#colin bridgerton one shot

[gracieheartspedro]

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.”

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

Braid- Colin Bridgerton

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Reader

Characters: Colin Bridgerton

Warnings: N/A

Request: Anon- Hey! Could I request some fluffy romantic Colin Bridgerton x female reader with the prompts “Stop moving and let me braid your hair.” + “Your hair is really soft.” please? Thank you so much!!

Word Count: 573

Author: Charlotte

One of your favourite things to do with your husband was to go for walks, and together you had explored a large amount of your little corner of London, walking the length and breadth of the streets and parks that were near to your home. You enjoyed spending time hand in hand with Colin as you wandered aimlessly until you tired or had something that you needed to do and headed back to your home.

There weren’t any other plans for the rest of the day, so you headed to wander the nearby park to occupy your day and speak of anything and everything that came to mind. You had no expectation to return home anytime soon, only thinking to return when you either tired or succumbed to boredom, but nature seemed to have other plans for you. You had barely been out of the house for an hour before rain began to drizzle upon you. Colin suggested turning back, and you agreed but the heavens opened before you had even exited the park, leaving you bother soaked through and sodden by the time you returned to your home.

“Remove your jacket and take a seat,” Colin stated as soon as you entered the main entrance of your home. “I shall grab you a blanket.”

You went to argue with him, not needing to be cared for seen as he was equally as damp, but he had left the room before you could say anything. You did as you were told hanging your coat up on the rail, taking a passing glance at yourself in the mirror, seeing your once pleasantly styled hair was now flattened and messy. You made your way to the sitting room, removing the items that had once held up your hair, relenting to the damage that had come to it.

“Here, my love,” Colin said, placing the blanket around your shoulders, wrapping it around you.

“Thank you,” you smiled up at him, finishing the dismantling of your hair, leaving it clinging to your face and hanging over your back and blanket.

“Would you like me to braid your hair?” He asked.

You raised an eyebrow at him. Normally a maid helped you with your hair or you’d do it yourself, but you never considered asking your husband to help you.

“Don’t look so shocked,” he chuckled. “I used to help my sisters, at some point we all learnt how to do a basic braid to appease them.”

You paused for a moment, considering the offer. “I would love that.”

Colin grabbed the brush from your side table that you left there often, starting to tame the mess that the rain had caused. You enjoyed him brushing your hair, but you were cold and uncomfortable in your dampened clothes, so struggled to sit still, fidgeting as you tried to pull the blanket closer to you. It didn’t bother him much whilst he brushed your hair but when he begun to braid it, it became annoying rather quickly.

“Stop moving and let me braid your hair,” he frowned.

“Sorry,” you smiled sheepishly.

He continued to braid your hair until it was all neatly wrapped together in a single braid. Colin ran a hand over it one last time, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple.

“Your hair is really soft,” he stated. “And it definitely looks better than whatever the weather had done to it.”

“Thank you, dear.”

[writtenfangirl]

Madness

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

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

In which Benedict Bridgerton finally reveals the truth.

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

It was utterly maddening.

She was utterly maddening.

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

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

Maddening.

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

But not Y/N.

Never Y/N.

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

A queen holding court, indeed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We are familiar with one another.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Penelope ducked her head to suppress a giggle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She caught you?”

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

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

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

He bristled at her words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To apologize.”

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

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

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

Oh.

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

“Mama, please leave it well enough alone.”

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

“I never said anything that would imply otherwise.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Always so distracting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Benedict did no such thing.

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

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

“Begging you for forgiveness.”

“What? Benedict, get up.”

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

“Benedict, get up. This is madness—“

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

[winnie-the-monster]

“She knew Colin wasn’t going to marry her but at least he danced with her at every ball, and he made her laugh, and every now and then she made him laugh, and she knew that that would have to be enough.”

[penspolin]

POLIN JEALOUSY/ADVICE ONE-SHOT

Colin fights his jealousy after watching Penelope and Lord Debling dancing together at a ball, is teased by Benedict, and seeks advice from Violet.

The silver beads threading Penelope's hair seemed to glow like tiny moons. If he'd had parchment and pen, Colin might've noted the perfect juxtaposition of fiery red locks and sparkling silver. He noticed everything--the way her dress swayed so effortlessly against the floor despite her stiff grip on Lord Debling. Was it only Colin's imagination, or did her gloved fingertips hover an inch from his shoulders?

…perhaps he was only imagining it. He reminded himself that Penelope's stiffness was for the sake of propriety. Of course she’d want to touch Debling. He was a gentleman, for one, and even Colin had to admit that he had his own upper-class swagger. A little posh for Colin’s tastes, but from the looks being cast his way across the ballroom floor, Colin knew the lord had made a lasting impression on this season’s eligible debutantes.

Colin hastened for a sip of wine, only to discover that he had drained his glass. He turned away as a certain red-headed beauty twirled across the floor (more gracefully than he had ever allowed himself to notice). He nearly dropped his glass as he struck Benedict in the chest.

“Steady there, brother,” Ben said, putting a hand against Colin’s heaving chest. “What’s the hurry?” He cast a glance over Colin’s shoulder, and the pieces seemed to fall into place. “I’ll say, your friend seems to be enjoying herself. If ‘enjoying yourself’ is best expressed by a scowl, that is.” He tipped his glass. Colin shot him a glare, even though his heart lifted a bit at this last sentiment.

“Oh, don’t be such a grouch,” Ben said, pushing his glass into Colin’s available hand. “While you’re at the table, fetch me another drink, won’t you?”

“I’m not your waiter,” Colin huffed, stifling the urge to turn back to the dance floor once more. It was like an itch, only scratching it burned like a rash.

“You could do with a break. Somehow my ‘sturdy’ little brother has spent the night looking quite pathetic in the corner.”

“I’m not pathetic,” Colin said, and pain tightened his chest. 

Ben rolled his eyes, still looking across the dance floor. “Say, maybe I ought to have a word with this Debling fellow. See if his eye for art is as keen as his eye for a wife.”

“Give him my best,” Colin grumbled, sounding more pathetic by the second.

Benedict gave him a sturdy pat on the shoulder. “And you, give Ms. Featherington your best while I do it. Now, hurry along now and get those drinks before the dance is over.” With a wink, he rejoined the sea of lords and ladies.

Colin gazed across the open floor once more. The waltz was approaching its conclusion. Pen’s hair looked on fire in the torchlight. His mind wandered to the fragments of a dream—Pen in the garden, her eyes twinkling a magnetic blue, her lips a luscious pink. He had leaned in just enough to catch the scent of her hair—like the wisteria garden, only…newer, fresher, somehow, and then—

“Colin, dear. Are you feeling alright?” His mother’s voice stopped him in his tracks. Her brow furrowed, and he hurried to right himself, as he had taught himself to do long before Penelope had pounded her way into the forefront of his mind.

Some things, it seemed, had not changed. He had a guard up, and even his beloved mama could not crumble it.

“Very well, mother,” he managed, swaying slightly on his feet. “Merely...looking for a refill.”

“Not feeling up to a waltz tonight, I take it?” The look she gave him suggested she knew there was a particular reason for it—Colin was not one for skipping dances. 

He had been avoiding his mother, he realized. Was that a flicker of hurt in her eyes? More than his brothers or sisters, Violet Bridgerton had always had an eye out for these things. And if that was the case, should he not be using her knowledge to his advantage?

“Mother,” he began, aware of the blush suffusing his cheeks. “Forgive me, I know we are in company, but I must ask. Do you believe the best foundation for love is friendship?”

She smiled, crinkling the skin around her eyes. Lovely eyes, so open and trusting. He suddenly hated himself for having avoided her, even if it was unintentional. Perhaps it was because of this conversation that he had kept himself from her. 

And something told him that she knew this as well as she whispered, “I think you already know the answer to that.”

[captainsophiestark]

More Than Just A Pretty Face

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist - Join MyTaglist!

Written for my Year of Olympians, part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023​ which features a ton of awesome creators and runs all year! Go check it out if you haven’t already!

Fandom: Bridgerton

Prompt: Hera; The Queen, Women, Family

Summary: Benedict runs into a woman who might just be the love of his life at a friend's underground artist party, but things might get complicated outside the walls of the artist's haven and in plain sight of the rest of the world.

Word Count: 3,745

Category: Fluff, little bit of angst maybe? Not *really*...

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

Benedict smiled to himself as he stumbled down the dimly lit hallway, people crowding in on either side of him. He was absolutely sober as far as substances went, but drunk and giddy on the feeling of being surrounded by so many artists, living lives happily as themselves and nothing more. No expectations of families or the Ton could reach them here, and it was a thrill like none other to join them any night he could.

After making a quick pit stop to grab himself a drink (he didn’t want to spend the night completely sober, after all), he continued to wander the hallways, looking for a place to pick up a paintbrush. This was one of the few locations he felt completely free to do so, with no outside pressures to weigh on him, and he’d be damned if he didn’t take advantage of it.

He swung through the doorway of a salon towards the back of the house and, as he’d hoped, found a circle of canvases around a few models in the middle. He started for an open canvas, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what one of the other artists had painted on theirs.

The light and colors seemed to jump off the canvas, representing the subjects in a more abstract and yet equally beautiful way. The brushstrokes and blending combined into a unique style, truly unlike anything he’d ever seen before.

“This is… incredible,” he breathed, having drifted unconsciously over to stand beside the artist, getting a better look at the canvas in the process. He blinked a few times, trying to shake the stupor, then turned to face the person responsible for the masterpiece before him.

His breath caught in his throat as he made eye contact with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Cat got your tongue?” asked the woman with a raised eyebrow. She surveyed him critically, not looking entirely friendly, and his heart stuttered a little in his chest.

“I… I’m sorry,” he said. Was he stammering? He hadn’t been nervous around a girl since the time when Anthony had been his only sibling!

“What do you want?” she asked, continuing to stare him down mercilessly. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, trying to gather himself as he looked between her and her artwork.

"I’m terribly sorry to bother you,” he said, clearing his throat and gaining just a hair of his regular confidence back. “I just couldn’t stop myself from coming over when I saw this masterpiece.”

She turned to him with a scowl, but it quickly changed to a look of surprise when she found him referencing her painting.

“You came over here because you liked… my painting?” she asked, her tone an equal mix of suspicion and pleasant surprise. Benedict raised an eyebrow and gave her a lopsided smile.

“Well what else?” he asked, a slight teasing tone to his voice.

The woman glanced down, unable to completely hide a smile that broke onto her face before she looked back at him. “I… historically, when strange men approach me, it’s nothing to do with my skills or who I am as a person.”

Benedict shot her a roguish smile, all of his normal comfort and confidence finally returned. “Fortunately for you I suppose, even the most beautiful woman in all of existence can’t quite outshine this incredible painting.”

She stared at him, her eyes dancing with light and mischief as a smile again tugged at her lips. Despite her best efforts, she was clearly fighting a losing battle to remain stoic and critical.

“The most beautiful woman in all of existence?” she challenged, humor in her tone.

“I’d certainly say so,” he said, beaming at her and feeling a swell of pride at how flustered she seemed to become. “I’d have to go sing the news of who I’d just found to strangers in the streets, but it’s been overshadowed by the news of having found the most wonderful painting in the whole of existence.”

She laughed, and the sound sent jolts of electricity racing through every inch of his body. They shared a smile, and any doubts Benedict might have had about the truthfulness of his statements evaporated. They were facts, and nobody could change his mind.

“Well come on then, you flatterer,” she teased, patting the seat next to her. “If you’re here it means you’re an artist too, so let’s see what you’ve got other than a prolific affinity for flattery.”

He beamed at her as he took the seat next to her, securing a paintbrush and artist’s palette of his own.

“I can’t promise I’ll live up to anything like what you’ve painted, but I’ll certainly do my best.”

She shrugged. “Art is subjective. Anyone who tries to make objective value statements is a fool.”

He laughed, feeling lighter than he had in ages.

“I suppose you’re right.”

The pair spent the rest of the night and even the first few hours of the morning painting, laughing, and talking together side by side, making art and more importantly enjoying the creative space and their time with each other. Despite his initial moment of being tongue-tied, Benedict couldn’t believe how easy it was to talk to this woman, like they’d known each other for ages and not just a few hours. He knew his brothers would mock him, but with each passing second he could feel himself falling deeper and deeper in love.

When the time came to say goodnight and for each of them to go their separate ways, his heart broke a little in his chest. Still, he said goodbye all the same, both of them promising to meet again the next time one of these gatherings happened. Benedict resolved with his entire being to make it happen, no matter what, and even that was barely enough to actually get him out the door.

For the next week, Benedict found himself completely distracted by thoughts of the mystery woman he’d fallen in love with in a matter of hours. He hardly thought of anything else, and his head was even more in the clouds than usual, much to the annoyance of his siblings. Anthony finally managed to snap him out of his daydreaming long enough to drag him to a long-awaited ball that had been the talk of the Ton for quite some time, although Benedict had done his best to avoid the commitment.

“The Queen herself is going to be there, along with plenty of high-ranking, eligible young women who only come out for the absolute highest society events,” lectured Anthony as the Bridgerton carriage approached Lady Danbury’s house, where the ball was to be hosted. Benedict sighed and stared out the window; he’d already heard this speech a thousand times. “Now that Kate and I are married, it’s your turn to start looking for a wife.”

Benedict rolled his eyes, knowing just how much it would irritate his brother.

“Suppose I want to die a male spinster,” he said, deciding to have some fun bothering Anthony. Anthony, as predicted, glared and sighed heavily through his nose, which immediately lifted Benedict’s spirits. He gave his brother a mischievous grin, and then it was Anthony’s turn to roll his eyes. Benedict’s fun was cut short, however, when the carriage at last arrived to the ball. Now he’d have to suffer through endless pleasantries and vicious Mamas trying to set their daughters up with him for the evening, with no support from his brother.

As predicted, the start of the night was incredibly boring. Benedict grabbed a drink as soon as he was in the door, and spent the next hour or so ducking every social encounter he could. He hovered on the edge of the room with Colin and Eloise, until finally, Anthony tracked him down and dragged him by the elbow back into the main room.

“The Queen just came out with her daughter,” Anthony hissed into his ear as they moved through the crowd. “You need to at least make an introduction.”

“Anthony, I don’t even know where to begin explaining to you how much I do not want to court the Queen’s daughter-”

Benedict had been in the middle of hissing back a terse response to his brother when he caught sight of the woman Anthony kept shoving him towards. Y/N, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and the best artist he’d ever met, stood next to the Queen in an absolutely magnificent dress, chatting politely with a suitor she didn’t appear to have much interest in. His heart stopped dead in his chest and his legs almost gave out under him. Anthony, unaware that Benedict’s world had suddenly stopped spinning, continued to push him over, until Benedict fell forward, almost knocking straight into the woman he’d spent every spare moment and then some thinking about.

She turned to him in surprise, her face lighting up for a brief second at the sight of him before her courtier’s mask quickly dropped back into place. Even that brief crack in the polite, vague interest was enough to make Benedict’s heart stutter in his chest. He just kept staring at her, still a little dumbstruck, until he heard someone clear their throat from his right.

“Mr. Bridgerton.” He turned to find the Queen herself staring down at him with raised eyebrows. He quickly righted himself and tried to regain his composure. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Y/N disguising a laugh as a cough, and had to resist grinning and shaking his head.

“Your Majesty,” he said instead, dropping into as low a bow he could. He stayed down for longer than usual, and when he finally straightened, the Queen looked grudgingly pleased.

“I assume you’re also here to speak to my daughter, now that you’ve paid your respects, like every other unwed man in this room?” she asked, a slight tone of amusement to her voice (much to Benedict’s relief).

“I…” he glaned at Y/N, slightly unsure of himself, but when he found her smiling back at him that confidence immediately returned. He turned back to the Queen, back straight and a smile on his face. “Yes, M’am. I’d love the chance to speak to her, if you’d allow me and if she’d have me.”

The Queen gave him the smallest smile of approval, then turned to her daughter.

“Well, Y/N? What do you say?”

Y/N smiled slightly at Benedict, then sighed dramatically and flapped her fan around before dropping it back at her side.

“I suppose,” she said, flailing dramatically a bit more before taking his arm with a smile. “Mr. Bridgerton, shall we?”

Benedict beamed back at her, his whole body feeling like it was about to combust in the best way possible. They strolled off through the room, walking rather quickly towards the exit to the garden, where they might actually get a bit of privacy. Anthony beamed approvingly at Benedict as they went, and Benedict made sure to shoot him a glare in response.

Every man in the crowd they passed gave Benedict a look to put his pointed scowl towards Anthony to shame, jealous venom rippling off every one of them. Benedict completely ignored them all. He was in heaven, and no one could ruin it if they tried.

Quickly, the fresh air of the garden washed over Benedict, and he took a deep breath in before letting out a contented sigh. He slowed his pace, Y/N slowing to match him as they transitioned into a relaxing stroll.

Once they were far enough away from the ballroom, definitely out of earshot of any nosy, problematic courtiers, Benedict turned to Y/N with an arched eyebrow.

“The Queen’s daughter?” he asked. She turned to him, a slightly accusatory look on her own face.

“Says a Bridgerton son, a member of one of the most prestigious, talked-about families in the Ton.”

“First of all, you and I both know talked-about often does not equal prestigious,” he said. Memories of everything to do with Daphne and Anthony as they went through the creation of their marriages flashed through his head. What nightmares. Entertaining, but nightmares. He shook it off, then continued, “And second, being the second son of a notable family is distinctly different than being in line for the throne, as well as the most sought-after woman in all of England.”

She gave him a small smile, the first he’d seen from her that was tinged with sadness, none of the light or attitude he’d come to enjoy seeing from her to be found.

“Surely you can see why I wanted to escape it all for a bit, then. Most wanted woman for my position and the power I offer a husband, and maybe my looks. Nothing else. Nothing of substance.”

Benedict felt as if an arrow had been shot straight through his heart. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Y/N, who came to a stop a few steps later to stare back at him curiously.

“Have you truly been made to feel this way?” he breathed, his stare never leaving her face. He remembered her mentioning something of the sort when they'd first met, but not with so grave a tone. She hesitated, giving him a scrutinizing look similar to that one a week ago before she'd realized his more innocent and sincere intentions, then finally sighed, apparently deciding to give him her trust for a second time.

“It’s more than being made to feel that way, Benedict,” she said softly. “I can see it and know it in every interaction I have with suitors who approach me.”

“Y/N…” Benedict took a step forward and reached for her hands, his heart squeezing at her words, but then thought better of himself and stepped back. He took a deep breath, then met her eyes, doing his best to convey nothing but absolute sincerity. “I almost didn’t come to this little party tonight, for the same reasons. My brother finally forced me to come, and now I’m very grateful he did, although I’d never tell him that.”

Benedict shook his head, momentarily distracted by the idea of how obnoxiously smug Anthony would be if ever told he was right, then managed to refocus on Y/N and the issue at hand.

“What I’m trying to say is… every time I come to one of these things, especially now that Anthony is married, I have nothing but piranhas and sharks circling me, trying to convince me to marry them or their daughters. I have money, and I’m the next closest thing to the head of the Bridgerton family, and that’s all anyone ever seems to care about.

“I can’t pretend to understand exactly what it’s been like for you, since I have quite a bit more autonomy than you, both as a man and as a second son. But I can imagine what you mean when you say you’re usually looked at for superficial traits and what someone stands to gain from marrying you, and nothing else. And if I’ve ever played a part in making you feel that way, then I am truly, deeply sorry. You deserve far more than that.”

Benedict watched Y/N, his heart absolutely hammering in his chest. He wasn’t even sure what he was hoping for, but her reaction felt incredibly important to him all the same. She glanced down, lips pursed, then met his eyes again with a small smile and that twinkle in her eyes that he’d come to love so much. He could’ve collapsed on the spot from relief and happiness.

“I can happily tell you, Benedict, that you’re the first man I’ve met in a long, long while who doesn’t make me feel that way, and never did. So… thank you, for that.”

He beamed back at her, his heart soaring and making him feel as though he was floating.

“Well, I’m very glad to hear it. Perhaps, if you’re interested… I could do more of that?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, a small smile playing on her lips as she took a few steps closer to him.

“And what exactly do you mean by that?”

He grinned, leaning in closer to her. His whole body burned, and he thought he could see a bit of the same excitement on her face.

“Well, as much of an honor as it would be for me to be allowed to court you the traditional way, it can be a bit… boring. As two fantastic and creative artists, we should be able to do a bit better than that, don’t you think?”

Her smile took on a bit of a giddy quality as she continued to look at him, and Benedict felt himself getting sucked into the same energy, riding high as he continued.

“What say you we have another artists’ rendezvous next weekend, at that same mutual friend’s house? We can find an empty room—surely there will be one in the entire house—and then draw, paint, and talk to our heart’s content. You can tell me about your favorite artists and things to do when no one else is forcing you into courtly activities, and I’ll tell you my favorite ways to upset my siblings and about the time my brothers and I almost stole the neighbor’s dog thanks to a game of dares that got wildly out of control.”

“I would like that very much,” she said, beaming back at Benedict. He swore her light put the shine of the sun to shame, and the warmth emanating from her made him completely forget the cold of the night air in the garden where they spoke. “But I have to ask… what shall we do in the meantime? After all, next weekend is an awful while to wait.”

He could’ve done cartwheels right then and there. Instead, however, he controlled himself enough to smile back at her and speak.

“Well… what would you like to do?”

She grinned, then glanced around their surroundings. Once she seemed satisfied that no prying eyes were watching too closely, she grabbed his hand and pulled her to him, linking her arm through his to return to the way they’d been walking before.

“This is going to be quite forward of me,” she warned, smiling all the same as they resumed their turn about the garden. Towards the far end, they turned back before getting improperly out of sight of any other people, making a slow, steady return towards the party they’d so badly needed an escape from.

“I’d expect nothing else from such a bold, strong woman such as yourself.”

“Well… what if, on top of our unusual form of courting that you so brilliantly suggested… we did the normal, proper society courting as well?”

Fireworks exploded in Benedict’s chest, but he did his best to tamp them down and sound somewhat put together when he responded.

“Do you mean regular courting as in… publicly spending time with each other, after I call on you to make clear my intentions to get to know you and, perhaps eventually… propose?”

Now she seemed to be the nervous one, fidgeting a bit as they got closer and closer to returning to the party. Benedict watched her with a smile, enjoying this brief role reversal.

“Well, I mean, that is… if you’d be interested in that. Of course there’s absolutely no pressure, I wouldn’t want to make you feel like you had to-“

Benedict came to a stop again, taking Y/N’s hands and pulling her to a gentle stop with him. They were only a few steps from the doors of the ballroom now, in clear eyesight of many guests of the party as Benedict smiled lovingly at this wonder of a woman he’d somehow lucked into meeting.

“Y/N… I can think of no greater honor than being allowed to court you publicly, perhaps with the intention to propose. Despite the fact that I will hear endlessly about it from my brother, I am quite confident you would be worth it.”

Y/N beamed back at him, joy clearly written all over her face. The two shared the purest, happiest smiles and held each others’ stares for a few more beats, then finally, Y/N cleared her throat and moved to take Benedict’s arm again.

“Of course, any potential proposal would hinge on our non-traditional method of courting going well,” she said as the two of them at last headed back towards the ballroom.

“Obviously,” Benedict agreed, ignoring the jealous looks of the other suitors around him and the smug expression he could see on his brother’s face even from across the room. “I could never shackle myself to someone without knowing she would be more than a pretty face to stand next to me, with whom I’d have nothing in common.”

He shot Y/N a mischievous sideways look and found her beaming back at him. Then, at the sight of Anthony quickly crossing the room, either to speak to him or to try to speak to Y/N (and either way ruining the moment), he spun to speak to Y/N again.

“So, in the name of proper courting… may I have this dance?”

“Of course you may,” she replied, a happy smile still on her face. He took her hands and they spun onto the dance floor together, then once they were chest to chest to begin the routine, she whispered so only he could hear, “And don’t think I didn’t realize you asked me to dance in order to avoid your brother.”

Benedict gave her a quick wink, then twirled her out from him in the opening moves of the dance. They were a bit sloppier than everyone else around them, which earned them both some disapproving looks from their family members, but neither of them cared.

They were both happy and having fun, and after spending so much of their time in court absolutely miserable, they deserved this. Although they couldn’t spend the entire night together, no matter how much they both wanted to, they took the moments they could and found solace in the fact that they’d be together again soon, and in a place where they’d be in private, enjoying each others’ company for hours with no interruptions. It was too early to declare it to anyone, his brother and Y/N included, but Benedict had fallen completely and totally in love, and he couldn’t wait to spend every possible second in his future with the woman he felt certain was his soulmate.

[hiddenwritingsintheworld]

I need some people who want to chat with me on Google Chat about writing, ideas, editing some works, etc. Any takers?

[slut4colinbridgerton]

Bittersweet in my mouth || COLIN BRIDGERTON

PT 2

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

Requested?: No

Ship: Colin Bridgerton x reader

Warnings: AFAB pronouns, angst, colin being a cunt (please let me know if I need to add anything else!)

Summary: idk it’s just pure angst at this point

(gif by @bonniebirddoesgifs)

“Fine, she’s behind me.”

“What?”

Y/N poked her head out,

“Hi.”

“Eloise please leave.”

“No way, brother.” She stood there with her arms crossed,

“Eloise,” Y/N grabbed her shoulder, “I’ll be back soon ok? Let me just talk to him.”

Eloise nodded, and left to resume her conversation with Penelope.

Y/N just stared at Colin and shrugged,

“So? What do you want to tell me?”

“I wanted to apologise. It was unwise of me to imply that you won’t do well on the marriage market.”

Y/N let out a unladylike snort, before covering her mouth,

“You could definitely say that Colin.”

She paused, as if in thought, then turned back to face him,

“I wouldn’t have cared if the comment came from an ancient, balding lord. But it hurt because you said that Colin, you know how worried I was about me being able to attain a respectable husband. And your comment was like a dagger to my heart. And for your information, I could easily get a husband, but I’ve been holding myself back for someone, who I now see doesn’t deserve me.”

As she said this she took a step closer and closer to Colin, who simply stared at her with a dumbfounded look on his face.

“Who did you hold yourself back for?”

“You, Colin.”

“How could I hold you back? What do you- Oh.”

“Yeah Colin. I’ve waited, and waited. And every time you spoke about some other charming debutant you broke my heart. But then you would be so charming to me, touch my arm for slightly too long, and that would give me a glimmer of hope. Hope that maybe you felt the same way. And this cycle continued, and it broke me every time.”

As she finished her rant, she let out a shaky breath. She turned to walk out of the secluded area of the garden, but Colin lurched forward and grabbed her upper arm,

“Y/N wait-“

She screwed her arm out of his loose grip,

“Colin no, you can’t fix this now. You’re engaged now, remember?”

She stared at him, with a hint of fury and- a sense of hatred? As Colin opened his mouth, she spoke again,

“People warned me about you Colin. I didn’t listen and I allowed myself to be stuck in your trap. God, I wish I did listen…”

She walked out of the secluded area, leaving Colin stood there, shoulders slumped and a defeated look on his face. He wished she would look back but she didn’t. How he yearned to tell her he felt the same…

He felt a pat on the back and looked down, it was Eloise,

“Let’s get you a drink brother, you look like you need one.” He allowed himself to be pulled by her to the drinks table.

AAAAAAH OMG I FINALLY PUT OUT PART 2. i’m so sorry it’s taken so long, i literally have no excuses, but i finally finished because someone commented they were looking forward to part 2. and i’m a people pleaser what can i say 🤷🏻‍♀️ anyways i hope you enjoyed reading it, and once again and any constructive criticism is welcome as i did not edit this.

thank you :)

- caitlin/sage <3

taglist (cause people actually want to read it???):

@snixx2088 @pandoraneverland @scoopsahoyspidey @honeylovemoon

[apinchofm]

fic rec - just go with it by @suitsusboth

Kate mistakenly selects the title of 'viscountess' when she books her flight, and the airline thinks they're doing her a favour by changing her seat to with her (not) husband, the viscount.

Such a fun one-shot in which Kate visits Edwina in Greece and ends up married on a flight to a Viscount who is curious about his new wife! It's such a cute one-shot that cheered me up a lot, have a read!

[distinguisheddingus]

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

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

[writtenfangirl]

Kismet

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

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

Pure fluff but mentions of death.

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

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

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

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

They absolutely terrified him.

So much so that he had stopped living.

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

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

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

Or, at least he thought he could.

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

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

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

But the Anthony of five years ago was an idiot.

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

And to Anthony, she was everything.

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

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

He was still undoubtedly terrified of it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About what?”

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

“Death.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it was these thoughts that plagued him.

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

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

“How can you be so sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They were kismet, in this life and the next.

[maybefeelingsss]

I’ll Keep You Warm

Colin has always loved snow, ever since he was a young boy.

But making memories with his wife and children when snow falls, makes him love it even more.

[penspolin]

[sea-owl]

Okay but now I’m imaging in the Arranged Marriage AU with young Colin and Penelope, baby Felicity just instantly disliking Colin. The first time he meets her she literally scowls at him but then gives Penelope a sweet gummy smile. Colin will be talking to Penelope when little Felicity throw a block at his head. And no body but Colin seems to notice this, as baby Felicity is so sweet around everyone else.

It’s the start of the long war between Colin and Felicity.

Lmao! This is hilarious to think about because there's a 12 year age difference between Colin and Felicity. So imagine Eton aged Colin having beef with a baby.

I can see baby 2 year old Felicity grabbing onto Penelope's skirts, yelling, "My sissy!"

Meanwhile, 14 year old Colin has his arms wrapped around Penelope's waist as he's on his knees so he can he be eye level with Felicity as he says, "She was my Pen first!"

Baby Felicity blows a raspberry in his face, which makes Colin back up because baby spit. Felicity giggles.

9 year old Penelope is just trying to have a normal tea time with Eloise and Francesca.

But despite the rivalry when Felicity needs an older brother figure, especially after her father's death when she was 7, you know she was turning to Colin. Colin who accepts and helps her just as he does Hyacinth.

That doesn't mean they're never gonna stop fighting for Penelope's attention.

[frost-queen]

Concealed love (Male!Bridgerton x Male!lover)

Requested by: @thedarlingdandy, Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @theletterhart, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco @idkwhatmyusernam,  @subjecta13-thefangirl,  @kazbekkarluvbot, @freyathehuntress​, @m-rae23​

“What am I to do?” – you said to yourself, pacing around. Silence was not promising. It only left the door wide open for your prickling mind to take over. Hesitating and debating. Whether it should be right or wrong. Well of course you knew in some way it was unsuitable. It was a very easy set of rules. Yet you despite everything failed, very hard. A man should love a woman, that is the very base of this earth. 

It wasn’t that you tried, God, you tried so hard. It just wasn’t ever a success. Ladies simply did not amuse you or aroused you like some men could. You had been conflicted with these feelings for a while now. Drawn to men instead of women. You never imagined to fall so deep down the rabbit hole, but you had. What was supposed to be a casual hook-up in secrecy ended up as so much more. 

Attachment to the young chap that stole your heart. Snatched it away to bury deep within his own. Groaning and kicking your foot up the air, you felt at a loss. Pressing your palms into your eye sockets you hated how far it had driven you. Who were you lying too. You didn’t hate it… it was just… inconvenient.

A man falling in love with another man. You couldn’t think what your family would do if they found out. Lady Whistledown would sure have her fair share in gossip. Your life would be over if it ever reached the surface. A shame to the Bridgerton name. You desperately ran your fingers through your curls, ruffling them in agony. Overcome with nothingness you let yourself down on the floor. Laying flat, hands over your face. What were you to do? If only life could be easier. 

You didn’t move at the hearing of the door opening. A curious figure lingering in the doorway till her eyes fell upon you. – “Brother what are you doing on the floor?” – You recognized Francesca’s voice as the door shut behind her. – “Thinking.” – you responded having moved one arm over your eyes. A shadow fell upon you as Francesca leaned down, hovering over your body. – “An unusual way to do so.” – she commented. You exhaled loud letting your arm drop to the side. 

Francesca smiling down upon you, her hands on her knees. – “Ah there is my brother’s pretty face.” – she pulled her nose up, small wrinkles appearing. You pushed yourself off, sitting down. You offered her your hand, needing a bit of help to get back up. Francesca took your hand, pulling hard as she moved back. You assisted her in the matter by placing your other hand down on the floor to put more weight on it.

Once up, you dusted your pants off. You followed your sister out of the unused room where most furniture were covered with white sheets. Things of your late father, Violet wished to keep hidden out of sentiment. She led you into the parlor where your brothers were. Benedict lowered his sketchbook, looking over at you. – “I was starting to think you were missing Y/n.” – He laughed. Colin joining his joke. – “Have you seen this young man?” – he said out loud, moving his hands across as if his words were the headline of the newspaper. 

“With the most handsome painting of yours underneath, brother.” – Colin chuckled as you could only roll your eyes at them. – “Don’t mind them, brother.” – Francesca spoke, leaning against your body. – “They don’t know you simply were avoiding their annoyance.” – she added with a mocking smile. Benedict bloated his cheeks up as Colin held his finger up to counter that idea. 

It only made her giggle loud, moving an arm around you. You moved your hands around her, joining at her arm, inches below her shoulder to hug back. – “You are my favorite.” – you whispered to her before leaving a kiss on her head. – “I know.” – she responded all smug. Francesca let go of you, moving around the sofa’s to take a seat, laying flat out. You moved up to the window, staring out of it.

Not a moment later barged Anthony in. It made you briefly look over your shoulder to him. He made his way across, pacing furiously. One was almost afraid to ask what poked his mind. He then moved around where Francesca sat over to you. – “Y/n! come with me now.” – he kept his voice low. You nodded confused, following his lead. He lead you out of the parlor into the hallway up to his study. – “Is something the matter brother? Should… should you not require Benedict or so? He is much older than me and perhaps more understanding of taxes, papers, and requirements.” – you said unsure what he required you for.

“No, no.” – Anthony spoke, rubbing his chin. He took a deep exhale, moving his hands to his hips. – “Nothing of such matter.” – he added making you feel more at ease. – “Well then brother.” – you stepped up to him, wanting to show him your comfort he so clearly needed. – “I just…” – he started dropping his hands. He sighed loud, letting himself fall into his chair. You approached his desk, letting your hands rest on the wood. – “Forget about it. I believe it is all becoming a bit too much for me… and… and well I know you aren’t likely to taunt me about it…” – Anthony confessed making you furrow your brows briefly. 

“Admitting defeat is nothing to be afraid of brother.” – you told him. – “To me it shows strength, not weakness. Everyone needs some assistance once in a while, asking to be heard is nothing to be ashamed of.” – you preached with words of wisdom. Anthony smiled. – “I can only aspire to become as wise and openly as you brother.” – he complimented. You swallowed, removing your hands off his desk. If only he knew.

**

You got out of the carriage followed by your siblings. Eloise stepping up her pace to enter. – “Ah, eager to dance sister.” – Benedict teased knowing very well how to. – “I would rather perish.” – she fired back. Benedict laughed loud joined by Anthony who gave him a quick slap to stop taunting her. Benedict swallowed lowering his head as he followed behind you. Colin took Eloise by the arm when you entered. Anthony had mama. Benedict and you sharing a brief glance. Mama took Eloise over from Colin, guiding her away. – “A game of cards brothers?” – Benedict suggested. You shook your head. 

This was not the reason why you came. – “Afraid to lose Y/n?” – He chuckled. – “I am withholding myself from the game to keep your coins from having my name on it.” – you laughed out, patting him on the back. Anthony went after mama and Eloise. Colin searched for a lady to dance with, leaving you alone with Benedict. You cleared your throat plucking a glass from a passing tray. Bowing your head to your brother, you used it as a sign of your departure. You walked about the ball, taking notice of everyone. How several ladies glanced your way with a flirtatious smile. It sadly did nothing to you. You simply held your glass up to acknowledge them but not engage. What was the point for it even.

You spotted Colin dancing with a lady dressed in emerald green. Letting your attention drift away from the dancer, moved you up to the windows. There was something about admiring the outside that gave you piece. Made you block out all the other annoying noises and find inner peace within yourself. You took a deep breath, staring down at your half empty glass. Was this how it always was supposed to go. Attending balls just to keep appearances up while late at night you would sneak out to meet your secret lover in the night. 

A man so loveable you’d thought he must be an angel. A being from a Godly world where only perfection roamed. He brought passion, laughter, and joy to your life. He was the one you couldn’t stop thinking and sin about. You missed those nights where you would lay in his lap talking. Just talking while his fingers go through your hair. Just you and him, nothing more nothing less. You felt most like yourself around him. A core personality you kept hidden from the rest of the world. But with him, you could be anything you desired.

“Lord Bridgerton are those new cuffs I see?” – you turned your head, smiling at your secret lover that had approached. You laughed loud, turning around to him. You showed him your sleeve. – “Do you like them, it was a gift.” – you said, smiling. He touched the cuffs as it send a rush up your arm. – “A man with taste.” – he commented. Both of you laughed knowing very well they were once his. Your secret lover took a deep breath, looking at the crowd. – “Is it just me or are these gatherings always the same?” – he expressed. You shook your head. – “They truly are.” – you replied fighting the urge to take his hand. – “What do you say we head for a private discussion.” – he smirked at you. 

You nodded vigorously, ready to throw yourself to him. God how much you missed him. You dropped your glass somewhere off, following him away from the ball. Into the hallway he searched for a private room to not be disturbed. The moment you shut the door to the small library, you were pulled away by your suit. His lips forcing themselves onto yours. Shallow breaths between every passionate and desperate kiss. You gripped on tight to his body, pulling it closer to you. He bumped with his back against some books but could care less as all he wanted was your touch.

“Where is Y/n?” – Colin asked. Anthony shrugged his shoulders. – “Has he gone off to play cards without me?” – Benedict said slightly pained it if were true. Anthony sighed loud, grabbing him by the shoulder. – “He should be somewhere around.” – he dragged Benedict along as Colin tagged on. In the hallway they all knocked on doors, opening them. Colin stood by a door, frowning. He lowered himself to the keyhole, holding his ear against it. – “I hear noises coming from in here.” – he stated. Anthony rushed over, pushing his brother aside. He swung the door open, eyes widening at the display. You and your lover broke free, pushing each other off, standing far apart. – “Y/n!” – Anthony called out. Colin and Benedict gaping. 

“You! out!” – Anthony pointed firm at your lover. He glanced over to you with a pained expression. – “Do not look upon him! Out!” – Anthony ordered, boiling with rage. Your lover hesitated, but when seeing the rage in your brother’s eyes, he moved. He bowed his head to you. – “Out! Before I drag you out!” – Benedict backed Anthony up. Colin cleared the way for him to pass through, shutting the door loudly behind him. – “What is the meaning of this!” – Anthony shouted. – “You should not handle him like that!” – you responded loudly. That made Anthony quirk his eyebrow up in rage. A few more seconds before falling into the pit of madness.

“He should not be treated this way, Anthony!” – you called out. – “Why would I care about him?” – Anthony asked rudely. – “Because I care about him!” – you yelled, punching your fist forwards. – “Morning, noon and night!” – you added shaking with raw emotion. – “What you just did brother is out of the question!” – Benedict interfered pointing rudely at you. – “You could hang for this!” – Colin backed up. You cared less as all you could think was about how they treated him. – “If that is the price of loving him, then hang me!” – you forced out, punching your hands up in anger. 

“Brother listen to me!” – Anthony stepped up to you, grabbing you firm by the face. Forcing you to look upon him. – “What you did tonight is illegal. Do you hear me!” – he roared out, shaking your head. – “If you value your life this will be the last time it occurs.” – you tried to fight against his grip, moving your head. – “Do not force me to marry you off to a lady.” – Anthony said stern with deep sorrow in his voice. You pulled yourself away from his grip. – “Why can’t I love whom I want?” – you called out, a knot forming in your throat. 

“Because the world is cruel Y/n!” – Benedict shouted. – “Anyone that does not follow has no place.” – he added. – “You must learn to understand that.” – you backed up against the bookshelves, dropping down. Colin took a deep breath having composed himself. – “Brother, I do not wish to lose you. Please understand you must change.”

“I can’t. I can’t change who I am.” – you told him with tears in your eyes. Your three brother sharing a concerned glance with each other.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[aylasrants]

decided to give writing on tumblr another go

send me some bridgerton requests here

be sure to check my rules beforehand

i’ll only accept requests for anthony, benedict, colin and phillip crane for now