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bumblesimagines · 1 year

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The Sun and Moon

Part 12

Request: Yes or No

Short but necessary as the next part will be the end of this series

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The Great Hall of the Bridgerton Residence... appeared particularly empty, though nonetheless stunning. Soft music wafted from above as (Y/N) stepped further inside. While the ton could certainly be stubborn, could the wedding scandal truly have warranted such an absence? The Bridgertons had gone through their fair share of scandals through the years, as if most of the ton, but he'd never attended a ball with no guests before. The matriarchs had seemed so convincing at the art gallery with their dazzling smiles and white lies.

"I'm pleased to see you, Mr. Granville," Violet called out as her family descended down the stairs, eyes flickering around the room for any sign of other guests. "Were your parents unable to make it?"

"Well..." Henry had chosen to get drunk with his lover and Lucy preferred mingling with her 'friends'. (Y/N) smiled apologetically. "Father was busy with business and Mother wasn't feeling well. They sincerely apologize for their absence."

"Ah, I see." Violet nodded, smoothing out her dress with a gloved hand. The way she sighed told (Y/N) she didn't fully believe him.

Lady Danbury entered the room with the Sharmas, their air of confidence popping like a bubble when they took in the room. Their faces shifted into wide-eyed and borderline horrified expressions. Lady Danbury turned toward Violet, mouth agape. Violet could only sigh once, shoulders slumping as she surveyed the room once more.

"It is still quite early, I suppose." Lady Sharma spoke up, sending Violet a soft, hopeful smile, even though it didn't reach her eyes in the slightest.

"Would you still like us to play, My Lady?" One of the musicians asked Violet, nodding when Violet shook her head and dismissed him gently. With a wave of his hand, the other musicians set their instruments down. The Bridgerton siblings exchanged grim looks and Benedict cleared his throat, stepping toward Anthony as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"If there's no need for my presence, I'll head to my studio," Benedict said, patting Anthonys' shoulder and heading towards the exit. "I do not wish to be around such misery all evening."

"Wait!"

"I know of your opinions, Brother-" Benedict sighed and faced his brother with an exasperated frown.

"You will stay for a dance." Anthony smiled, cupping Benedicts' neck in his hand, appearing rather happy for a man who had originally rejected the idea of a ball and rarely attended them unless he felt obligated to. Stepping away from his brother and looking at everyone, his smile widened, only drawing concerned looks from his family.

"Dancing? With whom?" Colin questioned, glancing at an equally perplexed Eloise.

With a chuckle, Anthony faced the stairwell and tilted his head upward. "Hyacinth!" Hyacinth and Gregory peered over the railing, curiously looking down at their brother. "Come down here and do me the honor!"

"If she gets to dance, so do I!" Gregory called as Hyacinth gleefully raced down the stairs, quickly followed by her brother. Hyacinth approached Anthony with a giggle and took his hand, laughing as Anthony spun her around. (Y/N) smiled fondly and took some steps back, taking Violet and Edwinas' hands as they got into a circle.

"Something lively. A country dance, perhaps?" Anthony called up to the musicians as they gathered their instruments once more. "I believe the theme you have chosen tonight is harmony, Mother."

The music picked up, lively and quick just as Anthony had requested. (Y/N) turned and bowed to Edwina with a big smile before facing the inside of the circle, moving in and out along with the music and everyone else. Releasing their hands, (Y/N) went in the circle as Edwina clapped and laughed before he returned to her, one hand moving to her hip and the other cupping her elbow as they danced in a circle. Edwina threw her head back with laughter, pressing herself to (Y/N)s' as they moved before everyone got back into the big circle once more.

They repeated the first dance move and (Y/N) grinned as Gregory went over to him. Everyones' laughter and giggles echoed throughout the house as they danced, the bitterness and spite from the scandal forgotten for the night. With the third round, Anthony made his way to (Y/N), and (Y/N) acknowledged him with a smile, placing his hands on Anthonys' shoulder and bicep. The two were able to laugh and exchange smiles before the dance ended.

Feeling rather breathless, (Y/N) took a moment to catch his breath, feeling Anthony rest his hand on his lower back. (Y/N) smiled and rubbed his hand against Anthonys' shoulder before stepping away from him so they wouldn't be chastised by the older women. He weakly clapped his hands and chuckled, scanning the room for the refreshment table. He winced when Hyacinth suggested another dance and made a beeline for the lemonade table, picking up a glass and drinking it in one gulp as the others reached for snacks or other refreshments.

"Mrs. Wilson? Is something wrong?" (Y/N) licked his lips and turned toward Violet as Mrs. Wilson approached her with an all too familiar pamphlet. Violet took it from her and began reading, face falling as she glanced at Lady Danbury.

"Is that Lady Whistledown? Has she published, Mama?" Eloise questioned, quickly walking over to her mother.

"Indeed she has. And now we may know why we are the only ones here." Violet muttered, gazing up at her daughter and handing her the pamphlet. Eloise furrowed her brows and skimmed over the contents of the page before releasing a shaky breath, taking some steps back before bolting out of the room and up the stairs. (Y/N) could only imagine what had been written and sighed, setting down his cup and lifting a hand to his face as his headache made its presence known once more. He glanced at the others before walking down a hall, making his way through the mansion he could call a second home.

Pushing through the doors, (Y/N) felt the cold night wrap around him, cooling his flushed skin. He stepped onto the grass and walked through the backyard, listening to the crickets chirp. (Y/N) exhaled softly and peered up at the night sky, counting the twinkling stars until he came across a gazebo. Humming softly, he stepped onto it and took a seat, slipping his glove off and pressing a hand to his forehead.

"Are you feeling alright?" (Y/N) snapped his head up at the sound of Anthonys' voice. The man took slow steps toward him, studying his face with a small frown. (Y/N) nodded and stood, fiddling with his glove.

"Yes, I just needed some air. I'll leave you be-"

"Stay, (Y/N)." Anthony quickened his pace and took his wrist, holding it gently but firmly. (Y/N) swiped his tongue over his lips and sighed softly.

"If they notice-"

"I need you, (Y/N). Be it in my life or in my life. My family is on the brink of ruin and there is nothing I can do, so, please... Stay. Just this once, just tonight." Anthony breathed, taking a step closer to him. (Y/N) could feel his breath on his skin, eyes flickering down to Anthonys' lips for a moment. "Do you know... How many times I have thought about running away with you? Going somewhere far from here where nobody knows us... A place where we won't have to worry about duty or what others think. Somewhere in the countryside where we can act on our desires without hiding..."

"Sounds like a dream." (Y/N) mumbled, lifting a hand and pressing it against Anthonys' chest, lips brushing against his as he tilted his head ever so slightly.

"Do you ever dream of me? Of us?" Anthony asked softly, ghosting his lips over (Y/N)s cheek and down his knee, inhaling the scent he'd become obsessed with over months. (Y/N) inhaled shakily and shook his head, weakly pushing against his chest. "Do you ever dream about how it'd be to give in to our desires? To feel each other, to taste each other? To do things only lovers do in the bedroom?"

"Anthony, we musn't... Not here, not now.. Not ever." (Y/N) whispered despite his fingers wrapping around Anthonys' collar, pulling him closer until they were pressed against each other. Anthony released a low, throaty chuckle and pressed his lips against (Y/N)s neck, arms wrapping tightly around his waist. Anthonys' hands roamed, exploring newfound territory with the fear of being caught, exploring places that made (Y/N)s' breath hitch.

"The things you do to me without even realizing it.." Anthony growled against his skin.

(Y/N) knew he needed to push Anthony away. If they continued they'd only be putting themselves into even more trouble, more risk. But while his brain screamed at him to put an end to it, every fiber in his being refused to push him away. Even as Anthony pulled down his coat and continued to mark his neck. (Y/N) knew if anyone were to find out, he'd be in a world of misery. But he didn't care. For one night, he'd do as he damned pleased. Even if he knew he'd regret it later.

"Fine, Anthony," (Y/N) breathed and pushed Anthony back slightly, fingers creeping up and grasping Anthonys' jaw firmly. Anthony blinked, eyes widening for a second before they twinkled with mischief and want. "But, we're doing this my way."

And with that, Anthony sank to his knees.

ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ

Slamming the door to his bedchambers, (Y/N) pressed his back against it and squeezed his eyes shut. A million insults ran through his mind as he slid to the floor, burying his face in his hands. Only a complete and utter fool would've done what he did. Spending the night with a stranger? Fine, perfectly fine. Spending the night with Anthony whilst in the middle of him dealing with a scandal? Something only a jester would do. Sleeping with Anthony cemented the risk. In the eyes of Her Majesty and the church, they hadn't just fooled around. They had committed a crime. If anyone will ill intent were to find out, their execution would surely be ordered and no amount of flattery or pleading would save them.

"Are you alright, dear?" Dolly asked, gently knocking on the door. He could hear Poppy whining, her nails scraping against the wood.

"Yes." (Y/N) responded hoarsely, pressing a hand against his warm forehead. He sighed and pushed himself off the floor, tossing his coat on the bed and calling for Dolly to enter. She opened the door, allowing Poppy to trot inside first before she stepped in and shut the door. She watched him silently for a moment.

"Do you want anything?"

"I want my bags packed." (Y/N) muttered, sinking onto his bed. "Some time away from here will do me some good."

"Your grandfathers' estate, I presume?" Dolly's question didn't need an answer as she already knew it was a yes. She opened his closet and began pulling out clothes, glancing back at the young painter with a small frown.

"Perhaps you ought to visit the doctor before leaving."

"I'll be fine, Dolly." (Y/N) assured her, falling back onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling. His vision shifted and he shut his eyes, ignoring the nauseous feeling creeping up his body. He draped an arm over his eyes, listening to the shuffling of Dolly moving around his room. He felt Poppy hop onto the bed and smiled at the feeling of her curling up against his body. Using his free hand to pet his furry friend, (Y/N) waited for Dolly to be finished before he rose up.

"I'll have Carly and Tonia join you later in the evening so they can tend to you," Dolly informed him as she set the single luggage on the bed, reaching over to place her hand on his knee. (Y/N) placed his hand over hers and gave her a reassuring smile before he rose from his bed, pulling Poppy along with him.

He waited outside with his luggage and Poppy, handing his luggage over to Theodore when the carriage arrived. Theodore made sure his luggage was secure in the back as (Y/N) climbed into the carriage, setting Poppy on his lap. His mother stepped outside, watching him with a solemn look, though she made no move to question him. (Y/N) looked away from her and sighed.

"Are you ready, sir?"

"Yes, Theodore. One last thing.." (Y/N) scooted closer toward the man and leaned in. "Send it to their house in a few hours, please. I wish for a peaceful trip."

"Of course, sir. Take care of yourself." Theodore nodded and stepped back, bowing his head as the carriage began moving, taking (Y/N) away from his home and his parents, away from Mayfair and those in it who would love nothing more than to see his demise for their own enjoyment, away from the Sharmas... Away from the Bridgertons.

When the air became fresher and the sound of the city faded, (Y/N) tried to relax, but it proved difficult with his body and mind aching. He felt needlessly tired, perhaps from the prospect of a trip or from the events of the previous night. (Y/N) hummed and reached up to touch his neck, still feeling Anthonys' lips on him. He could still feel his fingers digging into his hips, into his skin. He could still hear the panting and murmurs.

“Christ, no.” Shaking those thoughts away, (Y/N) turned to look at the passing scenery. The long green grass, clear blue skies, buzzing insects. Occasionally he’d see a horse or a cow, sometimes even people walking alongside the road. It reminded him of Anthony and his words. Living out in the countryside with him sounded... pleasant. Even if he couldn’t see Anthony tending to the farm animals. They could live in a cottage and sell (Y/N)s’ paintings as a way to make ends meet. Their families could vis-

(Y/N) groaned and ran a hand over his face, drawing Poppys’ attention away from her nap. Why had it gotten increasingly difficult to not think about him? Was he truly that.. that in love? (Y/N) swallowed and pulled his half-asleep canine closer. Love... He hadn’t thought about it all that much. He loved Anthony Bridgerton. He loved that arrogant, smug, splendidly stupid bastard. He loved his flaws and perfections. His laughter and smirks. He loved how much Anthony cared for his family. He loved the way he’d woken up in his muscular arms.

He loved him.

ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ

Anthony stared at the ring pinched between his fingers, teeth digging into his bottom lip. He couldn't marry (Y/N), not traditionally. Their relationship would have to be hidden, only shown behind closed doors in the privacy of their homes. But they'd have each other and their families would have to accept them, no matter how they felt. Would they call each other husband? The thought only made his heart flutter. He'd deal with lack of heir and bride when the time came, he determined. He had time.

"Lord Bridgerton, you've got a package from the Granvilles." Anthony looked at the servant and quickly rose from his seat, placing the ring back in its box and sliding it into his pocket. He followed the servant out of his office and took in the large box waiting by the entrance, glancing back at his family as they gathered around, eager to see the contents. The servants opened the box and dipped their hands inside, pulling out an equally large portrait. A portrait of Anthony.

"Oh, Anthony... It's lovely." Violet gasped softly, bringing her hand to her face and covering her lips with her fingers. Anthony swallowed as he stared at it, taking small steps forward and reaching out, dragging his fingers over the dry paint. He swore he could feel the ring burning a hole in his pocket.

Taking a step back, Anthony inhaled and faced the nearest servant. "Ready a horse for me." He ordered and turned, heading back to his office as the servant hurried off.

"Anthony," Violet called out after him, glancing frantically back at Benedict as she walked after him, blinking when Anthony emerged with his coat in hand. "Where are you going?"

"To do something I should've done a long time ago, Mother," Anthony responded, brushing past his mother and making a beeline toward the doors. He didn't break a stride as the doors were opened for him, feet almost gliding down the steps and toward a footman waiting for him with a horse. Slipping on his coat and taking the reins from the footman, he effortlessly got on the horse and took one last look toward his mother as she stood by the doors. Violet pressed her lips together and nodded, giving him the last push he needed. Tapping the horse with his foot, he set off onto the street, remaining in a walking stride until they reached a path with fewer people on the road. Quickening the horse's pace into a quick trot, he felt his hands grow sweaty and clammy.

But as he spotted the Granville residence come into view, he felt his worries vanish, replaced by determination. Pulling at the reins, Anthony swung his leg over and planted his feet on the ground, handing the reins off to a servant and walking up to the door. He knocked twice and stepped back, digging his hand in his pocket and toying with the soft ring box.

"Yes?" The door swung open and Lucy Granvilles' face greeted him. Her soft features hardened and she frowned, glancing back inside and exhaling deeply. She raised her brows at him, prompting him to speak.

"I wish to speak with your husband and son, Mrs. Granville."

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Lord Bridgerton." Lucy clasped her hands in front of her. "My son is not home at this time."

"Ah, well, perhaps I can wait until-"

"He's gone to my fathers' estate out in the countryside. He didn't mention when he'd return, I'm afraid. You'll have to come by some other time." Lucy grasped the doorknob and forced a smile, pushing the door but Anthony stepped forward and pressed his hand against it, preventing her from closing it.

"Where is your fathers' estate?"

"Lord Bridgerton-"

"Please," Anthony whispered. "I need to speak with him and your husband. It's urgent, I'm sure you'd understand."

"What I understand is that you've done nothing but cause issues since you and my son met." Lucy spat, sneering as she tightened her grip on the doorknob. Anthony opened his mouth to speak, pausing when a man, Henry Granville, appeared at his wife's side. Henry placed a hand on Lucys' back and eyed Anthony with a bitter frown. He stepped in front of his wife and narrowed his eyes.

"What is it, Lord Bridgerton? Have you come to torture our family further? Risk our safety for the sake of your entertainment and pleasure? I'm aware (Y/N) arrived earlier this morning from last night's ball and I doubt he merely slept over. Was that ruined wedding not enough for you? Do you wish to continue hurting others?" Henry questioned, spitting venom like a cobra. Anthony remained silent as Henry got it all off his chest before lifting his head and clearing his throat.

"I know I've done wrong by you and your family. I've hurt your son, I admit. I was foolish and realized too late how I truly feel about him. I refused to listen to my gut and heart... and I've paid for it. I've seen how hurt your son was by me and I will grovel at your feet and beg for forgiveness for years to come if that is what your heart desires. I was raised to be a gentleman, and I have not been acting like one. I sincerely apologize for the hurt I've caused over the last few months. But, I am afraid I did not come here for forgiveness, and instead to confess." Reaching into his pocket and pulling out the ring box, Anthony inhaled and took out the ring. "This is a family heirloom. This is the very ring my father proposed to my mother with. The same ring I foolishly proposed to Miss Edwina with. The same ring I hope to propose to your son with. I understand that our society would never allow us to marry traditionally, but I hope a small ceremony with family and close friends will suffice. If he accepts, of course. I've come here in hope of showing (Y/N) that what I feel for him is real. And if I could get your blessing, it'd make it all the better."

Lucy and Henry stared at the man before them in silence. Lucys' eyes flickered down to the ring he held and she slipped out from behind her husband, stepping forward to take a closer look. She touched her own wedding ring and lifted her gaze to look at Anthony, taking in a deep breath. "Do not make me regret this, Bridgerton." She whispered softly. "Lord Akshay Bhasin. I believe he and your father once-"

"They met for business once. I was there when we visited his estate." Anthony nodded, vaguely remembering the location of the estate. "Thank you, Mrs. Granville." He stepped back and turned, walking toward his horse and climbing back on. With a tug on the reins, he took off, encouraging his horse to quicken its pace until it was running. The estate may have been hours from Mayfair, but Anthony intended to get there before the day could end. He had to. For (Y/N). For the man he'd fallen in love with.

He could finally admit it to himself. Love. Anthony, the man who'd sworn off love and everything surrounding it, had fallen in love. He knew what it felt like to breathe for someone, to wake up each day thinking about them, to look forward to being around them. For once in a long time, Anthony happily looked forward to his future. So when his body ached and his stomach howled, he ignored it. He ignored his body's demand for rest, he ignored his aching legs and burning hands. He paid no mind to the darkening sky as the sun began to lower past the treeline.

He only allowed himself to relax when he saw the mansion rapidly approaching. He leaned back and carefully pulled on the reins to slow his horse down into a much-needed trot, eyes scanning the property until he spotted a figure sitting by the large lake. Without a second thought, he got off his horse, legs burning and screaming for rest. He dug out the ring box, panting softly as he grew closer and closer to him.

"(Y/N)!" He called out, feeling his legs threatening to give out underneath him. The young painter turned his head to look back at him, eyes widening. (Y/N) stood up and stumbled slightly, grunting softly as he brought a hand to his face. Anthony frowned, coming to a stop before him and noticing the light layer of sweat covering his skin.

"(Y/N)...." He whispered, reaching up to cup his face. "You're burning up."

"What are you doing here?"

"We'll talk later. Come now, we need to get you inside." (Y/N) squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, taking a step forward only to collapse in Anthonys' arms. Thunder rumbled in the distance, mixing with Anthonys shouts for help.

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apinchofm · 1 year

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Portrait of a Lady

Benedict paints a portrait and falls in love.

Unfortunately, she happens to be his brother's fiancee and the most sought after young lady in the Ton.

Benedict and Edwina fall in love type thing. No wedding au.

#bridgerton #bridgerton fic #edwina sharma #benedict bridgerton #benedict x edwina #edwina x benedict #fluff #angst #bridgertons2 #daphne basset #eloise bridgerton #artist and his muse #henry granville

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vibesfc · 2 years

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just realised that benedict's reaction to meeting granville's wife was because he'd just had a threesome with her not because she was granville's beard. i.e., his discomfort was caused by the knowledge that he had cuckolded his new mentor (headcanon: lover)

there is a lot the writers have gotten wrong or could have done better imo, but the subtle insinuation that benedict felt embarrassed by his own behaviour rather than granville's sexuality (as many of us first assumed—i certainly had, at least) was *chef's kiss*

#bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #henry granville #im still waiting for benedict x henry to happen even though know it wont #even if only a fling #or that ben gets to explore his sexuality with someone that isn't a woman at least once before they inevitably bring sophie in #*

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lydiimae · 3 months

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Infatuation

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

MDI!! 18+

Part 2 <3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He could get used to this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, Mister Bridgerton, it is not.

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dragon-kazansky · 1 month

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Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Season Two}

Season one

Chapter Seventeen - End of the season

♡♡♡

The duke and duchess were holding the last ball of the season. It was going to be a grand event to be certain. The whole ton would be there.

You were wearing your last gown made for the season. It was beautiful. A shade of green. It had little jewels sewn into it, so it would sparkle while you danced.

You looked forward to seeing Thomas.

Though you had not secured an engagement within the time of the season, you hoped that you may continue to correspond with Thomas while he was in the country, and perhaps go see him at his family estate, that he may ask.

Your mother would be so proud.

Your maid did your hair and helped the jewellery. It was going to be a spectacular season finale. You could feel it in your bones.

Hastings House was beautiful.

You walked with your mother around the fountain to the main entrance. The ball was to be held in a small courtyard in the middle of the house. Daphne had done a splendid job.

There was a painting of the duke and duchess on display. Painted bt Henry Granville. It was beautifully done.

You stand off to the side while your mother chats with guests. You watch people waltz.

Violet arrives with Eloise. Daphne goes to talk to her sister.

You keep your eyes peeled for any sign of Thomas.

The next to come through the door are the Featheringtons. You cannot deny your relief at seeing Penelope again. Granted, she is wearing yellow, but she is here.

One dance ends, and the next dance begins.

You take a stroll about the ball. Thomas has yet to arrive, it seems. You smile at Penelope as you pass her. She smiles back, too, seemingly surprised you had paid her any attention. People usually don't.

You see Colin parting ways with Benedict across the room. Your eyes follow the second eldest Bridgerton as he walks.

He hasn't noticed you.

Maybe that's for the best...

No.

No. He is your friend and you want to talk to him. You are about to make your way across the room when a servant comes up to you with a note on his tray. You look at him confused.

"For you, ma'am."

You look at the note and pick it up. The servant leaves, and you unfold the paper. The handwriting belongs to Thomas.

I must apologise. I am to leave for York immediately. I shall not be at the Hastings ball. Do have fun on my behalf.

- T. Hardy

You stare at the note in silence. He's not coming at all. He must have left earlier in the day. Perhaps in a rush. You had been at the Bridgertons that afternoon, so if he called the house, you wouldn't have seen him.

If he had called to the house, the butler would have told you, or even your mother. He did not call... So he must have been in a rush.

You sigh. You fold the note back up and leave it on a tray of a passing waiter. They can dispose of it for you.

Glancing up, you find two blue eyes gazing at you. Benedict has seen you. Now you're definitely going to go talk to him. You make your way across the courtyard and come to stand beside Benedict.

"Hello."

"Hello," he replies softly.

Silence fills the space between you, and you turn to the dancers to occupy yourself, and to keep from looking at him again.

"Is Lord Hardy not with you?" Benedict couldn't help asking. He was surprised to see you standing alone tonight.

"No. He left London already. Back to York."

Benedict is even further surprised by the information. He thought Hardy would stay until the very end. He believed the man to be falling for you.

"I see."

You look down and try to keep yourself in check. "I thought maybe I had finally found someone. Someone who perhaps desried me, but it seems I was wrong."

Benedict keeps quiet.

"I wasn't enough for anyone this season. I tried, and I failed. Doesn't matter, I suppose. Next year might be different."

"You didn't fail."

You look up at Benedict. "I didn't secure a proposal or even managed to keep a man interested enough to at least say goodbye before he left."

"You might see him again," he says.

"Somehow, I feel not."

Benedict feels for you. You have been nothing but glorious and wonderful and yourself all year round. You wiggled yourself into the lives of his family and became a pleasant consistent in their lives. You encouraged his passions and made him feel a little more like himself.

"You didn't fail," he says again.

You look up at him and crack a smile. "Next year then."

He nods.

The music changes and the floor is cleared. You notice the duke and duchess approach each other. You knew something had happened between them, but didn't know what. Yet, here they were about to dance for the ton.

You smile at Daphne as dances with her husband. They look like such a handsome couple. You envy them. You envy what they have.

The way they look at each other. How close he holds her to him.

Love.

It is so rare. It's so rare that very few people ever get to feel it for real. You want it. You want to know what it feels like to have, well, a soulmate. The one person made just for you. To love and to hold. To cherish. To share every moment with.

Benedict shifts hisngaze from his sister to look at you. He can see the way you watch Daphne and Simon dance.

Benedict's had fun. He played around. Tested the waters. But looking at you right here and right now makes him rethink everything.

Genevieve has certainly been fun. Yet, if you were going to try again for your own sake next year, perhaps he should, too. You, who inspired his art. Inspired him to try harder and practise more.

Perhaps next season, you will both benefit and grow more as people.

As the waltz continues, the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance brings you to look up at the sky. The heavens open and rain pours. You gasp softly as the cool droplets hit your skin.

Benedict instinctively reaches out for you and guides you under the canopy toward the house. You look up at him and then turn back to the ball. Everyone else does the same, seeking shelter from the rain.

Everyone but Daphne.

Simon is holding her hand as if he was guiding her to shelter, but Daphne stops him from doing so. She closes her eyes and lifts her face to the sky, letting the rain fall.

She looks beautiful.

Lady Danbury stops anyone else from going out into the rain. "Everyone... I believe this evening is complete. We shall thank our gracious hosts for such a splendid soiree in the morning. Now, go. Out."

Everyone begins to leave.

Benedict slips his hand into yours and guides you out. You look up at him quietly.

Daphne and Simon have some talking to do.

Benedict guides you through the house and outside to the carriage. It's still raining. His hair sticks to his head and you giggle.

"What?"

"Nothing..." You smile.

He gives you a boyish grin. He helps you into the carriage and stands around in the doorway.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" He asks.

"You leave for the country tomorrow."

"Are you not also?"

"Me and Mama are to stay in London. We don't have a country house to go to in the summer."

Benedict didn't know that. "Did your father not own an estate?"

"We had to sell it when he died. He left us with a great deal of dept."

He realises in that moment how much he doesn't know about you. You're so much more complicated than he originally thought.

Your mother clears her throat and Benedict moves to let her into the carriage.

"See you soon, I hope?" He looks at you.

"I'll write."

He nods and watches the footman close the door. He steps back as the carriage leaves, and Benedict finds himself a little lonely.

♡♡♡

When you rise the next morning, you have no idea of anything that happened within the Featherington house. Lord Featherington died. He was killed.

Penelope spent much of the morning in tears. Elosie had gone to visit her.

Marina went with Sir Philip Crane. The brother of her deceased love who never made it back home. She was to marry him. At least she could have her child and be looked after.

You had decided to go to the Bridgerton house before they all left. It was the least you could do for Benedict and his family. They had all seemed pleased to see you when you arrived, and that made you feel warm inside.

Colin was leaving for Greece. Another reason for Penelope to be upset. Colin was going to be so far away travelling the world.

You waved him off as he rode away on his horse. Benedict had his arm locked with yours.

As the rest of the family headed inside, you struck up conversation with Daphne, Simon, and Anthony. While the duke and duchess are staying in London a little longer, it would seem Anthony intends to find a Viscountess.

That leaves all of you stunned.

Though he follows it up by saying he will keep love out of it to keep things simple. Daphne frowns at that. As do you.

"Perhaps he will learn," she says.

"Perhaps not," you reply.

Eloise hurries over to her brother, who is about to climb onto a horse. You had already said farewell to him.

"Give my regards to Madame Delacroix." She says to Benedict.

"Your regards will have to wait, El," he responds. "She is making a short trip to France."

"Oh? Not going to say goodbye to her?" Eloise asks.

"I did. Last night, if you must know."

Benedict had gone to see her after he bid you goodnight. He went to say goodbye. After seeing you at the ball last night, he decided to change his mind on a few things.

Granted, the goodbye was a long one. He spent a couple of hours at the shop, but nothing untoward happened.

"You said goodbye to her?"

"After Daphne's ball, yes." Benedict then mentioned he spent most of the ball with you.

Eloise worked out that if Madame Delacroix had been at the shop all night. That couldn't have been her in the carriage when Eloise went to protect Whistledown.

Eloise headed back inside.

"Are you coming?" Benedict calls.

You turn and see him on his horse. "Me?"

"Yes, you." He chuckles.

"Where?"

"One last ride around the square before me and my family leave for the summer." He offers.

You smile and look up at him. "I'm not dressed for riding.

"No matter. He offers you his hand."

"Benedict... we cannot create a scandal at the very end of the season."

"Why not?" He grins

"Because I said so."

He laughs.

"Very well. I'm glad you came to see us." He says.

"Me too. Have a lovely summer, Benedict."

"You too." He speaks your name softly, smiling. You both stay like that for a moment, looking at each other. The moment is broken we spurs his horse onward.

You watch him go with a smile.

You look around the square and sigh softly.

Next season was going to be different. It had to be.

♡♡♡

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#Bridgerton shade of blue #benedict bridgerton x reader #Bridgerton #female reader #dragon writes

560 notes · View notes

fayes-fics · 1 year

Text

Lessons in Breeding

Lessons Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (threesome)

Summary: Fifth story in the Regency Lessons series and it's time-jump time. Things have progressed with our throuple and the Bridgerton Bros are in a race to impregnate their lady…

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, BREEDING KINK off the bloody charts, pregnancy kink, dirty talk, oral sex (m to f), light bondage, filthy baby-making vaginal sex, dom/sub dynamics. Emotions, talk of marriages, established throuple dynamics.

Word Count: 5.4k

Authors Note: This is set in Lessons universe, but at least a year after the previous instalment. If pregnancy or babymaking isn't your thing, please don't read this. This is a very belated birthday request fill for @iboopedyournose. I hope you like the way I've interpreted your request for breeding kink threesome with bondage. Thanks to @colettebronte and @chaoticcalzoneranchsports for betaing. Enjoy! <3

You pause in front of the portrait of a naked pregnant woman, taking a sip of your champagne. The intimate parts of her are mostly obscured behind translucent silks. Her pregnant belly is bare as she cradles it proudly, her skin glowing; everything about her looks almost ethereal yet so earthy and powerful. It is such a provocative piece you can understand why it is only being shown at private parties such as this one, hosted by Mr Granville.

“Like what you see?” the dusky voice suddenly at your right ear asks.

You inhale sharply, instantly responding to the mere sound of his voice, something very Pavlovian in it. “Yes, I think she looks beautiful,” you reply quietly, tamping down your need to throw yourself into him, begging for his fingers in your mouth.

“She does indeed,” he is standing so close behind you can feel the heat radiating off him through his shirt. “Would you like to look like that? Swollen so beautifully with a baby?”

It's not something you have thought about much beyond the abstract idea that you wish for children someday. But then, so many things in your life are about to change, and this could be one.

“Maybe,” you deflect.

Large hands encircle your waist. “Mmm, just imagine,” he begins, his chest pressing warm on your spine. “How beautiful you would look, your belly all rounded,” his hands slide up and cup your chest as you moan lightly. “Your breasts so full, and oh gosh,” one hand slides down to the apex of your thighs, cradling it through your dress, “the smell and taste of you, so ripe, so juicy. You would be divine,” he assures.

“Stop,” you scold gently, but it's too breathy, the carnal images he so easily paints with his words haunting you as you rock in his arms.

“Would you like me to impregnate you, my darling?” he murmurs, his teeth pulling at your earlobe. “I could fuck you so hard and deep and leave my seed inside you. Over and over. And you know my brother would do the same in a heartbeat.”

Your breath quickens at the thought. They have always been careful to ensure they do not release inside you; it's a strict pact you have in place that they have always respected and obeyed. But perhaps that may change with what is impending.

“My husband-to-be, you mean,” your eyes cut sideways, and he stiffens.

“Yes, of course, I sometimes forget you are soon to be the Viscountess,” he bows his head, a flare of something in his eyes you know is jealousy.

“Benedict…” you sigh, sensing he needs reassurance; you pull him into a quiet alcove. “You know this is the only way the three of us can be together, for always. I love you just as much,” you vow quietly, touching his cheek. “But you know well I cannot marry you both, at least not in the eyes of the law. There would be many questions if Anthony were to remain unwed much longer. You know it is much easier for you to live with us as an apparent bachelor at Aubrey Hall than any other arrangement.”

All the facts you lay out, well known to you both, don’t stop the imploring look he gives you.

“I will marry you symbolically in a ceremony in the woods, down by the lake,” you whisper, appealing to his bohemian romantic side. “I will wear your ring proudly, too,” you promise. “I am as much yours as I am his. And always will be. I cannot be without either of you.”

He beams and crowds into you, sliding his lips down your neck.

“And yes, I will bear your children, my love,” you sigh as his actions make you pliant in his hands, as they always do. You grab his face to ensure he meets your gaze, his eyes dancing. “Nothing would make me prouder than bearing both of your babies, so yes, my love, the answer is yes.”

You moan gently as he kisses fire across your skin, and your eyes drift back to the painting, the idea of being fertile, ripe, burgeoning with life somehow suddenly so alluring.

——

“Anthony…” you call, but he does not respond; he probably cannot hear you above the whirlwind of activity around him. “ANTHONY!” you repeat, raising your voice, and suddenly, the hubbub of movement and noise in the room ceases.

His eyes meet yours and flash. “Everyone leave the room at once,” he orders to the hordes of people doing god knows what, “my fiancee wishes to speak with me.”

You watch as all the people scurry from the room as if burned.

“There was no need to send them away quite so abruptly, my love,” you state gently.

“Is this not an occasion where you wish me to throw you upon my desk and rut you so hard you scream?” he flirts outrageously.

“For once,” you respond airily, “it is not.”

“Tis a pity,” he smirks, then perches against the desk, crossing his legs and arms. “Then what can I do for you, my love?”

“I want you to make me with child,” you just go straight to the point. He usually appreciates bluntness.

He drops the heavy accounts ledger he is holding, and it slams to the ground with an echoing thump.

“Correction, I want you AND Benedict to make me with child,” you amend.

“What on earth brought this on?” his tone warm but intrigued, ignoring the ledger completely.

“That art party we went to last night?” you offer casually. “There was a scandalous but beautiful portrait of a pregnant naked woman.”

“Did he fuck you in front of it and give you some ideas?” Anthony sighs with fond exasperation.

“No,” you giggle, “for once, he did not.”

“But Tuesday is your night alone together?” Anthony frowns. “Don’t tell me he shirked his duty? I am his older brother. I can have words….”

“Oh, he more than performed his duty, just not in front of the painting,” you clarify.

“In front of one of his paintings, then?” Anthony guesses.

And you giggle again. “Carriage, on the way home.”

“Figures,” Anthony rolls his eyes, “does he ever do it in a bed?”

“Not if he can help it,” you wink, and he laughs.

Then schools his face more serious. “So you want a baby?”

“I want both of your babies. I’d certainly be open to us all getting some good practice in tomorrow,” you shrug playfully.

“I have absolutely no problem with that,” his voice drops low as he raises a sultry eyebrow. “And the desk offer still stands if you want a warm-up?” he concludes, breaking into a handsome smirk.

“It’s Wednesday, our rest day; I have dinner plans with my dear friend Lady Eleanor,” you shake your head fondly. “Plus, I cannot give you a head start, darling; that wouldn’t be fair to Benedict,” you tease. “You can sort it out between yourselves for tomorrow.”

“Why do we have a rest day?” he pouts.

“You know full well, with three people, it is much easier to schedule around six days. I can go one day without either of you, you know,” rolling your eyes lovingly.

“Such a pity,” he sighs in mock annoyance.

“It is just for today, darling, and tomorrow you may complete inside me, so there’s that to look forward to…” and you breeze out of the room, blowing him a kiss.

——

Thursday night is one of your two nights a week with both of your wonderful men.

You spend the early evening bathing in luxury soaps with your favourite scents, readying yourself for a night of untold pleasures. Sometimes you all meet in the bedroom, sometimes in the blue room, and other times, like tonight, you agree to al fresco. You cannot wait to play by the lake under the mid-summer moonlight.

You slip on an ivory silk robe and nothing else except the lariat body chains they each gave you. Dainty gold chains with their initials that wrap around your waist, the A and B matching charms hanging low over your belly, grazing your thatch of hair below—a secret you wear every day unseen beneath your usual clothing.

It’s a balmy evening as you approach the water's edge. There is already a soft blanket laid out and a decanter of brandy with three glasses—Anthony has ensured the staff have prepared for the evening. But neither man is to be seen yet. You settle on the blanket and pour yourself a snifter, enjoying the gentle roar of oil lantern flames dancing in the breeze set out on surrounding stakes.

This evening will be a first, letting them both leave their seed within you. Even though you have been together as a threesome for more than a year and done countless wonderful sensual things together, this is a huge step towards something new. You don’t expect to get pregnant on this first attempt, but the idea is beguiling nonetheless.

You pull open your robe and massage your as-yet-empty belly. Running your hands in swirls, imagining what it might be like to watch it grow and swell with a child—the ability to bring life into the world something so elemental and heavenly all at once. To sustain life through the wonder of your body swirls in your mind as you untie your robe and grab your breasts.

“I see someone started the party already, brother,” a familiar silky voice rings out, and your eyes pop open to see both of them standing there, watching you lasciviously. They are shirtless and only wear britches slung low around their hips, acres of lithe muscle and supple skin.

“Is that not our job, darling?” Anthony chimes in after his brother, already unbuttoning.

“Not that we aren’t enjoying the show,” Benedict adds pointedly, nudging Anthony as if to shut him up, and follows suit, removing his trousers.

When they both let their britches fall to the ground, you moan, seeing them both in all their resplendent naked glory, already half hard and looking so utterly delicious part of you wants to get on your knees and take them into your mouths. You go to crawl towards them, but Antony holds up a halting hand.

“Stay right where you are, lay back; tonight is about your pleasure, darling,” he practically purrs.

Your eyes flash with desire, and you do as told, removing your robe and laying back again, fully nude, running fingertips down the centre line of your torso, fingers playing with their jewelled charms that rest atop your lower belly.

“Then get down here,” you exhale, knowing their gaze is locked on your fingers as you slip them between your thighs.

They drop onto the blanket with you, the light breeze ruffling their chestnut locks. Both are so achingly beautiful with those strong Bridgerton genes. You can’t wait to bear a baby, babies, that look just like them.

They exchange a glance, and it’s their shorthand again—where they silently communicate how they will destroy you masterfully moment by moment. Benedict surges up and captures your lips in a passionate all-consuming kiss as Anthony slips between your legs, pulling your hand away and throwing your feet over his shoulders. Forcing your legs out wide, he laps a determined, deep plough of tongue all the way from the base of your slit up to your pulsing clit. It has you calling loudly into his brother's mouth.

“You taste fertile, my darling wife-to-be,” Anthony groans lewdly and pointedly, and you can’t help but giggle across Benedict’s lips.

“I am certain he is right,” Benedict smiles affectionately, swallowing your noises. “I swear I can smell the difference when you are ripe for us. Your scent is just a little headier, muskier; it makes my cock even harder than normal,” he ponders, kissing across your face as he utters his trademark filth. He knows just a few choice words can have you ready for him—every single damn time.

Anthony’s hand strays up to play with your belly charms as his tongue unfurls its magic. It doesn’t matter that you are with these two men, individually and together, multiple times a week; they never fail to arouse you to the point of aching with just a few expertly deployed moves. Their tongues, whether talking dirty or teasing your body, are your favourite part of them. Benedict shuffles lower and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth. Oh god, yes, it’s definitely their tongues.

“Darling, are we playing tonight, or are we just us?” Benedict asks, looking up from your chest with gentle eyes. Sometimes you like to play with your power dynamic and use your titles, other times since you have grown closer, you are just yourselves, no masks, no games, just you, Ant and Ben, your affectionate shortened names for them.

You stop Anthony’s ministrations between your legs with a tap on his shoulder, wanting his full attention on this question that Benedict poses.

“What would you prefer, my loves?” You ask them, ruffling Benedict's hair, enjoying the feel of its thickness running between your fingers and squeezing Anthony’s shoulder lovingly.

“I want to be Ben, just your husband-to-be,” Benedict says quietly, and you can’t help the little smile that breaks out. “This is where we will get married,” he asserts, looking around, “under the stars, just like this.”

“Yes, my darling,” you confirm happily, “I want that.”

“How about you, Ant, my love? Would you like to be you, or perhaps my lord or my beautiful boy?” you inquire.

“I want to be Ant, your fiancé,” he nods in agreement with Benedict’s idea. “Tonight, my darling wife-to-be, the only lesson is how to breed you like the wondrous Bridgerton you are about to become.”

“Breed me?” You inhale, wanting to be insulted by the term but finding it makes your clit burn hot.

“Oh yes,” Benedict chimes in, “we are going to breed you, darling. You will sire a whole house of Bridgertons. You will never be without our seed—it will be dripping from you every day.”

“Ben,” you stutter, grabbing his bicep as your whole cunt is suddenly slick and pulsing at his crude language. “Tell me more.”

His responding grin is predatory as Anthony chuckles and slinks back between your legs.

“Do you know how many bedrooms there are in Aubrey Hall?” Benedict’s voice is a gentle tease as his nose runs teasing patterns over the swell of your breast.

“I don’t,” you admit, honestly.

“Twenty-four,” Anthony answers for you from between your thighs as he sucks a line down from your inner knee.

“Even with all of our siblings and their future children visiting, that still leaves at least, hmm, twelve bedrooms just going to waste. Until we fill them with our little brood.”

“Benedict, I am not birthing twelve children,” you gasp, half in shock at the very thought, half because Anthony’s tongue curls rough around your clit.

“Maybe not,” he admits, kissing across to your other breast, “but I think we should at least try….”

“Six each, brother?” Anthony chuckles, joining in, lifting his head and resting his chin on your pubic hair, shooting a killer smile.

“Get back there. Have you not heard that female pleasure aids conception?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow.

“Then we will have to make you come at least twice tonight; ‘tis the most prudent path to double our chances,” Anthony retorts with a wink sinking down with a devilish look on his face before his tongue makes you cry out, and Benedict's teeth graze over your nipple, making you cant up into his mouth.

“You’ll have to carry me all the way back to the house if I have many more than that, remember,” you warn, bemused.

“Darling, I would carry you to the ends of the earth and back,” Benedict pledges, the romantic poetry just pouring from him as he surges up and kisses your lips, plundering your mouth with his tongue. “You have bewitched me. Since that very first day in my brother's study, I have been yours.”

Benedict is always more emotional and partial to declarations of love than his brother, whose feelings run just as deep but does not effuse about it so openly—preferring to express his adoration privately and through beautiful, thoughtful gifts.

“Save it for your individual days, brother,” Anthony hums drolly over your flesh. “We have a very special job to do tonight.”

“Indeed we do,” Benedict concurs, picking up one of your hands and entwining your fingers with his.

Then their efforts become more focussed as Anthony sucks your engorged nub deep into his mouth, moans vibrating your sensitive bud as Benedict bites your nipple in just that way you like—an insistent suckling hold that pulls your skin taunt and is a line right down to your throbbing clit being so utterly wrecked by Anthony.

It always stuns you how quickly these two, working in tandem, can rocket you so high, so dizzyingly fast. You are vaguely aware your hands are in both of their hair as you climb so high. Eyes screwed shut as they both mouth filthy encouragements into your skin.

“Come on, darling,” Anthony pleads, “I want to feel you drench my face.”

“Do not stop,” you chant repeatedly, twisting luscious strands of chestnut locks around your fingers.

Benedict’s lips are hot on your ear, biting the lobe as he senses you are so close. “Break for him,” he breathes, “come on, my love, give him that sweet nectar to drink.”

The filthy poet never fails to give you that extra nudge, and sure enough, with a staccato of breaths, they have to hold you down as you fight to buck against the convulsions deep inside.

Anthony growls at you to stay still, even though you know he loves it when you writhe over his face, his jaw clamped hard between your spasming thighs.

“Does that feel so good?” Benedict’s silky voice vibrates your ear.

“Yes, oh god, I need one of you inside me, please,” you twist to look into his face as beseeching as you can, still flushed and mindless from your orgasm. “But please tie my hands first,” you stutter breathlessly, offering your wrists up to him, pressed together. “Above my head.”

“I thought we were not playing tonight?” Anthony says quietly as he lands on the blanket beside you, his face shining with your juices.

“Please, just, please,” you beg, turning to him, “I need it. Use your chains.”

As they flank your body, both of them make a low noise at the idea of binding your hands with your golden chains that bear their initials.

Benedict’s large hand slides down your dewy torso and into your thatch of hair. Then slowly, while you pant lightly and keep your eyes locked on Anthony’s intense stare, Benefict unhooks one chain and tugs it gently from around the dip of your waist.

“Your turn,” he says quietly to Anthony, and you realise they are removing their own chains. Somehow that choice makes you burn even hotter for them, squirming slightly.

Anthony’s hand follows the same path as you breath heavy and hold Benedict’s gaze this time as Anthony unhooks the chain with the A charm and drags it up along your skin, a corner of the letter scraping gently over your flesh, catching your nipple as you gasp.

Then they take an arm each, raising them above your head. Both then bind your wrists as your gaze flits between them, watching their handsome faces.

“Thank you,” your murmur reverential, testing the hold and feeling the precious metal bite into your flesh as they both dive in for a heated kiss, Anthony reaching you first and Benedict settling on your neck until they can swap positions. It’s a deep kiss that is musky and sweet with the taste and scent of your climax.

“Who gets the privilege of being first, my love?” Benedict asks silkily.

“You do, Ben,” you whisper, and his whole face lights up. So often used to being second.

You turn to Anthony as Benedict shifts to lay between your legs. “Thank you, my darling Ant, for my wonderful orgasm,” you compliment and watch as his face turns boyish with pride.

You cry out as Benedict spears into you, splitting your open, causing the gentle ripples of your orgasm to flare again, and he drops his head onto your breastbone.

“Christ, there is nothing like your little fluttering cunt is there?” he groans into your flesh.

“Give it to me, Ben,” you twist from kissing Anthony to declare. Then turn back, desperate for more hot kisses.

His tip feels somehow harsher than normal, a hot spike as he begins to move, your walls clinging to him almost vice-like. It feels so good your eyes roll, and your mouth goes slack against Anthony’s.

He brushes a gentle hand through your hair, watching you through hooded eyes, gently murmuring praise and compliments as you take Benedict's hard thrusts.

“We will plant our seeds, darling, deep in here,” Anthony breathes, a hand sliding down to your belly just above where Benedict’s body meets yours as he surges into you. “Do you want that?”

“Yess,” you hiss, mesmerised, fingers twirling in your own hair, “please.”

“Oh, our perfect little broodmare,” Anthony exhales shakily, surging his leaking cock against the hip he holds open for his little brother, who now curls down over you, biting a nipple. “Do you know how proud we will be? Making your beautiful body swell, your breasts growing so large and sensitive, your belly growing round. With our baby. A little Bridgerton. Or maybe more. We want to plant you with two babies right now, one for me and one for my little brother. Can you do that, darling, for us? Take our seed so good?”

“Yes, Anthony,” you pant, utterly enthralled by his filthy talk. That is usually the expertise of the man now biting your nipples and growling as he fucks you so harshly that your body jerks on the cotton blanket you lay on.

“Let him,” Anthony continues with slightly gritted teeth, “let him fuck you harder than he ever has before.”

“Yes, my lord,” you answer, under his spell, and his nostrils flare as you use the title you call him in play.

He curses, then grabs one of your chain-bound wrists above your head, fingers sliding possessively between yours and forcing the back of your hand down onto the ground.

“Yes, that's it, do as you are told, little one,” he growls through clenched teeth.

And you feel a frisson of something frantic, like you all need something with a little edge. A gust of breeze flutters over your skin and leaves quiver on the trees around you.

“Fuck her harder, brother,” Anthony orders into your clavicle, and you feel it buzz into your bones.

Benedict growls in response and hooks the leg, not being held by Anthony over his flexed forearm. Pulling you open more, feeling so vulnerable, your hands bound, your legs held obscenely wide open by each.

Suddenly the moment feels charged as Benedict snaps his hips so forcefully that you whimper on every stroke, revelling in the sweat splashing from his damp forehead curls onto your breasts. Anthony is sucking on your neck with almost painful intensity as Benedict drops down and bites your flesh over your tricep, making you writhe and call his name. The gold chains binding your wrists dig into your flesh as you move, bringing an edge that just pushes you higher.

You encourage him, calling him sir, begging for more, squeezing his cock with your pelvic muscles as he pounds into you mercilessly. And that constriction is the catalyst he needs. He curses long and low, feeling huge as he spears so deep he nudges your hilt, and you sense a change in him that usually signals his withdrawal. This time his eyes fly open, pupils blown, and expression wild as he grabs your jaw firmly.

“Are you ready?” He barks possessively.

“Yes,” you hiss, realising he is going to climax without waiting for you.

His last few hot desperate thrusts are so harsh your whole insides feel rearranged. Then he stills, and for the first time, you hear that guttural groan right into your ear as he begins to spill inside you, a hot wave that blooms deep inside, feeling like so much more than he has ever come before. It’s a new sensation and feels just wonderful.

“Yes, take it all, my darling girl,” he shudders, and that gravelly tone pulls you over a small edge, you clamping down on his spurting cock as he groans and spasms into you some more, hipbones digging into your inner thighs. His weight is almost crushing as he becomes motionless, your thighs burning from the stretch.

“That’s it,” Anthony whispers against your temple, “lay still and open, darling, let his seed into your womb.”

Those words echo drowsily in your head as you feel Benedict’s cock gradually soften inside you, and he slips out slowly with a slick tide of juices that run down over your bottom cheeks.

“Fucking babies into you is my new favourite thing. Do you have any idea how exquisite it is to come inside you? Fill you up? I never want to come anywhere else ever again.” Benedict gusts as he falls to one side of you, still breathing heavily, and you realise it's a novel experience for him too. “God, I love you,” he admits shakily, landing a kiss on your cheek.

“I love you too. Thank you for my baby Benedict,” you nuzzle his face and kiss him sweetly as his body relaxes, utterly spent.

You twist to look at Anthony, and his eyes sparkle as he climbs between your legs, his cock hard, glistening, and leaking in his fist. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, my lord,” you answer.

He thrusts into your soaking cunt, still leaking profusely from Benedict. He feels even larger and harsher somehow too, and on reflex, you clench around the invasion, feeling the verdant earth beneath your bottom and shoulder blades softened slightly by the blanket.

“My darling girl,” his voice ragged, broken. “You are so exquisitely puffy and swollen. That was quite the mounting you got, wasn’t it? Are you ready for more?”

You croak your assent, and then he begins to move. He isn’t slow. In fact, he starts pounding so hard you gasp, the sensation almost too much, and Benedict's hand slides into your hair, over your bound hands, and you clutch it as he rolls closer, nuzzling your face.

“Feel it all, my darling girl,” Benedict rumbles.

“I am, sir,” you nod and bite your lip. “I can even feel your seed inside me still,” you add with a moan, the chains on your wrist abraiding your skin, leaving marks.

“Good,” he gusts drowsily and warmly in your ear, a hand swirling patterns on your hip. “Let it in, darling, all the way in.”

As a cloud clears the moon, the atmosphere feels softer again, the frantic moment of before ebbing into something more profound; even as Anthony takes you hard, it’s more in an undulating wave, hitting your hilt with a rhythm that feels hypnotic, your cunt clinging to him like a glove, as Benedict's sonorous voice is back at your ear.

“That’s right, get ready, darling girl. We need you to keep this line going. In your belly, you will grow the next viscount. You will bare the heirs of this family. Just you, my wonderful wife-to-be.”

“I want all of your babies too, Benedict,” you breathe as Anthony ploughs on. “I want to give the world more like you. Talented creative, empathetic, loving souls who bring joy to every room.”

His eyes mist over as you declare your truth. “I love you so much it hurts,” he murmurs into your cheek, voice thick with emotion.

“I love you too,” you want to grab his face but can’t; instead, you seal your pact with a sweet, almost chaste kiss filled with affection; even as Anthony takes you towards a big blissful moment, you hope you will hit together.

“Now declare your love to him too,” Benedict orders softly, “you know he needs to hear it, maybe even more than me.”

You nod and turn all of your attention and heart to the Viscount. Still holding Benedict’s hand tangled in your hair, not wanting either to feel left out on this momentous night.

“Viscount Anthony Bridgerton,” you use his title and full name, your pleading tone making his eyes bore into yours. “I love you so much, my lord, my husband,” you state categorically.

He groans and falls over your body, covering you, his scent and heat all-encompassing.

“Darling darling wife, my Viscountess,” he exhales over your lips, his thrusts turning slow and languid, his hands grasping your thighs and pulling your legs up and out, utterly under his command, pinned. “I love you so much,” he sounds almost choked with emotion, and part of you wishes you had your hands to hold him to you.

“Do you want to be freed, my love?” Benedict asks softly, always seemingly able to intuit your needs before you even articulate them.

“Please,” you request, turning to give him a grateful peck as he reaches up and loosens both chains, leaving one delicately but loosely wrapped around each forearm, your wrists pulsing mildly as they are freed.

Instantly you move your arms, wrapping one around Anthony’s back, your nails and the gold chain scraping down his skin as your other hand rounds Benedict's shoulder and into his hair, stroking and petting.

Your hand sliding down, mapping his contours, over the swell of his muscular bottom makes Anthony groan and bite your neck, spearing deep into you as your nails dig in, tilting your pelvis and rocking him deeper into you until you feel that ache so far inside.

Then he pushes up onto his hands and thrusts hard, setting a punishing pace. Every fibre of your being wants this, ratcheting high and fast as each stroke crushes your clit into your frame. Unable to form words except to curse and babble mindlessly. You feel your whole body tense, a release so imminent you grit your teeth and chase it hard.

“That’s it darling, come for me, milk me,” Antony commands, flicking a thumb over your clit, and you are gone.

Yelling and screaming as his cock is the solid mass you convulse around, your entire being spasming, and you feel Benedict’s firm grip, holding you down with a knee and large hands. Making you orgasm hard, entirely still, unable to writhe, all the sensation concentrated on where Anthony’s cock spears you open.

As the blood rushes in your ears, his teeth are biting on the cord of your neck, and with a few pumps, he releases with a throaty whine, pushing the deepest he has ever been, feeling like he piercing through your hilt.

He curses long, low guttural and again there is that bloom of viscous heat inside as he spills all his seed.

“Yes, my darling girl,” he slurs, “stay down, take it all,”

You cry out, and your instinct is to move, but both of them hold you down, so your fingers dig into flesh, and your toes curl as your body is thwarted from its shakes and shudders. Anthony’s weight is upon you as he recovers his breath, feeling even heavier than Benedict as he slumps,, panting into your neck.

“I understand what you mean now, brother,” his tone almost wonderous. “I do not wish to leave my seed anywhere else either, dear god; that was exquisite.” Delicately he pulls backwards so his softening cock slips out of your body, and you groan at the sensation, flopping your head blissfully on the blanket as he falls to your other side.

The gentle sounds of nocturnal nature around you fill your ears as it is just your joint breathing, soothing hands running over you, soft kisses and little intimate moments where you whisper to both of your boys.

“We may have made a baby tonight, my darling husbands,” you murmur.

The look they both give you is brimming with love and appreciation as you curl into both, taking a hand from each of them and placing them over your heart as you drift to sleep, cocooned in their safe embrace.

Your boys. Forever, your boys.

Anthony & Benedict taglists: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms

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michwritesstuff · 5 months

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She’s Gonna Save Me (Bridgerton: Benedict Bridgerton)

this is my first ever bridgerton fic! i’ve had such a writer’s block and post grad has been so difficult but listening to music and reading other writers’ works has me feeling inspired! so enjoy my first story in months and first of the new year :)

pairing: female reader (she/her) x Benedict Bridgerton reader x Colin Bridgerton (platonic!)

summary: Benedict contemplates a life pursuing art and living outside the expectations of his family and society. Does he find a wife and settle down or live freely? What happens when he meets someone who can offer him the best of both worlds?

notes/warnings: mention of nudity, alcohol consumption, activities that can be witnessed at Sir Granville’s scandalous studio saoirees…

word count: 2.4k

As the second eldest Bridgerton boy, Benedict never found himself extremely pressured by the standards and expectations of society. Those responsibilities were entrusted upon his brother, Anthony, the Viscount.

Benedict reserved himself to a more romantic life, preoccupied by his love and interest for art.

Attending every event of the season was merely a ploy to keep his mother happy and distracted from the fact that he had no true intention of courting any ladies.

He would drink, laugh, and dance the season away without ever calling on anyone.

Benedict believed that this season wouldn’t be any different.

******

When you first agreed to join your family friends across the Atlantic in London, you didn’t expect that you would be taking part in the ton’s social season.

As the youngest daughter, your brothers married with children and sisters off tending to their new husbands, your father didn’t feel the need to arrange a marriage for social or monetary gain.

Your family was well off in the states, your parents often described as ‘free spirits.’ They had always impressed upon you the importance of appreciating the beauty around you and romanticizing life.

With your mother’s passing, you decided to stay at home with your father, choosing to enjoy a quiet life in the country studying English literature.

Staying with Sir Henry Granville was beyond exciting and allowed you to interact and mingle with the more eclectic members of British society.

You had lasted all but a week before you were called upon by a Miss Lady Danbury.

She had stressed the importance of participating in the social season and the impending judgment of the ton and Queen if you did not participate.

While you never cared much for the opinion of others, you didn’t fancy the idea of being ogled every time you ventured into town.

******

“I heard she was rejected by every suitor.”

“She’s so ugly and unpleasant, a dowry wouldn’t even be worth it.”

“Apparently she’s slightly deformed.”

You couldn’t begin to believe the rumors circulating about you, the American.

You swore that the descriptions were ripped out of a storybook, describing some gremlin crawling from the depths of the earth.

Men and women alike had no problem spreading stories about the young lady joining them for the season.

Worst of all, none of them had even seen you yet. The modiste had made personal house calls, as requested by Lady Danbury.

Now you stood, in front of the carriage, at the first ball of the season, your debut.

You followed behind Sir Henry and Mary Granville, head held high and eyes straight forward as you waded through the ballroom towards Lady Danbury and the Queen.

You heard the whispers and felt the stares as you stood before the queen.

With one leg behind the other and your arms laid at your side, you gently bent your knee and curtsied before her.

She gave you a once over before bowing her head back, a silent approval.

Moving out of the way, you stood at the edge of the dance floor as Lady Danbury approached.

“Miss y/l/n, I do hope you don’t mind that I have taken the liberty of securing you a few gentlemen to fill out your dance card.”

“I expect nothing less from you, Lady Danbury” you smiled back, a teasing tone in your voice.

Your sarcasm and apprehension towards the season had not gone unnoticed by Lady Danbury.

She quite admired your wit and sharp mind, and more than anything, enjoyed the challenge.

******

You were now on your 4th dance of the night; your feet were hurting, and you wanted nothing more than to be curled up with a book.

Fortunately, your current dance partner was not completely awful and was actually quite charming.

Colin Bridgerton.

You had met him once before, in passing, when Lady Danbury had brought you to meet his mother, Violet, and sister, Daphne.

Apparently, Daphne had been named the Diamond of the season in her first season out on society and married a Duke.

His younger sister, Eloise, was preparing for her first season as well.

However, through your brief encounter with Eloise she did not seem as happy with the matter as her sister and mother were.

You had a feeling she would be a good person to befriend.

“Tell me about yourself Miss y/l/n” Colin inquired.

“Y/N,” you quickly corrected.

“Just Y/N is fine,” you smiled slightly.

“Well Y/N, how are you finding London and the beginning of the season?”

“London, well its quite beautiful. There is so much art, and history, and the architecture is amazing. Truly, I wouldn’t mind getting lost here. And well…this—” you paused, glancing around the ball at all the young women around you.

“May I be frank?” you asked, Colin’s eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Of course, Miss Y/N”

“I slightly detest all of this, my feet hurt, and I’ve been dancing for quite too long. Why would I want to marry someone I’ve met one time?”

Colin was slightly taken aback before grinning wildly.

“You remind me of my sister Eloise,” he stated.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I quite liked her,” you grinned back.

As the dance ended you curtsied before Colin as he bowed before you.

“I hope you find the person you’re looking for Y/N, but I have a feeling you don’t need all of this to do so.”

You smiled widely and slightly nodded before following him off the dance floor.

“I’ll grab us a drink,” he said before walking away. Your eyes followed his back for a few seconds before scanning the room.

They quickly landed on two men whispering in the corner.

The slightly shorter one had massive sideburns and a quizzical look that seemed as if it must be permanently etched onto his face. The other man had a certain air about him.

Even from across the room his light-colored eyes had a shine in them.

Colin returned; you thanked him before looking to the corner again. This time the slightly taller one had caught your gaze and lifted his eyes to meet yours. You felt your face flush and quickly turned your head.

“Colin?”

“Yes?”

“Who are those two men in the corner?”

Colin looked up to see his brothers in the corner looking at him inquisitively.

“Oh, those two? You don’t want to be near the likes of them. Poorly mannered and when they were younger, they would wet the bed for years well beyond what was normal.”

You were following along for a while until that last part.

You gave Colin a quick look to see if he was being serious.

His mouth remained flat and tight-lipped for a few mere seconds before letting through a boisterous laugh.

“My apologies Y/N, those are my brothers.”

Your eyes widened at the confession.

“Your brothers?”

“Yes, lets introduce you,” he stated, beginning to pull you across the ballroom.

“Colin, No I—"

“Brothers, this is Miss y/l/n, Anthony, Benedict,” he pointed out.

You curtsied before both of them before speaking up.

“I told you, just Y/N is fine Colin.”

You weren’t sure what his brothers would say about your slight improperness. It was clear that the Bridgerton’s were a well-respected family in the ton.

You glanced at the eldest brother who you learned was named Anthony who gave you a curt nod before excusing himself to sneak off from an inquiring Lady Danbury.

You smiled at him before turning your gaze to the second eldest Bridgerton.

“Y/N here was telling me about her studies in the states. She is well-read and well-traveled.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully pushing Colin slightly.

“You flatter me, Colin. Unfortunately, I am not perfect. For example, I am about done with all of this and was just about to call a carriage.”

“Oh, but you must stay for one more dance Y/N. Poor Benedict here has not waltzed once.”

Benedict tried to sneakily hit his brother for his clear meddling.

“While that may be true, I do not need my younger brother imposing on such a lovely lady.” Benedict states.

“Nonsense, everyone must waltz at least once,” you laughed, pulling Benedict towards the center of the room.

His eyes widened at your forwardness as he shot Colin a disapproving brotherly look, to which Colin gave him a grin and thumbs up.

As the music began you moved around the room with Benedict.

“So, Mr. Bridgerton, tell me what exactly it is you do.”

“Just Benedict is fine,” he stated, mirroring your words from earlier.

“Besides, aren’t I the one who should be questioning you about your skills?”

“That’s awfully backwards thinking, I hope you don’t get stuck that way” you replied sarcastically before being spun around.

When you returned facing Benedict, a knowing grin was stuck on his face. You were witty. He liked witty.

“I suppose that is fair. I’m an artist, well…I’m trying to be an artist. It’s a little complicated.”

You nodded understandingly, while the arts were enjoyed by many, it wasn’t exactly a noble pursuit, especially for you as a woman.

“You should come by Sir Granville’s studio, it’s quite…”

You couldn’t think of a proper word to describe the soirees Granville hosted. It was taboo and scandalous to most respectable members of society. However, if Benedict was an artist as he was claiming, he should fit right in.

“…inspiring,” you finished.

Benedict gave you an interesting look.

Little did you know, he had been to Granville’s studio, several times.

He hadn’t been in a while since his family had just returned from Aubrey Hall and the preparation for Eloise’s season had been quite hectic for his mother.

But you, picturing you at Granville’s studio was not something Benedict had imagined.

Women who were married or of low social standing was something else, but you, a young lady in her first official season stalking down the halls in such a disreputable manner. It didn’t fit the picture of the beautiful woman before him.

Benedict was quickly learning not to try and categorize you into one box.

“What do you know of Granville’s studio?” he asked seriously.

“Well, for one, I’m staying there. Two, I feel more comfortable among that community than here, if you understand what I mean…” you trail off.

Benedict gives you a small smile of understanding.

As the song ends Benedict lifted your hand to his mouth, kissing it gently before sightly lowering it back down, fingers brushing softly as he pulls away.

“Until next time Y/N”

“I look forward to it Benedict.”

******

Two months had passed since Lady Danbury’s first ball of the season. In that time you had befriended Eloise and Colin Bridgerton, often sitting in the parlor room of their home during the daytime, chatting the day away.

As such, you had also grown closer to Penelope Featherington who also came over often. You always considered yourself to be quite perceptive, so it was evidently clear that Penelope was fond of Colin. You thought about mentioning something, but it didn’t seem like your place.

Throughout your time at the Bridgerton’s household you had seen Benedict a handful of times. Unfortunately, your encounters were reduced to small greetings, stolen glances and light brushes as you walked past each other.

Until today.

You were sitting in the empty parlor room as Eloise ran to her room to fetch some ‘evidence’ and ‘clues’ about Lady Whistledown.

“Good Afternoon Y/N” Benedict greeted as he walked in, taking a quick look around the room to find the two of you alone.

“Afternoon Mr. Bridgerton,” you greeted back, a slight teasing tone to contrast your seemingly formality.

He gave you a knowing look before continuing.

“I hope I’m not being too forward, but I plan on attending Sir Granville’s tonight, I was wondering if I would see you there?”

You gave him a teasing smile before your face fell into a serious and hurt look.

“Mr. Bridgerton, I’m appalled, would a respectable young woman such as myself be caught there? Imagine the horror if the rest of the ton were to find out.”

He let out a loud laugh at your remark, in the short time that he had known you, you never failed to make him laugh.

“Yes Benedict, I’ll see you there,” you smiled.

“Good,” he replied.

******

That night you had a few drinks to help you take the edge off before guests started coming over. There was something about interacting with Benedict that made you nervous.

You were walking around the art studio observing the nude model and the artists renditions when you felt someone lay their hand on your shoulder.

“OH! Oh my, Benedict, you scared me.”

“Sorry, love, didn’t mean to startle you.”

You continued walking around the circle, admiring the art around you.

“She’s stunning, is she not?” you questioned.

“She is,” he answered quickly.

However, when you turned to look at him his eyes were already trained on yours.

You smiled widely, walking out of the studio as Benedict followed like a lost puppy.

“Will I ever get to see your art?” you asked him.

He smiled sheepishly as his arm reached back to scratch the back of his neck.

“I certainly would let you, if there was any.”

“Practicing here for a few months and you still have nothing to show?” you teased.

Benedict gave you a look.

“I may have asked around about you,” you confessed.

“And?” he asks.

From what you have heard, both from his siblings and other people around you. Benedict was a kind and creative soul, with a great appreciation for the beauty around him.

“Your family and friends speak highly of you, that’s important.”

“What about you? What do you speak of me?”

“Besides being a tortured artist? I think highly of you.”

He nodded his head again, before responding.

“I think highly of you as well,” he whispered quietly, leaning down slightly so he was more at eye level.

You blamed the alcohol in your system for what you did next.

Yanking him down by his collar, you pulled him close and reached up until your lips were flush against his, pushing with all your might as if you would never kiss him again.

“Y/N—” he pulled away, his senses flooding back.

“This is…no, I’ve dishonored you I—”

“Oh hush Benedict, I do not care about those rules. I want you.”

He looked down at you, holding your face in his hands as he searched your eyes for confirmation.

Biting your lip and grinning up at him, Benedict couldn’t help but pull you back in, one hand sinking to your waist to pull you closer, the other rested on your cheek.

“You know this means we have to get married now?” Benedict teases.

“That means you presume I would say yes,” you teased back.

His smile grew impossibly bigger as he pulled you back in for a tender kiss.

“Let’s just see how you perform tonight before we think about marriage” you joked.

Benedict pulled back with a smirk and look in his eye you haven’t seen yet as he looked you over.

“Art is all about practicing and perfecting, we might need to practice a few times before you make your final judgement” he teased back.

You threw your head back in surprise, a large laugh leaving your lips before you smiled sweetly at him.

This was not how you imagined the social season going.

check out the rest of my work ⤑ here!

#teentvimagines #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton masterlist #bridgerton imagines #anthony bridgerton #colin bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #Spotify

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thebadgerclan · 9 months

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Pining

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Requested by Anonymous

Summary: Benedict is happy to pine from afar, until...

Benedict had never held such affections for a woman, not before he met you. It had been an ordinary night that Benedict had decided to spend at Granvil’s place downtown. Said place happened to be a brothel, but he never partook in the more carnal activities. Instead, he spoke to like minded individuals about the art world, the pieces they were working on, or busied himself painting whatever model was posing that evening.

Then, he’d met you, and the world tipped on its axis. You were singularly beautiful, but Benedict’s attraction went far beyond that. You were well-read, witty, sharp, and talented. Your still lifes rivaled those of William Blake, and you managed to capture your subject in such a way they appeared they could leap off of the canvas. He’d approached, and the pair of you hit it off instantly.

You also hailed from a large family, though you were the eldest while Benedict was the second eldest. “Though I am a daughter, so I do not know if it counts.” Benedict had merely laughed. “Do not sell yourself short, Y/N. You are most certainly a credit to your family.” Before he knew it, Benedict was spending nearly every evening at the brothel, though he brought no artwork home to show for it. Instead, his nights consisted of conversing with you, learning every little thing about you, and, as Benedict soon realized, falling in love with you.

He would have been content to pine from afar had it not been for a newcomer: Mister Alexander Smithwell. He was fresh off a tour of the Continent, and was boasting the masterpieces he had seen. You, it seemed, had struck a friendship with Mr. Smithwell, but the so-called gentleman quickly became far too close to you for Benedict’s liking. He stood too close, touched too casually, things that lit the flames of rage in Benedict.

You were a lady, for heaven’s sake, you deserved to be treated like one. Such was the case now. You were speaking to Mr. Smithwell about the museums in Rome, laughing at some joke he told, while Benedict sat on a nearby chair, clutching his glass of whiskey so hard, he feared it might shatter. You looked over Smithwell’s shoulder at him, your face crinkling into a soft smile when you saw him, something that eased the tension in Benedict’s chest. “Excuse me,” you said, ducking out of the conversation and making your way over to Benedict.

“You ought to get that looked at,” you said, and Benedict frowned. “Whatever are you talking about?” “That scowl,” you responded. “Surely it is not healthy for one to scowl so much for so long. What has you so verklempt, Benedict?” You had forgone formalities, at least here, as your friendship was strong enough. “He is too bold,” Benedict answered. “Too casual with you. Smithwell forgets himself.”

“No more than you,” you said, and Benedict whirled to look at you. “You cannot be in earnest,” he said, brows raised. “He speaks to you as he would a shop maid I speak to you as–” “As what?” “As an equal, as one I respect.” You saw it then, the way his jaw clenched when he looked at Smithwell, the way he was quick to defend you. “Wait a minute,” you said. “You’re jealous.” “I am not,” Benedict replied, all too quickly, and you laughed. “You are! Benedict Bridgerton, you are jealous!”

He flushed scarlet, and you laughed again. “Perhaps I am,” he hedged, and you smiled. “My word, I do not think I have ever had a gentleman be jealous over me.” “Haven’t you? I find that quite hard to believe.” You cocked your head. “How so?” “Well,” Benedict answered. “You are quite beautiful, and your intellect rivals that of many gentlemen I have spoken to. I would think men would be throwing themselves at you.”

You shook your head. “They aren’t. None I care for, anyway…” A heavy silence descended between you, and Benedict picked up on the slightest hint. “Would you…mind if I called upon you, Y/N?” You sighed, a smile on your face. “I was wondering how long it would take you to ask, Benedict. I would be delighted.” To his shock, you pressed a fleeting kiss to his cheek before you rose and departed, leaving Benedict stunned. He brought a hand to his cheek, swearing he could still feel the impression your lips left there. Tomorrow morning, then, he would call on you. And hopefully, soon after, he could call you his.

#benedict bridgerton x you #bridgerton reader insert #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction

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sheadre · 9 months

Text

Phantom of the Opera (Anthony Bridgerton x Reader) Chapter Six

Summary: Lady (Name) Granville, daughter and only heir of Duke Granville just arrived back for this season from her tour in Europe. However, she came back to London with a secret. And it seems Anthony Bridgerton just found out that secret.

Word count: 1116

Warnings: fluff, romance, angst

It took you by surprise when Lord Vincent de Trafford appeared at your door. He was one of the eligible bachelors interested in finding a wife this season. You danced with him once and he was likeable. But he was no Anthony Bridgerton. You hated yourself for still thinking about him just like now, when you were standing in front of Lord Trafford. As you looked up at him, you had to strain your neck but his bright smile made you forget about it.

“Lady Granville, I asked Lady Danbury if I could join the two of you to promenade in Hyde Park today with my mother and younger sister.”

His deep voice was caressing your ears as he spoke. His smile was so bewitching, everyone was smitten with him but lately during all the balls since he and his family arrived, his attention seemed to be solely on you. His presence drew everyone’s attention especially because of his mysterious background no one really knew about.

Your heart flattered in your chest as you tried to find the words of agreement.

“And I agreed to it.” your aunt walked out from the drawing room. “Are you ready, my dear? Ophelia and Margaret are waiting for us outside.”

With a simple nod, you intertwined your arm with your aunt and let her lead you to the carriage outside. Lady Danbury seemed like she had a plan in her mind because the other day she was warning you about Lord Trafford and now she was ready to let him close to you. The ride to the park was filled with small talk and you tried to pay attention to it so you could respond respectfully to any questions asked. Getting out of your head was quite hard these days.

After Sienna asked you to give up your dreams, you thought over her reasons and left the theatre. Ever since then, you felt numb. The only thing you truly enjoyed in life was taken from you because of your simple existence. Having responsibilities you never asked for but was forced into, made you feel bitter. Your anger soon died out, however, leaving only numbness behind. It has always been like that. You got angry quickly but it just as quickly snuffed out and you accepted how things were. Reality hit you hard that way sometimes but that is life and one has to move on if they want to experience other things as well.

Once you arrived at Hyde Park, you felt relieved, the carriage was crowded with all five of you inside besides, you were still not used to Lord Trafford. He was a stranger after all. Your eyes widened at that. Wasn’t Anthony a stranger as well in that sense?

“Lady Granville, we haven’t had time to talk ever since the play-hunt.” Lord Trafford smiled gently down at you. “How are you fairing? Have you read anything interesting lately?”

“Actually I quite enjoyed the latest poems of Lord Kershaw. He is a unique talent.” you replied. “Do you enjoy poetry or do you prefer novels?”

“It depends on the author. It is not the genre but the style that piques my interest.” he said as he stared ahead, Lady Danbury and his family behind the pair of you. The weather was nice, there were only a few white puffy clouds in the blue sky. This environment felt peaceful like this. You didn’t need to be on guard by Lord Trafford’s side, you didn’t need to think about ulterior motives.

Then, as you listened to Lord Trafford’s musings about literature, your eyes landed on three familiar figures in the distance. Benedict Bridgerton was telling his brothers about his latest story when your eyes met with Anthony’s. His brown eyes were trained on you, his smile that lighted up his handsome face by the funny story only brightened when your eyes met his. Your heart skipped a beat and you quickly turned your head avoiding further eye contact.

He only made your life miserable so far, you shouldn’t be spending even just a second thinking about him. As you walked with Lord Trafford and his family, you slowly seemed to ease into a tranquil conversation. Your heart slowed down its pace and small smiles and chuckles left your lips when the lord made a few jokes.

Your group found a perfect spot for your picnic, sandwiches and small cakes were passed while conversation flowed. Then suddenly, a ball hit the back of your head making you spill tea on your dress as you sat on the blanket.

“Hyacinth!” a familiar voice cried out partially from anger. You looked back still in surprise to see little Hyacinth standing a distance away, staring at you in fear. Then came running up to her a frustrated looking Anthony Bridgerton with furrowed eyebrows. He crouched down to her level, said something to her and then held her hand and led her toward your group.

You stayed put, your heart beating so rapidly in your chest at the sight of Anthony you thought it would jump right out of your body. He greeted everyone with a dashing smile and then looked to Hyacinth and encouraged her to apologise.

“Hyacinth came here to apologise for being careless when playing, right Hyacinth?”

As you looked at him, your mind was filled with thoughts of how much Anthony looked like a father. Shaking your head a little to clear your head, you smiled at them and listened to Hyacinth’s apology. She looked ready to burst into tears, her lips pouted and her cheeks grew red.

“I-I… I’m really sorry!” she cried out and then hid behind Anthony’s legs. You smiled at her and reached out for her to grab your hands.

“It is quite alright, darling, no harm was done. Are you alright as well?”

Hyacinth seemed to calm down seeing your reaction and soon she was sitting in your lap. Then Lady Danbury spoke up:

“Lord Bridgerton, why are you not joining us?”

There was a pause in the air, then he cleared his throat and said: “I would not want to impose on-”

“Brother, you shouldn’t say no to a lady when she invited you herself.” Benedict Bridgerton clapped his hand on Anthony’s shoulder with a wide grin on his face. Lady Danbury laughed and motioned for you to move over to her side. Benedict pushed Anthony down next to you before his brother could protest. It was way too obvious that Lady Danbury and Benedict Bridgerton were in on something but you couldn’t help but focus on the close proximity you found yourself in with Anthony.

You knew you were doomed.

To be continued…

#romance #fluff #angst #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton

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eleanor-bradstreet · 8 months

Text

Chiaroscuro - Part 1 (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader Vampire AU Rated/warnings: T - angst, mention of illness Word count: 300

Part 2 Masterpost

Author's Note: The first of an eight-part Halloween special. Art by the incomparable @bridgertontess, kindly shared with me by the one and only @faye-tale 🖤

The fact that your tears blurred your vision was a mockery all its own. Fate giving you an immediate preview of the future that awaited you. Somehow you made it the final few steps to your building, brushing the tears from beneath your glasses in case you encountered anyone in the foyer. Which of course you did, because you were the universe’s punching bag today. Ben Granville, your gorgeous and reclusive neighbor who occupied the rooftop penthouse was coming out of the lift, dashing as always in a dark peacoat with perfectly tousled hair. He stopped short when he saw you.

“Y/f/n,” You were too distraught to read the expression on his face but his tone was gentle, inviting conversation if you wanted to start one.

You didn’t. You needed to get to your flat and collapse. If it had been any other day, any other time, your heart would have soared to have his attention, but right now the only thing your mind could process was your own self pity.

“Ben,” You gave him a small nod then scurried into the lift without another word. You didn’t care if you had failed to hide your emotions. If you had ever worried about impressing him in the past, you certainly didn’t anymore. There was no future to be had with him or with anyone else for that matter. As you sank to your kitchen floor, devoid of the energy to even pour a consolatory glass of wine, the doctor’s words echoed through your mind on a loop. “The tumor is inoperable…will irreparably damage the optic nerve…within the year…potentially terminal… Inoperable. Irreparable. Terminal. Within the year.”

Tagging: @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @colettebronte @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @mysticwitchcraftco @suspendingtime @faye-tale

#bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x you #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton imagine #female reader #vampire au #romance #angst #happy halloween

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lilliad-dreams · 2 months

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trying desperately to start the first chapter of my bridgerton fic 🥲🥲

#henry granville #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benhen #bridgerville #benedict x henry #henry x benedict #bridgerton fanfic #fanfiction

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bumblesimagines · 2 years

Text

The Sun and Moon

Part 10

Request: Yes or No

Double digits! Not my fav part

~~~

The fire released a soft crackling noise, its flames licking at the cobble walls of the fireplace. Fire reminded him of many things but primarily love. Beautiful, destructive, and inviting. A warmth that enveloped the body just right, leaving it cozy and safe. But the slightest mistake could result in so much pain.

Sinking into his chair, (Y/N) studied the drawing in hand, tracing the lines with his finger. It felt as if years had passed since he'd first begun it. Back when he'd been clueless about the incoming pain and heartache. He'd depicted Anthony with a soft smile and gentle features, as all the paintings he'd seen of him had shown him with the same expression; a solemn frown and hard eyes. But perhaps he'd been wrong in portraying him in such a kind light.

His fingers traced the top of the paper and in one swift motion, he tore the page from the sketchbook. Setting the book aside and holding the paper up to the light emitted from the fire, (Y/N) felt his jaw clench and a surge of heat go through his body. He'd been a fool, he decided then and there. But as much as he desired to crumple up the paper and toss it into the hungry flames, his fingers refused to budge, unable to even crinkle the paper.

Feeling his lips begin to tremble, he dropped his arm back onto his lap as hot tears clouded his vision. "Lord, this is pathetic." He muttered softly, using the armrests to push himself up into a proper sitting position. He sniffled as he stared down at the paper, remembering all the times Anthony had smiled at him. Had everything been a lie? His words the night before?

"Mistakes are a part of life, sir."

"God, Theodore!" The flinch that wrecked his body had been hard enough to cause him some mild back pain, a shakey scoff leaving his lips as he turned his head to look at the butler. The corner of the man's lips twitched into an amused smirk and he cleared his throat, striding into the room and setting down a cup of tea.

"Apologies."

"Right." (Y/N) rubbed at his chest, feeling his heart drumming against his skin. He reached for the cup, picking it up, and bringing it to his lips. He allowed the steam to caress his skin before he took a sip, feeling a sweet warmth spread through his body and relax his muscles.

"Your parents will be promenading by the lake today. Perhaps you'd like to attend? Some fresh air would do you some good." Theodore approached the curtains and pulled them open, letting the sunlight pour into the room despite (Y/N)s' grunt of disapproval.

"I don't th-"

"You should." Theodore interrupted, more softly.

"What if he attends?" (Y/N) sighed, looking at the older man with a frown, eyes threatening to water once more.

"It will not matter because you are a Granville and you won't let some silly man dampen your mood," Theodore responded, lifting his bushy gray brows and setting a hand on his shoulder. "You're strong, (Y/N). This will pass, but it'll only do so if you keep your head high and march on."

"What if I'm not strong enough?"

"You are and always will be."

ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ

Theodore had been right. The fresh afternoon air had been exactly what (Y/N) needed to soothe his aching heart. He smiled as some children raced by him, carefree and happy. He felt the need to crawl back under the covers slip away, the singing birds occupying his mind as he walked alongside his parents.

"Did you hear Her Majesty will be hosting the wedding?" Ah, but of course, it wouldn't be a day in the ton if he didn't overhear some gossip. It didn't take a genius to pinpoint who the three ladies were whispering about.

"Well, of course, she is." One of them nodded. "It is the Viscount Bridgerton."

"And she's the diamond!" Another one added, shoving a savory biscuit in her mouth. "I just know they'll have the most beautiful children."

"Is that Lady Danbury?" Lucy abruptly tugged her son further away from the ladies. "Ah, and Miss Sharma! Darling, why don't you say hi?" She urged with a smile.

"Yes, of course." (Y/N) nodded, casting a glance over at the three women before making his way toward the two. Lady Danbury stood out against the crowd. Clad in her typical shade of maroon, she held an aura of power and authority. An aura Kate would surely have some day.

"Miss Sharma, Lady Danbury." He greeted, stopping to stand a few feet away from them. Kate whirled around with wide eyes, looking him over for a moment before a smile broke out on her face.

"Mr. Granville." She breathed, clasping her gloved hands together and clearing her throat, soothing her excitement at seeing him. "I'm pleased to see you. I heard you've been feeling ill. I would've sent some medicine if I'd known sooner."

"Ah, yes." He had his parents to thank for that little white lie, although he supposed staying in bed for two days straight would make him being 'ill' believable. "I feel much better."

"I'm glad." Kate nodded, strands of wavy black hair bouncing against her temple. Her lips parted as if she wished to say more, but her gaze flickered around to the people around them, and (Y/N) understood whatever she wished to say was for his ears only.

"Why don't the two of you take a turn around the lake?" Lady Danbury proposed with a lifted brow and (Y/N) swallowed when he felt her piercing stare settle on him.

"That'd be lovely." He smiled and offered Kate his hand, eager to step away from the intimidating woman who seemed less than thrilled by his presence. She'd no doubt sniffed out at least some of the tension between him and Anthony.

"Very well." Kate nodded and looped her arm around his, wrapping her fingers around his elbow.

"How have you been?" Kate asked quietly once they had put some distance between themselves and Lady Danbury. Her eyes softened as she studied his face.

"Not well, to be honest." (Y/N) answered truthfully, feeling a sense of dread as they stepped closer and closer to the couple everyone kept whispering about. "But, I'm feeling much better today."

"Good." Kate smiled, squeezing his elbow. Kates' presence soothed him, giving him the strength to keep his head high as they passed by the couple. Violet noticed them, eyes twinkling as she made eye contact with (Y/N).

"It's lovely to see you, dear!" Violet beamed. "Hyacinth and Gregory have been asking about you. We're hoping you'll visit us soon, though I understand if you're busy." Her gaze flickered to Kate and a giddy smile appeared on her face.

"I'll try to stop by soon, Lady Bridgerton." (Y/N) assured with a chuckle, addressing Edwina with a smile and looking forward again. Anthonys' soft sigh fell on deaf ears.

"I can't imagine what it must be like to face him after everything," Kate muttered, glancing over her shoulder at the man in question, eyes narrowing into a glare. "How are you not angry?"

"I'm sure the anger will set in soon." (Y/N) replied, stepping onto the wooden dock and nearing one of the arriving boats. Moving away from Kate, he waited for the couple to climb out before offering her his hand and helping her get in. Once he knew Kate was safely sitting on the dark blue cushion, (Y/N) stepped down and sat across from her, feeling eyes burn into the side of his head.

"Only a man as arrogant as him would have the nerve to be jealous," Kate muttered angrily as she slid the purple gloves off her hands and set them on her lap, smoothing out the skirt of her dress. She looked up and returned Anthonys' glare with one of her own, huffing softly and brushing back a strand of her hair.

But, (Y/N) wasn't interested in talking about Anthony. No, he wanted to think about everything but him. For too long he'd allowed the Bridgerton to occupy space in his mind. He knew the answers he wanted from Anthony would no doubt only cause him more hurt. He'd been too blinded by the desire to see how far he could go with Anthony, and even after promising himself and his father he wouldn't get his heart broken...

"Tell me about India, Kate." (Y/N) took the paddles into each hand and began rowing, pushing the boat away from the dock and into open water.

Anthony's grip on his wrist tightened as he watched (Y/N) and Kate laugh together. Edwinas' comment about how them 'making a handsome couple' hadn't slipped by unnoticed and instead ran circles in his mind. The two had spent an awful lot of time together, both in public and private. He couldn't help but think back on when the two had snuck away. They were both intelligent enough to know if they'd been spotted by anyone else, they would've been urged to marry. Perhaps they wanted that. Perhaps Kate had weaseled her way-

No, no. Anthony shut his eyes and inhaled, relaxing his jaw and breathing out softly. The two were merely friends, and even if there was something more between them, Anthony couldn't be bitter about it. Not with his wife-to-be standing right beside him, gleefully looking on and gushing about the possibilities, completely blind to the way her sister glared at him and (Y/N) avoided looking at him. Besides, Edwina wanted him and Kate to get along more. They would be uniting as a family, after all.

"Shall we meet them at the docks?" Edwina asked when she noticed what had his attention, feet already beginning to guide her toward the two as their boat neared the dock. Anthony silently followed her, reminding himself he was engaged and had no say over who (Y/N) wished to court or befriend, but it came to a screeching halt when he noticed who else had been waiting by at the docks. Thomas Dorest. At first, he assumed the man had been waiting for Kate, but his brows furrowed as he watched him crouch down and offer to tie the boat up for (Y/N), their faces rather close as Thomas showed him how to do it properly. Too close.

"I see you are smiling, Didi," Edwina called teasingly. "See the amusements London has to offer?"

"There's water, too, in India," Kate responded through gritted teeth, no doubt exhausted by Edwina's wishes for her to remain in London after the wedding.

"That knot will never hold." Anthony pointed out, stepping closer and motioning for Thomas to move away. He crouched down and adjusted the rope, lifting his eyes to meet (Y/N)s. The painter held his gaze for a moment before looking away, a small frown tugging at his lips. Anthony swallowed and ignored the way his heart squeezed at his reaction.

"You must tell me more about the art in India." (Y/N) said, rising from his seat and waiting for Kate to step onto the dock with the help of Thomas. He stepped onto the dock, glancing at his elbow when Anthonys' fingers cupped around it.

"I'm perfectly capable of getting out without help, Anthony." (Y/N) muttered quietly.

"(Y/N), I-" Anthony sighed, taking a step back only for the back of his foot to bump into Newton. His fingers instinctively latched onto (Y/N)s arm, back colliding with Thomas, and with a big splash, all three men fell into the murky waters of the lake. Resurfacing with a soft gasp, he planted his feet on the ground and brushed back his dripping hair. Blinking, he took a moment to process what'd happened before snorting.

"Certainly refreshing on a hot day like this." (Y/N) laughed and heaved himself up onto the dock, his drenched clothes weighing him down significantly. (Y/N) stood up and slid off his coat, feeling his undershirt stick to his skin. Stepping toward the edge of the dock, he curled parts of his coat, squeezing water out of the fabric.

"Are you alright?" Anthony breathily asked as he got onto the dock, coat and tie already shed and tossed aside.

"Yes, I'm fine." (Y/N) chuckled and looked at him, feeling his breath hitch when he noticed Anthonys' shirt had become see-through and his sculpted abs had been put on display for everyone to gawk at. Lifting his gaze, he felt heat spread through his face as he took in Anthonys' smirk.

Turning away from the man and spotting his parents in the crowd, he made a beeline toward them before Anthony could get a word in. His mother held her fan over the bottom half of her face, shoulders shaking lightly from laughter whilst Henry cocked his head and looked him over with a wide grin.

"Went for a swim, eh?"

"Hilarious." He responded, shaking his head and spraying droplets of water onto his unsuspecting parents, just as Poppy did whenever she had to be bathed. Lucy gasped and covered her face with her fan, reeling back from the cold water. Huffing softly, she folded her fan and whacked (Y/N)s' arm with it as her son and husband snickered.

ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ

"I lost you to Anthony and now Miss Sharma." Benedict groaned, placing a hand over his heart and sighing dramatically.

"Oh, hush, Benedict." (Y/N) chuckled as he poured himself another cup of bourbon. "You speak as if you're completely alone. Weren't you just telling me about the gorgeous young lady you met? Tessa, was it?"

"Oh, yes, you'd love her." Benedict smiled, appearing quite taken by the model. One would've thought he had met a goddess from the way he described her. A young woman who attended art classes under the guise of being a model. Smart, talented, and charming. Perhaps Benedict had a type.

Swirling the bourbon in his cup, Benedict raised it to his lips and drank before swiping his tongue over his lips and lifting his gaze to look at (Y/N). The painter took a seat across from Benedict, quirking a brow at his friends' expression. "Something on your mind, Benedict?"

"What happened?" He questioned softly. "Between you and Anthony?"

"Nothi-"

"One moment you two are running off like children and then the next he avoids you completely only to leave the room the moment you do. What happened, (Y/N)? Tell me the truth." Benedict placed his cup on the table between them, resting his arms on his knees as he waited for an explanation.

But (Y/N) remained silent. He stared down at the honey-colored liquid and rubbed his finger against the glass. Anthony had hurt him, yes, but he didn't wish to taint Benedicts' image of him. Despite everything, despite the heartbreak and empty words, Anthony was a good man. A man who cared tremendously for his family, a man who would lay down his life for them, a man who would rather put aside his own feelings to keep them happy. (Y/N) knew that. But he also knew Benedict. The stubborn painter wouldn't stop until he figured out what had happened, and with that in mind, (Y/N) sighed and made eye contact.

"When I was stung, he was there. He panicked and wouldn't calm down so I... I kissed him to distract him. It is why he acted strangely the following days." (Y/N) spoke softly and slowly, picking his words carefully. "At the ball, I felt ill so I left to get some air and he followed to make sure I was alright. We spoke and... and I decided it'd be best for us to take some time apart. For the sake of our friendship and his engagement to Miss Edwina."

"Is that all?" Benedicts' brows furrowed and (Y/N) nodded. Benedict didn't need the whole truth. It'd do more harm than good and the last thing Anthony needed was a rift between him and his brother.

"I... I care for Anthony, more than I should, but he does not care for me in that way. I know that and I hope that with time everything will return to normal, even if for a moment. Of course, by then he'll likely be married and Miss Edwina will be Lady Bridgerton." (Y/N) forced a chuckle and sipped on his bourbon, ignoring the way his heart curled into itself.

"And perhaps Miss Sharma will be Mrs. Granville," Benedict muttered, retrieving his glass and swallowing the last of his drink. (Y/N) stared at him dumbfoundedly, setting his glass down.

"What makes you say that?"

"Are you not courting her? Ever since Aubrey Hall, the ton has been gossiping about it. Lady Whistledown even mentioned it in one of her more recent pamphlets." Benedict scoffed and raised his brows. "I thought you enjoyed reading?"

"I enjoy books, Benedict. Not a sheet of gossip from someone who refuses to reveal their identity."

"Well, regardless, her latest said that you two made, and I quote, 'Quite the handsome couple, second to the Viscount and his bride-to-be.' Mother was quite thrilled when she read it, I must say. One would've thought another one of her sons was getting married." Benedict stood up from his seat and approached the table, pouring himself another glass. (Y/N) sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead before he stood.

"Miss Sharma does not wish for a husband." (Y/N) reminded Benedict, setting the glass aside and picking up his coat. "And even if she did, we are nothing more than friends." (Y/N) added, draping his coat over his arm and running his hand down Benedict's arm.

"I should head home, Benedict."

"Goodnight, (Y/N)."

"Night." He smiled and turned, walking toward the doors and leaving Benedict's bedchambers. The quietness of the house told him the rest of the Bridgerton siblings were asleep, apart from Anthony and Violet. Benedict had mentioned they'd left to have dinner with the Sharmas and it had been the only reason (Y/N) stuck around for nightfall.

Heading down the large staircase, (Y/N) paused when he heard the front doors open and he took in a deep breath before continuing down the last few steps. Violet's face looked flushed, almost with anger and embarrassment. Her thin brows were furrowed and the deep frown on her face spoke volumes. Anthony entered after her, gaze focused on the tiles and hands curled into fists.

"Everything alright?" He called out. The two snapped their heads in his direction and Violet's frown shifted into a bright, relieved smile.

"(Y/N), my, how lovely to see you, dear!" She beamed and hurried over to him, arms pulling him into a warm, comforting hug. The type of hugs that only mothers and grandmothers could give; completely full of love. She pulled back and gently held the side of his arms, looking him over with a fond smile.

"Oh, I hope you weren't waiting for us!" She gasped and raised a hand to her lips.

"No, no." (Y/N) shook his head and chuckled, waving off her worry. "I had a drink with Benedict." Multiple drinks, actually.

"Ah, well, I'm glad we caught you on your way out. It's truly lovely to see you, (Y/N)." Violet squeezed his arm and smiled once more, stepping aside and calling for Mrs. Wilson before the two headed upstairs.

"I haven't congratulated you yet, Anthony." (Y/N) murmured, stepping closer to him. "I'm pleased you'll be marrying Miss Edwina."

"You are?" Anthonys' brows shot up, so quick and high it almost seemed like they'd disappear into his hairline. His eyes widened in the slightest and his shock made (Y/N) jaw clench. The painter stared at Anthony for a moment longer before scoffing.

"You fool." He muttered and looked away from him when his eyes began to water, inhaling deeply through his nose in hopes to ease his emotions long enough to speak with him properly. (Y/N) wanted nothing more than to shout at him, to wail and ask why he toyed with him. But (Y/N) felt more anger toward himself for allowing a rake into his heart.

"Of course, I'm not pleased about it, Anthony! The day before you proposed you lied to me."

"I did not lie!"

"You-" (Y/N) squeezed his eyes shut and dug his fingers into his coat, pressing it closer to his chest. Breathing out, he opened his eyes once more and found Anthony standing closer to him. He remained still as Anthony lifted his hand and cupped his cheek. Leaning forward, Anthony pressed his forehead against (Y/N)s' and (Y/N) felt his anger evaporate, replaced by a feeling of longing.

"I did not lie," Anthony whispered and rubbed his thumb over (Y/N)s cheek. "I swear to you, (Y/N). I meant every word I said and I still do."

"It's too late for this, Anthony." (Y/N) stepped back and took Anthony's hand, pulling it away from his face. He ran his thumb over Anthonys' knuckles and lightly shook his head.

"The Sharmas, or rather Miss Sharma, lied and kept a secret from us and her family. I no longer have an obligation to marry Miss Edwina-"

"Do you hear yourself? Ever?" (Y/N) interrupted, releasing his hand. "Everything you do, you do for yourself, Anthony. The moment you can get your way, you jump at it and forget about everyone else. If your problem is with Kate then leave it with Kate. Miss Edwina has waited for you since the moment she met you and you know this. You've been courting her this whole social season despite everything going on between us and now you decide to jump ship? After all this time?"

"(Y/N), I-"

"You may do as you wish, Anthony, but if you think I'll be running back to you after what you did and plan to do you are sorely mistaken. Miss Edwina and I aren't toys that you can play with until you grow bored of us and decide to dump us aside after sucking the joy out of us. You made your bed a long time ago, Anthony. Now it's time to lay in it."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #bridgerton x male reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x reader #Anthony bridgerton x y/n #henry granville #lucy granville #kate sharma #kate sharma x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #violet bridgerton

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ladybridgertonbridgerton · 9 days

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Henry Granville Should Have Dicked Benedict Down Back In Season 1

Henry x Benedict , I Will Die On This Hill

#bridgerton #netflix bridgerton #bi Benedict Bridgerton #Benedict x henry #Art Teacher x Art Student

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burnthoneydrops · 1 year

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What Time Has Done (Part XII) Benedict Bridgerton x Original Character Series

Synopsis: The Castillons chose a drama filled night to return to society, part of which was out of their control

Requested: No

Word Count: 2283

Warnings: None, but lmk if i missed any :))

A/N: Ahh! I'm sorry the wait was so long! This semester really kicked my ass! But I'm done in a week and a half so here's to hoping I get more writing time over the summer!!

As we all know, there is nothing this author loves more than a scandal. Tonight’s soiree is sure to have more than its fair share, thanks to the recently widowed Lady Trowbridge. Some may call her celebrations too provocative, and I would caution any young lady from getting too caught up in the sensual nature of her fetes. For one scandalous move between an unwed couple, a wayward touch, or heaven forbid, a kiss, would banish any young lady from society in a trail of ruin.

Lady Whistledown

Benedict

“Mr. Bridgerton,” Mr. Granville opens the front door, a full glass in hand, “come in, come in”.

“I do not know what I was expecting, but it surely was not this,” Benedict comments as he is led to a room full of models and artists, the light warm and the energy much calmer than most high society gatherings.

“Simply a gathering of like-minded souls. Here, let me show you what I’ve been working on”.

“They speak of war abroad as if it will distract from inequities at home,” a man comments from his position behind a canvas.

“They do not need war to be distracted. Why, this Whistledown’s enough to turn their eyes from the needs of ordinary people,” the woman next to him replies.

“What do you think?” Mr. Granville questions, grabbing Benedict’s attention away from the pair’s intellectual conversation.

“It is a far shout from Somerset House, I must say,” Benedict smiles at the work in front of him.

“I shall take that as a compliment,” Granville replies, laughing.

“And I must say, I’m truly jealous,” Benedict continues, catching Granville’s eye, “Is this your life?”

“There are advantages to being the second-born. Heirs have the responsibility. Second sons have the fun. So, why not have some fun?” Granville gestures Benedict away.

Emmeline

My mind feels even foggier than it has the past couple of days, much to my dismay, as I had thought that getting back out into the world might open my mind once again past the suffocating walls of our house. Unfortunately, it appears as if I was mistaken. Mama insisted that we are not to waste any more of the season and are therefore to start attending events again. It was just our luck that one of our maids had found the invitation to tonight’s event under our evergrowing mail stack, or we might not have made it at all. Though the crowd feels cramped in the main room for the evening, I cannot help spotting a yellow dress on a girl of similar redheaded nature and I make a beeline for her, leaving Josephine at the entrance. I mutter a quick apology to her before turning my head back to my original target and whisper a quiet thank you to my lucky stars that she is standing alone.

“Quite the evening, is it not?” I start, tapping her elbow with my gloved hand. Once she realises it is me, she opens the space between her side and her arm, allowing me to link my arm through hers.

“Emmeline! Goodness, where have you been?” She exclaims a little too loudly for my liking, so I take the opportunity to poke her in the ribs before I continue.

“Not so loud, will you? I have only just entered, I do not need my presence announced to the entire ton at once,” I sigh, looking around to see if we had captured anyone’s attention. Thankfully, the band is midsong, so no one is any the wiser.

“Well pardon me if one of my closest friends has just appeared out of nowhere after an extended leave of absence,” Penelope counters.

“Yes, you must forgive me for that”.

“Forgiveness might come much easier if I am aware of the reason behind it?” She tries.

“I am afraid I cannot divulge that information at this moment,” I frown, knowing it wasn’t the answer she was looking for. I want to tell her all my darkest secrets right then and there, as she seems to have a way of making one open up about all their repressed traumas, but I fear hers’ might not be the only open ears and the last thing I need is Lady Whistledown hovering over my family again.

“Our host looks a bit fussy,” A voice comments from behind the both of us. I turn the both of us to look behind us and cringe at who it happens to be. “Do you think if he goes to bed we all have to leave?” Colin continues.

“It was lucky the lady produced an heir before the old earl croaked, no?” I respond, having heard whispers around the room of the hostesses’ unfortunate late husband.

“Miss Castillon,” Colin remarks, as if just having noticed my presence. “How remarkable to see you out and about. By the time that has passed since our last encounter, I thought you had caught some debilitating illness that should cause you to never see the light of day again”.

“Colin!” Penelope exclaims.

“No need for dramatics Pen, it’s all right. Wonderful as always to see you Mr. Bridgerton,” I say, half suppressing a smile.

“Is your father among the company tonight, Miss Castillon?” Colin asks.

“He is not. He is still recovering so Mama thought it best to leave him be at home,” I reply, hoping the illness is a good enough cover up for the time being.

“Ah, I see. Is there to be a grand welcoming back for you, or are you to remain here all evening?” Colin questions.

“I am quite content here in Miss Featherington’s company, thank you very much,” I smile at Pen.

“Very well, I look forward to possibly hearing about what has kept you so isolated as of late. I have been trying to get in front of Miss Thompson all evening. Surely she is not that interested in Lord Rutledge, can she?”

“I think what Miss Thompson is interested in is a swift rescue indeed,” Penelope replies, glancing at her cousin across the dance floor.

“Indeed,” Colin begins the walk over.

“Oh! Colin, I did not mean-” but it is too late, he is already making his way over to Miss Thompson, leaving Penelope and I to our reserved conversation once again. I catch the disappointed look in her eye and wonder how many times I have been seen making that same face. Though it has come to my attention that the Bridgerton pack seems to be down one usual member.

“Looking for someone?” Penelope breaks me out of my search, my eyes ceasing to gaze across the dance floor.

“No! No in particular, just seeing if there is any news I can gather visually while I am here,” I lie, though not very well apparently, as Penelope gives me a raised eyebrow and a coughed out laugh.

“You are not the greatest liar Miss Castillon,” she replies. I cringe, knowing she is right, but wondering how obvious I came across in my encounter in the street with Benedict. Or my conversation with Colin just mere moments ago. What a horrible friend I am, here with one of my closest friends since my return and all I can think about is myself. I hardly think I have asked her a question since I’ve arrived.

“Any news that I should be informed of in my absence, Pen?” I ask.

“Daphne appears to be caught in a love triangle of sorts,” she replies and I gasp lightly.

“Was she not smitten with the duke mere days ago?”

“She was, and then Prince Fredrich got in the way”.

I was sure that despite the Prince, Daphne and Simon were fated to be together, but it seems like my judgement was misplaced. I raise an eyebrow at Pen and she raises hers back, a small, knowing smile spreading its edges across her face. A laugh escapes the both of us and some of the gentlemen are staring at us now, but I cannot be stopped, for it was not like any of them were going to request a dance with me anyway. While a mysterious woman may be of intrigue to them, as far as they are aware, my mysterious disappearance was due to an illness of sorts. That is something no one wishes to touch.

The couples glide their way across the dance floor, a few sharing heart-filled smiles and glances, and I am reminded of one of the main reasons I love watching society. Love can be a beautiful thing, when it is allowed, and there are many opportunities for it to be made here. The suffocating presence of societal standards may stunt it at times, but when it is truly allowed to grow, it is beautiful.

“Does Daphne look unwell to you?” Penelope asks as something has caught her attention across the way. Anthony is guiding Daphne toward their family, him grabbing her arm while she looks lost in thought.

“Worried about something, no doubt. She was only gone for a short while, I cannot imagine what happened to cause such upset”.

Benedict

Benedict sits behind the same canvas before, and whereas most of the guests have departed, he stays, sketching the same two women. He stares intently at the charcoal in hand, trying to manoeuvre it in just a way to accomplish what he wants, but he never seems to be fully satisfied. He takes the drink from his side table and sips it quickly before putting it back down to refocus himself. The art is not going to draw itself.

“You have great potential-” Granville starts.

“It is nothing!” Benedict stops him abruptly, running his hands down his face.

“For such a staunch critic of others, you certainly lack a clear eye for your own work,” Granville continues, looking down at the frustrated gentleman next to him.

“It’s the lines,” Benedict jabs the canvas with the charcoal, “they’re not what they are supposed to be”.

“Oh, take the compliment, Bridgerton. There’s no expectation or judgement here. You are free to be yourself here, if that is what you should like. That’s what works for me at least. And I haven’t been dissatisfied with my lines in…quite some time,” the two share a laugh.

“Well, I’ve done worse I suppose, really,” he looks around the room, then, having noticed

the lack of other participants, “I seem to have enjoyed myself a bit too much this evening. I should be on my way”.

“If you wish,” Granville tilts his head, taking a drag from his cigar. “But you are welcome back anytime, for practice or for conversation. Should you find the need to talk about anything else that may be disrupting your lines”. Granville looks to the young gentleman as he grabs his coat. Benedict sighs, shaking his head. The conversation would drag on for too long if he were to truly divulge everything going on in his mind; at least he thinks it would. “You are allowed to follow your inspiration, Benedict. I’ll see you out”.

Penelope and Eloise

A tap on Penelope’s window alerts her to the presence of someone down on the street below, and with a glance downward she is greeted by Eloise, waving frantically for her to join her on the cobblestone. Penelope holds the front door closed behind her, looking worriedly at Eloise who holds a notebook and an excited smile.

“I have a theory,” Eloise states, opening the notebook.

“Eloise it is quite late-”

“A good theory! About Lady Whistledown. I thought she had to be a servant, but I was wrong, quite wrong. Because who truly has the time and means to be that remarkable? Who would actually be invited to all the parties, able to hear things unnoticed by others?” “Perhaps we can discuss it tomorrow,” Penelope tries again but is ignored.

“Lady Whistledown is someone free and unencumbered by society. She is a single woman of means, better yet, she might be a widow. I was thinking, what if it were Miss Castillon. Think about it! She disappears for three years, to study literature no less, and upon her resurgence into society, Lady Whistledown emerges- ”

“Eloise, I do not care! People have real, mature problems that have nothing to do with the identity of some silly writer.”

“And you are so mature now?”

“I am of age. I am out in society, which means that yes, I do have mature problems to worry about, such as marriage”.

“You should not care about marriage-”

“And what if I do!” Penelope cuts Eloise short. “I cannot expect you to understand, not

everyone can be a pretty Bridgerton!” Eloise, with tears welling in her eyes, backs away to the front gate. “Eloise, wait! I did not mean-” but she is gone.

Dearest Reader,

It seems as if my identity is being called into question once again. How I am amused by the theories of possibility that float about the ton, but I assure you, there have been no correct guesses to date. A rather interesting one is that I may in fact be Miss Emmeline Castillon. A three year departure may have done many things for her, but grant her this power of quill and paper it has not. While it may appear as though her recent exit from society may have been due to a familial illness, it has come to this author’s attention that there might be more shame involved than a potential illness would supply. The Castillon family has found themselves in a great deal of debt, which has forced them into the shadows. How ever will they recover? This author is dying to know.

-Lady Whistledown

#benedict bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #colin bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #whattimehasdone #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction

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