shannonwrote

[shannonwrote]

Oh Anthony. Smh. I feel like Benedict’s right though. Anthony is all the way worried he’ll become null-in-void. That they’ll no longer need him, and somehow he connects that to them no longer loving him. But BRO! Taking away something that makes them happy, even if you’re worried that’s taking them away from YOU, is not the solution. Besides. At the end of the day, they’re going to love him. He’s their brother and father all mixed into one. Smh. He can be such a wanker. A beautiful wanker, but a wanker.

HENRY! I adore him! And I’m so glad, that without meaning to, he kind of just slapped Anthony’s mistake right into his face. What’re you going to do now, LORD Bridgerton? You have some fixing to do. And many-many apologies.

Wool From the Black Sheep pt. 5 (Benedict Bridgerton x reader)

Series Masterlist

A/N: ...this is literally just all Anthony??? I didn't plan it that way, it just happened and I'm not too mad about it. Am I mad at him??? Absolutely.

Just one more part after this and then the epilogue! Thank you for sticking with me through this labor of love! 💕

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Warnings: mean Anthony, sad kids...just sad; angst; angry Benedict

Word Count: 3.0k

As always, 18+ Minors DNI

She didn’t really know where to go. The sun had risen by the time she left Bridgerton House. It was too painful for her to look back, so she didn’t. She simply looked forward. Looking where, though, she had no idea.

There was a place she knew of, out in the country. A place for women like her. Unmarried, out of work—they might take her, but the chances were very slim. She would have to wait to find another placement, though those usually came by word of mouth and she was sure that she would get a…less than glowing reference from Lord Bridgerton.

So she walked and finally found herself at the one place that she knew—hoped— would take her in. 

The steps seemed heavier as she lugged her suitcase and guitar up them. The hall echoed with each clacking footstep of her heels on the tiled floor. There was no one there. She set her things down by one of the large columns and started her search. 

She pressed open the wooden door in the back—it never looked like it really belonged there. 

“Hello?” she called out quietly as she walked down the steps into the basement. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

“Hello?” a voice said, calling her to her left. She poked her head in, finding an office, and none other than Director Carwood sitting behind the desk. He looked up at her, grin breaking on his face.

“Y/N, hello,” he stood, walking over to her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Y/N looked down at her feet, worry starting to creep up into her chest. “Child, tell me what is wrong.” She cracked a smile at that. He always called her that…even at her age. 

“I…I am in need of a place to stay,” she said, trying to force some conviction into her voice. 

“Has something happened?” he wondered.

Y/N cleared her throat. “My placement no longer required my…assistance. I have yet to find a new family in need of a governess, but when I do…I will be gone. It is…just for a few days.” Carwood sighed, a sad smile on his face. She could feel her eyes starting to well with tears and she tried as hard as she could to force them back. “You know I would not ask if I had anywhere else to go…I have been bouncing around from one family to the next since…since my parents died.”

“I know,” he nodded. He moved back around his desk and sat down. He held out a hand, indicating for Y/N to take a seat, which she did. Her back was straight, her hands stuck in her lap…proper. If she had only stayed proper, she would not be in this situation. “Y/N,” he sighed. “I know it is not my place to ask but, as your late father’s dear friend, I must ask…why do you not simply marry? It would save you from this…nomadic lifestyle.”

“I like it,” Y/N shrugged. “I like molding young minds. It is important to me. But, I do understand how…marriage could help me.”

“The banks still hold all of your father’s assets?” Carwood asked, even though he knew the answer.

“Yes,” she said. “Though, that is another reason I have yet to marry. I…I could not simply sit back and watch as everything my father worked for is handed over to someone that…” She shook her head. “Someone that I do not love.”

“I think you forget sometimes, Y/N,” Carwood smiled. “That you are a Lady.”

“With no property and no claim to my assets or dowry, I do not feel like one.”

Carwood’s smile turned slightly somber. He seemed to be thinking, his hands folding in front of him. “Alright,” he nodded. Y/N’s eyes glistened. “You may stay…on one condition.”

“Anything,” Y/N nodded.

Carwood fished through the drawer of his desk and pulled out a stack of paper. He slid it over to Y/N and she looked down to see blank sheets of music. “Write me something.”

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

Anthony knew the second that he walked into the drawing-room that he was in for a world of trouble. He had not yet told them of Y/N’s departure, but they could tell that something was wrong.

“Has Miss Y/L/N been given the day off again, brother?” Hyacinth asked. She was sitting on the couch, her hands under her legs that swung from the furniture.

“No,” Anthony stated simply. He cleared his throat. “Miss Y/L/N has left us,” he stated plainly. “Her services are no longer required here. A new governess will be attained shortly, so your lessons will not be derailed too much.”

“Pardon me?” Eloise asked, somewhat in disbelief. “Did you just say that her ‘services are no longer required?' I cannot imagine how that thought found itself into your mind.”

“It is of no concern of yours, sister, how this came to be. You must simply accept it and move on.”

“I do not believe you!” Hyacinth said, bouncing up from the couch. “Miss Y/L/N would never leave us.”

“Well, she has,” Anthony clipped. His arms were crossed, his body guarded. He was not expecting a physical attack from one of his siblings, at least not from one in this room—Benedict had been sequestered in his studio since Y/N left. 

“I do not understand this,” Daphne said. Her embroidery was forgotten beside her, the needle still poking out of the muslin. “The children have such a good relationship with her. We all do—”

“And that is precisely the problem, sister,” Anthony snapped. He took a deep breath, calming himself. “Miss Y/L/N is—was— a governess, nothing more. She was not your friend, or anything other than what she was hired to do. I suggest you all do not forget that.” 

As he turned to leave, he heard the distinct sound of his youngest brother sniffling and the soothing words that Daphne tried to use to calm him down, but Anthony did not turn around. He simply walked out of the door and went to his study, only thoughts of how dreadful it would be to find a new governess on his mind. 

But when he got to his study, it was not empty. His mother was there, staring out the window, her hands clasped behind her back.

“Close the door, Anthony,” she said simply. Although he sighed heavily, he did as requested. Violet still did not turn around as she started to speak. “Would you care to explain to me why you have…fired…Miss Y/L/N?” Finally she did turn around and he saw the distinct fire of disappointment in her eyes. 

“I am saving this family, Mother, as I always do. As I swore to do.”

Violet’s head quirked only a centimeter. “Saving this family from what exactly?” Anthony did not respond. “Anthony,” she pressed.

“Scandal.”

Violet’s eyes widened for a moment and her hands finally came to her front. “Scandal?” she asked, surprised. “Am I to believe that you have traded up from your…opera singer.”

Anthony’s jaw clenched, the hurt from his parting with Siena still raw in his chest. “No, Mother. It is not I that has formed an inappropriate attachment to Miss Y/L/N.”

“Ah, then Colin then?” Violet wondered. “I did notice how he gazed upon her when she first arrived.”

“There is no need for this conversation, it is done and I must work on finding a new governess for the children.”

“So, it is Benedict,” she surmised. A small chuckle left her lips. “Yes, that…does make sense.”

“Mother,” Anthony sighed.

Violet approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I understand your need to protect this family, Anthony. I admire it, truly, I do. But they might never forgive you for this.”

Anthony watched his mother walk out of the study, opening and closing the door. His head tilted in thought. He thought everyone was overreacting. She was just a governess. They came and went. Just like any other woman. 

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

Benedict had not left the studio for the entire day. He did not paint, he did not eat the food that was brought to him, he just sat on the floor and stared at the ledge in between the window and the wall. There was a bit of dried paint there from when he had dropped his palette on the ground. It had fallen with a splat and he thought he had cleaned it all up, but he was wrong. Just another time that he was careless, if only for a second.

Heartbreak was not something that he was accustomed to. He had read about it and felt something akin to it through paintings, but he had never truly felt it. And in that moment, he hated all of the artists and the poets for not truly telling him how painful it would be. None of their words or brush strokes could have prepared him for that pain.

There was a knock on the door, but he could not bring himself to speak to tell them to go away. It was probably someone bringing him more food. He had no idea how long it had been. He did not even know if he was hungry.

When the door opened, he expected the sounds of clattering silverware, but he just heard the sounds of riding boots brushing on the wood.

“Come now, brother,” Anthony sighed. He squatted down next to Benedict, who finally looked at him. His previous blank look turned into one of anger. “You cannot sit up here all day.”

“Get out,” Benedict croaked.

Anthony stood up straight, his hands clasped behind his back. “This is bordering on pathetic.”

Benedict rose to his feet, a deep breath being pulled into his lungs. “I really do hope you are intelligent enough to leave when I ask you to. You got what you wanted. Now, leave me be.”

“We have yet to finish our conversation.”

Benedict let out a huffed laugh, his arms crossed. “And you think that now is a good time? I take that back…you are not intelligent in the slightest.”

“Brother,” Anthony sighed, barely refraining from rolling his eyes. 

“What?” Benedict snapped. 

“You will get over this, you know,” Anthony said seriously. “And one day, you will understand why I did what I did.”

“I will never understand.”

Then Anthony really did roll his eyes. “I do sometimes wonder where your pentient for dramatics came from.”

Benedict seemed to be holding back what he really wanted to say. He rubbed his chin, a hum forming in the bottom of his chest. “Dramatics,” he scoffed. “I love her, Anthony.”

“Oh, please,” Anthony huffed. “You barely knew her, Benedict. She had been here for half the season.”

“And?” Benedict scoffed. “Just because you feel no love for anyone does not mean that others do not experience such emotions.”

Anthony’s jaw ticked and he stepped towards Benedict. “You are being irrational right now, brother, so I will let that go. I have love…for my family. Something that you used to share.”

“I love my family,” Benedict said, looking at Anthony as though the words coming out of his mouth were preposterous and they were. 

Anthony’s words came out rushed. “If you had any love for your family, you would have stayed away from that girl. But you did not. You could not help yourself. Truly, tell me, what is it about her that I am not seeing? What about the wonderful Miss Y/L/N has this family so enamored?”

Benedict’s eyes softened for a second, a shocked gasp on his lips. “You…are envious of her,” he scoffed. A laugh bubbled in his chest, like he had finally understood the hardest equation known to man or mastered the hardest painting technique. 

“What?” Anthony sputtered. “That is preposterous.”

“No, it really is not,” Benedict said, shaking his head. “The children enjoy spending time with her, she teaches them the ways of the world. With her around…all you’re needed for is…signing papers. And you can not stand to see someone else making this family happy. How did I not see it?”

“You are being ridiculous,” Anthony sighed. “I am in no way envious of a governess,” he scoffed. Benedict hummed. Anthony’s nostrils flared. “It is no matter, brother. She is gone. She is not coming back. And you will not see her again if you care for your family.”

“You cannot stop me,” Benedict said. “I see…no appeal in staying in this house, in this town, if I am being suffocated by the constant need for propriety. If I am not allowed to love who I wish then why would I stay here? What could this family give me? What could you give me when you have already taken away what matters the most to me?”

“You would throw your entire family away for the first decently attractive woman to spread her legs for you for free?” Anthony scoffed. Benedict narrowed his eyes at Anthony and in the blink of an eye had him pressed up against the wall, hands gripping his coat. Anthony shoved his brother away from him. “This behavior is ridiculous, Benedict. I have half the mind to think she is a witch that has somehow cursed you.”

“Do not flatter yourself, brother. You do not have half a mind.”

Anthony took a deep breath. “You will take some time to pull yourself together and you will join your family for dinner. Perhaps, you should find some other woman to bury yourself in to move on…I assure you, it will be easier than you think. Then, come tomorrow, you will forget all of this nonsense.”

Benedict did not say anything else. Instead, he just grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and exited the room. Anthony sighed heavily and brushed off his jacket. 

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

Benedict did not return for dinner. Nor did he return the next morning. Violet was the first to comment on it. Though it was discreet, she blamed Anthony for it. And she would be right. He had essentially run his brother out of the house. But Anthony just believed he needed to cool off. 

When day turned to night and Benedict still had not arrived home, Violet forced Anthony to find his brother. So he took to the streets. He tried the pubs, the brothels, even the park, but he was nowhere to be found and it had started to rain. There was one more place that Anthony had not yet thought to check. But when the thought crossed his mind, it seemed plausible.

He knocked on the door, waiting for it to open, impatiently checking his pocket watch every two seconds. Finally, the door opened.

“Lord Bridgerton?”

“Lord Granville,” Anthony greeted with a tight smile. “I apologize for the lateness of the hour, but I cannot seem to find my brother anywhere and I know he sometimes finds himself here.”

“Come in,” Henry smiled, opening the door further. Anthony thanked him with a nod and did just that. The house seemed empty, but there was music playing from a pianoforte in the distance. “Yes, Benedict was here last night. But he left sometime this morning. He has not returned home?”

“No,” Anthony said. He had started to worry. He swallowed the scratchiness in his throat.

Henry sighed. “Would you care for a drink?” Again, Anthony gave that mixture of a tight smile and a nod and followed Henry into his study. The walls were covered in books and paintings, nothing was organized and it took everything Anthony had to not comment on it. 

Anthony watched as Henry poured two glasses of amber liquid. He handed one to Anthony and then took a seat in an armchair in the corner. He extended his hand, offering the other to Anthony. He unbuttoned his coat and sat down, taking the drink. 

“I suppose there must be something worrying you or you would not find yourself on a search for your brother this late,” Henry stated.

“Yes…” Anthony started. He took a sip from his glass, letting the liquid warm his insides. “We had a simple disagreement yesterday.”

“Ah,” Henry nodded. “Would this be about Y/N?”

Anthony sputtered around his glass. “Y-Y/N?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Henry nodded, the name flowing off of his tongue as though he had said it a hundred times.

“I-I did not know you were acquainted.”

“Yes, of course,” Henry chuckled. “Her father was one of my dear friends. A truly talented composer. Yes, you actually might have heard some of his work. He composed for the opera quite a bit before he died. I believe the last time they performed one of his pieces was…two seasons ago.”

Anthony remembered two seasons ago. He remembered it vividly. He remembered sitting at the opera, trying not to fall asleep when he heard the voice of an angel. If he ever believed in romantic love, he thought he had felt it that night.

“I did not know that,” Anthony managed to blurt out.

“It is a terrible shame, what happened to her parents,” Henry sighed. “Lord Y/L/N had the most amazing mind. Truly, he could go on about music for hours. And Lady Y/L/N was quite the accomplished painter, actually.”

“L-Lord?” Anthony asked, sitting forward in his chair.

“Yes,” Henry said, surprised at Anthony’s intonation. “Is there…something wrong, Lord Bridgerton?”

“Miss Y/L/N—”

“Lady,” Henry corrected. “For all intents and purposes, yes, she is a Lady.”

Anthony cleared his throat, downing the last of the liquid in the cup. He stood, buttoning his coat. “Forgive me, Lord Granville, I must take my leave. If you…hear from my brother, please tell him to come home.”

Henry stood and shook Anthony’s hand. “Are you sure you are alright?”

“Of course,” he nodded shortly, taking his leave. 

It was pouring rain by the time Anthony found himself back outside. The water seemed to wash away the fog in his mind. The thoughts, however, remained. He had not truly wanted to crush his brother’s dreams of love. He did not want him to be unhappy. He did not want any of his family to be unhappy. He was simply looking out for their best interests. That was what he had always done. And that was what he would continue to do.

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

A/N: okay so...Anthony knows??? What's he gonna do with this information????

Taglist: @ambitionspassionscoffee @shannonwrote @supraveng @swiftspaperings @wotcherboo @spwinkles @mymyma

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Much love

Alma xx

#houseofthepeculiar

[shannonwrote]

I know I am so-so-so late on reading the rest of this fic, but I’m also kind of glad I didn’t have the time to commit to it that I wanted. I didn’t even realize how much I needed Benedict back in my life until I read this chapter. I missed him.

How cute was Benedict going on a mission to find Y/N the morning after?! It was so obvious that she was more to him than a quick fling. He wanted to check-in. To see her. And the fact that he was worried she fled because of him? My heart could not stand it.

Y/N! NOOOO! Why’re you telling Benedict you can’t be together?! I mean. Ohk. I get where she’s coming from. They do come from 2 totally different worlds now. The ton will look at their relationship with disdain. And yeah, it’ll probably bring a tad bit of shame, but… LOVE. Doesn’t love count?

And ouch. She did not have to be so mean with the denial. Calm down, sister. A simple, thanks, but no thanks, would’ve sufficed.

Anthony. Anthony. I love you, but way to be a freaking douche. If I could, I’d punch you right now.. RIGHT. IN. THE. NOSE.

Wool From the Black Sheep pt. 4 (Benedict Bridgerton x reader)

Series Masterlist

A/N: I'm sorry this is so late...I've been dealing with a lot of shit 😅 but we're back and...the angst train has left the station!

Can I get all my choir kids to raise their hands?? I'm not totally sure of the history of choir in the Regency Era, I did some research but it's kinda inconclusive and if any of you like...frequent/have been to (?) St. Paul's Cathedral and this is incorrect, I'm sorry 😭 And I'm not at all specifying a religion for the reader or saying she's religious at all this is purely for the music

also idfk the layout of Bridgerton House... 🤷🏽‍♀️

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Warnings: mean Anthony; angst!; sad Benedict; kissing; cursing (normal for me lol); I guess illusions to religion??

Word Count: 3.1k

As always, 18+ Minors DNI!

The next morning, or early afternoon, Benedict awoke with a large smile on his face. He ran his fingers across his lips, still feeling Y/N’s pressed to his. He sighed happily and bounced out of the bed, excited to see her. He dressed quickly and ran his hands through his hair before bounding out of the door. 

He ran down the stairs, skipping a few steps here and there. He made his way into the drawing-room to find his siblings lounging around— Eloise with her nose in a book, Francesca at the pianoforte, Daphne with her embroidery, and Gregory and Hyacinth playing marbles on the floor. He looked around the room, a confused look on his face.

“She is not here,” Eloise said, not even having to look up from her book. “Mama said she got a letter this morning and has been given the day off.”

Confused and a bit saddened, Benedict left the drawing-room and made his way downstairs, hoping to find her in her room, but when he got there, the door was open and the bed was made, but she was nowhere to be found. 

Sighing, he made his way back upstairs. As he rounded the corner to the main staircase, he heard his mother and brother talking. 

“She is here to teach the children, Mother, not to have a vacation.”

Violet sighed heavily. “Anthony, please. You might forget that I am still the Lady of this house and these are my children. Their education and well-being are as much my concern as they are yours. Now, Miss Y/L/N has been a very welcomed addition to our household. She is teaching your siblings more than they have ever learned with any other governess and she needed the day off, so I gave it to her. Understood?”

Anthony narrowed his eyes, but nodded. He turned the corner and almost immediately ran into Benedict. He held his hands out, steadying his brother. 

“Is everything alright?” he wondered.

Anthony did not respond, he just shoved past his brother. At that moment, Colin approached Benedict and Violet. 

“What is going on with him?” Colin wondered.

Violet just sighed. “He has taken on too much,” she said. “It is no cause for concern.”

“What happened to Miss Y/L/N, Mother?” Benedict asked, needing to know the answer.

“What?” Violet asked, distracted. “Oh, yes. Nothing is wrong if that is what you are wondering. She just received a letter from a family friend. She will be back later today.”

“Oh…Alright,” Benedict said, watching his mother go. He turned to see Colin watching him, eyebrow quirked. 

“‘What happened to Miss Y/L/N?’” he mocked. Benedict shoved his brother. “Hey, I saw her first.”

Benedict rolled his eyes. “And how would Miss Thompson feel about this?”

That shut Colin up. He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. “So you are going after the governess then?”

“I am not ‘going after’ anyone, brother,” Benedict scoffed. “But Y/N and I have a…we are…”

“Y/N, is it?” Colin chuckled. He patted Benedict on the shoulder. “Well, be careful, brother. You do not want to get burned.”

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

Y/N stood at the base of the steps to St. Paul’s Cathedral, letter held tightly in her hand. She heard the sounds of people walking around, enjoying the day. She saw the young pageboys running around handing out the latest copies of Lady Whistledown. Behind her, was the older woman sitting on one of the benches, birds fluttering around her. It had been the same for years. Looking up at the large cathedral, she felt like a child again. 

She could see her mother and father walking, swinging her in between their arms as they bounced up the steps. Her heart ached, but she felt at ease. Taking a deep breath, she ascended the steps. 

Inside, everything was the same—pews set up on the black and white tiled floors. The ceiling was still as tall and gilded as it has always been, reaching up to the heavens. Inside, there were a few people walking around, as there always were. But at the end of the long hall stood the man she was looking for. Clad in a long, white robe, stood Director Carwood, her father’s best friend. He smiled, seeing Y/N as she walked closer to him. He held his hands out, taking her in for a hug.

“I was glad to hear you were back in London,” he smiled. “It has been too long.”

Y/N smiled and looked at the crowd of young children, all wearing similar robes. “It has been.”

“Yes, well, it is the first time we have performed this piece since…since your father passed. We wanted your assistance.”

Y/N smiled widely and nodded. “It would be an honor.”

“Wonderful,” Carwood smiled. He clapped his hands and ushered the children all to their positions. He handed Y/N a few pages of sheet music. She ran her hands over the familiar lines. She heard it already in her head. She remembered sitting in the studio with her father as he composed each and every line, his hands running over his face, smudging ink all over his nose. 

She took a seat and closed her eyes, allowing the first notes of the familiar piece wash over her. 

After the choir had finished and Y/N had given them all her notes, Carwood approached her and took a seat beside her. “How are you feeling, my dear?”

Y/N gave him a sad smile. “I am…feeling a bit lost, to be quite honest.”

Carwood took her hand in between his. “Your father always said that being lost is the only way to find yourself.”

Y/N smiled and wiped her eyes. “He always did have wise words.”

“Sometimes I thought he spoke more in proverbs than in real words,” he said. “Though they always helped.”

“Yes, they did,” she smiled. She took a deep breath and looked around. “I missed this place.”

“You know you are always welcome here.” He patted her hand. “The performance is tomorrow night. Will you be joining us?”

Y/N smiled. “I will try my best.”

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

Y/N made her way back into the Bridgerton house later in the afternoon. She had a content smile on her face and she held the rolled sheet music in her hands. She made her way into the drawing-room to see most of the family sitting around. 

“Now, what is this?” she wondered. “Just because I am gone does not mean you get to sit around on your bums all day.”

“Miss Y/L/N,” Hyacinth said, running to hug her. 

“I have only been gone for a few hours, dear Hyacinth.”

“A few hours too many, it seems,” Eloise said. 

Daphne stood and walked over to Y/N. “Benedict was looking for you,” she said quietly. Y/N swallowed and Daphne immediately noticed the look on her face. “Did something happen?” she wondered.

“Of course not,” Y/N responded instantly. “Everything is quite alright.”

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

Benedict found Y/N just before dinner, making her way down the main staircase. She was looking down at a sheet of parchment in her hands. 

“Miss Y/L/N,” he called to her.

She paused on the steps and looked at him, a smile on her face. “Mr. Bridgerton.” She made her way down the stairs to meet him just at the base. 

“Hello,” he smiled. She just let out a small laugh. “I…I looked for you this morning,” he said nervously. “Mother said you had received a letter…Is everything alright?”

“Yes, quite alright, Mr. Bridgerton.”

His hand caught her wrist, slowly rubbing his thumb over her skin which had started to burn. “You can call me Benedict, you know. Especially after…after last night.”

Y/N swallowed harshly. “Y-Yes, er…last night,” she breathed. 

“Is…something wrong?” he asked, seeing a look in her eyes. “I apologize if I overstepped. I thought—”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I wanted it. We both did. However, that does not change the fact that…that it cannot happen again.” She cleared her throat. “It is almost dinner, you should go.”

She started to walk away, but his hold on her wrist tightened only slightly, making her turn to him. “Y/N,” he sighed. “What if I want it to happen again? What if I want it to happen…every day for the rest of my life?”

Y/N’s eyes widened at his confession. “It would be wrong, Mr. Bridgerton—”

“Benedict—”

“Mr. Bridgerton,” she said, rather harshly. “I would not like to call it a mistake because, truly, I do not think it was. But the world you live in is quite different than the world I live in. You might think that you can marry whomever you choose, but one day, you will realize that it is not the case. That you would rather not be shunned from society. It is better if you—if we— both accept that fact now. So for the sake of both our futures, we must forget it.”

She turned and left, leaving Benedict to watch her departing figure. At the forefront of his mind, her words made sense. Their union would cause nothing but scandal for her, for him, and for his family. The right thing to do would be to let it rest, as she had said. But he did not want to let it rest. He wanted her. He already missed the feeling of her in his arms, of her lips on his. His heart ached for her, but he would do what she requested. For now, he would let it lie. 

At dinner, Benedict pushed around the food on his plate, not feeling the slightest bit of hunger. 

“Is everything alright, brother?” Anthony asked. 

“Y-Yes, quite alright,” he responded. Then he grew silent again. He took a sip of his wine, finding that it was the only thing he could keep down. He had a permanent sigh on his lips as the conversation turned to the ball that they would attend the next evening. 

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

The next night, once again, Y/N found herself on the steps of St. Paul’s. The inside was illuminated by thousands of candles. She could hear the murmurs of the attendees inside. She finally walked in and found her seat. It was the same seat she always sat in. A few rows from the back, exactly in the middle. From there, she could hear everything. 

Director Carwood smiled at her from the front and ushered the young choir boys to their positions. He gave an introductory speech, but Y/N did not hear a word he said. Then the music started to play. 

She closed her eyes. Usually, behind her eyes, in her mind, she could almost see the music playing like colors painting across a canvas. That was what her mother always did while her father composed. He would sit at the piano, testing out new melodies and she would paint what she heard. They worked together like a well-oiled machine, perfectly made for one another. However, this time, there were no colors. It was all black and white. The lines did not brush like paint strokes, they glided, pressing into the canvas. 

She saw black smudged hands running along the canvas. She felt them on her skin, leaving trails of charcoal all over her. A fire burned in her chest and when she opened her eyes, they were filled with tears. 

She tried to blink them away, but, as she did, they fell down her cheeks. If anyone around her looked at her at that moment, they would have just assumed that she was overcome by emotions from the music. But the fact of the matter was, she was falling down a deep and dark hole from which she thought she might never return. 

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

When Y/N finally made her way back to the Bridgerton House, it was quite late. She entered quietly, assuming everyone would be asleep, but that was not the case. She heard doors slamming, angry words, and crying. Slowly, she followed the sounds, finding Daphne crying in the library. 

“Daphne?” Y/N asked quietly.

“Oh, Y/N,” Daphne said. “It is…It is so awful.”

Y/N felt ice running through her veins, only imagining the worst. “What has happened?”

“Anthony found…the Duke of Hastings and I in a…rather precarious situation,” she said, swallowing harshly. “I assured him that the Duke had done nothing untoward, that he did not hurt me, but…”

“What, Daphne?”

“Anthony challenged him to a duel.”

Y/N’s mouth parted in a gasp. “That is…That is illegal.”

“I know,” Daphne cried. “But once Anthony makes up his mind about something, it is almost impossible to change it.” Y/N sighed and sat down on the couch beside her. “I do not know what to do. I must stop it.”

“How would you stop it?” Y/N asked. 

“I do not know,” she said, shaking her head. She looked at Y/N, her eyes wide. “And that is not all…He has…Anthony has chosen Benedict as his second.” Y/N covered her mouth with a shaking hand. “You see, I must stop this. I must.”

Y/N nodded. “Yes…How can I help?”

Daphne shook her head. “You cannot,” she said. “This is between my brother and me. But I will put a stop to it.”

With that, Daphne stood and barged out of the room, leaving Y/N, sitting alone. Thoughts ran through her head. The first was fear. She was terrified for the safety of everyone involved. She was even terrified that, somehow, Anthony would get himself killed. If Anthony was killed…then Benedict could follow. Her heart ached, terror flowing through her veins. Where would that leave the Bridgertons? Where would that leave her?

She paced around the library all through the night, chewing her nails down, running her sweaty palms down her dress. Her entire body was shaking as she watched the sun begin to rise. She wondered what they were doing at that very moment. The duel was at dawn. In only a few minutes, someone would be dead. 

Tears filled her eyes, terrified that it would be Benedict. She replayed their last conversation in her head over and over until she had all but memorized the words. She remembered how she had smashed the hope in his eyes, smothered it like a burning candle. 

Regret washed over her. Perhaps if she had said something different, then he would be there with her. He would be safe. 

Then the front door opened, followed by the bickering of two people. She recognized them immediately. Running out of the library, she saw Daphne and Anthony walking into his study. Then, she met Benedict’s eye, her entire body deflating in relief. 

He saw her then too, his feet carrying him before the thought even cross his mind.

“You’re alive,” she said, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Yes,” he said, a small chuckle on his lips. He was surprised when Y/N wrapped her arms around him, but he pulled her in almost immediately. “Were you worried about me?”

“Immensely,” she responded as she pulled away. “When Daphne told me I…I feared the worst. I am so sorry for what I said to you earlier.”

Benedict ran his hand over her cheek, shushing her. He wiped away her tears as they fell. “You do not need to apologize.”

“But I do,” she argued. “I thought it would be easy to just forget. I thought it would be what’s best. But faced with the fear of losing you…none of that mattered.”

Benedict smiled and pressed his forehead to hers. “You will not lose me.” 

Then he kissed her. It was not as passionate as the last time, it was filled with love. His hand brushed down her neck, pulling her closer to him. Her hands fisted his coat, terrified that he would float away if she let go. 

When they pulled away, they had equal smiles on their faces. But something out of the corner of their eyes alerted them and they stepped away from each other. Simultaneously, they turned to see Anthony standing there.

The expression on his face was difficult to read. It was somehow one of anger, annoyance, and exhaustion all at once. He pursed his lips, his hands behind his back, a loud sigh leaving him. 

“Miss Y/L/N…I believe it best that you pack your bags. We will no longer be requiring your services.”

“Brother,” Benedict stepped in immediately. “That is not necessary. It was I who initiated this, you need not punish her.”

“I do not care who initiated it,” Anthony said. “What’s done is done. Would you be so willing to shroud your family in further scandal just so you can fuck the help?”

“Anthony!” Benedict shouted in anger. “Mind your tongue.”

“You should have minded yours, brother,” Anthony quipped. “Miss Y/L/N, you will leave at once to avoid causing a scene.”

Y/N lowered her head as she let out a shaky breath and nodded slightly at Anthony. She turned, starting down the hallway. Benedict reached for her, calling her name. He turned back to his brother, fire in his eyes.

“We are not done with this conversation.”

“I quite agree,” Anthony responded. 

With that, Benedict turned heel and ran down the stairs, following Y/N into her room to find her already packing her things. “Stop this,” he said. “I will talk to Anthony. There is no need for you to leave.”

“There is,” she said quietly. Her shoulders were caved. Everything she had fit perfectly into her suitcase. She closed it with ease. “As much as I am loath to agree with your brother, he is right. This could ruin your family. Ruin you. I cannot be the cause of that. I care about you all too much.”

“And I care about you,” he argued. He stepped towards her, his hand finding her cheek, making her look at him. “Please do not leave.”

“I have no other choice,” she said. “I will be alright. And one day, perhaps far from now, it will not hurt as much.” She kissed Benedict’s lips sweetly. She could taste his tears on her tongue. She pulled away, taking a deep breath. “Thank you,” she sighed.

“For what?”

“For treating me like a human being,” she responded. “I had almost forgotten what that felt like.”

She grabbed her suitcase and her guitar and made her way out of the room. Benedict slumped down on her bed, his head in his hands. Though nothing made sense, he knew one thing—this could not be the end.

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

A/N:....ouch...Anthony kinda sucks, you guys

St. Paul's...bird lady...I guess this is more Mary Poppins than Sound of Music lol when I started this chapter I was listening to Feed the Birds like on repeat...honestly kinda sure that's one of the best songs ever written idk

Taglist: @ambitionspassionscoffee @shannonwrote @supraveng @swiftspaperings @wotcherboo @spwinkles

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Much love

Alma xx

#houseofthepeculiar

[shannonwrote]

First and foremost.. this fic is LEGIT perfection!

Now. Onto all my thoughts and feels.

Why are Lucian and Y/N s’cute?! And the ease of their relationship? The fact they laugh so easily with each other, admit hidden secrets (I know faerie wine was involved, but I also know you don’t admit dark secrets to someone you don’t trust.. even when under the influence), and have undeniably sexual chemistry?! I AM HERE FOR IT.

And as much as my heart belongs to Azriel, I am LIVID he interrupted their moment. They deserved that moment. They deserved each other. There was no bullshit hanging over Lucien and Y/N. They should’ve been allowed to lose themselves in the enjoyment and comfort they clearly find in one another. BUT NOOOO! Azriel’s beautiful self has to swoop in and f-it all up.

Az and his concern over Lucien being Elain’s mate is so extra. He clearly doesn’t care that Elain is Lucien’s mate. Considering he was making googly-eyes at Elain a few chapters ago. And even if he hasn’t “sunk his cock into Elain,” some part of him clearly wants to. The whole IC has noted how they look and interact when around each other. Idk if he thinks he’s being noble, because she has a mate, but he’s a lying liar that lies if he really wants us and Y/N to believe sleeping with her hasn’t crossed his mind.

I kind of want to punch Azriel in the face. The way he’s toying with Y/N’s emotions. It’s unfair. I mean, it’s also clear he doesn’t understand his own feelings (*coughmatevibescough*), but the way he’s treating her is uncalled for. He claims they can’t do this because she’s “Rhys’ sister,” but I’m pretty sure Rhys would be more livid with the way Azriel is messing with his sisters heart. Kissing and fucking are one thing. This emotional roller-coaster is something different (and worse).

I can’t wait to see what happens next! I truly hope Y/N tells Azriel to suck it and goes about her life pretending to be indifferent to him (at least for a little while, because, even with all this bullshit drama, I ship them).

Although. I do kind of want more Lucien and Y/N. #secretlyshipthemtoo

Can’t wait for the next chapter! #SOINVESTED #SOHOOKED

Coming Home (Part 6)

Azriel x Reader

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Warnings: Lil bit of spice in this part, lads 🌶️🌶️

If I’ve accidentally missed you off the tag list, please let me know so I can add you! ❤️

⧪

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d danced so much. The last time you’d laughed like this, beautiful and unguarded. 

Lucien was…a riot. Exactly your kind of person, with his wicked humour forming witty remarks in your ear as he’d spun you round the dance floor, guiding you from one dance to the next. You knew you’d gained some attention for the simple fact that you hadn’t changed dance partners since you and Lucien had joined hands. You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You’d forgotten what they were like — these parties. Lavish events that went on from dusk until dawn and sometimes beyond, the food and drinks constantly replenishing, the dancing feet of people never seeming to tire. You appreciated the lengths that Rhysand had gone to in celebrating your return; all the streamers and banners and decorations, the pure extravagance of the event that was held purely in your honour.

But at some point, some time in the early hours of the morning when the music continued unfaltered, the marvelling stares and whispers had begun to get a bit too much. Lucien had noticed the dip in your mood, your enthusiasm, straight away.

And that was what had led to the two of you sneaking out of the party together, bottles of faerie wine clutched in your hands as you left the packed throne room behind and wandered together around the Hewn City, the sheer size of it offering you at least a little bit more privacy. No one seemed to have noticed your exits.

Talking with Lucien as you strolled around was easy. You’d laughed, dipping into hidden alleys together whenever people’s gazes strayed to you, pressing yourselves against the walls and trying not to let your fit of laughter echo out as you hid. You felt like two naughty children sneaking off into forbidden places, and it was great. Light and airy and free.

“You know,” You hummed as you strolled beside the redhead, taking a long draw from the bottle in your hand. “I don’t think your mate likes me very much.”

Lucien snorted, prising the bottle from your palm and taking his own sip. “I don’t think she likes me very much, either.”

The two of you were most definitely, gloriously drunk, and perhaps that was why it was so easy to talk about things that usually clenched your heart so tightly. Through your short time alone, you’d both discussed the complex history of your families — him detailing the fraught relationship he had with his brothers, his father, and you dipping into some of the very deep, very hidden truths about your own father. About how you’d always suspected he hated you. How he’d seemed to see your lack of wings — lack of the Illyrian traits that Rhys had inherited from your mother — as a massive disappointment. It wasn’t something you liked to delve into if you could help it; Lucien seemed to make it as easy as breathing.

You hadn’t talked about Azriel, though. Yet.

“There’s truly no hope for you and Elain?” You asked softly; you couldn’t see what it was about Lucien that the middle Archeron sister could possibly have an issue with.

Stopping, Lucien leaned against the wall of a granite-hewn building and took another gulp of wine. “She can barely stand to be in the same room as me.” He swallowed. “And yet, the Shadowsinger merely breathes in her direction and it’s like he hung the moon for her. She comes alive.”

Such sad, biting bitterness in his voice. It was clear, even beneath all the wit and laughter and charm, the love he felt for his mate was a persistent wound that would never heal. You could understand that kind of pain, even if you didn’t have a mate yourself — understand the aching, gnawing feeling that rotted you from the inside while you watched the person you loved fall for somebody else.

You sucked in a deep breath, taking the bottle from him, and let your head fall back against the wall. “I get it. I’ve spent my life watching him pine for females. Firstly Mor — now Elain.” You swallowed a great gulp of the tangy wine you’d stopped tasting hours ago. “But me? Never me.”

Lucien’s gaze was a heavy weight as he turned to you, his intoxication becoming evident in the way his body slumped forward slightly, his shoulder brushing yours. “The Shadowsinger?”

“Mhm.”

“You love him?”

“Wildly.” You grimaced as the last dregs of the bottle disappeared. “Unfortunately.”

“Well.” The redhead blinked. “Fuck.”

You snorted — it was all you could do. Because if you didn’t laugh, you’d cry, and scream, and shout and—

Lucien’s laughter joined yours, an easy, drunken chortle that rumbled deep in his chest and spread infectiously. Within seconds, the reason behind your hysterics was lost. The two of you were laughing because you could, and as Lucien steadied himself against the wall, a lazy grin pulled at his lips. He leaned closer to you — close enough that your faces were inches from each other.

“We’re the rejects, aren’t we?” The breath that fanned your face as he spoke smelled of the wine’s berries, and an impulsive part of you wanted to lean forward and taste it, lick it. Lick him.

“Uhuh. Rejects.” You murmured back, leaning in. You could just feel the whisper of his lips brushing yours, begging you to close that tiny little gap. His eyes roved yours inquisitively, like he was sizing up if you had the nerve.

You did. Or, at least, you would have — would have kissed him with wild, reckless, drunken abandon — had the approaching footsteps not stopped you in your tracks. 

It was a cool clipping of boots against the cobblestoned street, and the whisper of wings, that announced your interruption. The tall, dark figure rounded the corner, and Azriel stilled before you and Lucien.

“Hello.” You chirped casually.

Azriel’s eyes slid to Lucien, flicking over his stance, the close proximity between the two of you. You could have sworn a muscle in his jaw ticked. 

“The party is over.” His voice was short, clipped. “Rhys sent me to find you.”

“Well.” You pushed off the wall. “Here I am.”

Azriel glanced at Lucien again. “I’d get going, if I were you. Keir has been well behaved tonight, but I doubt that courtesy will last much longer.”

For a beat, Lucien said nothing, merely staring back at the Shadowsinger like he was weighing up a snarky response. After a tense moment, he, too, pushed off the wall, and he turned to you, that gorgeous half-smirk back on his lips. 

“Lady.” He addressed you with a swift, flourishing bow at the waist. “I thank you for your company this evening. Welcome back to the court.”

His exit was nothing more than a chilled autumn breeze as he disappeared before your very eyes, leaving just you and Azriel in the dark, quiet street. You weren’t even sure how far you’d wandered from the party.

“Come.” Azriel murmured, turning on his feet. 

You followed.

⧪

None of you returned to your homes immediately. 

With the sun beginning to rise as you landed in Velaris, it was Mor who made an executive decision to take you all for an early breakfast in one of the cafes along the Sidra. 

The mood surrounding your group as you occupied a table at the back was one of calm contentment. Undoubtedly, you were all still feeling the effects of the alcohol — probably you more than anyone — but as you chatted over steaming cups of tea and warm pastries, that ever-present weight on your shoulders felt somewhat lighter than usual.

Azriel was the only one who didn’t engage. 

If his presence wasn’t already so noticeable, you may have forgotten he was there, from the way he sat quietly and stared forward, barely touching his tea. You didn’t dare to stare at him for too long, lest you catch that cold, brooding gaze.

With Velaris waking around you, the members of your group began to break off. Amren was the first to go, announcing she planned to sleep for at least an entire day. Cassian practically swept Nesta off her feet and shot into the skies with barely a goodbye. Feyre and Rhys stood soon after that, and not particularly wanting to be one of the last left behind, you accepted your brother’s offer to see you home before he and the High Lady turned in themselves. 

Back at your house, the silence enveloped you. You’d not long moved in, and the smell of fresh paint, of brand new furniture, had a very clinical feel about them that didn’t exactly warm you as you stood in your bedroom, peeling out of your dress. Your only saving grace was the exhaustion beginning to drag you down, hopefully enough to pull you into sleep before your loneliness crept in. Your bed was huge, the unoccupied side of it noticeably empty and cold. 

After barely managing to remove your makeup and change into your nightgown, you fell between the sheets and allowed your eyes to flutter shut, memories of the evening, of your dancing and smiling and genuine laughter, comforting you enough for your breathing to slow, your eyes growing heavy. 

You were just drifting off when you heard it — the dull thud outside of the glass doors that led from your bedroom, out onto the balcony. 

You sat up, suddenly aware of the room darkening — of a huge figure blocking the daylight that had been streaming through in hues of pinks and buttery yellows. 

Azriel stood on your balcony, his eyes meeting yours through the glass. You threw the quilt off your body, not even caring about your flimsy little nightgown as you stalked over to the doors and yanked them open. 

“Do you have a particular aversion to knocking on the front door?” You snapped. “You know — like a normal person?”

Azriel stared back at you, his expression unreadable. His gaze dipped down, taking in the column of your throat. The cut of your figure through the silky material. 

“We need to talk.” He said.

“You could have talked to me at breakfast.”

His eyes, suddenly deeper — heated and hungry — flicked from the peak of your breasts through your nightgown, back up to your face. “No, I couldn’t.”

A small, petty part of you, still hurt from his rejection, from the harsh words he’d spoken to you, wanted to turn him away. To slam the glass doors in his face and climb back into bed like your heart wasn’t thudding wildly.

But you didn’t have that sort of resolve. Not where Azriel was concerned. 

With a soft, relenting sigh, you stepped aside, pulling both the doors wide open to accommodate the span of his wings as he entered with a graceful lope. 

You watched — as he strode in, still in his clothes from the party. He stopped in the middle of your bedroom, his eyes roving over the decor, the various trinkets you owned, the painting Feyre had gifted you as a moving-in present. Slowly, with such lethal precision, he turned on his feet to face you.

“Well?” You pushed, shutting the doors behind you. The cool air certainly didn’t help with the hardened peaks of your breasts. You crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Lucien Vanserra is Elain’s mate.” He said. 

You cocked an eyebrow. “I’m aware of that. Thank you.”

He took a step towards you. “So what were you doing with him tonight? Why did you leave the party with him?”

Studying his face, the realisation dawned on you — the direction in which his mind — and most of their minds — had probably taken when you’d wandered off with the redhead in tow. A small slither of satisfaction filled you as you read the ire in Azriel’s eyes.

You barked a laugh. “You think I fucked him?” 

Azriel shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time, from what I’ve heard.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” You acknowledged with a casual shrug. “But if you had visions of me leaving the party and riding him into oblivion in the fucking centre of the Hewn City, you’re very much mistaken, Azriel.”

“Even still.” That same, telling muscle in his jaw moved. “You were being reckless. Drinking and giggling and flirting with him. Everybody knows he’s a mated male. The kind of shame, of humiliation, those actions would put on Elain—“

“So that’s why you’re here?” You cut him off. “To defend Elain’s honour?” The thought of it left you cold and reeling. 

“I’m here,” He took another slow step towards you, “to advise you to stay away from Lucien.”

Folding your arms tighter, you clenched your jaw. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“He’s Elain’s mate. Elain’s.”

It was then that the fraught tether on your anger snapped. Perhaps it had been building up since your confrontation at the clinic — or perhaps since long before then. Whatever it was, that well deep inside you that you usually kept sealed, full of longing and loneliness, anger and sadness, of pure fucking love that would never be reciprocated — it spilled over. 

“How many times a day do you repeat those very words to yourself, Az?” You laughed coldly. “Is that how you keep hold of your control? What you repeat to yourself over and over to stop you from sinking your cock into Elain?”

Azriel moved so fast, you barely had a chance to register the flash of darkness. You were lifted off your feet, and suddenly you were pressed against the wall, Az’s body warm and solid against yours as he glared down at you, a guttural growl ripping from the depths of his throat. 

“Watch yourself, Y/N.” He bit.

You almost laughed. Because all of this — every bit of it — you found it thrilling. Seeing Azriel lose his signature cool calm, feeling the way his body pressed against yours and anger sparked off of him in little zips of lightning that snaked their way through your veins and lit you up from the inside.

He was close — so close. His heavy breathing fanned your face, and you could almost hear how hard he clenched his teeth.

“Why should I?” You said — tested him. Such a reckless, stupid game to play, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself.

Azriel’s head dipped. For a split second, you thought…you thought maybe he would kiss you. But then his nose brushed the column of your neck, the fine strands of his hair tickling your cheek. 

“If it were Elain I wanted to sink my cock into,” He said, his voice a deep, vicious purr, “I could have done so long ago.”

Hell — you didn’t doubt his words. You’d seen the way Elain simpered around him, her cheeks a brilliant pink, her eyes vibrant. She liked to play the coy, sweet thing, but you imagined how thoroughly she’d give herself to Azriel if he offered.

So why hadn’t he? Why hadn’t he taken the chance? Simply to keep relations with Lucien civil?

All thoughts, all potential quick-witted responses, had eddied from your mind. He’d beaten you at your own game, rendered you useless with his proximity, his scent. With his nose that continued to brush your neck, the feel of his skin against yours.

You wanted more of it. All of it. To rid yourself of all your clothes and barriers, to feel every intricate inch of him against you.

Azriel caught on to the change in your scent immediately. He stiffened against you as your legs trembled. You wondered if he’d pull away and fly out of the doors without another word — but then his forehead fell against your shoulder, pressed into it, and he emitted a soft, frustrated groan. 

“…Az?” You whispered.

“Don’t move.”

You wanted to listen — really, you did. But you’d never been much good at listening or taking direction. Shaking so hard you thought you may slide out from his grip and down the wall, you shifted your body. 

The tiny change in position told you precisely why he’d said what he had when the long, hard length of him pushed through his trousers, up against your stomach. You sucked in a sharp breath, the exhalation causing you to move against him. 

Azriel struck. 

He ripped his head up, and in one fluid dip, his mouth was on yours, pressing a forbidden, bruising kiss to your lips. 

You didn’t hesitate for a second. You kissed him back — hard, passionate — the kiss you’d hoped for on the balcony on Starfall. The one you’d imagined so long before that, and so many times since.

Azriel’s hands slid to your waist, the warmth of his palms pressing through your flimsy nightgown. He was so big, towering so much over you, that he had to lift you up just to keep your mouths joined. Another gasp had your mouth opening, and he grasped the opportunity while it was there, sliding his tongue in to dance around yours.

Gods — the taste of him, the feel of him — you wished you could bottle every element of that kiss and keep it for yourself. You tangled your hands within the silken strands of his hair, tugging just hard enough for him to grunt into your mouth. 

You breathed heavily against his lips, “I want you.” 

“Mm. No.” He grunted — growled — again. “We can’t.”

The refusal would have stung — if he didn’t follow those two, horrid words with another searing kiss. You let go of your grip on his hair, instead fisting the material of his tunic in your hands as you yanked him closer — harder — against you. You lightly nipped at his bottom lip. 

The gasp he emitted turned into another one of those low, frustrated whines that you swallowed greedily. “Why can’t I stop?”

“I don’t want you to.” You breathed, kissing him again.

He kissed you back — not the heady exchange of passion that it’d been seconds before, but a quick, chaste kiss that he didn’t allow to linger. A peck — but slightly firmer, deeper. He did it a second time, a third, and just as you were about to open up for him again, he pulled away.

You could see the rise and fall of his chest through his black shirt as he stared at you, his bruised and swollen lips slightly parted, his dark hair tousled. 

His eyes swept over you. You could only imagine what he saw — how flushed you probably were all over, how visibly your legs trembled. The peak of your nipples through your nightgown — a reaction provoked solely by him. 

As he stared — and stared and stared and stared — realisation began to dawn in his eyes. He blinked, as though stepping out of a trance. Touched his scarred fingers to his lips and gently pinched them, as though he couldn’t quite believe what they’d just been doing.

You knew that look — the one of regret that was rapidly emerging from the one of desire. He blinked again. Took a step back. 

“Az…” You murmured, daring a single step towards him.

He shook his head. Shook himself out of his thoughts. His face looked truly shell-shocked. “I need to leave.”

The punch to your heart was palpable. “Please don’t skip out on me now.”

“I have to leave.” He said again. In stiff, stunned movements so unlike his usual grace, he stalked back over to the balcony doors. 

What could you do besides watch him? Even with your heart shattering inside you, that painful sting of something being dangled in front of you, just for it to be ripped away, you couldn’t stop him from running off into the morning light. You couldn’t begin to think of how much worse you’d make things if you tried.

Az ripped the doors open once more, and he turned his body just slightly. Just to look at you once more. A frown had darkened his features. 

Without a word, he stepped out, and took a huge leap off the balcony, his wings carrying him off into the distance.

Tags: @safetypinxtales @historygeekqueen @smartiepants217 @mulansaucey @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @issybee0611 @goldentournesol @percyjacksonspeen @high-bi-andreadytocry @esposadomd @positivewitch @bsenpai @cityofidek @shannonsaid @topaz125 @azzydaddy @nobody00sthings @sfhsgrad-blog @elizarikaallen @hanasakr @ruleroftides @mis-lil-red

#acourtofwhatthefuck

[shannonwrote]

Get to know each other Choices Ask Game Time!!What are your TOP 10 Choices books?What are your TOP 10 Choices LIs?

Thanks for the ask, @harleybeaumont !! I didn’t expect this to be so hard! 🤷🏼‍♀️🤣😩

Top 10 Books:

1.) Blades of Light and Shadow

2.) Blood Bound

3.) Crimes of Passion

4.) The Cursed Heart

5.) Distant Shores

6.) Night Bound

7.) Veil of Secrets

8.) Ride-or-Die

9.) A Very Scandalous Proposal

10.) Open Heart (only because that last book was garbage. Would’ve been higher.)

Top 10 LIs:

1.) Trystan Thorne

2.) Adrian Raines

3.) Damien Nazario

4.) Kieran

5.) Leo Rhys

6.) Mal Volari

7.) Ethan Ramsey

8.) Ian Kingsley

9.) Simon Montjoy

10.) Cassian Keane

HONORABLE MENTION: ROBIN FLORES

#choices #pixelberry #harleybeaumont

[shannonwrote]

First things first… New Orleans is my favorite place in all the world.

I’ve been there enough times to have strange experiences that, to this day, I cannot explain.. and one of them definitely involved children running down a hallway and giggling and messing with our door.

Second things second. This trio was giving me mad Ghost Adventures vibes. I was just waiting for Liam to tell Maxwell to go into a room by himself because “he believes the hardest which would encourage the spirits to interact.”

And lastly and most important.. this was brilliantly written! I felt like I was legit watching a ghost show on tv and not reading a fanfic on Tumblr.

I’d also be the girl who’d comment on Maxwell’s Instagram and ask if I need to die to get Drake to notice me too. #teamdrake 😍🤤

If you have a tag list, please add me! I can’t wait to read the next installment, chapter, episode. This is everything I require for spooky season.

Cordonian Ghost Hunters

Episode 1 - The Decuir Hotel: New Orleans, LA

Book - TRR AU

Pairings - none so far

Synopsis - Three lifelong friends have a terrifying encounter with the paranormal that changes the course of their lives. Determined to find answers, they travel the world, investigating unexplained phenomena and documenting their findings. Drake, the unapologetic skeptic, Max the true believer, and Liam the analytical linchpin that holds the team together become the worldwide sensation known as.. The Cordonian Ghost Hunters. 

A/N - This fic started with me and @angelasscribbles​ discussing how we wanted to write something with a ‘horror feel’ to it, and we both came up with different ideas. Go read hers, if you haven’t! Thanks to Angela and @txemrn​ for brainstorming with me and helping me come up with ideas to get this started! And thank you Angela for literally writing the synopsis for me when I finished this fic and couldn’t get my brain to form another coherent thought. Lol

A/N 2-  I plan on having several more chapters as the guys go to different haunted locations across the world. I’m open to location suggestions if you have them. I’m tagging those who are on my perma tag list and a couple others who have asked, but if anyone wants on or off the list let me know! <3

Chapter Warnings - supernatural creepiness, hauntings, language, mentions of death

Word Count - 7,300 (Sorry! This first chapter is long because it explains the backstory of how everything came to be. The next chapters won’t be this long!)

Keep reading

#harleybeaumont

[shannonwrote]

#TeamRobinForever!!

If only they’d make him a LI and allow me to ditch Dalton! #wishfulthinking

To my fellow Robin stans:

Spoilers...

First, Sam compliments him... and then... 🥲🥲🥲 he's so shocked and happy! How friggin presh was this?

Can I throw my arms around him and kiss him and tell him how proud of him I am? Please? 🥰🥰🥰

@luxurylives @shannonwrote

#txemrn

[shannonwrote]

Dream, do you already have a new story after this one ends? And if so, could you tell us with who?? 👀

Of course my love! ❤

So I haven't like one hundred percent decided because my interests can change all of a sudden BUT-

There's a high chance that it's a Benedict fic and I have so many ideas for it already 😈😈😈

#dreamwritesimagines

[shannonwrote]

—D

[shannonwrote]

Azriel is my favorite. He’s always been my favorite.

Elain is garbage. I cannot stand the idea of the two of them being together.

HOWEVER! You write Azriel’s feelings for Elain so well, I kind of ship it? Mostly because it just seems like Azriel just wants to be loved as he is, and Elain is doing that. She’s not asking him to be someone else. She’s not shying away from who he is. Not that I want them to be ENDGAME, but still.

I agree with Feyre though. That this is a form of rebellion for Elain. She was put in a position she never wanted to be in. Was given a mate she never asked for. So now she’s trying to find her own way. Make her own decisions. I’m not saying she doesn’t care for Azriel, I just don’t know that I believe it’s as real as she claims.

AZ! My beautiful brooding idiot. Why are you marrying Elain if you have all these doubts? Do you not see them for what they are? RED FLAGS! Runaway. Call it off. Postpone. Idk. Just do something other that marry her.

I SHIP LUCIAN AND Y/N AND WANT THEM TO BE SOMETHING! THEY’RE CUTE AND PERFECT AND I LOVE THEM.

Falling Part V

Azriel x Reader

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: slight self-destructive behavior, angst, Azriel being a dumb male

A/N: Not gonna lie guys when I initially wrote this chapter, I had the worst writers block and I ended up deleting it all last night and starting it over (which produced this) but I am so excited with where its headed. This chapter is somewhat filler content, but I promise I am putting some things into motion for later! I know I write this literally every fic, but I appreciate you all so much for loving this story and I am so overwhelmed with the support it has gotten. My requests are open so feel free to send all the asks <3

Also, I am almost at 400 followers WHAT?! And I think I’ll do a little personal Q&A or something so you guys can get to know me a little bit <3 I’ll update you in a post soon!

Previous parts here -> Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV

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Last night seemed like a dream.

I woke up to bright light streaming through my window, my indication that the sun was already high in the sky. I guess I had slept far longer than I meant to. I stretch out my limbs, the events of last night returning to my memory as I looked at my night table where I had conveniently placed Iremia. I remembered then that it was real. Azriel and Elain were engaged. Engaged. I bring my hands to rub the sleep from my eyes, dragging them down my face and letting out a sigh. I could stay in bed all day and wallow in self-pity, but I decided that I wouldn’t continue to let them have so much control over my life, I would continue to heed Nesta and Lucien’s advice. With that decided, I take a quick bath and get dressed before heading to the dining room to find something to eat.

I entered the room surprised to find Nesta sitting in her usual position, Cassian next to her holding her hand and rubbing gentle circles along the back of it while they spoke.

“Good morning” I announce as I take my seat across from them

“Morning y/n” Cassian says while piling more food onto his plate

“So?” Nesta asked as I piled eggs, bacon, and bread with jam on my plate.

“So?” I repeat back to her, I know that she wants details about last night but I’m going to at least make her be direct about it.

“How did it go?” She clarifies, at this Cassian looks between the two of us clearly also wanting to hear the details.

“I couldn’t do it Nes, not after the announcement” she rolled her eyes but let me continue “It’s just the timing didn’t seem right, and I know I know you’re going to say the timing will never be right, but Nes you didn’t see him. He looked so happy, so carefree, and the last thing I wanted to do was ruin it by dropping this bombshell on him.”

“Look y/n, I love you and I will support you with whatever you decide to do.”

“I feel like a -but- is coming” I interject

“but-” she continues with one of her signature looks. “Don’t you think it would be worse to wait? That it will only be a bigger deal if they actually go through with getting married? Maybe it would hurt everyone involved less if you told them before planning and preparations are made? I mean he deserves to make an informed decision about what to do about the bond”

“I don’t know Nes.” I look to Cassian who is silently eating his breakfast “wait a second- what do you mean actually go through with getting married? Do you think they won’t go through with it?”

“All I know is that Feyre and Rhys are preparing for the worst-case scenario. I mean she is a mated female and if Lucien wanted to, he could invoke a blood duel as per Autumn Court tradition. Not to mention tension among the courts is still fragile after the treaty business last year.”

“Lucien wouldn’t do that; he doesn’t see mated females as his property in that way.” I said “Also, he isn’t technically an Autumn Court male anymore. He is the high lord apparent of the Day Court.”

“Regardless of his court standing, he is still her mate. He also has the strongest of relationships with the human realm and I don’t know if Rhys and Feyre are prepared to lose an asset like him due to Elain’s need to rebel.” She said matter of factly.

“What do you think Cass?” I asked the male.

He went still a moment, his brows furrowing as though he was debating what exactly to say in this situation. “I think that Nes has a point, I mean the longer you wait the more people may get hurt by the news and I think that he deserves to know; he has been infatuated with the idea of mates since we were younger and I don’t know what changed his mind, but I think he is just looking for commitment and Elain is looking to rebel, and they just found each other. I also stand by my previous statement during training, I love him dearly, he is my brother, but gods damn is he an idiot sometimes.”

I can’t help but laugh at his statement. “I’ll consider it” I look between the two of them “I promise I will think about it, and I’ll talk to Rhys and Feyre to see what they think.”

The couple nodded as we continued with breakfast. We switched the conversation to training and general news. Once we had finished, we went our separate ways. I thought a lot about what they had said and sent a note to find the high lord and lady and ask for their advice with this whole thing. I immediately got a response that appeared in Rhysand’s elegant script offering to winnow me to the River House this afternoon to meet them in his office. I immediately accepted sending the magical paper back to its sender and decided to indulge myself in a book until the meeting time.

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

I hadn’t realized how many hours had passed until the high lord materialized in the library. I put my book on a nearby table and offered a simple greeting. Rhys held out his arm which I took without hesitation, the familiar pulling sensation taking over as we winnowed directly to the high lord’s office. When we arrived, I turned to find Feyre entering the room with Nyx. The little prince reaching his arms out. I hadn’t noticed before, but his wings were getting stronger, and he was gaining some control over them as he flapped them in an attempt to launch himself into his father’s waiting arms.

“Hey y/n” the high lady said handing Nyx to her mate who beamed at the boy now securely in his embrace.

“So, to what do we owe the pleasure” Rhysand asked, Feyre simply nodded in agreement.

“Well, you know that I love you both, and that I value your opinion.” The two nodded listening intently “After Solstice, after the engagement, I think I am just looking for some advice about what to do about Azriel. You know whether I should still tell him about the bond or just leave it alone. I talked to Cassian and Nesta earlier and now I’m asking you what you think.”

The two look at each other, silently communicating as they tended to do. Feyre was the one to speak “You know I love my family; I love both of my sisters but there are just so many logistics involved with this whole union. I mean you are Azriel’s mate whether you tell him and whether or not he accepts it and the same goes for Elain, she is welcome to reject the bond with Lucien but to me it seems like she is just running away from the idea altogether.” She took a breath “and Lucien, I mean he is not only my friend but also an ally of this court and he has every right to invoke the blood duel should he want to. its just spiraled, the whole thing from a harmless flirtation to a disaster.” She looked at her mate who gave her a nod of approval.

“Look you two, I don’t know where this idea came from that Lucien is going to challenge Az but he isn’t an Autumn Court male anymore and finds the blood duel repulsive and when has he given any indication that he would do something like that. When he got to the night court, he let Elain have her space and he hasn’t pushed the bond on her. He’s never tried to force anything on her, and he wouldn’t now just because they are engaged.”

“You have a valid point” Feyre said “But the whole reason you came here was to ask our opinion on your situation. I think both Rhys and I agree that you should still tell him. I mean had he not proposed, you would have told him at the solstice party. We think that he deserves to have all the information before he makes a big decision like this, like marriage.”

I nod my head as she speaks, her words echoing that of Cassian and Nesta’s from this morning. “I guess I have a lot to think about”

“Look, no matter what happens just know we are here for you to help you through this” Rhysand says breaking his silence.

“I’m scared” I admit to them

“Well look at it this way” Feyre begins “at least you will be the one to tell him and not a Suriel” she gives Rhys a mischievous look as he grins

“I was going to tell you…eventually” he said “The Suriel just got to you first AND I was gravely injured if you recall”

Feyre let out a laugh, pressing a kiss to his lips and to Nyx’s forehead. “I think it is all going to work out y/n”

I let out a long breath “Okay, well now that that is settled, hand me that baby because I need time with my nephew”

Rhys grins handing Nyx to me, I bounce the babe on my knees and enjoy some family time with the three of them for the remainder of the night.

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It had been a month since my conversations with Nesta and Feyre about what to do and I was still no closer to a decision. I had even gone as far as making pro and con lists which were scattered across my desk with various reasons why I should tell him, and why I shouldn’t. Reason number one being that they seemed so happy. Just yesterday they had announced that they intended to marry a week after Starfall, which was only a few months away.

I continued thinking about my reasons as I got ready for the day. I was going to be helping Gwyn with research in the library today. I had to admit I was excited to spend the day surrounded by books and to be around Gwyn, I had been so busy with the new developments with Azriel that I had neglected time with my friend, and I intended to make up for it.

I was putting on my shoes in a chair in the corner of my bedroom when I heard a rustling on my desk. I looked over as a letter appeared on top of a pile of other correspondence, my name scrawled across the front with handwriting I immediately recognized. I jumped up from my position taking the letter in my hands as I tore open the envelope and couldn’t help the smile on my face as I read it.

My Dearest Y/N,

I hope you are doing well. I have found myself missing your company in the past weeks since my relocation to my father’s court. I have been keeping busy, learning the history of the court, and enjoying the vast library, it really is unmatched. I think you would love it. No, I know you would love it here. Anyways, what updates do you have from the Night Court? I take it everyone is well. I’m sure it has been hard on you these weeks since the engagement and I want to remind you that you have a friend, a friend who happens to know exactly what you’re going through and one that has come to care greatly for you. please remember that you always have a place in my court should you need to escape.

Yours,

Lucien

I made myself a mental note to send a response as I checked the time realizing I was late and made my way downstairs to the library.

I was immediately greeted by Gwyn, the red head smiling at me in one of her big genuine smiles, her eyes sparkling with the gesture, and she pulled me into a tight hug. “Oh, I have missed you so much y/n” she says

“I missed you too Gwyn”

“Okay you have so much to catch me up on” she says practically bouncing with excitement over our girl talk today which we did between tasks for Clotho and finding some research for another priestess Gwyn is helping. I told her everything, I needed another opinion about what to do from someone not currently in a mating bond. Someone who might understand my reservations a little better.

“How do you feel about it all?” she asks as we work on reshelving books in the lower levels.

“I feel…” I take a breath “I don’t know I guess I feel conflicted, on one hand I want him to know maybe for my own benefit, but I mean is it fair of me to just make this choice for him? What if he feels like Elain? Like the bond is a burden he wants to run from? I don’t know if I can deal with that kind of rejection. On the other hand, I don’t tell him and continue my life like it is now and let him continue his life that he chose with Elain but what if one day it snaps for him and he wants to explore it, but they have a life, maybe a family? I am just confused and scared, and I don’t know what to do. The consensus has been that I need to tell him and that’s what I am leaning towards, but I just don’t know Gwyn.”

“I think that the only person who can decide what to do is you.” the priestess says “I mean you get all this advice about what’s fair for him. But what is fair to you?”

I was pondering over her words when suddenly a note materialized on the cart. I recognized the script immediately and for a moment I forgot how to breathe.

Meet me on the roof

-Az

“What do you think he wants?” I ask

“Only one way to find out” she says “I think you should figure out what you want y/n, I think you two should figure out if you’re even compatible before you decide. Maybe spend time with him without the influence of other people, just you two to see how you interact. Maybe it’ll help you to make your decision. Remember that mating bonds were initially put in place by the mother for prime breeding benefits, we live in a modern world and maybe it’s an antiquated concept now”

“Thanks Gwyn” I said pulling the female into another hug “I guess I have somewhere to be”

“Good luck” she says disappearing behind a bookshelf, continuing with her work. I take a deep breath and make my way upstairs.

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

I couldn’t help the thoughts running through my head as I made my way up to the roof, the most dominant one being what If he knows. I try to not look concerned as I open the door, the sunlight catching me off guard for a moment as I make out his figure in our usual spot, sitting on the edge of the roof with his legs dangling over the side. His wings looking powerful and poised behind him.

His shadows immediately slither over to greet me, as they do, he turns from his position to look at me approaching. “Hey y/n” he says patting the empty space next to him.

I carefully set myself down beside him, hoping he can’t hear how loud my heart is beating. After a moment of silence, I manage to say “So, why did you ask me here?”

“To be honest…I’m not really sure” He says “I feel like you are one of the only people I can really talk to you know. The others, I love them, and they are my family, but I know they don’t approve of me right now.”

“Don’t approve of you why?”

“I know they have reservations about me and Elain. I mean months ago Rhys cornered me in his office and basically told me to stay away from her, and now we’re engaged. I know he and Feyre are probably figuring out the logistics of it all, you know because she is mated to Lucien.”

“I may have heard something like that from them.” I say “Can I just ask you why, if you know how your family feels and you have these reservations then why go through it”

“I think I’m in love with her”

“This seems like a lot of trouble for you think, I mean if you are going to vow to spend your life with someone shouldn’t you know you love them?” I asked him.

“I think that conversation we had a few weeks ago has really stuck with me, you know about mates. I can’t help but feel nostalgic. I spent hundreds of years certain I would find my mate and then I gave up on it and decided to try things with Elain and maybe I feel guilty. Because if I were in Lucien’s position, I would hate the male and I would be in absolute hell watching my mate fall in love with and intend to marry someone else.”

“I know Lucien doesn’t hate you, he may dislike you because of his instincts but he trusts Elain to make her own decisions. He would never force her to accept the bond or choose him unless it is what she truly wanted.”

“You talk with Lucien?” he asks, looking over at me, his eyes meeting mine.

“Of course, I mean we’re friends and have been for some time now”

“I guess I didn’t notice”

“There are a lot of things you don’t notice” I say quietly under my breath.

“What was that?” he asks

“Oh nothing” I reply, “but Az if you feel guilty you can pull out you know. You don’t have to go through with any of this if you feel that way.”

“I know, its just” he pauses taking a deep breath “I don’t think anyone else would love me, maybe this is it. Maybe this is my one chance at some kind of happiness”

“I don’t think the universe works that way Az” he looks at me “Besides there are plenty of people who love you, myself included”

“I know that y/n, I just feel like I’m making a huge mistake, every instinct is screaming that this is wrong, and I can’t shake it.”

“I should give you Iremia, seems like you could use the tranquility” I say jokingly

“That’s what you named it? The dagger?” he asked

I nod my head in confirmation “Yeah, I figured I could use a little calm in my life so why not”

“It’s a great name” he says.

“Look Az, maybe you should call off the wedding if you are having these doubts. No one would blame you for taking the time to think about it, this is the rest of your life you are talking about, and you should be sure you want to spend it with Elain. Especially if you’re having such strong doubts.”

“I just don’t want to hurt anyone” he says softly

“I know the feeling” I say bringing my eyes down to look at my hands.

“Y/n?” he says my name softly, almost a whisper and I turn my head to face him. He is looking at me and his eyes met mine, and I noticed them drift lower before his gaze is resting on my lips. My breath became caught in my throat. Was he going to kiss me? I thought as his mouth parted slightly, his breath becoming uneven as he began to lean into me.

“Az?” A soft voice said interrupting the moment.

“Elain” he said quickly, practically jumping away from me and making his way over to her placing a kiss to her temple “What are you doing up here?” he asked her.

“We have dinner plans…remember?” she replied, “I figured I would save you a trip by coming here.” She looked over at me, I was rising from the mat “Hello y/n” she said politely

I immediately felt embarrassed and fought the redness rising on my face as I gave her a nonchalant greeting back.

“Thanks for the talk y/n” Azriel says “I’ll see you in training tomorrow”

I give them both a small smile as they depart his shadows swirling as he winnows them away. The conversation runs over again in my head. Did he suspect something? Was he going to kiss me? Would I have let him?

I make my way downstairs to my room to change before dinner with the Inner Circle, minus Elain and Azriel who apparently had other plans for the evening. My thoughts no clearer than they were this morning.

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

Once bathed and changed I made it to the dining room to find it already full of people. Nesta and Cass were in their usual seats as were Feyre, Rhys, Nyx, Mor, and even Amren to my surprise. I took up my seat across from Nesta and began to fill my plate.

The conversation was normal, mostly updates about Nyx and about the Valkyries training about new developments in the Hewn city and general news. Until Feyre cleared her throat drawing my attention. “So, y/n, what is new on the Azriel front?” she tried to sound nonchalant about it, but the air was thick with tension.

“Here we go” I said rolling my eyes as I prepared for the same speech I had gotten for weeks from them about how I needed to do the right thing and tell him and basically just get it over with.

“Clearly you have all made your opinions on the matter known. So why don’t you all just tell me what to do.” I look around the room meeting their gaze, my tone elevating as I continued “If anyone has an idea of how I should better deal with this please let me know because I feel like I am losing my mind.” My voice breaks but I take a deep breath and continue. “I know what you all think about it, but it isn’t your decision to make. If and when I tell him about this it will be on MY terms.”

“We just want to help you” Feyre says softly.

“As if any of you can help me, as if any of you can fathom what it’s like. Except you Rhys, but only briefly because it worked out in your favor. What would you all suggest I do hmm? Oh, wait you have all already told me what you think. Why do I need to rush and make a decision like this just because you all have an opinion about it?”

“y/n-” Nesta begins, but I cut her off.

“Because on one hand, I tell him about the bond and ruin any chance of happiness he has built for himself. On the other I don’t say a word, and one day the bond may snap for him, and he resents me for not telling him. Oh, and not to mention the other important piece here, Elain. You all would have me be the villain that steps in to ruin her wedding, to ruin a choice she made, a choice they both made. I can’t do that. No, actually I won’t do that.”

“But y/n-” Cassian began

“There is no but, that is all there is to it Cass. Either way I lose” the others look down at their hands, mulling over what I said.

“I’m going to bed” I announce, getting up from the table and making my way to my bedroom. I hear their hushed voices arguing as I make my way up the stairs, I do my best to block it out.

Once making it to my room, I close the door softly behind me and make my way to my desk. I take deep steadying breaths trying to ignore the feeling of being suffocated, of being forced into something so serious. I turn my head and catch a glimpse of Lucien’s last letter. I look it over again, suddenly getting an idea.

I grab a piece of parchment, and a pen and scrawl out a quick reply before losing my nerve.

Dearest Lucien,

I am doubtful of my ability to remain here surrounded by happy mated couples. Watching Elain and Azriel plan their wedding is torture. Getting advice from people who know nothing of what I am going through is torture and to be honest I miss you more than I can express. So, how soon can I visit? I feel that some time away would do me good. I need to figure out what my life is without him, who I am without him. Perhaps you can help with that.

Yours,

Y/N

Next Chapter (Coming Soon)

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If you want to be added to my taglist let me know!

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#bookish-whore

[shannonwrote]

JUST. All of this. Yes.

I love the relationship between Legolas and YN. The whole scene where she thanks him for seeing her? My heart. It could NOT. 💞

I love how easily your story flows with the actual story. YN sounds like she was there. That she belongs that. The she was always there. The ties to Thorin and the Hobbit and the first “fellowship,” if you would. It’s all so perfect and so freaking brilliant.

I can’t wait for the next part!!

A Peculiar Fellowship (Part Thirteen)

Legolas x Reader (Series)

A/N: So while I normally do my best to keep reader as neutral as possible, it kind of goes with this series that, as an Elf, Reader has long hair. It’s for the ploooot! I did my best to keep it texture neutral, but let me know if I missed anything :)

But anyways, hello again! I’m here with another long delayed chapter of APF! The Tag List is getting kind of painfully long for the ratio of interaction so I may have to put a cap on it or prioritize tagged readers who interact more.

I hope you enjoy this chapter! It’s basically mostly self indulgent fluff.

<- Previous Part | Series Masterlist |

        A short respite found them after the funeral of Theodred. Some days passed in a manner of hesitant relief, and yet a restlessness stirred, no doubt accompanying the sense of conflict looming on the horizon.

        Gandalf had begun to fill Wormtongue’s previous position, helping King Theoden as they began to undo the damage that had been done by Saruman.

        Y/N and Legolas were both kept busy, and thus, separated, as they worked to aid in the restoration of Edoras. The townsfolk had many needs, and there were still some of Wormtongue’s dark warriors to be rooted out.

        On the morning of the fifth day, however, they found a quiet moment before the city awoke, in which to talk.

Keep reading

#ouat-in-a-spare-oom-of-rivendell

[shannonwrote]

Ohk. But WHY is your Hyacinth so perfect?! I’ve (finally) finished all the books, and they Hyacinth you just wrote?! Is exactly the Hyacinth in the book. Plotting and sneaky and just a few steps ahead of the rest with her knowledge (regardless of her age, she just KNOWS things).

Not going to lie, if a dude that looked and behaved like Benedict asked to draw my portrait, I’d probably jump his bones before AND after. I applaud YN for at least waiting until after.

I also love how easily swayed YN was to drop all pretenses and just go after what she wanted… regardless of potential consequences. She’s been dealt a crappy hand in life, it was time she did a little living for herself.

BUT NOW! The other shoe has to drop, right? Because she’s not part of the Ton and Benedict is. They could never marry. She could never be anything more than his mistress. So whatever shall they do?! What happens next?! And what will Anthony do when he finds out (because I’m sure he’ll find out, he’s Anthony).

And uh. Who has YN rolled around in the hay with? Because this was clearly not her first rodeo.

Wool From the Black Sheep pt. 3 (Benedict Bridgerton x reader)

Series Masterlist

A/N: I'm sure some people are worried because it's so fluffy that the angst will be twice as strong but it's like a 6.5 on my angst scale I think??. But here's some fluff and smut and fluffy smut (smut's at the very end so if you're not comfortable with that it's easy to skip!)

Pairings: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Warnings: smut 👀; hating on Lord Byron (come on, we all know that had to happen); a bit of angst but mostly fluff; pining

Word Count: 3.2k

As always, 18+ Minors DNI!

The Bridgertons were not known for letting things go… any of them. When a thought formed in their minds, there was very little one could do to stop them. Needless to say, they were headstrong, stubborn, and unrelenting when they felt they needed to be. And Hyacinth felt that she needed to be. 

Watching her new governess and her brother had caused a scheme to come to light. It did not matter what Francesca believed, or even what Daphne had said, she knew true love when she saw it. 

Y/N was sitting across from Hyacinth in the library, sorting through a large pile of books, trying to find the one that she had told Gregory about. The boy had grown bored a while ago and went off to play, but Hyacinth stayed, hoping to pick Y/N’s brain.

Just as she was about to open her mouth, Eloise barged in. Hyacinth sighed dramatically and slumped back in her seat, watching Eloise approach Y/N, book in hand.

“I finished it,” Eloise said. “It is…magnificent. Truly.”

Y/N held her hand out and took the book, a smile on her face. “I quite agree.”

“I’d like another,” Eloise said. Y/N hummed and looked up at Eloise from her spot, an expectant look on her face. “Perhaps you can wave our deal just this once? I am feeling unwell today, I would love to just sit inside and read.” 

“We have an agreement, Eloise,” Y/N said sternly. “One book for one dance. You must learn to compromise.”

Eloise sighed and threw her head back. “Alright.”

Y/N smiled and stood from her seat. She held her hand out to Hyacinth and the three girls left the library and made their way to the drawing-room. From the hall, they could hear Francesca playing the pianoforte. Every so often she would miss and note and then slam her hands down, creating a cacophony of sounds. 

“How are you fairing?” Y/N asked as they entered the room. 

“It is challenging,” Francesca sighed. 

“Then it will be all the more rewarding when you perfect it,” Y/N smiled. “But, take a break for now. In fact, I need your help. A waltz if you would, please.”

Eloise groaned dramatically and Francesca smiled, starting out on the first note. 

Y/N walked over to Eloise and placed her hands behind her back. “So, first, you must curtsy.” Eloise gave a half-hearted cursty that looked more like a jolt than anything else. Y/N sighed and looked at her. Finally, Eloise curtsied properly. Y/N smiled and gave a dramatic bow. “Now you place your hand on my shoulder, like this.” Y/N took Eloise’s hand and placed it on her shoulder. “Good…Now.” Y/N grabbed Eloise’s hand. “It’s just a circle, see.” Y/N stepped forward and Eloise stumbled slightly, letting out a loud sigh. Y/N rolled her eyes. “You must practice this, Eloise.”

“What is the point?” she groaned, stepping away. “I should not think I will marry next season. I will have years to perfect these dances.”

“Well, they can be quite fun if you just give them a chance.”

“I think not.”

Hyacinth’s ears perked up when Benedict walked into the room. He chuckled, seeing Eloise’s dramatic sighs. 

“What have I walked into?” he wondered.

“Miss Y/L/N is trying to teach me to waltz,” Eloise grimaced. “I am having a terrible time. This truly is torture.”

“Ah, I am sure it is not so terrible,” Benedict smiled.

Hyacinth’s eyes lit up at that moment, a thought forming in her mind. “Brother, perhaps you can show Eloise how to do the dance properly.”

Benedict stammered for a moment. Y/N’s eyes widened and she looked at Hyacinth in warning, but the girl’s smile never wavered. 

“I am surely out of practice,” Benedict said.

“Oh, please,” Eloise whined. “Anything to get me out of this.”

Benedict cleared his throat. “Well…Alright. If that is…alright with you,” he said, looking at Y/N. She just smiled and nodded, not trusting her voice. With one look, Francesca started the music again, though Y/N could not hear it over the sound of her racing heart. Benedict watched as she curtsied for him and he bowed. 

The second their hands touched, sparks flew through the both of them. Nothing stood between them, their skin burned, their hands fit perfectly together. Benedict pulled Y/N closer to him and his free hand settled on her waist. All of the breath left Y/N’s lungs and she looked into his eyes. She did not even realize when they had started moving. It felt like floating, like flying. The dance seemed perfectly rehearsed, like they had done it every day for their entire lives. 

Eloise looked at Hyacinth, a small smile on her lips. 

“Fair play, sister.”

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

After she had gone to bed, Y/N could still feel Benedict’s hand burning through her dress and how it fit perfectly in her hand. She stared down at her hand, trying to pretend that Benedict was still there, holding it. 

Sighing, she fell back into her bed, trying to rid her mind of all of the thoughts forming. Thoughts of doubt, of pain. 

They could never be together, she knew that. He came from a distinguished family. He was expected to marry a proper lady. Perhaps she had been one years ago, but she was not anymore. 

Just as she was about to let sleep take her, a knock came at her window. She sighed, assuming it was Eloise, stuck outside again. She really was not in the mood. But she stood anyway, knowing she had to help the girl. 

When she got the window, however, Eloise was not standing there. Benedict was. Crouching down, a smile on his lips. Surprised, she opened the window. 

“What are you doing here?”

He just smiled at her. “What are you doing right now?”

“Trying to sleep,” she said. 

He humphed. “Are you really tired?”

“No,” she responded instantly. “Not at all.”

His smile returned, wider than before. “Want to go to a party?”

“A party?” she asked, surprised. He just nodded. “I…I do not believe that would be appropriate, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Benedict,” he said. “And it will be fun. Who cares about appropriate?”

“Your brother, for one,” she said. 

Benedict sighed. “My brother needs to get out of the house…just like you, in fact. Come on. It will be fun.”

Y/N looked at Benedict for a moment, chewing her bottom lip. “Alright. Give me a few minutes, I must get dressed.”

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

She followed him through the dark streets of the town, her hood hung over her eyes. He held out his arm to her, but she refused to take it. This was already too improper. If people saw them…touching…in public, he would surely be ruined. They both would be, though she cared more about his reputation than hers. She was not sure why. 

They stopped in front of the door to a house. Inside, they could hear the sounds of people laughing…having a good time. Benedict placed his hand on the door handle and Y/N stopped him, placing her hand on his arm. 

“Are you sure we should just walk in?” she wondered.

He smiled at her and nodded, pushing the door open with ease. The moment they walked in, Benedict parted with his coat. He turned to Y/N and held his hand out for her cloak. With a sigh, she pulled it off and handed it to him. She could feel his eyes lingering on her, but she ignored it. 

Suddenly, she realized that this was a terrible idea. All he had to do was smile at her and she would just melt…do whatever he asked of her. She was about to open her mouth to tell him that they should leave when a man approached them, a wide smile on his face.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” he said, giving Benedict a manly hug. “I am so glad you have come to join us tonight. And you’ve brought a friend?” he wondered, eyebrow quirked.

Benedict cleared his throat. “Er, yes. This is Miss Y/L/N. Miss Y/L/N, this is Lord Granville.”

Lord Granville paused for a moment. “Y/L/N, did you say?” Y/N nodded. “I knew your father,” he said with a sad smile. “He was an extremely talented man. Your mother was too, from what I remember.”

Y/N felt her throat close and she nodded, fearing the tears already forming in her eyes. 

“Call me Henry,” he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. “Enjoy your evening.” With that, Lord Granville turned and went back to the party. 

Benedict turned to see Y/N watching Lord Granville’s parting figure. “Are you alright?” he wondered.

Y/N cleared her throat and nodded. “Y-yes, of course.”

Benedict held out his arm for her and this time she did not refuse. She tucked her arm in his, immediately relaxing and followed him further into the house. 

Benedict watched her reactions to everything happening around them. Even surrounded by people acting with reckless abandon, she smiled and he realized that she was in the right place. Gone were the pretenses of the outside world. She did not need to be proper. Neither of them did. 

Glasses of wine in hand, they found themselves in one of the rooms where a rather drunk gentleman was reciting a poem. They sat back, watching his dramatic performance. And even though Y/N’s eyes were on the man, Benedict never stopped looking at her. 

She leaned over to him and whispered. “Could he not have chosen anything other than Byron?”

“You’re perfect,” he said immediately. His eyes widened when Y/N looked at him fully and he stammered. “I…I just…I mean…” he trailed off when Y/N smiled at him. 

“I think the wine is getting to you, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said, a joking lilt in her voice.

Benedict chuckled and took another sip. He turned back to the man reciting the terrible Byron, a red twinge on his cheeks. 

“I would have preferred Keats,” she said. 

Benedict smiled, his heart hammering in his chest. “Yes, that would have been a much better choice.”

As the poet wound to an end, followed by a smattering of applause, Benedict and Y/N made their way through the house to another room where many people were painting and drawing. There were models on the stage, men and women, posed in intricate designs. Y/N watched them all like they were paintings of their own. 

“Are you going to draw?” she asked Benedict. 

“Only if I can draw you,” he responded. 

Y/N looked at him, her eyes wide. A nervous smile grew on her face and she just nodded. Benedict grabbed a piece of drawing paper and a few bits of charcoal and then her hand. She looked at him, confused, but took his hand all the same. He led her out of the room and into a room in the back that had a few easels. 

Y/N looked around, finding them to be alone. 

“Is this okay?” he wondered.

She nodded. Benedict smiled and slowly sat her down on an armchairs. He set everything up at the easel and sat down. 

Y/N fidgeted in the seat. “What do you want me to do?” she wondered.

“Just…Just sit there,” he smiled. “Like that.”

“Oh, alright,” she said, placing her hands in her lap. She started to pick at her nails. “I feel a bit rigid,” she chuckled. 

“You can move,” he said. “Sit however you’d like. Just be…comfrotable.”

“Comfortable,” she repeated to herself. She moved around a bit in the chair and crossed her legs. She rested one elbow on the arm of chair and leaned her head in her hand. “Perfect,” he said mostly to himself. Then he started to draw.

Y/N watched the way his arms flexed as he glided the charcoal up and down the page. How his tongue would dart out whenever he would concentrate fully. She saw the crease in his eyebrow. He looked up at her methodically as if memorizing every line and curve of her body. She felt completely on display, but she felt safe all the same. His eyes softened every time they’d meet hers, a sweet smile on his face. 

Something about this was more intimate than she had thought it would be. 

When he finished, he set the charcoal down and placed his hands in his lap, looking over it once more. Y/N stood and walked over. 

“May I see it?” she wondered. Benedict nodded and let her lean over him. He watched her reaction, how her eyes lit up and her lips parted in a gasp. “This is beautiful, Benedict.” His heart skipped a beat, hearing her use his name. She turned to him so they were barely a breath apart. 

Before he really knew what he was doing, he leaned in, placing his lips on hers. Y/N was surprised, but she instantly melted into his embrace. His hand traced up her arm and settled on her neck. His thumb ran over the line of her jaw. 

Y/N gasped and jumped back after a moment. “I…”

Benedict stood quickly. “I’m sorry…I should not have—”

“No,” she said, swallowing heavily. “I—We can’t. It’s not…”

“Why not?” he wondered, taking a step closer to her. Y/N took an equal step back, trying to distance herself from him. That one kiss proved that she could easily get addicted to kissing him…something that could not happen. 

“It is not right. We are…We are from two very different worlds, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Benedict,” he corrected.

“I can’t,” she said, tears in her eyes. “I have to distance myself from you.”

“Don’t,” he said, taking another step forward. This time, however, Y/N did not move. She let him take her hand and kiss her fingers. She looked at him, her breathing heavy. “Just be here with me…”

“I want to,” she said quietly. He stepped even closer, fitting his body perfectly against his. The breath hitched in her throat. “But it is not right.”

“I do not care about what is right,” he said. “I care about you.”

Y/N pressed her eyes closed and let out a devastating breath. “I care about you too and that’s why…that’s why I cannot allow you to do this to yourself.”

“None of that matters to me,” he said, leaning in. His lips brushed hers, pulling in the breath from her lungs. “I know that you feel this too,” he said quietly. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

“I should want you to,” she whispered, her lips brushing his with every word. “But I don’t.”

Benedict leaned in fully and kissed her with a passion that almost knocked her off her feet. She gripped his vest to steady herself, pulling him into her until there was nowhere else to go. He gripped her waist, pushing her into the wall behind her. His hand trailed up the side of her body, setting on her neck. She pulled away, needing to take a breath and he kissed down her neck, biting the space right behind her ear. Y/N let out a moan, her head flying back. 

“I want you,” he whispered into her ear. “I need you.”

Y/N pulled him up to her lips and kissed him deeply, her tongue brushing his lips. He gasped into her mouth as she pushed him back, ripping the vest from his body. They stumbled through the room until they made it to the chair. Y/N pushed him down and climbed onto his lap. Benedict chuckled against her lips and gripped her hips tightly, pulling her against him. 

She pulled off his cravat, tossing it somewhere in the room. His hands grazed up her arms and then down her back, unbuttoning each button of her dress as he went. He pulled back as he pulled down the top of her dress, his eyes were blown wide and his lips parted in a gasp. His fingers grazed her collarbone. 

“You’re beautiful.”

Y/N smiled and leaned in to kiss him once again, pulling his shirt off of him. 

“Are you certain about this?” he asked, breathless.

“Yes,” she responded instantly. Smiling, Benedict stood the both of them up and allowed Y/N’s dress to fall to the ground. Quickly, he spun them around, sitting her back on the chair. He knelt in front of her, kissing up her leg before pulling down her stockings. He pulled her to the edge of the chair and kissed up the rest of her leg. Y/N’s head fell back and she gripped her hands into his hair as he pulled down her underwear. 

“Are you certain?” he asked again.

Y/N whined and tightened her hands in his hair, pushing him closer to where she wanted him. Benedict chuckled and finally licked up the length of her slit. She could feel his chuckle on her, sending shock waves through her body. She moaned loudly, her back arching. Benedict grabbed her legs on either side of his head, holding them steady as she squirmed beneath him. He moaned against her, relishing in her taste. 

“Ben…” she moaned, holding him closer as she started to shake. “I need you…Please.”

Benedict hummed against her, making her cry out. “Not done…”

“Please,” she whined, pulling him away from her. He let out a sad groan but leaned in to kiss her anyway. She moaned into his mouth, holding him close to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her off the chair, into his lap, making her yelp. Benedict used that opportunity to deepen the kiss. Y/N ran her hands through his hair as he sucked on her tongue. “I need you,” she moaned again. 

She pushed Benedict down until his back was on the floor, his hands gripping her hips. She undid his trousers and shoved them down, revealing him ready and wanting. 

“Are you certain about this?” she asked.

“Fuck yes,” he responded instantly. Y/N smiled and sunk down on him, her head thrown back in pleasure. Her nails dug into his chest as she started to rock back and forth. Benedict sat up, holding her closer. One of his hands went to the ties of her corset, undoing them with ease. He loosened them enough to pull down the constricting clothing, freeing her breasts. He took one of her nipples into his mouth, rolling it around with his tongue. Y/N shook in his arms as she sped up, her hands digging into his hair. 

“You feel s-so good, darling,” he moaned before kissing her deeply.

“I…” she cried. “I’m…I’m gonna cum.”

Benedict nodded. “I know…Cum for me…please, I n-need you to.”

He thrusted up into her a few times before her head flew back, her eyes rolled into her head, and a cry of pleasure left her lips. 

“There you go,” he moaned against her neck. He pulled her off of him before he could cum and Y/N took him in her hand. He moaned against her lips as she pumped him up and down and it only took a few seconds for him to cum in her hand. He let out a long, happy sigh and gave her a lazy kiss. 

Y/N smiled into the kiss, already addicted to the feeling of being in his arms.

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

A/N: so we're happy....oh, no, will the other shoe drop??

Taglist: @shannonwrote @supraveng @swiftspaperings @wotcherboo @spwinkles

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Much love

Alma xx

#homeofthepeculiar

[shannonwrote]

Ohk. Ohk. But Eloise sneaking into YN’s window?!! Eloise doesn’t seem to truly like anyone, but feels comfortable enough climbing through YN’s window?! I love their relationship already and it’s brand new.

How cute and amazing is YN’s ability to make the Bridgerton forget their fear of storms? And how easily she falls into their masses like she’s always been there. Like she’s always belonged there.

FREAKING ANTHONY. I’d like to think Anthony wouldn’t really be like that. Considering he loves his family more than anything else in the entire world (including more than he’ll ever love himself), but I can also see him feeling some kind of jealousy for not being the one to make them feel better. For maybe feeling the same way about storms that they do, but being unable to show that emotion - or rather, thinking he shouldn’t. I hope he warms up to YN. I think she’d be good for him too.

I need to take YN love advice. Maybe the outcomes of my courtships would end up better than they currently do. 🤣

OH MY JONAS! HOW CUTE AND BENEDICT AND YN?!! So absorbed in each other and art that they’ve both totally forgotten about everything and everyone else. My heart.

Talk about Daphne hitting everything on the nose. “Love does not care about such things… unfortunately, marriage does.”

Is this forecasting ANGST?! I feel like it has to be. And dang it! My heart isn’t ready. Not after how freaking cute YN and Benedict currently are.

Wool From the Black Sheep pt. 2 (Benedict Bridgerton x reader)

Series Masterlist

A/N: Here's Part 2 my dears!! Thank you all so much for your love on this story so far! I did mention that this takes place during season 1 in one of my asks but just in case you didn't see that, here's your reminder!

We're dealing with that Anthony

Pairings: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Warnings: fluff??? mentions of death of parents

Word Count: 2.8k

As always, 18+ Minors DNI!

The storm raged outside, the thunder rattling the windows and the rain pattering on the roof. Y/N sighed and pulled the blanket tighter around her. She looked out of her small window, watching the grass and trees blow in the breeze. She held her book closer to the flickering candlelight and flipped the page, allowing her mind to take in all of the words. The winds raged once more and she sighed, knowing she would get little sleep. 

Her mind wandered to the family sleeping around the house. It had been only one week since she had taken her job as Governess and already she felt at home there. The children, though sometimes a handful, were all bright and eager to learn. The one person she wanted to be around the most, however, was rarely there. 

When Y/N first saw Benedict, her heart stopped. Of course, she was intimidated by the family, but he was something else. When she learned that he painted, she felt like he had opened up a part of himself and allowed her to peek inside. All she wanted was to know more about him, but she had no way of doing so. And even still, it would be wrong. 

The wind continued on and Y/N was just about to set down her book when a loud banging came at the window on the opposite side of the room. She shrieked, throwing her book down. Then the banging came again. Slowly, she grabbed her candle and blanket and made her way over to the window. There, drenched in rain, was Eloise. 

Y/N sighed and opened the window, allowing the girl to tumble in.

“What is the meaning of this?” Y/N wondered in a harsh whisper.

“I had hoped you would be awake,” Eloise said, trying to brush the water from herself. She grabbed the bottom of her dress and wrung it out. Y/N jumped back as some of the water landed on her feet. “All of the doors are locked.”

“And what were you doing out? You should have been in bed hours ago, Eloise.”

“I was just outside, I swear,” she said. “I was on the swing set and it started to rain.”

“Why were you on the swing set?” Y/N wondered. She narrowed her eyes, looking at Eloise. A scent passed her nose. “Were you smoking?”

“No,” Eloise snorted. “Oh, alright,” she sighed. “You will not tell on me, will you?”

“No,” Y/N sighed. “Here, we must get you out of those clothes or you will freeze to death.” Y/N padded through the room, holding her blanket tightly around her shoulders and made her way to the dresser. She pulled out a dry nightdress and handed it to Eloise. “You can change behind the partition there.” She said, pointing to the corner of the room. Eloise took the nightdress gratefully and went to change. Y/N sat down on the bed, sighing. “If you were out there…there must have been something on your mind.”

Eloise threw her wet dress over the partition with a slap and sighed heavily. She did not speak for a moment and then made her way from behind the partition. “Were you ever apart of the marriage mart?”

Y/N seemed taken aback by the question. “Oh…Well, no, actually. I was supposed to be but…it never happened.”

“Oh,” Eloise said. “That must have been a relief for you.” She winced. “No, I am sorry. I suppose it must have been terrible.”

Y/N smiled slightly. “I am still figuring out how I feel about it.” Thunder and lightning rumbled and cracked outside. Eloise jumped. “Are you alright?”

“I do not like storms,” she responded. “None of us do.”

Y/N smiled sadly. “Perhaps some tea will help. Come, if we move quietly, no one will hear us.” Y/N held out her hand and led Eloise out of her room, down the hallway, and down the stairs into the kitchens. She sat Eloise down and started to fill the kettle with water. “Are you nervous for your debut next year?” Y/N wondered.

“Nervous? No,” Eloise responded. “Dreading it? Absolutely.”

Y/N chuckled and sat down across from Eloise. “I was quite the same,” she responded. Lightning cracked outside and Eloise flinched. Y/N was about to open her mouth when the sounds of pattering footsteps down the stairs alerted her. Hyacinth revealed herself, holding her dressing gown tighter. “Ah, my dear. Is the storm frightening you?”

Hyacinth just nodded and sat down beside Eloise. “Well, I was just about to tell Eloise how I get through stroms like these…” Thunder rumbled again and footsteps came pounding down the stairs. Gregory walked in, breathing heavily. Y/N just chuckled. “Grab a seat, Gregory. Shall we be expecting anyone else? Francesca perhaps?”

“Francesca’s not afraid of anything!” Gregory remarked.

“Oh?” Y/N chuckled. Just then, lightening cracked again and a body almost fell into the kitchen. They all looked to see Francesca readjusting her nightgown.

“I just wanted to see if you were all alright,” she said. 

Y/N smiled and inclined her head towards one of the empty stools. The kettle whistled and she made her way over to the stove to finish preparing the tea. The children were all whispering to themselves, but when the thunder rumbled, they were all silent. 

She set down cups in front of them all and then prepared her own. “When I was younger,” Y/N started. “I was terrified of storms. So my father asked me to list my favorite things. I thought it strange, of course, but after a while, I forgot about the storm all together.”

“Your favorite things?” Eloise chuckled.

Y/N hummed. “The sound a new book makes when you open it for the first time. The smell of sunshine on hot pavement. The silence of snow. The sound of paint being brushed onto canvas…Things like those.”

“The smell of fresh flowers!” Hyacinth commented.

“Yes! Exactly,” Y/N smiled.

“Frosted cakes,” Gregory said, a wistful look in his eyes. 

“When I finally perfect a difficult piece on the pianoforte,” Francesca said. 

“Novels by women,” Eloise added.

“All wonderful things,” Y/N chuckled. “Let’s see…Christmas presents.”

“Birthday presents!” Gregory said.

“Any presents,” Hyacinth laughed. 

“Daffodils…” Y/N smiled. “Green meadows…skies full of stars.”

“Chocolate icing,” Eloise said.

“Lady bugs,” Hyacinth added.

“A good sneeze,” Francesca chuckled.

Gregory made an exaggerated sneezing sound, making them all laugh.

“Gesundheit!” Y/N chuckled. “See, it is not so bad now, is it?”

“What is the meaning of this?” a new voice asked. They all ceased their laughter immediately to see a rather annoyed-looking Anthony standing at the entrance to the kitchen, his arms behind his back. The children all immediately lowered their heads in shame. “To bed, all of you.” They slithered off of their stools, whispering good nights to Y/N, and made their way out of the kitchen.

Y/N stood and started to clear up the counter. 

“We do things a certain way here, Miss Y/L/N,” Anthony said. “It is best if you learn that now.”

“They were simply frightened by the storm, Lord Bridgerton,” Y/N sighed. 

Benedict bounced down the stairs at that moment, pausing at the scene in front of him. “Why did I see our siblings running away as if they had been burned?” he wondered.

“It is of no concern of yours, brother,” Anthony said. He turned back to Y/N. “When the children are put to bed, they must stay there. No late night adventures to the kitchen.”

“Of course, Lord Bridgerton,” Y/N said, lowering her head. “My apologies.” She continued to clean up the mess, but Anthony interrupted her.

“Leave it. The cooks will clean it in the morning.”

Y/N took a deep breath and made her way out of the kitchen, brushing past Benedict with her head hung low.

“There is no need to bite her head off, brother,” Benedict said. When Anthony did not respond, he turned and took the stairs out of the kitchen two at a time to catch up to Y/N. “I do apologize for him,” he said.

Y/N smiled sadly and looked back at Benedict, illuminated only by faint moonlight. “It was my fault,” Y/N said. “Eloise was…She needed to talk and then all of the children seemed so frightened by the storm. I did not think it was…I did not think. I will not make that mistake again.”

“It was not a mistake,” Benedict chuckled. “You are there for them. It is what they need. Anthony is…Well, he has a lot of stress and he takes it out on everyone…not just you.”

Y/N’s lips quirked in a smile and she slowed in front of the door to her room. She placed her hand on on the handle and looked at Benedict. “Still, I do not wish to cause any problems here. Good night, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Benedict,” he said, correcting her.

Y/N just smiled and opened the door to her room, closing it behind her. She pressed her back to the door frame and tried to listen past the blood rushing in her ears for Benedict’s parting footsteps. It took a moment, but then she heard them. She followed them until she could not anymore. 

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

They were well into the season and Y/N finally settled into a routine. A routine that involved avoiding Anthony as much as she could. It did not prove to be too difficult, however, because he spent all of his time either with the books or with his mistress— the one that everyone knew about but said nothing about. 

She was sitting outside in the garden, nursing a cup of tea when Daphne came out to join her. They had not had much time to talk— Daphne was too old for a governess— but her presence was always appreciated. 

“Good afternoon, Miss Y/L/N,” she smiled. “Might I join you?”

“Of course,” Y/N smiled. “And it’s Y/N, please. I am not your governess.”

Daphne smiled as she sat. she looked at the strip of parchment sitting on the table in front of Y/N. “Are you writing something?”

“Oh,” Y/N chuckled. “No. Actually, Gregory decided to write a paper…I did not ask him too, he was just so fascinated by the Ancient Egyptians. I admire his drive, though. History has always put me to sleep.”

“You must make it fun, though,” Daphne smiled, pouring herself some tea. “None of the children seem bored yet. You have lasted longer than the other governesses.”

Y/N smirked. “Yes, I have heard of your escapades…I have yet to find a spider in my bed or a toad in my pocket…Should I be on the lookout?”

“Ah, that was always Benedict’s game,” Daphne smiled. “So just as long as you stay on his good side.” Daphne watched the look that passed over Y/N’s face— a look that she, unsuccessfully, tried to hide. “Though, of course, he might just do it if he likes you too…Much like pulling on a girl’s pigtails.”

Y/N chuckled airily and in looked at Daphne. “I would have thought that Colin would be the mischievous one.”

Daphne hummed. “He has his moments, of course. But Benedict has been doing it for longer. Watch out for him.”

“I will,” Y/N smirked. She picked up her tea cup and took a sip. “I heard about your courtship with the Duke of Hastings…You must be overjoyed.”

Daphne was silent for a moment, then she finally spoke through a sigh. “Yes…overjoyed.”

“That was not in the least bit convincing,” Y/N said. Daphne set her cup down and looked out into the garden. She had a contemplative look on her face. Y/N had seen it many times. She had seen her friends enter the marriage mart before she was supposed to - she saw that look on them when they met someone that their Mamas loved, but they despised. Though, Y/N thought that this situation would prove to be a bit more complicated than that. “Tell me, what ails you?”

Daphne exhaled through her nose and looked around. Satisfied that no one was there to listen, she leaned in closer to Y/N. “You must not tell anyone.”

Y/N looked nervous but nodded. “I promise.”

“It is…It is all a ruse,” she said. “It started as a ruse, at least. To stop the incessant meddling from Mama and Lady Danbury. We both thought that we could…keep them at bay until I find a real husband.”

Y/N hummed and nodded. “And you think that you have…in him.”

Daphne sighed. “It is so difficult, Y/N. He is so difficult!”

“Men often are,” she chuckled. 

“I do not know what to do,” Daphne sighed.

Y/N thought for a moment. She ran her finger around the rim of her tea cup. “I know it might be overstated, but…follow your heart, Daphne. Luckily, you have the option to. But you must be prepared to get hurt. Sadly, it seems that can always be a possibilty…though not inevitable.” 

“So be optimistic, yet cautious?” Daphne wondered.

“Exactly,” Y/N smiled. “But go after what you want…Not trying would hurt worse.���

Daphne smiled. “You seem to know a lot about love, Y/N.”

She gave a sheepish smile. “I read a lot. So, if my advice turns out to be misguided…do not blame me.”

“I shan’t,” Daphne said, taking another sip of her tea. “Might I ask…why you never married?”

Y/N set down her tea cup. “My parents died, actually. Just before I was to debut.” She cleared her throat and crossed and then uncrossed her ankles. 

“I am so sorry,” Daphne said.

Y/N just smiled sadly. “It is alright…You understand.” Daphne mirrored her sad smile. She continued on. “I had no other family and no choice, really, but…I loved to learn,” she shrugged. “I spent more time soaking up scholarly knowledge than worrying about marriage. I spent more time learning the arts than I did how to properly bow…though, of course, I learnt that too,” she said as an afterthought. “Losing my parents was terrible, but this is the path that is right for me. I could never be the wife these Lords expect and they could never be the husband I want. So…it all worked out.”

Daphne’s brow furrowed. “But you do not wish to marry…ever?”

“Not for any reason other than true love,” she responded. 

Daphne had that contemplative look about her again. She opened her mouth to speak, but a voice coming in from behind them, made her stop.

“Miss Y/L/N— Ah, sister,” Benedict said as his feet stopped shortly behind them. The two women turned to see him holding a sketchpad, his fingers almost black with charcoal. “I was just…I was hoping to get Miss Y/L/N’s opinion. But if you two are—”

“Not at all,” Daphne said almost too quickly. She stood and smiled at her brother, expecting him to smile back, but he was too busy looking at Y/N. Daphne’s brow quirked as she looked between the two of them, a small smirk growing on her face. “Take my seat, brother. I am supposed to go to the modiste with mother, anyhow. Good day. And thank you, Y/N.”

Y/N finally looked away from Benedict to see Daphne about to leave. “Of course. Anytime you need to talk, I am here.”

“I know,” she smiled. Daphne watched as Benedict literally bounced into the chair and held the sketchpad out to Y/N. Daphne watched as she leaned in closer to meet the sketchpad and watched Benedict trail his fingers along his lines. She could hardly hear what they were saying, but she knew that, even then, it was something only the two could understand. 

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

Later that afternoon, Daphne returned from the modiste with her mother. Violet went to get ready for dinner and Daphne was about to follow her up when she saw her four youngest siblings standing by the window that overlooked the gardens. 

“What are you all doing?” she wondered as she walked in. “Should you not be with Miss Y/L/N? Studying?”

“We would be,” Eloise started with a sigh. “But our brother has taken her and will not give her back.”

“What?” Daphne asked through a chuckle. She joined her siblings at the window and looked out to see Benedict and Y/N still sitting at the table, talking as if no time had passed. “They are still out there?” she asked, surprised.

“I think they’re in love,” Hyacinth said, a wide smile on her face.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hyacinth,” Eloise said. “She could do much better than our brother,” she laughed.

Daphne clicked her tongue at that comment, but still, a smile grew on her face. “Hyacinth may have a point, sister.”

“Benedict cannot be in love with her,” Francesca commented. “She is a governess…”

“Love does not care about such things,” Daphne said to her sister. “Unfortunately…marriage does.”

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

A/N: oh my god all the fluff??? Who am I??

Taglist: @shannonwrote @supraveng @swiftspaperings @wotcherboo 

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Much love

Alma xx

#homeofthepeculiar

[shannonwrote]

Ohk. Ohk. I know you’ve never read the books, but the way you write Colin is so ON POINT to book-Colin. Book-Colin is so-so much better than show-Colin. He’s sassy and snarky, and he’d all the way, unabashedly, flirt with the new governess. He’s just that kind of dude.

Benedict and YN bonding over art?! All of this, YES, please. It’s the most romantic of settings (in my opinion), not to mention the fact that she actually LIKES his work.

“She’s wonderful.”

Wool From the Black Sheep pt. 1 (Benedict Bridgerton x reader)

Series Masterlist

A/N: So, here’s the new series I am working on! I grew up watching Sound of Music and when I watched Bridgerton for the first time I was like “damn these are the Von Trapps” (in a way, of course). So I decided to ride the coattails of one of the best musicals ever (in my opinion) and write this Governess AU! I hope you enjoy it!

There will be more fluff this time, folks…though, of course, there will be angst. Who would I be if there wasn’t?

Reader is 26 and an orphan :/ (makes the most sense for a governess tbh). Also, I really have no clue how old the characters are cause I feel like I’ve read different things everywhere (and I haven’t read the books) so I’m going off of what feels right…

Pairings: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Warnings: none for now??; slightly ooc characters

Word Count: 2.4k

As always, 18+ Minors DNI!

Keep reading

#homeofthepeculiar

[shannonwrote]

Is it wrong that I was kind of waiting for Father to shove Mother out of the carriage?! I mean. He seems like a sensible, good natured dude, who seems to love his daughter.. doesn’t he get tired of Mother’s bullshit?! I know I would.

My heart. “If all I’m to have is one day, then I want it to be tomorrow.” Benedict. Ben. My heart. It is so full of love.. and, my heart. 💞

I’m glad Queen Charlotte recognizes and appreciates love. I think life would be very different for YN and Benedict if she didn’t. I’m so glad she was like.. you know what? YES! Let’s grant this special license! Love and be loved, you two! Love and be loved.

YN FOR THE FREAKING WIN! For putting her mother in her place. She is dreadful and awful and every other word that means dreadful and awful. I’m glad YN finally stood up for herself. It was long overdue, clearly, but came at the most perfect time.

Oh Violet. Best human, honestly. There’s no one quite like her (and even though Lady Danbury is my soulmate, there’s something so powerful and rewarding in Violet’s character that makes her the legit best).

FINALLY TUMBLR PROPERLY TAGS ME. Thank the Jonas!

I Know You So Well Drabble

Asking the Queen

Requested / #2 Drabble Masterlist Series Masterlist

A/N: Did you miss me? I feel like I have been gone forever but it has been like 5 days...but in internet speak that might as well be forever. I have a fresh laptop now that is just aching to be used!

So here we have them asking the Queen for that special license (yikes, scandalous) and...a little treat for everyone that hates her mother (same honestly)

Pairings: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Warnings: evil mother

Word Count: 1.6k

As always, 18+ Minors DNI

Y/N sat in the carriage, watching the town go by as she made her way to the castle. Her mother and father sat across from her, the matriarch talking loudly about her distaste for all of this…nonsense, as she put it. 

Y/N sighed, letting her body move with each jostle. The castle came into view and the terrible taste in her mouth grew.

“I cannot believe you would let our daughter sully herself like this!” her mother shrieked to her father.

“Please, Mama,” Y/N sighed, wiping the sweat from her brow. “I hope you do not act in such a way in front of Her Majesty.”

“I shall not have to,” her mother replied, haughtily. “She will see how unsuitable this match is…just as I do.”

Y/N did not reply to that. Instead, she sat in silence as the carriage pulled up to the castle. Footmen greeted her and her parents and led them into a large room with red carpet and gilded walls. 

Benedict turned to her the second the door opened, his chest deflating, his worries leaving him. He was leaning against the unlit fireplace, trying to rub the charcoal from his fingers. The second Y/N saw him, her anxieties lifted. Everything would be fine.

Violet and Anthony both stood when they entered the room. The Bridgerton matriarch made her way over and hugged Y/N before giving Y/N’s mother a tight-lipped smile, one that she did not return. Benedict walked over and shook her father’s hand, a gesture to which he responded in kind. Y/N’s mother made a sound in the back of her throat. 

“Do not be nervous,” Violet whispered to Y/N. “Everything will be just fine.”

Y/N nodded and looked at Benedict who seemed to be in a similar state of anxiety. She smiled at him and everything melted away. Nothing else mattered.

A footman walked in and announced in a boisterous voice that the Queen would see them. 

With shaky legs, both Y/N and Benedict headed the charge through the castle. They made their way to a large room. The Queen was sitting atop her throne with many of her lady’s maids around her, all fanning away the summer heat. 

With each footstep, Y/N could feel her heart beating faster and faster until they finally made it to the thrown. Y/N bowed deeply and beside her, Benedict did the same. Behind them, the families greeted Her Majesty similarly. 

They waited in silence for what seemed like hours—waiting for the Queen to say something…to nod…to wave her hand…anything. But she did nothing but look at them. Y/N met her eye only for a moment and immediately lowered her head, fear rushing through her body. 

“Well,” the Queen finally said. She stood from her throne and took a few steps forward so she was closer but still towering above them. “I had almost lost faith in you, Miss Y/L/N.”

Y/N just gave her a nervous smile. 

“What have you to say for yourself, girl?” the Queen asked.

Y/N opened her mouth but found words hard to form. Behind her, she heard her mother clear her throat. “We…Mr. Bridgerton and I, that is…We wish to marry, Your Majesty. As soon as possible.”

“Ah,” the Queen hummed, a glint in her eyes. “A special license is what you require, no doubt.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Y/N responded, hearing the blood rush in her head. 

“I should ask the true reason for this…” she said.

“It is love, Your Majesty,” Benedict said, cutting in. “True love.”

“True love, you say?” the Queen responded, almost chuckling. “True love that did not come about until four years after Miss Y/L/N’s debut season and suspiciously just before her engagement to Lord Dawson…” Y/N looked at her, surprised. “Oh, I know everything, girl.”

“It is the truth, Your Majesty,” Benedict said adamantly, meeting the Queen’s eye. “I have…I have been in love with Miss Y/L/N for years. I was too…I was too young and naive to realize it. To notice it until it was almost too late. And I…I thank God every day that it was not too late.”

“And if true love waited all these years, why can it not wait another month?” the Queen wondered.

Benedict sighed and looked at Y/N who was staring at the ground. “Because I…I cannot bear another minute of not being married to her, Your Majesty. I have seen true love. I saw it in my mother and father. And I know how quickly all that can be taken from you.” The Queen paused for a moment, an indiscernible look crossing her face. “If all I am to have is one day, then I want it to be tomorrow.”

The Queen hummed once again and placed her hands in front of her, crossing them. “And you, Miss Y/L/N, you feel the same?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Y/N responded, almost instantly. “Both Mr. Bridgerton and I know loss…painfully so. We know what it is to wake up one morning and have someone you love not be there anymore…Life is short and it is precious and it is nothing without love.”

“I had high hopes for you, Miss Y/L/N,” the Queen said. “I am glad to see they were not misplaced.” Both Benedict and Y/N looked up at her with wide eyes. “I will grant you your license. One week.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Y/N responded instantly, bowing deeply.

Benedict bowed as well and held his arm out for Y/N which she took gratefully, not sure if her feet were even working anymore. They said nothing to each other as they left the hall, but just being near each other was enough. 

As they made their way outside to wait for the carriages, Y/N could hear her mother spewing hateful words to her father. She patted Benedict on the arm and turned back to her mother. 

“Mama, must you make such terrible comments?”

“I—” her mother began. She huffed. “Are you to tell me that I am the only one that sees just how fallacious this all is?” She looked around, no one agreed with her. She huffed again. “You had a perfectly good match, Y/N, and you threw it away for some…failed artist.”

Y/N let out a condescending laugh that made everyone turn to her. “Forgive me, Mama, but just because you have no hopes and dreams does not mean no one else does. And Benedict is not a failed artist. How can you fail at something if you never give up? If you would like to know the true meaning of failure, perhaps look at your mothering.”

Y/N’s mother gasped loudly. Beside Y/N, Benedict’s eyes widened. Even Anthony had to cover his mouth to hide his smile. 

“How dar—” her mother started.

“No, I am not finished,” Y/N said, interrupting her mother. She let go of Benedict’s arm and walked toward her mother. “I have spent my entire life trying to be good enough for you and it is impossible. I have eaten what you told me to, worn what you had sewn onto my body, spoken as you had taught me and it got me nothing. For the first time in years…I am happy. I do not wake up every morning dreading the sun or fearing the night in wonder of what terrors might find me there. I only feel happiness…But when I look at you…that all goes away. When I look at you, I feel your finger pressing into my back, telling me to stand up straight, to smile, to not have one thought that is my own. And that makes me angry because looking at you takes away all of my happiness and I will not do that anymore…I will not allow you to do that to me anymore.”

“You dare speak to your mother that way,” her mother seethed.

“I do,” Y/N chuckled. “Because what are you going to do? Glare me to death? Perhaps you should like to start a rumor…to ruin my reputation…but that will not get you what you want…You want control and you do not have it anymore. I do.”

“I am still your mother—”

“No,” Y/N said sharply. “You are not. And you have never been. You might have given birth to me, but you were never there for me. You treated me like a doll you could dress up and play with when you were bored but the second I got a mind of my own, you threw me away. So now I am throwing you away. You will not be at my wedding.” Y/N’s mother gasped sharply. “I will not have you sully what is supposed the be the best day of my life. And when I have children…they will never know you. And they will be amazing and you will miss out on seeing them grow and learn and have their own minds. Because I will never be like you.”

“Y/N, dear,” her father said, trying to step in.

“Please,” Y/N said, stopping him. “I have said all I need to say. It is done. If you would like to ever know your grandchildren, I suggest you stop speaking right now.” 

Y/N’s father sighed and grabbed his wife’s arm, pulling her away. Just then, the carriage pulled up and he ushered her in. 

Y/N turned back to the Bridgertons. “Well, I think I deserve a drink after that.”

Both Benedict and Anthony were looking at her with wide, fearful eyes, but Violet just smiled. “I am sure that felt good,” she smiled.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Y/N chuckled. “Though…I do believe I shall need somewhere to stay until the wedding.”

“You are always welcome, Y/N,” Violet smiled. “You are family.”

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

A/N: If you have a bad relationship with your mother, I'm sorry and I can be your mother now...Writing this felt so good though like her mother is truly a terror!!!

Taglist: @shannonwrote

Let me know if you want to be added to the IKYSW Drabble taglist

Much love

Alma xx

#homeofthepeculiar

[shannonwrote]

First and foremost, I’m going to fight Tumblr because it did not tag me and therefore did not tell me I had something that needed my attention… AKA THIS FLUFFY OF FLUFFINESS. Tumblr needs to do better.

This line though: “Have you had one original thought in your life or are you determined to copy me forever?” Such a sick burn and so Anthony. But because it’s Anthony, we both know he’s really over the moon for his brother and YN.

The sex talk?!!!! I am DEAD. So dead. 🤣🤣 It is so pathetic the way they handled things like sex and pleasure back then. Like it was somehow only the entitled to men and women were left to flounder. Have to give it to the Bridgerton Boys though. They know how to keep their ladies happy. 😏😏

And yes. Agreed. No spawn for me, but if Benedict Bridgerton randomly showed up in my existence, I’d rethink that in a heart beat.

I Know You So Well Drabble

The First Pregnancy; How Does One Come To Be With Child??

Series Masterlist

Drabble Masterlist

Requested/#2

A/N: Oh, wait…Is that fluff I see?? This was so fun and also slightly awkward to write…I have no idea how people give the sex talk to their children…Good on them.

Pairings: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Warnings: morning sickness; illusions to smut; ridiculous explanation of sex and pregnancy fraught with too many metaphors; talk of periods and blood; use of words penis and vagina 🤷🏽‍♀️ We’re giving the sex talk here, people

Word Count: 1.9k

As always, 18+ Minors DNI!

Keep reading

#homeofthepeculiar

[shannonwrote]

Fun fact! (Only because I recently started the Bridgerton novels and am currently on 7 of 8.) Anthony does name his 1st born son Edmund!

I LOVE LOVE LOVE the idea of Benedict being a girl dad, because he so is! And the idea of YN and Benedict picking up with Violet and Edmund stopped with the naming of their children. It’s PERFECT, and definitely something I feel like both YN and Benedict would feel strongly about.

I ship the bleeding hell out of YN and Benedict. They are endgame and relationship goals and everything else positive and pure in this world.

I Know You So Well Drabble

Benedict, Reader, and their daughters

Series Masterlist

Requested

A/N: So, here is one of the drabble requests. We're giving them children, y'all. Benedict definitely gives girl dad energy, so that is what we are pulling from. I named the daughters...I sort of liked the idea of them continuing the alphabet rather than starting it over again.

This takes place about 5 years after the end of IKYSW - Isabella is 4 and Josette is around 4 months

Also, I have not read the books so idk what takes place like 5 years after season 2 -- ie, who is married to whom, how many babies there are, so I sort of just winged it. (Though I am fairly certain that Anthony would name his first son Edmund, like who are we kidding)

Pairings: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Warnings: talk of pregnancy? Illusions to smut; beginnings of smut

Word Count: 1.9k

As always, 18+ Minors DNI!

Y/N rolled on her side, trying to hide from the sun peaking in through the window. Beside her, a warm body slept. She threw her arm over him and nuzzled her nose into his back. In his sleep-addled state, he smiled and grabbed her hand. 

Slowly, both Benedict and Y/N woke from their deep slumber. They had not gotten a good night’s sleep in months, so they were both loathe to let this one go. Y/N pressed feather-light kisses to his back, slowly pulling him out of sleep. Sighing, Benedict turned on his side and pulled Y/N in closer.

He shushed her before she could even say anything. Y/N chuckled and burrowed her head into her chest. She placed kisses there as well, making Benedict’s chest rise and fall with silent laughter. 

“Sleep more,” he mumbled. 

“We do not have time,” Y/N groaned. 

Benedict let out a dramatic groan and turned onto his back, his eyes still closed, but almost fully awake. Y/N placed her head on his chest and tapped her fingers over his heart. “They do not sleep long…and I miss my husband.”

Benedict cracked a smile and his eyes slowly opened. As they did, Y/N leaned in to kiss him. 

“How can you miss me if I am never gone?” he asked. Y/N smiled and kissed him again, lingering on his lips. She hoisted herself up to straddle his hips, her elbows placed on either side of his head. Benedict smiled, gripping her hips. “Now, I understand.”

His hands found their way under Y/N’s nightgown, running up the expanse of her thighs. She sighed, kissing him more deeply. 

Then the pitter-patter of tiny feet pulled Y/N away. She sat up, her hands placed on Benedict’s chest and they both turned towards the door as the footsteps grew louder, quickly followed by rushed larger feet and the hushed mutterings of an annoyed Annalise.

“Let them sleep!” Annalise whispered as the young girl ran towards the door, her hands pounding on it.

Y/N chuckled and got off of Benedict’s lap just as the door swung open. A tiny girl bounced up onto the bed. 

“Mama! Papa! Wake up!”

Benedict chuckled and tackled the girl, pulling her into his arms. “Good morning, my darling!”

“Isabella!” Annalise shouted from the other side of the cracked door. “You must let them sleep. It is much too early!”

“It is alright, Annalise,” Y/N chuckled. 

“My apologies, ma’am,” Annalise said. “I will have them set up breakfast.” As she turned, young Isabella stuck her tongue out at the parting maid.

“Izzy,” Y/N admonished. “Do not stick your tongue out at her.”

“Why?” the little girl wondered.

Benedict sat up with Isabella in his arms. “Do not listen to your mother. You can stick your tongue out at whomever you please. Your mother is not the authority on such matters.”

At that, Y/N stuck her tongue out at him. She leaned over and kissed the top of her daughter’s head, inhaling her scent. “I must check on Josette…I will see you both downstairs.”

Y/N got out of bed, pulling on her dressing gown. As she walked out of the room, she heard Isabella telling Benedict about her wild dream.

She turned into the nursery that was just off their bedroom to see Annalise bending over the crib. “She has just woken up, ma’am,” she said. Y/N walked over and took the baby out of the crib, holding her in her arms. She placed her finger in front of the tiny girl’s face and watched as she tried to grab it. “She is beautiful.”

“Isn’t she?” Y/N smiled. She looked at Annalise. “I know it will be difficult, but could you help Izzy get ready for today.” Annalise simply nodded. “Have I told you how much I appreciate you lately?” Annalise chuckled and nodded. “Because truly, I do.”

Annalise ran her hand over Josette’s small head and exited the room. Just as Annalise left, she heard the familiar pattering of feet passing the room and heading downstairs. The door opened a bit more and Benedict peaked his head through.

“Is she awake?” he whispered. Y/N nodded and turned to him. “She’s so quiet,” he remarked. 

“Unlike Isabella,” Y/N joked.

“That’s because Izzy takes after you,” he smirked, kissing her cheek. “Little Josette takes after her father, of course.” He took his daughter from Y/N’s arms and pulled her into him, kissing her forehead. 

“Hopefully she never learns to put spiders in people’s pockets,” Y/N commented. “Will you bring her down with you?”

Benedict nodded, already focused on the little girl in his arms. Y/N smiled at the two of them and then made her way down to the dining room. 

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

“And there was a large castle!” Isabella said as she started telling her mother of her dream. “Mama, you should have seen it! It was purple! And there were horses! Blue ones!”

“Blue horses?” Y/N gasped, taking a sip of her tea. “Oh, I wish I could have seen it.”

“I can draw it for you,” Isabella smiled.

“I would love that, my dear.” She took a bite of her toast and watched as her daughter tried to cut the sausages with a knife and fork. She was determined to do it on her own. “Are you ready to go over to your grandmother’s today?”

“Yes!” Isabella shouted loudly. “I am going to play Pall Mall this year! Isn’t that right, Papa?”

They both turned to see Benedict entering the room, baby Josette in his arms. He set her down in the day crib they had beside the table. “Is what right?”

“I am going to play Pall Mall!” Isabella repeated.

“Yes, and you are going to win!” Benedict chuckled.

“I must beat Augie…He said he will be better than me.”

“Well, he is older,” Y/N commented.

Isabella looked at her mother and stuck her tongue out at her. It was her new favorite expression. “I will still beat him.”

“Of course, you will, my dear,” Y/N smiled at her daughter. 

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

They were the last ones to make it to Aubrey Hall. It turned out to be difficult to get Isabella to sit still long enough for Annalise to put her in her dress. Isabella bounded out of the carriage and ran for her grandmother.

Violet chuckled and knelt down to the girl. “Hello, my darling! It is so good to see you.” Isabella wrapped her arms around her grandmother. Benedict helped Y/N out of the carriage and she picked up Josette. “Oh, there she is,” Violet smiled, looking at the small girl. “She is so beautiful.”

“Mother, you act as though you never see us,” Benedict remarked, walking up beside his wife. “We live five houses away.”

“It has been three days,” Violet argued. “Much too long to keep a grandmother away from her lovely grandchildren.”

“Is everyone here already?” Y/N wondered. 

“They would have all greeted you, but…well, no one can keep track of their children.” Isabella immediately took off, running into the house. Violet smiled. “She reminds me so much of you, Benedict.” She turned and followed her grandaughter.

Y/N looked at her husband and stuck her tongue out at him. 

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

Isabella immediately ran outside to the Pall Mall field, greeting her aunts, uncles, and cousins. 

“I am going to win this year,” she said to Augie.

“No, you will not,” he argued. 

“She just might,” Edmund stepped in, a smaller version of the Mallet of Death in his hands. 

Augie narrowed his eyes at his cousin. 

“I have been practicing!” Isabella commented. 

Near the shade covered platform, the parents watched as the three children argued. “Should we tear them away from each other?” Daphne asked, slightly worried. 

“Augie can handle himself,” Simon assured his wife. 

“Even against Izzy?” Eloise chuckled. “Ah, my niece is true fighter.”

Just then, Isabella pulled the Mallet of Death from Edmund’s hands and started to run across the field with it. He chased after her, Augie on their tails.

“Izzy!” Y/N shouted. “Give that back to your cousin!”

Isabella sighed and held out the mallet. Edmund reached for it, but she pulled it away. Then she actually handed it back to him. 

“Can we play already?” Augie sighed. 

“I wonder where he gets that impatience,” Y/N commented as she made her way over to the mallets.

“And I wonder where Isabella gets her rebelliousness,” Simon retorted. 

“Fair play, Simon,” she said. “Fair play.”

Benedict ran up to his daughter and showed her how to properly hold the mallet. Although she had been practicing, it had been with a fire poker—something that resulted in many broken glasses. 

“To the battlefield!” Daphne remarked, holding her mallet in the air. 

“Do you think she will win again?” Anthony asked his wife.

“Not a chance,” Kate replied. “We will win this year.” She looked at Anthony, her eyebrows raised.

He smiled at her. “Whatever you say, my dear.”

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

The annual Hearts and Flowers ball was well underway and the children were all sequestered in another room under the watchful eyes of Hyacinth and Gregory. Downstairs, the members of the ton all enjoyed each others company. 

Y/N and Benedict stood by the refreshments table, their watchful eyes gazing around the room. 

“What do you think of him?” Benedict asked as a certain Lord asked Francesca for a dance.

Y/N tilted her head. “He seems alright, though he is sweating an awful lot. Perhaps Francesca makes him nervous.”

“She makes us all nervous,” Benedict added. He turned to his wife, clad in Bridgerton blue, a peaceful smile on her face. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

Y/N chuckled. “Only ten times. Though, I would not mind a few more.”

Benedict leaned in slightly and whispered to her, his breath fanning over her neck. “You look…beautiful.” He pulled away and looked at her.

“I know that look,” she remarked. “We just got here…you must tame yourself.”

Benedict smirked and wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist. They looked up to the staircase to see Kate and Anthony descending, arm in arm. “Ah, an hour late. Celebrating your win?"

“Do not look at me that way, brother,” Anthony said as he approached the two of them, Kate right beside him. “Did we miss anything terribly important?”

“Of course not,” Y/N chuckled. “Just a few Lords trying to vie for Francesca’s attention. It is truly entertaining. She is almost worse than Eloise.”

The band started and Anthony led Kate out to the dancefloor. Benedict followed suit, taking Y/N’s hand. They had shared many dances over the years, though neither of them truly enjoyed the balls, it was always easier when they were together. 

Benedict gazed at his wife, love in his eyes. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispered.

“How am I looking at you?” he joked.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “Like you are five seconds from tearing this dress from my body…I swear, if I could get pregnant with a look, we would have five hundred by now.”

Benedict chuckled and pulled her tighter. “Would that be terrible?”

“Five hundred children?” she snorted. “Yes.”

“Well, how about three, then?”

Y/N looked at him, exhaling. “It has been four months, Benedict,” she sighed. “I miss drinking…and smoking…and not having a human being pressing on my stomach at all times.” Benedict looked at her, his lips pouting. “Oh, please…” Still, he did not relent. “Fine.” Benedict chuckled giddily. Once the song stopped, he grabbed Y/N’s hand and led her from the dance floor. “I did not mean now!”

“Now is as good a time as any.”

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

A/N: I love this family

Let me know if you want to be added to the IKYSW Drabbles taglist

Much love

Alma xx

#homeofthepeculiar

[shannonwrote]

Also. There’s something breathtakingly romantic about YN calling Benedict - Ben.

This series was amazing! You’re amazing! I hope you compose more things, and I hope you tag me in EVERYTHING forevermore.

I Know You So Well: Epilogue (Benedict Bridgerton x reader)

Series Masterlist

A/N: So, as promised, here is the epilogue. It's basically just smut with like...little plot. This takes place after Benedict x reader have married.

Pairings: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Warnings: this is basically just straight smut; public sex, take me to church pussy eating; sappy couples in love; fluff (who knew i could do that)

Word Count: 1.1k

As always, 18+ Minors DNI!

Y/N sat in the drawing-room of Bridgerton house, scribbling in her notebook. The rest of the Bridgerton family milled around the room, doing what made them happy. For the first time in a long time, the sun was shining, and no one felt anything but happiness.

Benedict walked in and approached his wife, slumping down on the couch beside her. He handed her a bouquet of flowers.

“For you, my beautiful wife.”

Y/N smiled and took the flowers, taking a deep breath of the sweet scent. “They are wonderful, my darling husband.” Y/N kissed him sweetly.

“Ugh,” Eloise sighed from across from them. “Must you be so nauseatingly…cute.”

“Yes, we must,” Benedict said instantly. “And we are not as bad as those two,” he said, pointing at Anthony and Kate on the opposite end of the room. They were sitting close to each other, hushed whispers being shared between the two of them.

“Yes, you are,” Eloise argued.

“I think it is just so romantic,” Hyacinth sighed happily. 

“Thank you, dear sister,” Benedict said, shooting a look at Eloise. “You should never stop courting your wife even after you marry.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Y/N smiled. 

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Arm in arm, Y/N and Benedict walked through the park, nodding and bowing at everyone they passed. 

“It looks as though it might rain,” she commented, looking at the dark clouds in the sky.

“Shall we go home?” he wondered.

“No,” she smiled. “Let us wait and see.”

Just as she said those final words, a loud rumble of thunder shook the trees and rain started to pour, soaking them instantly. The other members of the ton in the park walked faster, trying to get away from the rain. Some of them raised the umbrellas they had brought with them. After only a minute, Benedict and Y/N were completely alone, laughing in the rain.

“Come,” he said, grabbing her hand. They ran together, Y/N letting out laughs as they approached a gazebo in the park. They both stopped, staring at it. Through the rain, Benedict looked at his wife. “Is this alright?”

She just nodded and walked forward, Benedict following after her. As she tried to wipe the water off of herself, she chuckled. “How did everyone disappear so quickly?”

“Magic?” he offered.

“Yes, of course,” she smiled. Benedict walked towards her and kissed her deeply. Y/N smiled and grabbed the lapels of his coat to pull him closer. The kiss grew heated and Benedict slowly walked her back into one of the pillars holding up the structure. “Benedict…someone might see.”

“There is no one around,” he said against her lips. He kissed down her neck, loving the small sounds that left her lips. “It is just us.” He slowly bunched up the bottom of her dress, his hand skating up the length of her leg. Y/N whimpered against his lips. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Never,” she sighed. Benedict nipped her bottom lip as he let her undergarments drop to the ground. Y/N watched with rapt attention as he kissed down her neck, pulling down the neck of her dress to kiss at her breasts. He buried his nose in the fabric covering her stomach and took a deep breath, even covered in rain, he could smell her intoxicating scent. Y/N grabbed her bunched up dress with one hand and intertwined her fingers in his hair with the other. Her head was thrown back, relishing in the feeling as he kissed up her leg, biting and licking at the inner part of her thigh. 

Then he dove in, tasting her. Y/N let out a loud cry that was lost in the rain as her fingers twisted in his hair. He ate her like a man starved, like he had never tasted something so lovely in his life. He was a faithful soldier worshiping at her alter. 

His finger joined his tongue, entering her slowly. Y/N shook in his arms, using all of the strength she had left to keep her upright. His free hand snaked up her body to grab at her breast, pulling her dress down even more. She grabbed his hand as her breathing increased, the wave cresting and threatening to crash. 

“Ben…” she moaned. “Oh, God!”

Benedict hummed against her, sending shock waves through her body. His finger sped up, a second joining it. She held onto him for dear life as the wave finally crashed. She cried out as the euphoria fell over her. 

Slowly, Benedict stood, taking his fingers in his mouth, tasting her. Y/N grabbed him and pulled him against her lips, tasting herself on him. She fumbled with his pants, moving with speed and impatience. Benedict helped her, pulling himself out of his pants. He moaned as Y/N took him in her hand, slowly pumping up and down. He devoured her with his kiss as he ran his cock through her folds, slowly pushing in. Y/N’s head fell back in a moan as he filled her, pushing in to the hilt.

“You feel so good around me, my love,” he moaned as he started to move. He gripped her leg and hitched it over his lip, allowing him to push in deeper. She pulled at the hairs on the back of his neck, making a loud moan leave his lips. He snapped his hips faster, forcing cries to fall from her lips. 

“I love you,” she moaned. He kissed her deeply, his tongue running along her bottom lip. She let him in, devouring him. 

“I love you…so much,” he whimpered against her lips. 

Together, they moaned as the pleasure grew between them. He moved faster, creating a bruising pace that had Y/N standing on the tip of her toes. He was the only thing holding her up and she trusted him not to let her fall. 

“I’m…God, I—” Y/N moaned.

“I know,” he said through harsh breaths. “Cum for me.”

Y/N’s head flew back in a loud moan as he pulled her orgasm for her. Burying his head in her neck, he thrust into her a few more times before he spilled into her, his hips stilling. 

They caught their breath together, sharing sparing kisses until smiles broke out on their faces.

“I do not thing I will fear gazebos anymore,” she laughed. 

“As long as I am here, you will never have to fear anything. I promise you that, Mrs. Bridgerton," he said, a cheeky smile on his face.

Y/N kissed him deeply. 

“I believe you.”

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As the season wound to a close, the Bridgertons, new and old, made their way to Aubrey Hall. Although the place held many memories, they were well on their way to making new ones.

Benedict awoke first, turning on his side to see an angel sleeping beside him, her head buried in her pillow. He smiled and moved a piece of hair from her face so he could look at her. Even in sleep, she had a smile on her face.

As the rays of sun peaked through the curtains, they illuminated her, and for the first time in a while, Benedict found inspiration. Slowly, and so as to not wake her, he got out of bed and grabbed his sketchbook. Sitting down near the window, he started to draw her.

Watching her every breath, her chest rising and falling, he finally got it right. The plains of her nose, the curve of her lips. Even though she could not be perfectly recreated, he was closer than he had ever been.

Letting out a soft moan of sleep, Y/N turned on her side, searching through the sheets for the warm body that had fallen asleep next to her, but there was nothing there. Pouting, Y/N started to sit up.

"Go back to sleep," Benedict said softly.

Y/N turned to look at him, sleep in her eyes. She stretched her arms high above her head, the sheets pooling around her waist.

"What are you doing?" she wondered, her voice thick with the early morning.

"I am drawing you...Of course," he smiled.

"Of course," Y/N responded, a smile of her own finding its way to her lips. Slowly, she stood, wrapping the sheet around her body. She walked over to Benedict and situated herself in his lap. She grabbed the sketchbook from him, her eyes widening in awe. "This is amazing...Is this how you see me?"

"This is how you are," he responded, kissing her sweetly. "An angel sent down from heaven."

"I always thought myself a bit of a terror," she joked.

"Ah, that too," he chuckled. He took the sketchbook from her and threw it aside before kissing her. Y/N sighed into the kiss, running her hands through her hair. He grabbed her waist, resituating her so that her legs fell on either side of him. Pulling the sheet down, he started to kiss down her neck.

The sound of rattling on the windows made them pull away from each other, both letting out groans of annoyance. They decided to ignore it and went to lean in again when the rattling continued. Heaving a heavy sigh, Benedict pulled the curtain open. Down below, Eloise stood, a Pall Mall mallet in one hand and a handful of pebbles in the other.

Y/N chuckled and started to get off his lap, but he held her tightly. Opening the window and leaning out so he was the only one to be seen, Benedict shouted at his sister.

"What are you doing?"

"We were supposed to start the game an hour ago!" Eloise shouted. "Hurry up!"

"I am enjoying time with my wife, Sister."

"And I miss my friend! You have all but taken her from me," she pouted.

Y/N chuckled and watched the expanse of Benedict's neck, how the veins grew as his impatience did.

"Even Kate and Anthony made it down before you!" Eloise argued.

Benedict rolled his eyes. "Give us a minute!" With that, he slammed the window shut and pulled the curtains. He looked back at Y/N, a smile on his lips.

"We should go down there," he sighed.

Y/N just shook her head and trailed kisses down his neck. Benedict sighed, his grip on her waist tightening.

"I waited four years...They can wait a bit longer."

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A/N: that's all she wrote, folks. I love you all

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