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favefandomimagines · 3 days

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Ocean Away (a.b)

Summary: a disastrous fight threatens to end your engagement with Anthony

AN: inspired by “Ocean Away” from the Unofficial Bridgerton Musical. I know it’s a song for Daphne and Simon but I thought it would fit so well with Anthony

This was deeeep in my drafts

He hadn’t meant for it to get so out of hand. What started out as a seemingly normal conversation, ended in both you and Anthony shouting at each other.

“Anthony, I need to ask you something.” You said to your fiancé. “Yes, darling?” He questioned. “When was the last time you saw Siena?” You asked.

The question took him aback. You have never spoken of Siena or his past endeavors. Meaning something must have made you ask him. “What has made you wonder such a thing?” Anthony asked. “Lady Whistledown,” You started before a scoff cut you off.

“Lady Whistledown? You are believing this gossip now.” He spoke. “She has never been wrong before, Anthony. She wrote that she saw you leave the opera house the other evening.” You said.

“An evening where you said you were with Benedict.” You added. “You are above believing these lies, Y/N.” He said. “You have not yet denied it once.” You replied.

Anthony had yet to deny any of what Lady Whistledown wrote and that made you fear that what you had read was true. “I should not have to. We are to be husband and wife in a matter of weeks and you question my fidelity to you.” Anthony said.

“Because two weeks before you proposed to me you were with her. Am I wrong for worrying?” You rebutted. “Your insecurities are not my doing, do not put this blame on me.” He snapped. “My insecurities? I have never been insecure in our engagement until you gave me a reason to be.” You spoke. “This is mad. You believe Lady Whistledown over me?” He asked.

“For goodness sake, Anthony, you have not denied it! There is only one side to this currently and it is hers.” You yelled. “Well, forgive me for not wanting to entertain this any longer.” He said, turning away from you. “You cannot even be honest with me, can you?” You asked quietly.

Anthony could hear the way your voice began to break as his back was to you. He never wanted to hurt you.

Hurting you was at the top of a list of things he never wanted to do to you. And by not claiming his innocence because of his pride, he was hurting you.

“I am going to spend the night in Eloise’s room.” You announced. Anthony still made no attempt to move or even apologize.

You wiped a tear from your face quickly as you headed for the door.

“I sincerely hope you know that Lady Whistledown said I was mad for accepting your proposal. That you would always be the naive and self-sabotaging young viscount. Please do not prove her right.” You spoke before leaving the room.

The problem was Anthony was a prideful man and it would be his pride that would prevent him from doing what was right.

The garden party was supposed to be a celebration of your engagement and it was turning quite sour. Luckily, no one knew of the turmoil that was going on because of the facade you had put on all day.

You spoke to guests, entertained their prodding questions into your wedding and tried to carry on with the afternoon. Your eyes often wandered to Anthony, who was standing stoically with Colin and Benedict. He looked as if he had completely forgotten about your argument as if it meant nothing.

It hurt you, seeing him act so blasè about what had occurred the night prior. That made you fearful because what if he ended the engagement? What if he did not want you anymore?

He had yet to apologize for the way he spoke and the words he said, you had hoped he had just forgotten. Or maybe he was not sorry at all.

You found Eloise and Penelope Featherington, both girls trying to help distract you from your own thoughts.

Eloise was one of your favorite people because of simply how she was unapologetically herself. She was a very funny young woman and that was refreshing in society.

Anthony watched you as you smiled and laughed with his sister by the lake. You were happy after all that happened last night. How could you be happy?

“How can she be smiling? It is as if she realized I am not what she wants.” Anthony spoke aloud. Benedict and Colin looked at one another, neither knowing how to approach the topic.

“Brother, maybe she is trying to be brave. Not let people know she is hurting. They all believe you were with Siena the other evening, she is trying to show it is all a lie. Even if she does not believe it herself.” Benedict said.

Anthony continued to watch you, your eyes never once meeting his gaze. He knew he needed to apologize to you. Tell you that he was never with Siena and the moment he realized you were who he wanted, he had not seen her.

There was a moment where he lost you in the crowd of people. He did not know where you went off to and that worried him more so than his pride.

Anthony started frantically looking around the grounds for you, weaving through the crowd until he spotted you sitting on the bench under the willow tree.

You had always loved that spot and often times Anthony would catch you reading there. It was also the spot you were sitting in when the two of you confessed your love for each other for the first time.

He approached you silently and sat down a few inches away from you.

“I remember the first time I saw you. You had just arrived at the Queen’s ball with your mother and it felt as if time stopped. There was nothing, that tempted me to take my eyes off of you. I knew then that I wanted you and only you. You made me believe that marriage could be for love and for nothing else.” Anthony spoke.

Him recounting the night of your debut made your eyes well up with tears.

“I am afraid. I am afraid that you will want her again and I cannot go through that kind of pain. I love you with everything that I am and if I was not enough for you, it would be the death of me.” You confessed.

Anthony looked at you with slightly wide eyes, never having heard your concerns before. He blamed his past behavior on your fears knowing it was not an easy feat to love someone with his reputation.

He moved closer to you and took your hand in his. “I am also afraid.” He spoke. It was then you looked at him with eyes wide, never having heard the man you love he so vulnerable.

“I am afraid that I will not make you happy. That one day you will wake up and feel like some other man could make you happier.” He continued. “I do not think there is another man in this lifetime who will make me as happy as you do.” You said.

“I have not nor will I ever, see Siena again. You are the woman I love, the woman I cannot stop thinking about. It will always be you.” Anthony said. “She has always had such a strong hold on you, forgive me for being skeptical.” You muttered.

“Now the only woman who has a strong hold on me is you. And that is how it will stay.” He replied. “Do you promise?” You asked. “I promise.” He spoke without hesitation.

Anthony took your hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I love you, Y/N. I always have and I always will.” He said. “I love you too.” You spoke. “And I’m sorry.” You added. “You have nothing to be sorry for, my love.” Anthony replied.

“Your mama might think we have run off and abandoned our own celebration.” You commented. “That does sound rather tempting.” Anthony teased.

You stood up and held your hand out for his, which he took with a smile. If you would have told Anthony Bridgerton that he was about to get married and to the love of his life, he would have called you mad. But here he was, and couldn’t have been happier.

#imagine #imagines #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #penelope featherington #bridgerton imagine #daphne bridgerton

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igotanidea · 21 hours

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Motivation: Benedict Bridgerton x model!reader

requested by @jaysgirlx :Benedict x slightly nude model!reader

***

Stories like that doesn’t happen very often. The chances of recreating the history written by this French poet under the name of Charles Perrault and entitled “Cinderella” was close to none, and yet – Y/N Y/L/N was the fruit of just such an unlikely union.

Her mother was a woman that the ton was more than quick to judge and call the woman fell, just because of her profession. An actress. A word that hardly escaped the mouths of higher class ladies and nobles. It was one thing to enjoy the woman of said profession skills while social event, and the other to acknowledge her presence in the society.

In simple words – the doors were closed for her to ever step out of her social class.

However, life has its own twisted ways of defying and swiftly changing the reality. The flow of the world river is unstoppable and with the right amount of patience, and with the few drops of persistence, water can change the riverbed.

Y/N’s father-to-be, young lord Y/L/N, the firstborn, attended one of the play in the London’s theater, performed due to the Queen’s upcoming birthday celebrations. Instantly getting enamored with young Y/N’s mother-to-be skills and range of emotions. Her talent and beauty, connected with the fact that she was far from the leeches he learned ladies from the ton to be, shone so bright in his eyes, that defying all the laws and rules set ages prior, he forgot his destiny, upbringing and duties to family, started courting the young woman and in time took her as his wife.

Obviously, the fact never got accepted and yet, his lordship, lord Y/L/N got the leverage in the fact he has been the only son and an heir to the title.

Therefore, Y/N, was and simultaneously was not a lady.

Which made her upbringing and consequently her entire life rather complicated.

The young girl took after her mother in the terms of talent and beauty and after her father in terms of humor and boldness.

Which, as you, dearest gentle reader, might already expect, was the reason, that her existence was to get even more complicated.

***

One foot in one class, second in the other Y/N never felt like she belonged in either. Breaking societal rules just like her father.

Ever at the youngest age she came to a conclusion that her mere being in the world was rather unwelcomed reminder of the misalliance. No governess wanted to teach her. No young girls her age coming from good families wanted to be in her presence. Her own grandpapa and grandmamma never showed any interest in meeting her. Consequently, five year Y/N was practically being raised on the scene. Listening to her mamma’s stories about the wonders of theater, art, performing and becoming someone else to escape the reality that tended to be cruel, judgmental and unforgiving.

Especially the last part was to be remembered.

Especially when her mother felt ill and died before Y/N could reach adulthood. Followed suit by her father, lost in grief after losing the love of his life.

Leaving their daughter all alone, forced by the vicious circumstances to tend by herself.

At first, her noble and very elderly grandparents from father’s side wanted (forced) to take her under their wings, but Y/N quickly realized that they wished to raise her for a noble lady with every method possible. Corporal punishment included. Their simple reason behind the action was to not let a wild girl run around and slander their name.

She run away after less than a month putting on a different last name, an alias of sort.

And maybe those set of conditions, fueled by the need to keep her parents’ legacy was the reason that upon reaching the age that young ladies were presented to the queen and debuted in the ton, Y/N started her shameful profession as a model in London Art Academy as well as a part-time access.

***

No matter the world’s opinion on her, she was keeping her head high, being proud of who she was, never hiding and refusing to bow down to the nobles, included the one who believed that a model was just another term for courtesan with the clear intent on acting on those convictions.

While other professional girls were timid and working out of sheer necessity to support themselves, their living, and commonly, their children, Y/N refused to hide, making quite a comfortable life for herself, given all the misevents. And as shocking as it may have been in a XVIII century London – thriving without a husband.

Enjoying every second spent in the sacred temple dedicated to art and education of the future geniuses of the field, taking greatest pride in participating in the process. Sacrificing her heart, mind and soul to the muses.

***

Y/N’s favorite days were those, when she was dressing in fantasy dresses and costumes fulfilling her mother’s words about becoming someone else, taking a mask, a life of an imaginary character, a shell that was to be filled to her own liking. And with her late father’s sense of humor she loved the ability to create characters that somehow mocked the people she knew in real life.

An older lady, busy with everyone’s interest?

A respected matron, whose life’s greatest ambition was marrying her daughters into the noble family?

A royalty with indomitable character and imposing her will without any embarrassment?

All welcomed.

And yet – there were also those specific art lessons for high-born gentlemen that were focused on anatomy. And those never required any intricate outfits at all, except maybe a tiny, thin piece of fabric, reveling more skin than it was societally savory.

***

Y/N might not have had the tiniest waist or the prettiest hair or delicate, fragile figure.

And many student were unsatisfied with said fact (those were the mentioned ones connotating model with hetaira).

And those were also the ones making her smirk under her nose. As if she didn’t know those gentlemen tended to engage in a different kind of art, that has little to zero connection with painting on canvas. Besides, in some cases, if the gentlemen’s other skills were similar to those they showed in class …. poor wives.

However, there was one of them that seemed a little lost in the place. Not because he did not belong, since his talent was undeniable. It was rather because, unlike anyone else, he never said anything even mildly mean to her. Unlike anyone else he was treating her like a human being and not a chunk of flesh Unlike anyone else, she was a woman to him.

Well, maybe not in that sense of the word, but still a woman.

***

He was watching her with sparkles in his eyes that followed her own, no matter how much she was averting her gaze.

Beautiful.

Not like Daphne with her fair, smooth skin, rosy lips and silky hair.

No.

Y/N, as he learned her name was, was like a force of nature. Untamed. Powerful. With fire in her gaze and statuesque figure making her look like a goodness of war.

Athena.

And he was captivated by the internal strength and resilience that radiated through the whole room, reaching even the dimly lit corner of the classroom he found shelter in. Utterly unable to tear his eyes of her. Noticing the smallest details and blemishes on her skin, that only inflamed the fire of his interest.

Oh, to have a piece of her attention.

But she was a model. And he was a lord, even if only a second son, deprived of the title. And even if she didn’t know it, her obvious pride would never allow her to approach him. A man from a higher class she learned to be incomprehensible in their love for worldly pleasure, driven by lusciousness, believing themselves to be above anyone else.

She would be more then delighted to take said men down a notch, but regardless of her pride, fire and independent nature, merely one ungrateful word would cause her to loose the job she loved so much.

Nonetheless, Benedict was neither terrene either the one to give up once his mind was made.

And he made it his personal pursuit to meet her.

***

“Lady Y/N.”

She raised an eyebrow at the voice coming from above her head when she was picking up the utensils left everywhere by reckless and uncaring students, used to being served.

“Surely you are joking my lord?”

“And why would I be joking?”

“I am not a lady and you are aware of that considering the circumstances. And if your lady mother—”

“My lady mother is occupied by my brother’s wife searching quest.”

“Oh yes, your brother, the viscount Bridgerton.”

“Mh. So you know who I am, don’t you?” Benedict’s ego went a little higher in the sky.

“Oh my lord, shall you expect me to be deaf and blind to miss the news of the season?”

“I—” the ego crashed down on the ground

“I may surprise you further then, my lord. I am quite capable when it comes to reading. The skill I use for more than merely enjoying Lady whistledown’s brochures, however I do enjoy the style of writing she presents. Quite talented with the narrative.”

“So you are not only a model but also a writer, lady Y/N?”

“And in my free time I also serve as a charlady. A woman of many talents.” She pointed out to the dirty pencils and accessories in her hands

"Such a surprising thought that-"

"That a woman can in fact have some more ambition than marrying into a noble family?"

"You do sound like one of my sisters..."

“Your sister surely is a smart woman."

Benedict shook his head with a smile, gaze pinned to the floor to avoid laughing and somehow offending his companionship.

“Which one of those gentlemen influenced your opinion this heavily?” Benedict grinned

“Excuse me?”

“Just reveal his name to me and I shall demand satisfaction”

This sentence actually made her laugh a little and before they realized what was happening they were both chuckling in the middle of the empty art classroom as if they were from the same class without any social barriers in-between.

“You’re Benedict Bridgerton.”

“And you are Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Indeed, At your service” she bowed in a very funny and very untrained way. “you must have put yourself through a great deal of trouble to learn my deepest secret.”

“And how entertaining it was to do so.”

“Was it?” she titled her head narrowing eyes a little studying his face. “that makes me wonder the purpose of said action.”

“Will you let a man keep a bit of his own secrets?”

“I must refuse to do so.”

“And this is precisely what I have been expecting to hear from you.”

“Are you challenging me now, my lord?”

“Not for a duel if that’s what-“

“It’s not.” She cut him out with a smile “now, If you forgive me, Bridgerton, I have my duties to tend to.” She bowed and with hands full of remnants of the art class started walking away.

“I shall hope to see you in the next class?” he called after her

“I believe you said your family is occupied with your brother’s marriage …..? Shall you not be invested in those?”

“I—” dear lord, how was it possible that this woman was taking words out of his mouth this effectively? And he believed himself to be the witty one of the siblings.

“Life is full of mysteries my lord and trying to predict what may happen In a week seems like an exercise in futility.”

She send him the last smile and disappeared for good, leaving Benedict with the lingering sense of dissatisfaction.

And suddenly making him forget about the fact that he has been considering renouncing the academy membership Anthony have so generously provided him with.

Having gained additional motivation, he was more determined to persevere.

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton fic

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