne!" You beamed, hugging her tightly, "What wonderful news!"

"You must not tell anyone, it is only my mother and Simon that know. I have not yet told my siblings."

"I swear, your secret is safe with me."

It was then you felt a tap on the shoulder, "Mi'lady, I do believe that after this many years of not seeing each other, you do owe me a dance." His voice was deeper now but still familiar, still warm like honey.

"Colin!" You turned and found him opening his arms to you which you moved into happily. A little much for being in public but neither of you cared. The Bridgertons' didn't exactly like following rules anyway. He was taller with that same dark hair as his brothers and that chiselled jawline. When he pulled back it was then you could appreciate the beauty of time. He, too, was handsome and his eyes were still so kind, something that was rare these days. When he extended his hand, you gladly accepted his invitation to dance.

Daphne moved to find her elder brothers as Colin whisked you onto the dance floor. Benedict welcomed Daphne over with a wide smile and went to take a drink from his champagne when he suddenly stilled, eyes focused on something - or rather someone. "Something troubling you?" Daphne nudged him though she already had a feeling she knew what he was about to ask.

He lowered his drink, "Who is that delectable thing that Colin is dancing with and how in the world did he ever manage to get her to agree to dance with him?"

Daphne laughed slightly, "Why, brother, do you not recognise her? Perhaps you should take a closer look." Benedict squinted. You and Colin were laughing, your smile wide and happy as you threw your head back. You were exquisite and then it clicked.

"(y/n) (y/l/n)."

"Oh," Anthony nodded, "so it is. My, how she has really grown up, mm brother?" He nudged Benedict's side with a knowing smirk. Anthony knew fine well what his brother would be thinking and feeling at the mere sight of you. You were gorgeous and you were exactly Benedict's type.

Benedict swallowed. When you were growing up, with him being four years older, he just thought you were some annoying kid who would blush every time he spoke to you. He remembered that you and Colin were best friends, always together causing chaos and Benedict had participated sometimes but other than that, he kept his distance. He was four years older and when you were children, that seemed like two different worlds. However now was different. You were an adult, four and twenty to his eight and twenty, that was barely anything.

Anthony was right. You had filled out and grown into yourself. Before when you were timid and shy, you now were confident and proud. You did not care that you and Colin kept forgetting steps and kept trodding on the other's toes because you were so caught up in the moment of being reunited. Your cheeks rosy and warm, lips plump and red, eyes glittering in the candlelight... You had filled out perfectly with curves in exactly the right places, full and soft. Benedict swallowed and briefly closed his eyes before he made his decision.

"Excuse me," he said as he drained the remnants of his glass and thrust the champagne flute hastily in Anthony's direction. Anthony smirked, taking it and placing it onto a nearby waiter's tray. He and Daphne watched him weave his way through the crowd to stop beside you and Colin.

"May I cut in?" He asked.

Startled, you looked at him, face immediately heating up as you realised who was asking to dance with you. Benedict's eyes bore into your own, he never once looked to his younger brother and instead focused all of his attention on you. It made you nervous. You looked to Colin who rolled his eyes, "You know it is rather rude to interrupt a dance, brother. The dance is just about to end-"

"I did not ask you, Colin." Your eyes moved from Colin to Benedict who repeated his question though his tone was softer when he spoke to you, "May I cut in?"

The confidence he had seen in you moments previous seemed to vanish. He smirked knowing that he made you nervous. Words were lost and all you could do was nod. Colin rolled his eyes again, "She is all yours, Ben." He dropped your hands and Benedict picked them back up again, never breaking eye contact with you.

Your heart hammered hard in your chest as you and Benedict began to dance. The music ended and yet, here the two of you were still dancing on a dancefloor that was beginning to clear. Yes, the next song would start in a few minutes but this... this was improper. This was considered impolite to a lot of people; scandalous. From your left, you could see your mama standing with Lady Bridgerton, Violet, and they were... smiling? They did not seem to be angered by yours and Benedict's continuing dance, instead they looked happy? Around you, you could feel the eyes on you and you could practically hear the gossip being shared around the room. Daphne had filled you in about Lady Whistledown and you knew that you would definitely be featured in tomorrow's issue. You were certainly making a lasting impression. Benedict could see that confidence falter and his words broke you out of your thoughts, "Ignore it, ignore them all... Look at me, focus on me." You took a breath and met his eyes again and oddly enough, instead of feeling nervous or embarrassed, a calmness washed over you when you looked at him, "There," he smiled, "Better?"

You nodded, "Better."

"When did you return to London? Was it France you were?"

"Day before yesterday," you said, "Yes, we moved to France. My father had business but my family could move back since my father's work brought him back here. We were able to move back into our old home."

Benedict smiled, "The one with the cherry trees outside and apple trees in the back, yes?" You nodded, "How long has it been since you left?"

"A long time," you laughed slightly, "Around ten years."

"Are you glad to be back?" He asked. He seemed to move with such skill and ease, dancing came naturally to him whereas it took you years of practice to be able to do a good waltz.

"You know, you ask a lot of questions," you teased making Benedict smile, "Yes, I am. It is nice to be back home and lovely to be back with old friends."

Benedict nodded, "So you are not missing anyone from back in France then?"

Smirking, you asked, "Is this your way of asking if I am wed or to be wed or even as much as being courted, Benedict?"

The older Bridgerton boy laughed, "Clearly I was not as discreet as I wanted to be." The violinists began to pick up signalling the second dance was starting and the dancefloor began to fill with people again. Benedict switched dancing styles with ease and a smile.

"To answer your question, no. Friends, yes, but nothing more than mere friends."

"Really?" The corners of his mouth turned upwards, "I must say, that surprises me greatly."

Your eyebrow quirked, "And why is that, Lord Bridgerton?"

"Look at you," he lowered his head so that he was now only mere inches from you, "absolutely divine." Once again, your heart began to thud as your whole body grew heated, "Forgive me for overstepping but you are the most beautiful woman in this place, in the whole Ton. You are simply intoxicating."

You couldn't look at him, too flustered to do anything except let out a giggle which only furthered your embarrassment. It was like you were a girl again, giggling and blushing. Benedict's hand let go of yours as he placed his thumb and index finger on your chin, tilting your head upwards to look at him in the eyes, "Do not hide," he whispered. The two of you slowed and then stilled in the middle of the dance floor, "You need not hide from me."

You couldn't help it but your eyes fleeted to his lips. You had grown up wanting nothing more than to be noticed by him and now, here you were. He had finally noticed you.

Then all at once, all of a sudden it dawned on you where you were and what was happening. You cleared your throat, taking a step away from Benedict and dropping away from his touch, "Lord Bridgerton," you said, curtseying and once again hiding your face from him, "I think we have perhaps overstayed our welcome on the dance floor."

With haste, you turned and left the dance floor. Benedict didn't follow, not yet. He had moved too fast, went too far. Clearing his throat, he forced a smile to some gossiping onlookers before he went to find his brothers.

You had not stayed long at the Bridgerton Ball after that, finding your heart wouldn't stop racing and your mind wouldn't stop replaying what had happened. You hadn't wanted to leave so soon but after hearing an unpleasant comment from a rather unpleasant girl, you found your mama, made your excuses and the two of you made your way home.

"Poor girl does not even realise that Lord Bridgerton was only dancing with her out of sheer pity. How on Earth could he ever truly be with someone that looks like that? He was merely pitying her, clearly."

The comment had not stopped repeating in your mind extinguishing the burning hope that Benedict's eyes set alight the moment he looked into yours. How stupid of you to think even for a moment that he had finally noticed you after all this time? How stupid of you to hope that he could feel for you the way that you felt for him? How stupid.

And then Lady Whistledown had something to say about it as well. Daphne and Colin had told you about Lady Whistledown in their letters but you never actually expected to feature in one of the issues!

It seems as though, dear reader, a certain Bridgerton man may be off the market soon enough. An old friend returned to the Ton, (y/n) (y/l/n), and it seems that she made quite the impression on the eligible bachelor. They seemed rather taken with each other that they continued to dance despite the song ending... rather impolite and improper if you ask me, dear reader. However, the dance ended rather abruptly with (y/n) leaving Lord Bridgerton on the dance floor in the middle of a dance. All we know about (y/n) (y/l/n) so far is that she likes to break rules and cause scenes and is this the impression she wants to make? If so, then perhaps she is a good fit for Lord Bridgerton after all. Only time will tell.

You had spent the last few days hiding in the safety of your bedroom. Your mama had tried to coax you out for an early morning promenade but you had declined. Although Lady Whistledown's writing was not at all bad - for she had certainly said worse of others before - you had not wanted to create a scene or cause such a stir. You were horrified at your actions; being improper and impolite on your first night back into society and then with Benedict. You had let him fool you and the reality of that crushed you so heavily. For one small moment, you had let yourself be fooled.

Your mama burst into your room with your handmaidens rushing to keep up with her, "Get dressed, (y/n), we are going out."

"Mama, I do not feel well, I cannot-"

"I know what happened with Benedict has left you embarrassed but I assure you, my darling, Violet was not mad at all. She and I laughed about it, reminiscing about ourselves breaking the rules with our significant others. The ball was for her late husband and you and Benedict reminded her of him... I would say that means you left a good impression."

You rolled your eyes, falling back onto your pillows, "I simply cannot show my face ever again, mama. We have to go back to France."

She laughed loudly, "All because of this? Do not be so silly, child," she perched on the edge of your bed, "My darling, it will pass. Lady Whistledown is already onto new topics, the rest of the Ton will be too. You cannot hide away forever besides... we have been invited for dinner."

"Where?"

She faltered, "It is with the Bridgertons'." Before you could refuse, your mama cut over you, "Violet wanted to extend an invite to welcome us back home, that is all. It would be rude to not attend."

"But he will be there, mama!"

"Why are you so against seeing him again?" She asked curiously, "From where I stood it looked like the two of you were getting along perhaps a bit too well." You bit your lip and looked at your hands. Your mama frowned, "(y/n)?"

"I got caught up in the moment and I let myself hope that it could turn into something but then..." Your mama gestured for you to continue, "A girl made a comment and it made me realise that Lord Bridgerton would never go for a woman like me. I am simply not enough." Tears burned in your eyes and that dark feeling of shame burned strong in your stomach.

"My darling girl," your mama crooned, scooting closer to hold your hands, "I saw the way that man looked at you and that was not a man with bad intentions. After you left, he looked crestfallen and sulked all night. A man who would be wanting to make a fool of you would have gone to his friends and laughed and drank but no... Violet told me that he in fact left shortly after we did, returned to his chambers for the night. That is a man with the intentions of fooling you."

"But I am not enough for him, mama."

She held your hands so tight, eyes boring into your own, "Yes, you are. You are everything and more and if not for him then you will be for someone else. You are worthy and deserving of love and respect, my darling, so do not dare settle for less."

The two of you spent another few minutes with your mama praising you and helping you to realise that what the girl had said was pure jealousy and not true. You felt better, not fixed but better. You felt well enough to accept Lady Bridgerton's invitation of dinner despite the nerves that bubbled in your stomach.

Once again, you found yourself nervously waiting in the carriage to go to the Bridgerton home though this time was entirely different. You were not nervous to see your friends, no, you were terrified of seeing Benedict. You took a breath, stilling your hands and trying your best to calm your heartrate.

"We have arrived," your mama said as the carriage slowed then stopped. The door swung open a moment later, "Relax," she whispered into your ear as you walked to the door, "you look gorgeous." You did, in all fairness. You were wearing one of the dresses your father had made for you from France, the fabrics were rich and soft and the colour made your eyes shine. You looked divine.

Here we go.

Lady Bridgerton greeted you at the door with a wide smile and a warm hug, "Welcome," she greeted kindly, "come, let us go to the dining room."

You followed closely behind and let Lady Bridgerton lead you to the dining room, "It is just as I remember," you smiled fondly, admiring the paintings that adorned the wall, "how lovely."

Lady Bridgerton led you into the one of the living areas, "I must apologise, dinner is running a little behind schedule but it should not take too much longer. (y/n), Daphne is in the library if you would like to be with her until dinner is ready?"

Thankful that you hadn't laid eyes on Benedict yet, you nodded and wandered the halls. It was like muscle memory, you remembered exactly where you had to go and which way to turn and it wasn't long before you were shutting the door behind you seeing Daphne smile up at you.

"I am so glad to see you!" She said with a welcoming hug, "I was worried that you would not attend after..."

"After me running from your ball and disappearing from society for a few days?"

Daphne smiled sympathetically, "What happened?"

"I danced with him - Benedict - and I... God, Daphne, I felt like a child again. I was giggling and blushing and he seemed genuinely interested."

"So what on Earth happened for you to run out?"

You groaned, "He was saying all of the right things and I thought for a moment he might feel the same and I panicked... Your mama must hate me, I have been so improper. I got caught up in-"

Daphne placed a reassuring hand on your arm, "(y/n), calm down. My mama actually was rather happy to see you and Benedict dancing and breaking the rules. As was your mama. I overheard them talking and laughing saying how it reminded them of themselves when they were younger. You need not fret."

"That is what my mama said but I-"

"I said, calm," Daphne said with a laugh, "It will be fine, I assure you. Though I do have a question... why did you flee from Benedict? From what you are telling me, it seems like you still have feelings so why run if he is seemingly showing similar signs of want? Why have you been absent from society for a few days?"

You shook your head, "It is stupid but... Daphne, look at me." Daphne frowned, "I am not small nor am I petite like you and the other girls. I am larger, there is more to me than normal."

"I am not understanding."

"Benedict has always been so desirable, so handsome and charming whilst I... I have never been noticed. I have always been in the shadows. It cannot be true that Benedict would even for one second would notice me, it simply cannot be true." You looked to Daphne who was looking past you, looking at the doorframe and when you followed her gaze, your heart sank. Benedict.

"Sister, do you think you could give us the room?" Benedict asked softly.

"I shall leave you two for a few minutes but I will stand outside the door and will alert if there happens to be anyone coming." She squeezed your hand on the way past and gave a nod to her brother. Benedict only stepped forwards when the door was shut behind her.

He approached carefully and slowly as though you were a skittish kitten and he was trying to not scare you, "How could you say those things about yourself?" He sounded genuinely wounded by your words as though he actually cared.

"Why are you here, Lord Bridgerton?" Your voice was colder than you intended but he knew that it was you putting your guard up. You were afraid of being hurt so he did not mind if it meant you were colder to him. He would get you to trust him.

Benedict scoffed slightly, "This is my house too, you know, Lady (y/l/n)." Had you not been so terrified you would've laughed at his pettiness to give you your title, "I was also searching for you. I wanted to see you before dinner."

"You found me. I am well. You may go."

"You cannot dismiss me from my own home, (y/n)."

"I can try."

Benedict sucked a deep breath in through his nose, "Why are you fighting against me? Why are you so angry?" He swallowed, "Did I... Did I overstep or offend you the other night at the ball? If I did, I must extend my sincerest apologies-"

You looked at him and you wanted to cry. He meant it so sincerely. You could see in his eyes how deeply sorry he was if he had offended you and it broke your walls. You shook your head, "It was not you, Benedict." Your voice quivered pitifully, "I... I let myself get wrapped up in a fantasy and I panicked."

"What fantasy?"

It was now or never, "The fantasy where you finally saw me, finally noticed me; finally felt for me. I am sure you must have known I had the biggest crush on you when I was a child and it seems that it is still here. While we danced, I let myself belief you would maybe perhaps feel the same. I was stupid and childish and other people noticed too."

"Whatever do you mean?" His expression was unreadable but his voice was soft, "What people?"

"As I was leaving... Some girl made a comment about you dancing with me out of pity; that you would not be genuinely interested in me, you were just pitying me. Look at me, Benedict, and then look at you..."

Benedict frowned, "Do you believe that?"

"I..." Your mouth opened and then snapped shut when you saw his gaze, "I had hoped it not be true."

He took a step towards you and you found yourself rather hot and breathless like all of the air was being sucked out of the air, "(y/n), I never saw you when you were younger, I was older and thought nothing more of you than my sister's friend, I admit that to be true... But now... You are divine, you are intoxicating, (y/n). You are driving me insane! You are beautiful - your body, your face, your smile; but you are far more than that." He laughed loudly before rubbing a hand over his face, "You have consumed me. I have spent the last three days in society waiting for you, searching for you; needing to see you again. I have no been able to stop thinking about you; your laugh, your lips, the way we danced... I have pestered Colin trying to make him give me some of your letters so that I may hear your voice in my head, smell the faint smell of your perfume..." He breathed deeply and you hadn't realised but now, your chests were pressed together and you were staring up at him completely helpless. You felt like this was all a dream, surely you would wake up in few moments and this would all be a figment of your imagination... But no, here you were with Benedict Bridgerton professing his love to you.

"I..." He swallowed hard, "I do not wish to take something of yours that does not belong to me but if you want it, if you want me then I will be yours so completely and wholly." His blue eyes bore into yours, "I will be yours if you want me."

His admission had your heart racing and your cheeks were on fire, "I-I have been yours for a decade, Benedict. Always just yours."

Benedict's face split into a wide grin and then your eyes were fluttering shut as he leaned down and kissed you. Your first ever kiss shared with the boy you had loved from being a child. It was then Daphne wrapped her knuckles on the door and you and Benedict were snapped apart both slightly flushed and breathless. Daphne opened the door and let herself in, "Mama's coming, Ben."

Benedict pressed a kiss to your hand, "There is no point in waiting, I suppose," he shrugged, "What say you to marrying me? I apolgise it is not romantic in the slightest or planned out but why wait? You waited a long enough time." Daphne squealed and your jaw dropped, "You have a few seconds before my mother bursts through that door, (y/n)... What is your answer?" He teased with a grin, "Take a leap of faith with me or run away again? What is your choice?"

All you could do was nod and at that moment, the door swung open to reveal Violet Bridgerton, "Dinner is- what is wrong?"

"Mother, get the champagne!" Benedict grinned, throwing an arm around your shoulders and twisting you to face his mother, "We are to be wed!"

You winced in anticipation, expecting Violet's reaction to be angry but instead, she gasped and grinned before rushing to you both to hug you tightly. When she pulled away, her eyes were filling with tears, "Oh, my loves," she crooned as she caressed both of your cheeks, "Welcome to the family, (y/n)... Let us go celebrate, hm?"

#reader insert #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #plus size reader #imagine #one shot #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton #os

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d4yl1ghts · 4 months

Note

Hi could I request a story where Anthony is away on business and his wife has a miscarriage while he’s gone

guilt

anthony bridgerton x pregnant, wife, fem!reader

summary: anthony is away for business and you unexpectedly lose your child

warnings: miscarriage, death, pregnancy, self-blame, panic attack

You groaned as you awoke to an empty bed again. Anthony was away for business and he had tried to stay home but it was required for him to go. He never usually wanted to leave you but he was especially adamant now as you were with child.

You slowly rolled out of bed and dressed into your undergarments as you awaited the arrival of your maid. She came and aided you into your outfit of the day. It was a deep blue, elegant yet simple dress as blue was your husband’s family’s signature colour. “Thank you, Harriet.”, you dismissed your maid.

As the Viscountess, you lived in Anthony’s childhood manor and so Violet and his siblings still lived there. You didn’t mind it, in fact you rather enjoyed it because you would be intensely lonely right now. Outside your door, you could hear the laughter of his younger siblings. You sighed contentedly as you imagined your baby that would be born in around sixteen weeks.

Suddenly, Violet pushed open your door. “Y/N, how are you feeling today? How’s the baby?”, she greeted. It was tradition for her to check up on you every day now that Anthony was away. “The baby is fine. Have you heard from Anthony?”, you questioned, changing the subject. “No. I’m sure he’ll be back soon, dear.”, she took your hand in hers. You attempted to smile but it came out as more of a grimace.

“Well, I’ll head down, breakfast is ready so come down whenever you want.”, Violet smiled politely as she left the room. You sighed to yourself as you were left alone again.

After five minutes of staring at the ceiling and simply thinking, you decided to go down for breakfast. You noticed that all of the Bridgertons were already there but you couldn’t ignore the absent seat at the end of the table where Anthony would sit. You sat down and quickly ate your food before dismissing yourself. You were thankful that you had entered the time of your pregnancy where morning sickness was not present.

You grabbed a book from your room and got comfortable on the sofa in the living room. You huffed slightly as you felt a pain coming from your stomach but you just ignored it and continued to read. Francesca and Eloise had also entered the room at some point as Francesca was quietly playing the piano and Eloise was reading like you.

After half an hour since the pain had begun, the discomfort became inescapable, you just couldn’t ignore it. You began wriggling around to try to get into a more comfortable position and Eloise glanced up from her book in curiosity before letting out an immense gasp. Francesca also looked up from the pianoforte and widened her eyes in shock. You stared in confusion between them. “I’ll get mama.”, Francesca hurried off. “What is wrong, Eloise?”, you asked timidly. “You’re kind of…”, she just pointed down. You looked down at your dress and only then recognised the stain of blood. You worriedly cast a glance to Eloise.

“Shit.”, you muttered as tears welled in your eyes. Your breathing rate and heart rate picked up increasingly. “Okay, don’t freak out. That’s not good.”, Eloise stated, unaware of what to do in such a situation. Finally, Violet arrived with Colin and Francesca in tow. “I have sent Benedict for the doctor.”, she simply said. She then glanced down at your panicked form with an expression of pity. “It will be okay, Y/N. The doctor will be here soon.”, she eased your worries. You silently cried to yourself. The only person you wanted was Anthony.

Violet sat beside you, hoping her presence would bring you some sort of comfort. She wanted to give you some space. Colin kept checking the corridors for Benedict and the sign of a doctor whilst Francesca and Eloise watched silently from the side. They all had saddening looks in their eyes.

Benedict finally returned as the doctor came rushing in. Violet stepped up out of the as she took your sweaty hand, trying to console you. “Colin, would you write a letter to Anthony, please? Make sure it gets there as soon as possible.”, Violet whispered. The doctor measured the baby’s heartbeat and confirmed what everyone had been dreading: there was no heartbeat- the baby was gone. You instantly broke down into more tears.

Gregory and Hyacinth heard your sobs from where they were located outside the living room door. Benedict made sure they weren’t allowed in. Violet had been containing herself, she didn’t want to be all up in your face but she needed to cradle you in her arms for her own personal comfort. She couldn’t bear the thought of you going through it alone, without your husband by your side. She could almost relate to you.

It had been three days since the incident and also three days since Colin had sent Anthony the letter. You were currently lying on your side, staring out the window. It was what seemed to preoccupy your time nowadays. You only left your room to eat and you would eat very little. Of course the Bridgerton siblings offered their help but it was only one of the siblings you wanted.

You sighed as you turned to your door as you heard a knock. “Who is it?”, you uttered with a shaky and croaky voice. Nobody responded yet the door creaked open slightly and you saw the brown eyes you had been hoping for each time someone knocked on your door. Instead of running towards him as one would have expected, you simply sat there.

Anthony stared at you before cautiously and hesitantly taking a seat beside you. He carefully took you into his steady arms and cradled you like a baby. It was almost ironic. As soon as you felt his skin on yours, water cascaded down your irritated cheeks. He gazed at you sadly before allowing himself to cry with you. He hadn’t been able to grieve yet as he rushed over to comfort you as soon as he received the letter.

“It’ll be okay, Y/N. I love you so much.”, he hushed you. “Tony… I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.”, more tears slid down your face. Anthony gently held your face in his calloused hands. “Y/N, I did not simply marry you for the sake of bearing my children. I love you because of who you are. I do not care what happens in the future or what has happened in the past. I need you. Never in my entire life would I think of or even fathom a life without you. I don’t know who I would be without you. You are the lighthouse to my boat, my love.”, he confessed.

Anthony suddenly moved away. “I should not have left you.”, he mumbled as his breathing picked up. “It’s my fault. If I had been here to protect you, you would not be suffering so much, Y/N.”, he rushed. You recognised it as a panic attack. He sometimes got them as a result of his father’s death. You knew how much he struggled with self-blame. “Anthony, it is not your fault. You could have never have known.”, you whispered as you kissed his ear. “It is my body.”, you said quietly.

Anthony then pressed a kiss to your temple and then a lingering one to your lips in which conveyed the meaning and honesty behind his words. You knew that with him by your side, you would be okay. “I love you.”, you simply replied, unable to put your thoughts into words. You placed your forehead against his, getting consolation from his touch.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton one shot #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton imagine #fem!reader

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madridfangirl · 2 months

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Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fic)

Chapter 8

(Series Link)

Jude * female reader. Mature Language in parts.

Synopsis: A chance encounter in a tiny Madrid cafe with the newest superstar of her fav club. The two couldn't be more different, yet both feel the pull toward the other. Would this girl be the one he finally falls for? Would she make him change his ways? Even though she resists him every step of the way, would he fight all odds (& her) to have her in his life? Or would life come in the way of these star-crossed lovers?

.............................................................................................

‘Good to see you, Agnes. Hope this wasn’t too much trouble.’

Ananya was sat in Jude’s car, on the way to his house. They had Saturday off and decided to spend the day together. Second proper date, exactly a week after the first one.

‘Not at all, ma’am. Good to see you too!’

‘Please call me Ananya.’

The chauffeur smiled - a well mannered, sweet, middle-aged gentleman. Then proceeded to tell her how Jude had also insisted to be called by his name, stating that Mr. Bellingham sounded like his grandpa.

‘Haha yeah that’s him.’

Agnes nodded, smiling fondly, encouraged by her interest.

‘He’s a fine young man. Always considerate. Sometimes too much so. Thankfully, his mother is around to manage his affairs. She’s the one who hired me.’

Normally, Ananya may have found such a mother-son dynamic & dependence problematic. A yellow flag even. But here, it seemed wholesome. A sweet Mama’s boy.

She wondered what his mother would be like. Then quickly dismissed the thought & the panic that generated. Too soon.

Agnes kept chatting along the way, sharing small titbits on Jude’s fan encounters - both sweet & crazy ones.

When they were about to reach, she felt a strange bout of anxiety. Last week had been heavy. At work & personally. Especially that rotten article & the aftermath. She fixed her attire & makeup to beat the nerves.

But when she opened the car door and saw him waiting on the porch, looking dashing in his off white jumper & joggers, flashing a million dollar smile, the anxiety evaporated.

Jude closed the distance in big strides. And she all but ran into his outstretched arms. How much they had craved this warmth & comfort all week.

His lips grazed the top of her head. She smiled into his chest. Man, he was tall, towering over her.

‘Hey beautiful.’

She sighed, and craned her neck up to look at the smiling boy.

‘Hey you.’

He leaned down, cupped one side of her face and placed a lingering kiss on the other cheek.

When he was about to lean in again towards her slightly parted lips, he saw Agnes standing uncomfortably on the side, carrying her bag & a parcel for Jude.

‘Thank you, Agnes.’

Jude took the items in one hand, while his other hand remained around her waist. She hid her face in his chest in embarrassment. The sound of his kiss still ringing in her ears.

‘We’ll be here a while, pls take the day off.’

Agnes nodded & left quickly as Jude led her into the house. The place looked different in the day - colours bright & visible with the ample natural light flowing in.

‘The weather is nice - wanna chill outside?’

‘Sure - just gonna take these off first.’

She bent down to remove her boots, wincing as the material scraped against her skin.

‘That bad huh?’

‘Oh it’s a torture chamber in here.’

She hated stiletto heels with a vengeance. But her roommate insisted this particular pair went perfectly with her attire and accentuated her butt.

Jude was hoping she kept them on. They looked stunning with her black tights. But that was before he knew they hurt.

He fetched a bag full of hotel slippers and laid it in front of her. She raised an eyebrow at him & he shrugged casually.

‘Kinda horde ‘em. Comfy.’

And man were they comfy. She found a pair that almost fit her and practically moaned in relief.

The backyard was cozy, with an outdoor pool, a covered gazebo and open garden.

They went to the gazebo and settled down on adjoining loungers, turning to their sides to face each other. His tall frame barely fit on it, legs dangling over.

Jude asked her about home, family & friends in India. And listened keenly as she chatted away, making mental notes to google a few things he didn’t understand.

He learned that she was a classical dancer, had grown up in Delhi and was a junior debating champion. And that she was one of her city toppers in high school. Her university stories particularly intrigued him, given he never got to go. She was also preparing to go to Stanford for an MBA in a few years & was working on her application. She was friendly with many but had a close set of core friends, much like him. Family was front & centre in her life too.

‘Must be tough, living away like this, all on your own?’

A tinge of nostalgia flickered in her eyes.

‘Am getting used to it.’

Jude reached over & stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, then let his arm rest on her waist, playing with the hem of her deep purple sweater.

‘Your brother, older or younger?’

‘Older.’

‘Football fan?’

‘Nope. Out & out cricket person. He plays also.’

‘I played too, in school. Am not bad. Back home in Brum, quite a few cricket fans.’

‘Good for you.’

They fell into a comfortable silence, soaking in the early Nov Spanish sun. She closed her eyes, enjoying the siesta.

Jude couldn’t follow suit. Kept admiring her peaceful face. She deserved the respite, after backbreaking work & also what he had put her through. The media circus had taken a life of its own after that god-awful piece. But neither wanted to bring it up, determined to make today a happy day.

His gaze moved lower. To her slender neck. Grazed by a few loose strands from her messy bun. And a delicate golden necklace.

Few minutes later, he spoke up.

‘Listen, I know we said we won’t tell anyone.’

Her eyes flew open.

‘Yes. We said it’s for the best.’

‘Right. But, can we make one exception?’

‘Who?’

‘Jobe. He kinda senses something already, said I was being cagey af. And, he can keep a secret.’

He waited, unsure of her reaction. She would have been more wary if it were anyone else.

‘Look at it this way. At some point am gonna fuck up. Need someone sane for advice then. Gotta be him. He’s the smartest guy I know. Not you smart but still.’

She grinned, and he knew he had won. He seemed to have a way of making her give in.

They had their lunch outside, not wanting to move from their cozy spot. The wine lifted the spirits further. Jude usually didn’t have much alcohol unless on a break, but he decided to make an exception today. The lunch, though, was a healthy salad.

When he refilled her glass the third time, she poked a finger in his chest.

‘Tryna get me drunk?’

‘Always.’

She giggled, the wine starting to have its effect.

‘Then why did you get mad at me drinking that day?’

‘You weren’t safe then. Here, you are.’

Warmth rose in the pit of her stomach, as she aimlessly fiddled with the fabric of the sofa.

‘I’d like a different nickname though. My folks call me Judey.’

Ananya groaned, remembering how she had said it out loud that night.

Jude chuckled & leaned closer, tilting his head, enjoying her discomfort.

‘You call me that in your fantasies or…’

She put her hand flat on his face & pushed him away, as he wiggled his eyebrows. His booming laugh ringing through the air.

‘I’ll come back on the nickname.’

‘Let’s see if it’s better than dove.’

She rolled her eyes. This wasn’t a competition.

‘How old are you, 5?’

He smiled at how she had used his jersey number instead.

‘Say yes once, and I’ll show you how old I am.’

Insinuation dripping, rather drooling from his voice, and she turned his face away again, this time to hide her fluster.

3 blissful hours passed in a jiffy. Conversation flowing smoothly like their wine. It was only when the weather got a bit rough that they moved inside.

By then, the discussion had moved to who the bigger football fan was between the two.

‘Umm I kinda play professionally? For the biggest club?’

Ananya brushed it off.

‘And I have been watching them religiously for 15 years. What’s your point?’

They decided to play FIFA to settle the debate. Then argued over who gets to pick Madrid. After a long discussion, Jude agreed to play with Dortmund, claiming he was giving her a head start, dodging the cushion she threw at him.

‘What do I get when I win despite your advantage?’

‘IF. You mean IF.’

The casually cocky smirk returned. She wanted to smack that smug face. And….bite it at the same time? The boy was infuriating.

‘What do you want?’

‘You’ll wear my jersey.’

‘NO. Next.’

‘You’ll cheer for England when we play Portugal.’

‘You’re kidding right? Next.’

‘I’ll kiss you in front of that leech.’

She narrowed her eyes at him. How was he still on that?

‘On second thoughts, you’re a pro. So no, you get nothing.’

‘Chicken.’

‘Shut it & play.’

‘Not gonna go easy on you, dove.’

‘Never asked you to. Gonna beat your sorry ass Irrespective.’

‘Oh we’ll see.’

They started playing, and she gave Jude a run for his money. Enough for him to come out of the second gear where he was casually relaxing. Enough to get his heart rate going & armpits sweating. So much that when he finally won, he did his trademark celebration, punched his fists in the air & woo-hooed around the couch doing his victory dance.

She stared daggers at him, gobsmacked at the loss and him rubbing it in. Almost hoping that he trips and falls on his ass.

‘Told ya.’

He plopped next to her, smiling victoriously. Accent heavier in gloating. The gall of this man.

‘I had you in the middle, and you know it.’

‘Final result is what matters, and you know it.’

‘Tread carefully, Bellingham.’

She warned, still sulking hard. But of course he did no such thing.

‘What was it you wanted to do to my ass again?’

‘I hate you.’

‘A sore loser AND a liar? Whoa.’

‘That’s it. I am out.’

She got up to storm away but he caught her in two strides. Locked her arms around her waist. Caging her from behind. Giggling in her ear. She struggled fruitlessly in his grip, but dodged his attempts to kiss her cheek.

The more she fidgeted, the more his hold tightened. Pressed flushed against his taut, hard torso, with him breathing down her neck, was not ideal for her to stay pissed. Or sane.

When she quit struggling, he leaned down to kiss her covered shoulder.

‘So feisty.’

Jude muttered appreciatively, accent even thicker now. Her posture relaxed as she let herself loose in his arms.

‘Truce?’

‘Fine.’

He released her, and they walked back to the couch, hand in hand. It was 4:30 pm, still chunk of the day left. They decided to watch something together.

‘You pick.’

Jude pulled her close, throwing his arm around her shoulder.

‘You like rom-coms?’

‘Sure.’

‘Tell that to your face.’

He smiled sheepishly, turning his head to face her.

‘I mean, don’t mind ‘em.’

‘Let’s keep looking.’

She scrolled further in the trending list & landed on Bridgerton.

‘I’ve heard great things on this. It’s more than a rom-com.’

She figured he might like it, given the 19th century London backdrop. They decided to give it a go, settling against the back of the couch. Jude offered to watch in his room, the bed being more comfortable n all, but she politely wiggled out of that.

The sassy narration from Lady Whistledown immediately drew them in, along with the setting. The opening sequence with Daphne & Violet set the tone.

‘Ooh I like what she’s wearing.’

‘Ya it’s hot.’

Ananya turned towards him sharply, expression blank.

‘I mean…like…y’know…’

She broke into a laugh sooner than she planned.

‘You can say that. She IS hot.’

Jude bumped their heads together, glad to come out of the hole he had dug for himself.

‘So is Anthony though. Distractingly delicious.’

Yeah, he deserved that.

‘Like that scene with the tree…’

‘Don’t push it.’

He pulled her closer still, squeezing her shoulder. She let it go, for the time being.

The unique tone of the show kept them fairly engrossed. Yet they scoffed & laughed at the idiocy of some notions. Violet’s insistence on Daphne being prim & proper to attract a suitor, and keeping her in complete darkness of her sexuality particularly irked Ananya.

‘Typical. Treat women as decorative porcelain dolls in public view and sex objects / baby making machines behind closed doors. That’s all they are good for.’

‘Yeah, my country was stupid.’

Lady Danbury turned out to be a hands down fav of both - her wit & presence of mind unmatched. The courtship episodes they breezed through, giggling at the rigid & formal dance sequences of the genteel society.

‘Do you dance like that?’

‘Like that? No.’

Something told her there’s more to it.

‘CAN you dance, at all?’

He shook his head, waving his hands in the air.

‘It’s a tall person handicap.’

‘Isn’t Cama as tall as you?’

A pregnant pause, for 3 seconds.

‘He’s not actually.’

Jude removed his hands from her & sunk into the couch. She hadn’t even meant to tease this time, was just curious. Ananya leaned into his side & tugged at his elbow.

‘Wanna dance with me sometime? I could show you some stuff.’

That got his attention. He stopped pouting when she caressed his arm.

‘I am learning Salsa, it’s quite fun.’

‘Well, I can be quite a handful.’

‘Oh I can handle you.’

His smirk returned, as did his arm around her.

‘Can you now?’

They bickered & flirted, then resumed watching. Time flew by as they binged through, managing to squeeze in an early dinner when they felt peckish. Neither wanted to call it a night, not yet. Too cozy and carefree in their little cocoon.

Episode 4 & 5 had them firmly sucked in, with the engagement & marriage drama.

Episode 6 though, hit her like a truck. Making her hyperventilate.

Ananya squirmed through the emotionally & sexually charged honeymoon scenes, while his fingers stroked her upper arm throughout. She felt his eyes boring into her but kept hers firmly ahead. The air had suddenly turned hot & heavy, not just behind the screen.

‘Maybe..that’s enough for today? It’s getting late.’

‘Sure.’

The screen paused at the couple in a passionate embrace, as they made love outside, in the rain.

Another pregnant pause.

‘Tell me, how didn’t she get that he wanted her all along? It was so obvious.’

Jude’s hand moved up and down her arm, slowly. She felt every touch through the thin fabric of her sweater.

‘He could be with anyone he wanted. She doubted how she could be the chosen one. IF she was the chosen one.’

He turned her slightly to face himself, her eyes glued to her fumbling hands.

‘She got him TO HIS KNEES. Man was tortured by her thoughts. Surely, she could see that?’

‘Even if she did, it would be hard for her to believe. That…that he would just…change his ways. Just like that. For….her.’

His index finger tilted her chin up, gazing into her glossy, tentative eyes. His voice certain, laden with promise.

‘Men change when they find a reason to. He found his.’

That hit her deep in the heart.

‘I…SHE….she may not know that.’

His thumb moved along her jaw, eyes firmly locked with hers.

‘How should he show her then? Other than saying it a 1000 times already?’

‘Jude pleas..’

Her voice died in her throat when Jude hooked his arm under her legs and pulled her on to his lap, setting her sideways on his right thigh. Her arms went around his neck instinctively, to steady herself.

All pretexts and charades were dropped as he linked their foreheads together. His warm breath fanning her face. The heat radiating from his body, his proximity, burning her to the core. A culmination of all their little looks, touches, whispers & innuendos exchanged during the day.

‘KISS ME. Before I go mad.’

His commanding, raspy voice did things to her. Unspeakable things.

‘Now, dove. I know you want to.’

She met his gaze, and found a hurricane brewing in his otherwise serene eyes, sweeping her along.

Ananya cupped his cheeks, admiring his handsome features. Her lips brushed along his hairline, ending with a chaste peck on his forehead. Her thumbs stroked his eyebrows & eyelids, back & forth. Eliciting a sigh.

Her fingers ran down his cheeks, caressing the moles & tiny zits. Covering them with butterfly kisses. Jude couldn’t remember when he was last touched so affectionately. When he last wanted to be touched like this.

She kissed the tip of his nose, & his lips puckered up, thinking they would be next. The girl had other plans.

She held his jaw & tilted it upwards, running her fingertips over his soft yet scratchy beard that ran deep into his neck. His long, tempting, seductive neck. Driving her wild.

Her fingers dug into the flexing, meaty muscles at the back of his neck as her mouth traced the length of it.

‘FUCK!’

He groaned loudly, both hands gripping the couch, hard enough to rip.

She continued her ministrations, too hypnotised to stop.

Jude had vowed to be patient tonight. But when he felt her teeth on his Adam’s apple, he decided playtime was over.

He grabbed the side of her face, pulling it to him.

She whined at the interruption, trying to go back down. His grip tightened.

‘ENOUGH. My turn.’

Jude kissed her fiercely, knocking the wind out of her chest. As if getting back for the slow, sensuous torture. She tried matching his passion, but Jude wasn’t willing to cede control, not tonight.

His hand removed her clutcher, rummaging through her hair. While the other one stroked her thighs. She gasped, and he plunged further into her mouth. His scent, his breath, his strong hands, his taste, his god damn thighs under her butt, his ferocity - drove her nuts.

Being the sole object of Jude’s desire was, quite simply, INTOXICATING.

Subconsciously, she wondered if all the other girls before her had felt the same. Or if this was indeed different, as he repeatedly claimed.

He soon pulled her out of the momentary coherence by fisting his hand in her hair & pulling them back, as his mouth feasted on her neck.

She mewled as he nipped & sucked her with abandon, soothing the reddened skin with his tongue afterwards.

Jude was testing waters, pushing boundaries, to see how far she’d let him go tonight.

His sinful voice joined the party.

‘Tell me where you want me. Say it.’

She could only whimper in response, mind too mushed up to string together words.

‘Here?’

He pulled her sweater down one shoulder, kissing the bare skin, tugging at her bra strap with his teeth.

‘Or down there?’

The hand on her thighs slid under her butt, cupping a cheek, kneading it firmly. Something he had wanted to do all day.

She panted into his neck, unable to function under his expert moves.

‘Feels good, baby? Want more?’

She jumped when his warm hand slid under her sweater, settling on her bare back. Large, strong fingers spread over her skin, playing with it, thoroughly covering the surface area. Making her shudder from head to toe.

Jude wasn’t unaffected either - the feel of her soft body making his restraint hang by a thread. What he wouldn’t give to just toss her over the couch right now.

His touch became more frenzied. Mouth more demanding. Hand inching further up her back, finding her bra.

She grabbed his bicep, coming out of her reverie. But it just spurred him on.

She somehow tore her mouth away from his, to get his attention.

‘Ju…ude.’

It came out as a shaky, breathless moan instead, flipping something in him. The next instant, her bra was unclasped & his hand roamed freely all over her back.

The sensation jolted her. She needed to act now, before he completely eroded her will.

Her hands grabbed his face, desperately, dragging him up, meeting his stormy eyes.

‘Wha..’

He looked dazed, confused at the interruption. Lips parted, half-panting for breath.

She stroked his cheeks while his adrenaline tapered down.

“Baby I….can we…pls….’

His senses recovered, and Jude pulled her gently into a loose hug. Swaying her lightly. Stroking her hair. While making shushing noises.

‘Okay. Okay. Anything you say, dove!’

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All this Jude content just makes me write :)

A happy chapter, after the heavier last one.

As always, would love to hear your thoughts / comments / feedback. Hope you are liking the story & these two. There are a few dif ways this could go ahead, trying to figure!

#real madrid #jude bellingham #bellingham #bellingham x reader #jude fanfic #jude #jb5 #jb #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham smut #desi girl #bridgerton

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writtenfangirl · 6 months

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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.

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