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bumblesimagines · 1 year

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The Sun and Moon

Part 7

Request: Yes or No

Meant to post yesterday

~~~

The night had been young and the invitation to Lady Danburys' soiree ran circles in the young painter's mind. He could join and watch the eligible men of the ton make fools of themselves or he could enjoy an evening at Mondrichs' gentlemen's club with a cup of bourbon and his dear friend Benedict. Anthony would certainly attend the soiree, if Kate Sharma even allowed him inside.

Kate Sharma... An intriguing young lady with seemingly no interest in marriage and the protectiveness of a mother bear. The love she had for her sister would intrigue any man, but her sharp tongue and fiery eyes sent many of them running. But, similarly to Anthony, it was obvious there was a softer, kinder side to her. Precisely why she'd be the perfect Lucy to (Y/N)s' Henry. Kate was logical, intelligent, and opinionated. She could destroy a man using just words, and that was something worthy of praise. The way she proudly voiced her opinions and kept her wits even under the glare of Anthony Bridgerton was astonishing, especially coming from a lady.

Though, there were obstacles in his way, primarily two; her views on what (Y/N) liked and... Anthony Bridgerton himself. His dislike for the older Sharma wouldn't be the only issue. (Y/N) knew if his father figured out how (Y/N) felt about the Bridgerton he'd urge him to distance himself. And in a way, (Y/N) had tried. But Anthony kept pulling him back, seeking him out, praising him, and requesting his company.

(Y/N) watched the bourbon swirl around the dainty glass cup, the lights above reflecting against the liquid. Benedict sat some feet away from him, deep in conversation with an acquaintance of (Y/N)s; Mr. George Cruikshank, a more notable artist with connections. Benedict would thrive with a friend like him. One that could boost his career and reputation. Benedict deserved the attention, even if he didn't believe in his talent.

Lifting the cup to his lips, (Y/N) gulped down the rest of his drink and turned away from the bar, looking over the gentlemen that had accepted Mondrichs' invitation. Not many had shown up as most men of the ton were loyal to Whites, but it was a fair start and (Y/N) knew Mondrich was pleased, as shown by the way he beamed and eagerly greeted anyone who walked through the doors. Whilst the two had never conversed for more than a few minutes, he seemed like a kind and gentle man, despite his former boxing career.

"(Y/N), please, tell Benedict about the academy. He must attend if he's as good as you claim." George called, beckoning him over with a wave.

"Well, I've heard great things about it."

"(Y/N) attended the academy but left unexpectedly. However, I heard he was an incredible student." George revealed, looking at (Y/N) expectantly with a raised brow. The revelation made Benedict peer up at his friend curiously. His expression reminded (Y/N) of a puppy begging for a treat.

"Why'd you leave-"

"Brother, I need you." (Y/N)s' head snapped up to look at a near-breathless Anthony, brows furrowing at his urgency.

"I'm in the midst of a conversation-"

"Outside, straight away. You as well, (Y/N)." Anthony turned his back to the two after voicing his demand, leaving them in a moment of silence before Benedict stood and smiled apologetically to George.

"Excuse me."

"Yes, apologies. This seems like an emergency." (Y/N) smiled politely, patting Georges' shoulder as he stepped past him. He quickened his pace to catch up with Anthony, an annoyed Benedict following after them.

Upon stepping outside and finding a spot where they could speak, Anthony turned around and slid a folded paper out of his coat, handing it over to Benedict. "I need you to teach me how to read that out loud," Anthony explained, or rather demanded once more.

"Bryon?" (Y/N) and Benedict scoffed softly. (Y/N) took the paper from Benedict, looking over the poetry before he realized why Anthony would even bother with Byron and his poetry. Edwina Sharma. Anthony, a man who seemed to hate the very idea of even saying the word love to someone, wanted to read a poem to Edwina.

"Did I strike you much harder than I realized earlier?" Benedict questioned rather seriously. The idea of Anthony reading poetry had been just as absurd to him as it had to (Y/N).

"I am afraid you've chosen the wrong poet, Anthony." The painter chuckled, handing the paper back to a puzzled Anthony.

"Is not everyone supposed to love Byron?" Anthony asked, peering down at the paper and reading its contents once more.

"Many in our year at Cambridge thought my poetry far superior to his." Benedict chimed in, cringing as he motioned to the paper as if it were Byron himself.

"Does that mean yours is more or less deceitful?"

"Deceitful?"

"Mhm."

(Y/N) released a breathy chuckle and crossed his arms, allowing his gaze to linger on the paper before he lifted his gaze to look the Viscount in the eye. "Poetry, like a lot of art forms, is about showcasing your feelings, showing the truth of how you feel. Whether love or hate or joy. If you wish to court someone with poetry, you ought to do it with your own poetry, or at least with a poem that is true to your feelings, Anthony. Love is a million different things and it comes in different forms. That's what makes it so enticing and so dangerous. Love lowers your guard down and wraps its arms around you, making you feel safe and warm. You'll wish to do anything for the one you love, even if it means dying for them. Sometimes, love makes you feel so overwhelmed that you need to show it, through writing or actions."

"Almost sounds as if you've experienced it," Benedict muttered with a curious gaze.

"We've all experienced love, Benedict." (Y/N) smiled, glancing at his friend.

Did Anthony know what love felt like? He knew what (Y/N) made him feel. The joy he brought him by simply being in the room, the goosebumps that arose on his skin at the slightest touch, the way he wanted to lean in whenever they were close. Was it desire? Curiosity? Could it truly be love?

"Here, Brother. Let me write down a piece for you." Benedict exhaled after Anthonys' silence, reaching into his pocket for a piece of paper.

"I'll join you at the soiree, Anthony." (Y/N) offered, reaching forward to give his arm a squeeze before he turned toward Benedict to look over the poem he wrote.

Well, from the way his heart skipped a beat, it had to be something. Just what exactly?

ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ

"What is it... truly to admire a woman? To look at her and feel inspiration. To delight in her beauty. So much that all your defenses crumble, that you would willingly take on any pain, any burden for her. To honor..." Lifting his gaze from the paper, Anthony met (Y/N)s eyes. The painter smiled at him but he knew the painter's smile well enough to know it was a forced one, a disappointed one. And when he looked at his mother, he knew she didn't believe a word that came from his mouth. Disappointing two people he genuinely cared about... Anthony couldn't continue.

Crumbling the paper up and tossing it into the fireplace behind him, Anthony cleared his throat and lowered his gaze to the floor, lifting his hands to his hips. "My apologies. I cannot do this. I cannot claim these words as my own. They are someone else's entirely. Truth be told, I'm not-" Exhaling and pressing his lips together, he shook his head.

"I'm not a man of poetry. Words of flattery are beautiful and sweet, but they are also hollow unless accompanied by action." Finally lifting his gaze from the floor, he looked directly at the young woman in front of him. "Miss Edwina, I could stand here and pretend to be someone I am not. I could pretend to want the very same things as you, but I'd be lying. I may not be able to... offer the display of passion that you truly deserve. But I assure you that when it comes to action and duty, I shall never be found lacking. And I hope that is what will speak louder than any pretty words ever can."

Turning his eyes away from the young woman, (Y/N) knew Anthonys' words had only cemented her desire in him. She looked in awe of him, of his honesty, despite Anthonys' confession that he could not give her the love she desired. (Y/N) remained rooted in his spot as Edwina rose, defying her sister and approaching Anthony. While he looked surprised, it quickly washed away and he offered her a drink, smiling at the young girl.

"Pretty faces always break the most hearts." An arm wrapped around his and the familiar scent of vanilla and strawberries filled his nostrils. Anthony turned his head away from Edwina, making eye contact with (Y/N). (Y/N) looked away from him and instead focused on his friend. "Escort me to my carriage?"

"Of course." (Y/N) muttered and led Stephanie out into the dimly lit halls, leaving the guests behind and entering a space of quietness. Stephanie remained silent, thumb gently running back and forth over (Y/N)s' covered bicep, a comforting motion.

"They'll be married in no time." (Y/N) sighed. He had tried so hard to keep his growing feelings at bay, to prove to himself that he just wanted to play around with a Bridgerton and nothing more. But Anthony had proved to be more than he bargained for. He'd seen past the arrogant and serious reputation, peering behind his walls and realizing the Viscount was just an exhausted man desperate to keep his family in the dark about his troubles and burdens. Desperate to keep his loved ones safe and content. A good and honest man who needed someone at his side.

"Give yourself some time and soon enough, you'll find yourself watching your bride walk down the aisle." Stephanie gave his arm a gentle squeeze and smiled fondly at the painter.

The fresh night air washed over the two as they stepped outside and (Y/N) inhaled deeply, feeling the overflowing pot of emotions in him begin to settle down. Stephanie was right. He'd get over it with time, just as he had before. His heart would harden and he'd ensure he only let it soften for the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He prayed Anthony would make it an easy feat.

ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ

Anthony, in fact, did not make it an easy feat. (Y/N) had expected to arrive at the Bridgertons' ball at Aubrey Hall with the rest of the guests but when Theodore arrived with a request from the Viscount himself, (Y/N) could only gather his packed belongings and set off in a carriage. If Anthony wished to have his dear friend there whilst he wooed Edwina then (Y/N) would happily accompany the Bridgertons and Sharmas.

Lifting his gaze away from the book in hand, (Y/N) leaned forward as Aubrey Hall came into view. The summer home was grand, grander than he had expected. Sure, the Granvilles had a large mansion that they visited during summer, but Aubrey Hall was something else entirely. The walls were a mixture of gray and light brown, time having taken its toll on the building, but the vines wrapped around the upper half of the structure, and the flowers blooming around the front doors made its walls an afterthought. Aubrey Hall was a beauty, and would no doubt be more enchanting once inside.

The carriage eased to a stop behind Lady Danburys' carriage and (Y/N) stepped out as his gatherings were collected by servants. He only had a moment to gaze up at the looming mansion before two bodies collected into his.

"You came!"

"I told you he would!"

"Gregory! Hyacinth! Get off that poor man right now!" Violet hollered but the two simply giggled and tightened their grip.

"My, you'll surely give your mother quite the trouble these next few days, won't you? Not very ladylike nor gentlemanly." (Y/N) teased with a smile, enveloping the two in a hug before taking a step back, making sure to ruffle Gregorys' wavy hair in the process. The boy scrunched up his nose in annoyance but the wide smile that spread after showed no ill will.

"Have you met Augie? He's the cutest!" Hyacinth beamed and turned toward her family, watching Lady Danbury fawn over the little one. "Eloise says he looks like every other baby, though."

"I'm sure you're right, Hyacinth." (Y/N) assured with a chuckle. He hadn't expected any less from Eloise, though she did have a point. Not that he'd admit it to the young girl before him.

With a wave from Violet, the two finally obeyed their mother and returned to her side. (Y/N) trailed behind and looked up at the mansion once more, committing every detail to memory. Such beauty deserved to be painted. The Bridgertons surely wouldn't mind it.

"It is quite... marvelous." Kate breathed quietly as she stood beside him, her eyes also going over every inch of the building.

"Don't let Anthony hear you, Miss Sharma. It may boost his ego, and we certainly don't need that." (Y/N) cooed in return. Kate's shoulders shook lightly as she laughed softly, bowing her head to cover her mouth and nod.

"Yes, you are quite right, Mr. Granville. I'll watch my words more carefully next time." She responded just as playfully and looked forward again, only for her smile to fall into an exasperated frown. (Y/N) could see her resisting the urge to roll her eyes as Anthony came to a stop before them.

"You two seem to be getting acquainted just fine," Anthony spoke, almost through gritted teeth, but he pressed his lips into a forced smile. "I'm glad. I hadn't seen you smile before, Miss Sharma."

"I was smiling at the view, which you are now blocking," Kate responded bitterly. Any ounce of playfulness or amusement had vanished in seconds. She truly didn't enjoy Anthonys' company. Or at least, it appeared as such.

The sound of a dog barking pulled (Y/N)s' attention to the pebbled ground, grinning as he took in the sight of the round and chubby dog. His beady brown eyes reminded him of Poppy and he wished he'd brought her along. But, in the end, he knew his furry companion would be much more relaxed at home.

"Oh, you brought your dog." Anthony commented, warily looking down at the little beast in front of him.

"Yes." Kate grinned and took the leash from the servant, gazing down fondly at her pet. "Newton is an excellent judge of character."

"He's quite handsome." (Y/N) smiled. Anthony reached down to pet the dog but Newton let Anthony know his opinion with a loud bark.

"And smart," Kate added smugly, pleased with Newtons' rejection.

"Perhaps your charm is dwindling, Anthony." (Y/N) mused, holding his hands behind his back and looking at his friend with a teasing smile. Anthony turned away from the loyal Newton and released a 'hmph' sound.

"I doubt it." He responded with a rather smug and prideful look. "I will win him and Miss Sharma over by the end of this trip."

Kate scoffed softly and glanced at (Y/N), sighing before looking at the Viscount directly in the eyes with squared shoulders and a head held high. "Since your schemes to manipulate me are now out in the open, I suppose it would be an improvement, indeed." She spat in return, but her cold attitude no longer surprised Anthony.

"Right." He muttered and turned to look at (Y/N), lips parting to invite him on a tour around Aubrey Hall. However, before the words could even form on his lips, Daphne appeared at (Y/N)s' side.

The Duchess greeted (Y/N) with a dip of her head, smiling kindly at the painter before she turned toward her brother, clasping her hands together and looking between him and Kate. "Anthony, would you introduce us?"

"This is Miss Edwinas' sister, Miss Kate Sharma." Daphne turned toward Kate, though (Y/N) could tell she'd already known who Kate was. Anthony had no doubt voiced his opinions on her prior to their arrival.

"Ah, lovely to meet you, Miss Sharma."

"The pleasure is all mine, Your Grace." Kate curtsied, bowing her head respectfully. "Allow me to introduce my sister." She raised her voice in the slightest, shifting to look over at the younger Sharma. (Y/N) stepped aside, greeting Edwina with a polite nod and watching Anthony spring into action, moving past Kate to stand beside the shorter woman.

"It is an honor, Your Grace," Edwina spoke in her typical soft and gentle tone, her politeness bringing a smile to Daphnes' face.

Feeling a tap on his back, (Y/N) turned his head to look at Benedict, shooting the man a curious look. Benedict motioned for him to step aside and so he did, (Y/N) glancing back at the sisters and Bridgertons'.

"I do hope Anthony doesn't hog your attention for the rest of the trip." Benedict huffed, eyeing his brother in annoyance.

"He'll be busy with Miss Edwina, no doubt. You've got nothing to worry about, Benedict." (Y/N) smiled. "Besides, I wish to befriend Miss Sharma. She's rather friendly, despite what Anthony may say."

"Miss Sharma? Will you cou-"

"Now, Mrs. Wilson, please show our guests to their rooms so they may get refreshed!" Violets' voice rang out and Benedict sighed, shaking his head and dismissing what he had planned on asking.

"I can lead you to your room, (Y/N)."

(Y/N) had been right. Aubrey Hall had been more gorgeous on the inside. The light wallpapers, paintings, and beautiful decorations lightened the halls and made the mansion less foreboding. He imagined what the siblings' childhoods had been like. They'd no doubt chased each other up and down the hall, bickered in every room, and gave their poor mother gray hairs. He'd heard the late Lord Edmund had been a fantastic father; playing with his children and even encouraging some of their shenanigans. Henry had been the same, when he returned home at least. Often he'd complain about his back aching, but he always sat on the floor to play and chat with little (Y/N).

"I'll give you some time to rest," Benedict called, already halfway down the hall when (Y/N) opened the door to the guest room. His belongings were already inside, neatly set beside the bed. (Y/N) shut the wooden door behind him and approached the bed, collapsing on the cozy and inviting bed. He exhaled and propped himself up on his elbows, getting a clear view of the large estate through the window beside the bed. He'd unpack later, perhaps even the following day.

Gentle knocking drew his attention away from the window and (Y/N) heaved himself up, rolling over to sit properly. He took a moment to adjust his clothing before calling out to his visitor. Anthony opened the door and slipped inside, closing it behind him and surveying the room, almost as if checking if it were up to standard. With a satisfied nod, he shifted on his heels to face him.

"I take it everything is to your liking?"

"Of course."

"Good. I'm pleased to hear that." Anthony took long strides toward the window, gazing at the ground below. "We'll be playing pall-mall soon. You should join us."

"I will." (Y/N) stood up from the bed, his muscles yearning for the sweet release of a nap, but he ignored the feeling and addressed Anthony with a smile.

"We should begin making our way downstairs, shouldn't we? I believe your siblings are capable of rigging the game."

"You'd be right." Anthonys' stoic expression shifted into an amused one, head shaking at the thought of his siblings' antics. He moved away from the window and opened the door, allowing (Y/N) to walk out before falling into step with him.

"You must've enjoyed growing up here." (Y/N) piped up softly, continuing to be taken aback by each hall and room. He imagined the little Bridgertons in each one; Daphne helping Eloise with her dresses, little Anthony bossing around Benedict, Hyacinth learning how to run and having a poor servant go after her.

"Yes, though with the arrival of the others..." Anthony trailed off, chuckling softly. "We were never alone, I suppose. Always had each other."

"Very sweet." (Y/N) smiled, gazing at the family portraits hung on some of the walls.

"And what about you? You appear like you had a good childhood." Anthony mused, turning his head to look at him. He noted how (Y/N)s' eyes would jump from object to object, gaze lingering on each one as if soaking in the details. A true painter, looking for the beauty in the little things.

"I suppose." Came his muttered response. "I had my dog, Poppy. Theodore and Dolly took care of me as well."

"What of your parents? Surely they kept you company." Anthony inquired with furrowed brows. He'd never really thought about (Y/N)s' parents or his relationship with them. They'd had to have done a fantastic job at raising him for (Y/N) to be so polite and friendly.

"Father traveled often." And when Henry wasn't traveling, he'd spend an hour or two at home before visiting one of his 'apprentices' for a 'painting lesson.' (Y/N) had quickly learned the truth behind the excuse once he'd been allowed to know what happened at his parents' house parties. "Mother... Mother was there." Loving and caring Lucy... she'd taken a long while to get the reins of motherhood. So long that by the time she'd finally settled into the role, her son had already turned sixteen. Nevertheless, (Y/N) had been pleased with the change.

"I should mention I've never played pall-mall. Nobody ever taught me and I do find it awfully boring to watch." With a swift change of topic, (Y/N) returned to his cheerful self.

"Right..." Still bothered at the solemn news of (Y/N)s childhood, Anthony explained the rules as best he could, making sure to warn (Y/N) of his siblings' tricks, but he kept his own secrets to himself despite (Y/N)s' prodding.

With the Bridgertons and Sharma sisters gathered around the mallets outside, tension seemed to rise between the Bridgertons as they each eyed a mallet.

"Let us toss a coin." Collin proposed, running a hand over the mallets and gazing over everyone.

"Last year, we promised to let the youngest pick first," Eloise interjected but Anthony shook his head, raising a hand to his hip.

"We pick based on alphabetical order."

"Everyone, please, now!" Daphne butted in as the bickering began, exhaling softly and motioning toward their guests. "The only fair thing to do is to let our invited guests choose their mallets and strike first." While dejected, the siblings agreed and took a step back, allowing Edwina to choose first.

Edwina chose a blue mallet, a choice that had Benedict sighing but he nevertheless remained silent, while Kate chose the black mallet.

"The mallet of death," Eloise whispered, all eyes eagerly turning toward Anthony to soak in his reaction. The eldest Bridgerton stared holes at the ground, one hand clenched so tightly his veins showed.

"Is this yours?" Kate asked though she showed no sign that she'd be handing the mallet over to the fuming Bridgerton. In fact, she looked rather pleased with herself.

"Not at all." He answered quietly. "You're welcome to it."

"You didn't threaten to beat me the last time I touched-"

"You exaggerate!" Anthony spat, drawing a surprised laugh out of Kate and a quiet snort out of (Y/N).

"Are you the superstitious sort? I know some men cannot perform without their familiar tools." Kate spoke, leaning against the mallet and cocking her head. "Like a child with a blanket."

Chuckling softly, (Y/N) scooped a dark green mallet out, looking it over for a moment. As soon as he took a step back, the Bridgertons charged forward, grasping any mallet they touched first and rushing off toward the field. Kate eagerly joined them as Anthony begrudgingly took a soft pink mallet, lifting his arm for Edwina and (Y/N) to join the others.

"It's alright if you're nervous, Miss Edwina." The Bridgertons were proving to be a rowdy bunch and Edwina seemed like the sort to avoid conflict. Of course, with a family as large as the Bridgertons, fighting over things happened to be a daily thing for them. A pastime even. "The Bridgertons may appear intimidating but they really aren't. I'm sure you'll find your sides hurting from laughter at the end of the day."

"Yes, I'm sure. Thank you, Mr. Granville."

The game proved to be quite fun and simple. (Y/N) found himself missing a few hits but eventually got the hang of it, intentionally targeting Benedicts' ball a few times and earning a displeased groan from him. Though, from the way Benedict would gaze off into the distance and miss a few shots, it was clear something else hogged his mind.

"Benedict, are you alright?"

"Yes, no, well-" Benedict clamped his mouth shut and exhaled deeply. "I applied to the Royal Academy Schools to become a student of art."

"What? Benedict, that's great!" (Y/N) whispered excitedly, taking a step closer to him and beaming. He held the mallet in one hand, grasping Benedicts' arm with his free one and giving it a squeeze. Benedict sheepishly smiled and nodded but he seemed less than thrilled.

"Yes, but... What if they don't accept me? What if they don't believe I'm talented enough?"

"Trust me, Benedict, you've got nothing to worry about. You have a passion and gift that not many possess. They'd be fools to overlook you." (Y/N) assured him, running his hand up and down Benedicts' bicep. "Soon enough, every household in the ton will have a painting of yours."

"Everything alright?" (Y/N) turned toward Anthony as he approached them. One glance at Benedict told (Y/N) he'd yet to tell his family so (Y/N) remained silent on the matter.

"Yes, of course. Just checking Benedict was fine with losing to me." (Y/N) grinned, gently bumping his arm against Benedicts'.

"Oh, please! I'm simply going easy on everyone because of our lovely guests." Benedict responded loudly, lifting his head high.

"Is that so?" Daphne gasped, smiling widely. "Well, Brother, please don't hold back."

With the mood lifted, Benedict gave (Y/N) a thankful look and jogged over to Colin, taking a swing at his ball, however, the ball had other plans and Benedict missed completely. Chuckling at his failed attempt, Colin leaned in to tease his brother and in turn got playfully shoved.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"How can I not, Anthony? It's always a pleasure to be in the company of your family." Anthonys' face brightened at his words, taking a step closer and allowing his fingers to brush against (Y/N)s' back. He allowed his fingers to linger before he flattened his hand completely, a small smile appearing on his face.

"I'm pleased to hear that. Your company is welcome as well." Anthony replied softly. Tilting his head to look at the Bridgerton, (Y/N) took note of their proximity. A single step could close the distance, a fact he wasn't sure if Anthony was aware of. And even if he was, (Y/N) knew it didn't matter.

"I'm glad." (Y/N) breathed and moved away from him, tightening his grip on his mallet and walking away from the Bridgerton, missing the curious look Daphne had on her face upon noticing the interaction.

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x male reader #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #Anthony bridgerton x male reader #benedict bridgerton #collin bridgerton #Violet Bridgerton #kate sharma #edwina sharma #Daphne Bridgerton #Hyacinth Bridgerton #gregory bridgerton

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lord-lyss · 8 months

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Problemas para ser suficiente [Trasfondo del protagonista]

Lysander desde pequeño había tenido problemas de concentración y comunicación además de otros, no llegaba ni llega a ser lo que muchos esperan y eso lo frustra además que lo pone impotente, el solia pensar que todo eso mejoraría con el pasar del tiempo pero no fue así, solo empeoró, eso causo que el se sienta como un problema a pesar de que muchos le decían que no lo era.

El quería ser suficiente para los demás pero no podía, eso era una de las cosas que siempre hacia que llore en las noches.

El estaba mejorando, pero nadie lo notaba.

Aunque él era uno de los mejores detectives y caballeros de la reina, todavía seguía siendo un problema su diagnóstico, la cosa que para el no era, ni para nadie es fácil tener autismo y tdha, ya que para tu concentración tienes que estar centrado o interesado en algo.

El intentaba y hacia su mejor esfuerzo por ser suficiente pero nadie lo notaba, se sentía atado y encandanado a sus problemas.

#bridgerton fanfic #eloise bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x male reader #bridgerton

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frost-queen · 1 year

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Humming bees (Male!Reader x Bridgertons)

Requested by: @los-angeles-71300 Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07,@melsunshine, @goldenmoonbeam, @freyathehuntress

Summary: After Hyacinth finds a portrait of a young man she does not know, she confides with her father and brother Anthony of his identity. Little does she know it is a portrait of you, the eldest Bridgerton passed away at the hands of a small bee. (Ps. Edmund is still alive here)

“One, two, three.” – Gregory called out. Hyacinth picking up the hem of her dress, making a run for it. – “four, five six.” – she heard him count while running out of the parlor. – “nine, ten, eleven.” – his words slowly fading out till she could no longer hear him count. Giggling beyond herself, she ran up the stairs. Half-way up she encounters her brother Colin, nearly running him over. – “Hyacinth!” – Colin called out, turning around to see her run up the last steps.

He held on tight to the railing. It was his life saving or he would’ve tumbled down the stairs. – “Hide and seek!” – she simply responded loudly. Colin shaking his head with a shake. Hyacinth ran down the hallway. Eloise shrieking loud when she opened her door, greeted by her hastened sister. Hyacinth came to a stop, mouth gawking in surprise. Wondering where she would hide from her brother.

Setting her mind to it, she ran to the right, opening a door. She quickly shut it. – “Hyacinth?” – Benedict said, pausing his actions. – “Can I hide here?” – she asked, looking around for a hiding place. – “What? Hide? What are you on about sister?” – Benedict set his paintbrush aside, watching her from behind his canvas. – “Yes hide brother what is there not to understand about.” – she answered, sitting on her knees, looking under his bed.

Humming curiously she got back up. She ran over to his closet, opening it firmly. – “Do you think I could fit in here?” – she questioned. Benedict rushed to her, coming to stand between her and the closet, shutting it. – “No!” – he called out. – “No?” – Hyacinth repeated innocently. – “No I can’t fit in there or no I can’t hide there?” – she proposed unsure of his intentions of his words. Benedict spread his arms. – “No as in no, you cannot hide here or anywhere in my room for the matter!” – he told her off.

Hyacinth pouted her lips pitiful. – “Why not?” – she begged to know. – “I am painting sister.” – he sighed out, gesturing at the canvas presented in the center of his room. Hyacinth barely gave the canvas her attention. – “I won’t disturb you. I promise.” – she said wobbling on her feet, hands behind her back. Benedict pinched his nose bridge. – “Hyacinth no. I can’t have you hiding in here and Gregory storming in to find you.” – he explained to her.

She crossed her arms bothered. – “Where else am I supposed to hide? Gregory can come look for me any second now.” – she cried out. Benedict pulled his shoulders up, turning her around towards the door. – “Not my problem.” – he shoved her towards the door, ushering her out of the way. He shut the door before her. Hyacinth reacting by sticking her tongue out.

Hearing Gregory downstairs, she panicked. Her time was coming to an end if she ever wished to hide. Panicking, she ran further down the hallway before Gregory would come up the stairs and see her. Huffing and puffing loud, her mind could barely think rational. A thousand terrible hiding idea’s popping in her mind. All those that would easily give her away. Groaning out of breath, she did not want to give Gregory the satisfactory of finding her in the first two minutes of the game.

She wanted to do better. Turning a corner, she came in a corridor she rarely visited. One could say almost foreign to her. Quirking her eyebrow up, she moved swiftly through it, looking in wonder around. Letting her finger trail the wallpaper. It seemed older then those downstairs. As if it hadn’t been taken care of in years. There were another set of stairs at the end of the corridor as she went up. Her curiosity taking a hold of her. Completely forgetting about the game she went up.

It went darker, the further up she went. No windows cast upon the stairs to light up her way. She came to a stop before a wooden door. The handle was old and heavy. With some effort, the door opened with a shrieking sound. She so hoped no one had heard that. She blinked rapidly to adjust to the dim lighted room she found herself in. Only the light from a small window above granting the room some light. She carefully pushed the door closer to the lock, yet not quite in it.

Venturing further into the room, she peered around trying to get glimpses of what was stored here. She gasped running over to a wooden crib. It started rocking creakingly under her grip. Lifting her fingers up, she rubbed them together feeling the dust on them. It had been a while since the crib was used. She measured the size between her two fingers, trying to visualize how small she would’ve been to fit in. That seemed like an eternity ago when she could fit in that crib.

Giggling loud she imagined what it would look like if she laid in it now. Her legs and arms sticking out. It was just too funny to think about. She moved around the crib further down the room. She lowered herself, hands pressed onto a table, watching a dusted vase. It was see-through, yet not. Being so close to the dust, made her cough loud. Straightening her posture she kept coughing. Slowly turning around, the back of her hand against her mouth.

She stopped coughing, hand lowering as her gaze fell upon a hidden portrait it appeared. Hyacinth went over to it. The closer she got, the more she furrowed her brows. Perhaps it was a portrait of her father in his early days? She took a hold of the frame, moving something in front of it forwards so the portrait wouldn’t be damaged when she pulled it up. Slowly the portrait got pulled up, her eyes widening in wonder. She took the portrait with both hands, moving it closer towards the light falling into the room.

She smiled as the person looked so much like her father. Yet if she squeezed her eyes a bit shut, she could faintly see features of Anthony. This was clearly not her father. Yet he resembled him much. Who could this young man be and why is his portrait hidden away? Hyacinth wanted to know more, taking the portrait with her. She went back to the door, going through it. Down the steps back into the corridor. When passing her siblings rooms she got spotted. Gregory pointing firmly at her from across the way. – “Found you!” – he called out loud.

Hyacinth spoke back, coming nearer. – “Yes you found me, good work of you brother.” – she walked past him. Gregory crossed his arms bothered. – “You are no fun like this! Did you even hide?” – he called out to her. – “I did then I chose to come out of hiding.” – she shouted making her way down the stairs. Gregory stomped with his foot on the ground, annoyed at his little sister. Why couldn’t she simply play the game rightly. Close to crying, his lip trembled as he rushed to his room.

She went down the stairs, straight on to the study of her father. Edmund and Anthony lifted their heads up when she barged in. – “Hyacinth?” – Edmund spoke. – “Sister?” – Anthony said at the same time. Hyacinth struggled a bit to keep the portrait up. Her father jumping up from his chair to assist her. He ran around the desk, holding the portrait up before it could hit the ground.

“Whatever for are you carrying this?” – he chuckled, turning the portrait slowly around to see what she was carrying. – “I…” – his smile dropped in an instant. Sorrow reflecting upon his features. – “What is it father?” – Anthony asked coming nearer. – “Who is he?” – Hyacinth asked curiously. Her father seemed to have turned to stone. Not responding one bit. Anthony came to his side, eyes widening at the portrait of you. – “Where did you find this!” – he called out, snatching the portrait from his father.

The tone in Anthony’s voice terrified her for a moment. Thinking she had done something wrong. – “The… the attic… I…I…” – she looked at her father seeing the tears swell up in his eyes. She dropped to her knees, begging for forgiveness. – “I was playing hide and seek with Gregory; I did not mean to find it. Father forgive me.” – she cried out.

Edmund blinked himself awake, rapidly to keep the tears at bay. He softened a smile up for her. – “It is alright my child.” – he spoke, pulling her back on her feet. Hyacinth sniffed loud with pouty lips. Anthony set the portrait down on the desk, brushing any dust off with care.

A faint smile upon his lips. Edmund motioned for her to follow him. He went to sit down, pulling Hyacinth on his lap. – “That… that is a portrait of your brother Y/n.” – he told her, pointing at it. – “Brother?” – Hyacinth repeated confused. – “Is… is he away?” – she wondered since she’s never met him. – “No…” – Edmund replied with sadness in his voice.

“He’s gone.” – Anthony answered letting his finger brush over your uniform on the portrait as it removing any folds from it in person. – “What do you mean he’s gone?” – she wanted to know. Edmund took a deep breath. – “Hyacinth…” – he said to her making her slowly realize. – “Oh…” – she quietly answered. A moment of silence fell upon them till she spoke. – “How… how did it happen? How come I don’t remember him?” – she asked curiously.

Edmund smiled faintly. – “You were still in your mother’s womb. Slowly growing.” – he tickled her briefly making her smile. – “Your brother Y/n, Anthony and I had gone hunting.” – he started his story. Anthony turning around to lean against the desk. Anthony immediately pulled back to the moment. It was a nice warm summer’s day. There were up and about from early starters.

Long awake before anyone else was. Anthony felt beyond honored to go hunting with his father and older brother. He so very much looked up to you. Aspired to be just as gentile and determined as you. You could do no wrong in his eyes. He’d nearly hit a deer, yet the hunt was unsuccessful. Upon the walk home, you were there to give him the word of advise he needed.

“Say brother, no need to be pitiful.” – you spoke, moving an arm around him. Father just up ahead. Anthony took a deep breath. – “I almost had it. If my hand just didn’t tremble that much.” – he cursed at his own hand, looking down at it. You clasped your hand around his, moving it out of his sight. – “Your hand will steady, do not worry about that my brother.” – you told him. Anthony sighed. – “It is just…” – he responded coming to a brief stop. His shoulder slouched forwards, making you notice it quite quick.

You smiled, needing no more words to understand. Taking a deep breath, you set your hands on his shoulders. – “You did alright brother. There is no need to pity yourself with doubts. Believe it or not, I was much worse on my first hunt.” – you said with a smile. – “I don’t believe you.” – Anthony answered. – “Yet it is true.” – you insisted on. – “I had the unfortunate matter of nearly shooting my own hand off.” – you showed him your hand, laughing loud. Anthony wouldn’t have it, shaking his head.

“No, a skilled shooter as you, I do not believe you. You are taunting me brother.” – he spoke, pulling your hand down. You laughed even more. – “It is true.” – you showed him your hand, pointing at a little scar by your wrist. – “I’ve got the scar to tell the tale.” – Anthony’s eyes widened. How was it he’d never noticed that scar. Yes it was small and faint, yet it was there. You stopped smiling, hearing your father whistle loud between his teeth.

“Boys keep up or your mother will scold me!” – he called out from further up the path. The both of you ran to catch up with him. Both joining him at once side. Edmund patted you on the back with a smile. Riffle in hand, you took a satisfying breath upon seeing the manor once more. How good it felt to be home. Edmund and Anthony were laughing as you were a step behind them. – “Oh, she would adore those!” – Edmund pointed out, looking at the flowers.

He rushed over to them, Anthony following him on foot. Edmund took off his satchel and placed his riffle down. Coming to kneel before the flower patches. Hands deep, he ruffled through the flowers. The soft humming of bees never catching his attention. He plucked a few Hyacinths when Anthony came kneeling close to him. Admiring another set of flowers. – “Are you going to woe mother with some flowers?” – you laughed teasingly coming to stand behind your father and brother.

“Yes.” – Edmund huffed out, plucking another Hyacinth. He smelled it briefly. – “They are quite lovely are they not?” – he said out loud. A bee buzzing near him. – “Yes, indeed they are father.” – Anthony responded, looking over at his father. – “Daphne will be jealous if we return with nothing for her.” – he added, plucking a few flowers. Edmund moved his head back, noticing the bee in his vision. Furrowing his brows with annoyance he whiffed it away with the back of his hand. – “This bloody…” – he said getting up and backing away.

You came nearer wanting to aid your father. Edmund ducked away from the bee as he had kept waving his hand around to shoo it off. – “Father do not anger…” – you warned him, words suddenly cut off by a sting of pain. – “Au.” – you softly said, having felt the stinger in your neck. Anthony chuckled, looking behind him. – “Y/n.” – he said. You moved your back towards him and your father, walking closer to the estate. – “The darn thing stung me.” – you pointed out, touching your neck briefly. – “Apologies Y/n. I didn’t mean to anger the creature.” – Edmund said with half a smile.

Anthony was still plucking flowers, furrowing his brows when he heard you grasp weirdly for air. – “Y/n?” – he said. You felt your neck swell up, face turning pale. Turning around your lips were almost sealed. Looking as pale as a dove as you stumbled a bit forwards. You revealed a bit of your red neck to your brother and father. You stretched your hand out, wheezing loudly. – “What is it?” – Anthony questioned, getting up. You stumbled into your father’s arms, sending him down with you.

Grasping for air, blood veins almost popping out on your head. – “What? What?” – Anthony called out coming over. You sputtered loud, moving your fingers over the sting wound. – “Someone help us!” – Edmund shouted loudly. – “Help us!” – the panic alarming in his voice as he held you. You lost your balance falling onto your back in the grass. Edmund looked frantically down, pulling you onto his lap. Mouth open you were grasping for air. Choking on dry air. – “Help us! Someone help!” – Anthony raged out in panic.

Your head shock back, grabbing your hand desperately at Anthony’s arm. Needing your brother’s comfort. The scaredness in your eyes broke Anthony’s heart as you kept desperately grabbing for him. It took him a few try’s to take your hand in his. – “Y/n, brother!” – he called out worriedly. – “Y/n… Y/n you must breath.” – Edmund called out, holding you. – “I…I…can’t…” – you answered hoarsely, feeling how much closer to death you were. Anthony was panicking, freaking out as he couldn’t think properly.

He held your hand tight, watching you with horror. Your movements slowed down as you turned to look at him, choking on the lack of air. – “Brother.” – you hoarsely said in deep panic. Wanting Anthony to take away the pain. To tell you all will be alright as you felt your end draw nearer. Anthony stared back at you with wide eyes in fear. Slowly you laid your head back, reaching up to touch your father’s cheek.

Your fingers barely touched his skin as your hand lowered slowly once more. – “No-no-no-no.” – Edmund whispered out seeing how the light in your eyes was fading out. – “No-no-no-no-n-n-no don’t do this.” – he told you, shaking his head. Your hand plopped to the side, eyes falling shut as your head felt weightless. – “No Y/n!” – Edmund cried out. – “Do not leave us!” – he shouted with a crack in his voice. Anthony’s eyes were wide with fear.

Slowly it was sinking in that he had lost his brother. He looked down at your lifeless hand in his. Seeing how his touch gave your hand no response. Edmund moved your head a bit up, letting his chin rest against your forehead. Mouth open as no cries came out. Silent as they were cramped in his throat. Then a loud sob emerged from deep within followed by a cry of agony.

Anthony’s head trembled, moving your hand towards his chest. Cherishing it near his heart. Edmund was crying loudly, rocking you gently in his embrace. – “My son…my boy.” – he cried out, releasing a cry so raw it scraped his throat. The sounds drew in some curious watchers. Tears rolled down Anthony’s cheek, seeing his brother, the one he looked up to lay still in his father’s embrace.

Edmund looked over his shoulder, sniffing loudly. – “They cannot see him… not like this.” – he told Anthony, seeing Violet among them. – “Anthony!” – he called out for his attention. Anthony looked sharply his direction, trembling to the bone. – “Go!” – he ordered. Anthony nodded shakily, laying your hand near your body. He hesitantly got up, barely able to keep up straight. He stumbled over to his mother telling her the children should head inside.

Anthony sniffed loud, wiping a tear off his cheek. – “If I had not decided to pick flowers for your mother.” – Edmund spoke feeling a lump in his throat. – “If I had not angered the bee, your brother might still be here.” – he continued, looking at Hyacinth who had tears in her eyes as well. Anthony gripped on tight to the desk.

Remembering what that day brought upon him. With the loss of you, it meant he was the next heir in line. Making it his sworn duty to fulfill your tasks as the eldest brother now. Making sure the family was well taken care off with father. – “I wish I knew him.” – Hyacinth spoke. Edmund smiled faintly. – “You would’ve loved him… he would’ve loved you…” – he answered pinching her cheek.

Anthony moved his hand to his heart, looking up to the ceiling with a saddened smile. Closing his eyes gently to picture you in front of him. Allow himself to feel what it felt like to have those glorious days with you as second. If only he could’ve held on to you longer. Taking a deep breath, he lowered his head, turning to look at your portrait. – “If only you could taunt me one more time brother.” – he whispered touching your portrait.

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livingdreams97 · 4 months

Text

Eloise Bridgerton - "The Prince" (Part 2)

Eloise Bridgerton x Male reader/oc

Summary: Two people who have never seen each other before, with the same need and desire to be free in different ways. What could come of that when both people meet each other?

Words: 3.275

Masterlist

POV Narrator

Dear readers,

The same two words always come to mind for this author the morning after a big party: surprise and delight. And dear reader, the scandalous accounts of last night's evening at Ranger House ( Bridgerton house ) are quite surprising and a real delight.

Emerging from her previous failure with Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, Miss Edwina Sharma seems to have charmed Prince Friedrich of Prussia with her charms.

They have been seen very together at every social event and close sources comment on the success of the diamond of the season with the prince. Perhaps it turns out that the Queen Regent is a very good supervisor and has an eye for pairing.

Maybe this is the queen's redemption, compared to the resounding failure she had last season with Miss Sharma herself; her diamond for the second consecutive year, and the frustrated wedding she was going to have with the Viscount.

Speaking of royalty, we must also mention the presence of Prince Y/n of Hannover and also the queen's nephew in this season. Also remember that Prince Y/n is the future heir to the throne since the queen and the regent king so dictated after his 16th birthday .

Apparently, this handsome green-eyed prince is also looking for a wife and a future queen. The mothers are very attentive to each moment of solitude, to push their daughters into hisarms and try to catch the biggest fish in the place.

But it seems that his attention is fixed on none other than Miss Eloise Bridgerton. It should be noted that this is the second season as a debutante for the second daughter of the Bridgertons and the bad reputation that comes from the people with whom she joined last season.

But that fame does not seem to frighten or matter to the Prince of Hanover, as he has been seen many times on the dancefloor with Miss Bridgerton. They say that love is blind and perhaps in this case it can also become deaf.

How will the queen feel about this possible union?

On the other hand, we have Miss Prudence Featherington who is still engaged to Mr. Jack Featherington and it seems that the nuptials are still some way off. On the other hand, we have Penelope Featherington , who has reportedly been seen in the company of Mr. Colin Bridgerton more than usual. Could this mean something else; or is it just a friendship?

Always yours,

Lady Whistledown.

Eloise's POV

I can't do it anymore. I can't continue with this constant pressure, feeling like every step and every one of my movements is being watched. And not only for my mother, but also for the rest of the people in each event.

It's only been three weeks since the social season began, three weeks that have seemed eternal and one of the heaviest. It seems that three months have passed and not three weeks.

I feel exhausted and totally stressed. I don't want to disappoint my mother again and have our last name put in doubt again because of me. That is what I least want.

But the pressure not to disappoint Mother again, the feeling of being completely watched at all times, and the discomfort I feel every time a newcomer questions me about my "radical" ideals overwhelms me.

The only times I don't feel so overwhelmed and suffocated by everything is when I'm reading in my room and no one bothers or watches me at all.

I can only relax when I am completely alone.

Worst of all, I can't talk about it with anyone, since I would have talked about it with Penelope before and that's it. But after her betrayal, I can't talk to her, much less when she didn't trust her and continues to write as Lady Whistledown .

The fact that she continues writing annoys me even more, especially when she writes about my family and more specifically about me. If anyone had forgotten about her comment last season, about my relationship with Theo and my supposed radical political ideas; with what she wrote about me three days ago, she reminded all of London.

So people looked at me even more and not in a very positive way. But I couldn't talk to anyone about how I felt, because I don't have any friends left and no one in my family would understand.

I can't even tell Benedict how I feel, since he's too focused on his drawing and I don't want to worry him with my problems. In addition to that he would tell me not to pay attention to people and he would tell me something funny to make me laugh.

But that's not what I need right now. What I need now is someone who listens to me, who understands me and can help me with all this that I feel. Because I feel like I'm drowning more every day and how I'm short of breath every time I enter a dance or social event.

And the same thing was happening to me right now.

Tonight was the annual seasonal ball at Vauxhall Gardens, so the whole family except my two younger brothers had come. Even Kate had decided to leave little Olivia at home.

As soon as the family had set foot in the party, all eyes were on us and more specifically on me.

Ignoring with all my might the gazes on me, I comply with what my mother asks of me and dance with two men until the song ends. But neither of the two men are educated people.

Because both of them have spent the dances asking about my ideals and how wrong I am with my radical political thought, since that promotes the extinction of my life as a person of high class.

What ends up getting fed up and in a carelessness of my family I flee towards the labyrinth of the gardens. Where I sit on one of the stone benches of the place and I start to cry without being able to avoid it.

XY: I don't think it's safe or correct that you're out here without supervision.- I hear near me, causing me to jump scared and turn around to find the Prince of Hannover.

Eloise: I could say the same to you.- I reproach with a frown, forcefully wiping away my tears and trying to stop crying.

Y/n: Are you alright Eloise? - he asks with some concern on his face, walking towards where I am and sitting a bit far away; but in the same bank.

Eloise: Of course I'm fine.- I answer clenching my jaw and holding back the urge to continue crying.

Y/n: I'll believe you and we can go back to the dance as if nothing had happened.- he says with some sarcasm, bringing a glass to his lips and giving a small sip.

Another thing that has changed is my relationship with Prince Y/n. At first it seemed unbearable and somewhat unbelievable. But over time I have been able to learn more about him and have long intellectual conversations about our interests.

So I've started to see him a bit as a friend, since he knows what is said about me and completely ignores it. He has never come to ask me about my radical political ideas, even though I don't have them as such and that is something that everyone has asked me about.

So you can say that I like him a little, although not enough to tell him my stuff and be considered my friend completely.

Eloise: I'm just tired and overwhelmed by everything.- I admit with a sigh and see how he offers me his drink.

Y/n: What has you overwhelmed?- he asks as I accept the glass and take a small sip, feeling a burning pain in my throat.

Eloise: Iugh Yuck.- I say with a gag, giving him back the drink and causing him to laugh at my reaction.

Y/n: Don't change the subject and answer me.- he tells me funny.

Eloise: I feel overwhelmed for not finding a husband and disappointing my mother for a second time.- I answer playing with my hands and lowering my gaze.

Y/n: And why do you think you won't find a husband?- he asks with some confusion in his voice. -From my point of view, you are perfect for any man. You are beautiful, you have your own thoughts and ideals that you defend with very good arguments, you are educated, you like to read and you do not give importance to what the rest of the world says. - he enumerates and I look at him completely surprised, feeling a certain heat on my cheeks and ears.

Eloise: You say that out of politeness.- I played down what he just said, feeling embarrassed and somewhat impressed by his opinion about me.

Y/n: I say what I've seen and what I've experienced with you.- he assures me with a small smile, so I look away from him. -There are very few women like you Eloise Bridgerton and you should be proud of who you are. Because you are worth much more than any of the other debutants with knowledge of pianoforte or whatever they know how to do, because you go further and you don't focus only on learning something to please your future husband.- he expresses and i presses my lips , so that he does not see the smile that wants to appear on my face about what he has told me.

Eloise: That's the problem, I don't want a husband to please and become a boring housewife.- I say with a sigh. -I don't want to have to pretend to be someone I'm not in order for a man to like me, I don't want to make myself less so I can get married and I don't want my life to be left in the hands of a husband who is only interested in himself.- I complain and I can see how he listens to me attentively.

Y/n: So you don't want to get married? - he asks with confusion and with some interest shining in his eyes.

Eloise: No.- I deny with a sigh. -It's not something I want, but my mother wants me to get married and I don't want to stay like a spinster either; because it is not that they are very well seen in our society. - I explain and I see how he nods with his head processing what I just said.

He stares at me in silence for a few moments, saying absolutely nothing and with a certain pensive look on his face.

Y/n: Can I make you a proposition?- he asks me with some caution.

Eloise: What kind of proposition? - I ask a little interested, but also with some caution for the possibilities.

Y/n: You don't want to get married, right? - he asks and I shake my head. -But neither do you want to stay single and "disappoint" your mother by not getting married.- he says and I nod without understanding where he wants to go. -I propose that you marry me.- he says confidently and I open my eyes wide.

Eloise: WHAT?!! - I exclaim completely in shock.

Y/n: Don't yell or someone will see us.- he whispers looking at all sides.

Eloise: Have you gone crazy?- I ask quickly in a whisper. -I just told you that I don't want to get married and you ask me to marry.- I commented as if it were the craziest idea in the world.

Y/n: Be quiet and listen to me for a moment please.- he asks me with a certain plea in his eyes.

Eloise: Okay.- I accept with a sigh, trying to relax my breathing and the accelerated beating of my heart.

Y/n: I don't want to get married either, but my father forces me to find someone and marry her for love.- he begins to tell me. -I just want to travel the world and enjoy life, but I can't do it until I get married; since I made a deal with my father. The deal is based on the fact that if I marry for love, he will pay me six months to travel the world and buy me a house wherever I want for myself and my wife.- he explains and I still don't understand his proposition.

Eloise: And what do I paint here and in your proposal for me to marry you? - I ask still a bit confused.

Y/n: That's what I'm getting to.- he complains with a sigh. -I don't want to get married and you don't want to get married, but for different reasons we don't want to be single either. So it's the best thing that could happen to us. - he exclaims and I look at him still confused.

Eloise: I still don't quite understand the reason for your proposition.- I point out how poorly it is being explained.

Y/n: You marry me and your mother is glad that you marry a prince and future heir to the crown; besides that you don't stay single.- he points to me first . -And I marry you, finally being able to travel the world and having the freedom to live away from my father. We both won.- he exclaims with some joy.

Eloise: But I would still have to marry you and I'm not going to make myself less or become a housewife for you.- I deny immediately.

Y/n: And you won't.- He denies, reassure me immediately. -You will have all the freedom in the world, you will be able to read everything you want and dedicate your time to yourself without having to worry about your future anymore.- he assures me and I observe him considering the proposal.

Eloise: Could I choose where to have the house? - I ask with a raised eyebrow.

Y/n: As long as it's not near my father; yes.- he nods with a smile.

Eloise: I want to review your proposal, okay? - I ask and he nods. -You want us to get married together; because neither of us really wants to get married, but I don't want to disappoint my mother and I don't want to stay single either. At the same time as you , you have made a deal with your father and if you get married he will finally let you travel the world and buy you a house.- I am saying everything he has told me, causing him to nod again. -And I will be able to continue enjoying my books and not being the most feminine woman in the world, without you caring and I will have all the freedom in the world; besides that I will choose where we would live? - I finish reviewing the proposition.

Y/n: Exactly.- He nods with a smile.

Eloise: What's the catch? - I ask raising an eyebrow, knowing that everything sounds very perfect and there must be a catch.

Y/n: It has to seem like we really love each other and my aunt has to accept our marriage.- he responds a bit insecure and I open my mouth in surprise.

Eloise: No.- I deny getting up from the bench. -Your aunt; Your aunt THE Queen hates me.- I point out and he follows my example getting up from the bench.

Y/n: My aunt will adore you if she thinks you're the love of my life and thinks I'm in love with you.- he assures me and I shake my head.

Eloise: Nobody will believe it. - I deny nervous and somewhat disappointed.

The proposal was perfect, but it was too perfect to be true and now it's clearly impossible.

Y/n: Eloise, please listen to me.- He begs me, grabbing my hands and making me look at him. -You are my only hope, the other debutants want to marry me to show off and for the possible power that marriage would entail. And to be honest, I couldn't pretend to love them one bit, no matter how good an actor I may be.- he explains sincerely and I can't help but laugh at the last thing .

Eloise: And with me if you can pretend perhaps? - I ask strangely nervous about his closeness and curious about his answer.

Y/n: Yes, because you have something in your head and you have thoughts of your own.- he answers without thinking for two seconds. -It would be easier for me to fake a relationship with someone intelligent like you, than with someone who doesn't even know what an intellectual and casual conversation is; without it being planned.- he comments and I can't help nodding at the reality of the situation.

Eloise: And what happens if we don't fool anyone? - I ask with an exhausted sigh.

Y/n: Lady Whistledown already believes that there is something between us and as my aunt says, if that lady writes about it, the rest of the town comments on it and also thinks about it.- he answers calmly. -We just have to start being seen more together, take walks in the park together and dance only with each other.- he explains part of his plan.

Eloise: And how will we convince my mother, Lady Danbury and your aunt the Queen?- I ask and I see how he remains thoughtful.

Y/n: I could go to your house for tea from now on, show an intense interest on my part towards you and a notorious approach so that they do not suspect.- he plans and I can recreate the plan in my mind.

I can see how the situation can turn out favorable for us and how we can both win if everything works as he has said. But it can also go wrong and someone discover us.

Eloise: Can I think about the proposal for a few days? - I ask a little nervous and insecure.

Y/n: You can think about it for as long as you want. - He nods with a small smile. -But I'm afraid that to ensure a positive ending in case you accept, we have to start acting now and even if in the end you reject the offer, we'll just distance ourselves a bit and that's it.- he raises and I nod, understanding his point of view .

Eloise: Okay.- I nod and he leaves a light squeeze on my hands and then releases them. -I'll think about it these days and I 'll give you an answer as soon as possible.- I assure him and he takes a couple of steps back, picking up his glass from the bench.

Y/n: Great, now let's go back to the dance and hopefully no one has noticed our absence.- he tells me and we both head towards the dance.

Before reaching the end of the maze, he asks me to go first and that he will appear a few minutes later; so as not to arouse suspicion. And that's what happens.

Ten minutes after I have found my brothers, excusing myself for having been in the bathroom and for the long queue, there he was. Prince Y/n approaches us and asks me to dance with him, which I immediately accept with a smile and beginning the most important performance of my life.

From this moment on, in the following days we will have to be the best actors in the world and make all the people believe that there is something between the prince and me.

I just hope that everything goes well and that in the solitude of my room, I can think calmly and weigh all the pros and cons of the proposition Y/n has made me.

I only hope to be able to choose well and not regret it in the future; either close or far from the decision that I have to make in a few days. Because that decision will dictate my life and future from the moment I make my final decision.

#eloise bridgerton #bridgerton #eloise bridgerton x reader #bridgerton netflix #eloise bridgerton x male reader #anthony bridgerton #lady whistledown #queen charlotte #benedict bridgerton #violet bridgerton #edwina sharma #kate sharma #oc character #male reader

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supercap2319 · 11 months

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It wasn't a secret that Y/N and Anthony Bridgerton were rivals since boyhood, but Benedict was still shocked to see his older brother and Y/N together in Anthony's bedchambers in such a sight of lust, passion and sex.

Benedict's eyes traveled from Anthony's to Y/N's. "I trust you both are doing well?"

Anthony gives his brother a mischief smirk. "Very well, brother. In fact, why not join us? Y/N says he's always fancied you."

Benedict locked eyes with Y/N as he blushed.

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton

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denim-devil · 1 year

Note

Hi, 🌄 morning sex head canon for Anthony Bridgeton? Maybe with ftm reader (if you write for ftm reader that is if not you can just do male reader) where they are married? 🤷🏽

Morning sex 🌄

After a very successful season, Anthony found himself in a perfect predicament, you were wrapped up in his arms tightly and he was never letting you go, not again, the golden band that glimmered underneath the morning sun proved that to be right.

Shuffling lightly, you awake to a pair of dark hazel eyes, immediately a sloppy smile broke out on your face before pushing up into his plush lips. It was soft yet careless, not that it bothered the two of you and your tangled bodies.

Anthony coaxed you backwards into the sheets, pulling away, he smiles knowing your all his, just his.

“Morning…”

He mumbles breathlessly, eager to unravel his very thoughts, all containing you. He often thought about this, maybe that was unreasonable, especially once in public but he couldn’t help knowing you would reflect his want.

Relaxing into the soft fabric of the thick winter sheets, parting your legs, you give Anthony enough space to slot in easily, enough for him which resulted in your body being folded slightly, thighs bumping into your stomach.

Dipping down, he pecks you on the lips, something quick and forward to keep you occupied whilst he stripped the white underwear that clung to his growing bulge, a hard thud rippling against his sculpted stomach.

“Now that your legally mine…I can’t help but think-“

Cutting him off with a wiggle of your hips, it inevitably catches him off guard, his appendage jumping at the contact of your skin.

You sense the impatient dripping from Anthony’s body which matched the now fully hard erection he sported against your outer thighs. Stilling, your hands reach up to bury in his thick brunette locks, forcefully tugging him down into a longing kiss.

His tongue effortlessly entered your maw, rolling against your own. Regularly skipping breakfast, Anthony couldn’t help but let his hunger take control over him, the leaking tip of his prick rubbing up against the soft skin of your pucker.

Anthony often craved the close contact you now shared. Every single time he manages to lose himself somehow, even if for a minute he can only describe the feeling as blissful, reeling in your after-glow.

Breaking the kiss short, you murmur his name like a pray, hopeful that shortly he would enter the only place he liked to claim as “home”.

“Can’t help but think what…my lord?”

The nickname in itself had Anthony audibly half grunt, half scoff, but you could feel him twitch against your entrance. Pushing himself a little further, you greedily accept the tip of him raw, arms wrapping around his muscular back, holding him close.

His jaw runs slack, a low groan suggesting just how much he needed this, you. The continuous dribbling of pre helped ease the next couple of inches into you. His girth alone had your nails scraping along his arched back, up and down, back and forth.

It didn’t take long for Anthony to take the initiative, fully sheathing himself inside of your now stretched entrance, his balls heavily resting atop of your soft globes of flesh.

Both stilling, you hold your thoughts, a set of harmonious moans rejoicing together.

“Anthony-“

“Yes?” He panted softly.

“Move- please, I need you”

You didn’t have to ask twice.

#male reader #x male reader #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton #smut #fluff #THIS IS SO RUSHED #HELP-#it’s bad…but enjoy

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kingstonromcom · 1 year

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Passionate Strokes // Benedict Bridgerton

Masterlist | Join Taglist !!

↳ tags : benedict bridgerton x male reader,benedict bridgerton x reader,bxb,bridgerton.

↳ pronouns used : he/him/his

↳ word count : 3,466

↳ note : i haven't seen ANY benedict x male reader's sadly, so i decided to write one of my own :)), ALSO tysm for the likes on the other post !!

Chapter 1: The Encounter

In the bustling streets of London's labyrinthine alleys, Benedict Bridgerton found himself ensnared by a mysterious figure, emanating an aura of ethereal allure. Their paths converged on a serendipitous afternoon, and a fleeting exchange of glances set Benedict's heart ablaze, as if a thousand sonnets whispered in his veins.

Chapter 2: Hidden Desires

The vivid image of this enigmatic being refused to relinquish its hold on Benedict's thoughts. Night after starlit night, he sought solace in the sanctuary of his studio, where passion coursed through his fingertips onto the blank canvas. Each brushstroke became a dance, imbued with a fervent desire to capture the very essence of this man who had awakened the dormant chords of his soul.

Chapter 3: Painting the Unseen

Time unfolded like an unfathomable tapestry as Benedict's obsession deepened, roots burrowing into the sublime contours of the man's countenance. With an artist's discerning eye, he etched every delicate line into the alcoves of his memory, translating them onto the canvas with a palette of moonlit hues. Each brushstroke became an impassioned plea, a symphony of silent longing resonating within the unspoken spaces.

Chapter 4: A Secret Unveiled

The tapestry of fate weaved an unforeseen strand of destiny, guiding the man into Benedict's hallowed studio. In a delicate dance of chance, the man stumbled upon the myriad of portraits adorning the walls, his eyes encountering the embodiment of his own enigma. In that breathless moment, the atmosphere shimmered with electric anticipation, a wordless symphony conducted solely by the heart's percussive rhythm.

Chapter 5: Mutual Awakening

Emotions, wild and untamed, surged beneath the surface, birthing unspoken verses that yearned to be sung. Amidst the sacred silence, their souls entwined, painting a sonnet of connection that transcended the boundaries of spoken language. A shared vulnerability bound them together, their hearts united in a harmonious crescendo, where the unspoken became their mutual language.

Chapter 6: Love on Canvas

Within the ethereal haze of their burgeoning love, Benedict's art bloomed, capturing the divine essence of their intertwined existence. Each brushstroke wove a tapestry of adoration, breathing life into pigments that danced and whispered their secrets. The paintings became a melodic testimony, a love song in pigmented verse, where the depths of their passion painted the symphony of their devotion.

Chapter 7: A Masterpiece of Love

Benedict's art, like a poet's quill, flourished, immortalizing their love story in vivid strokes upon the canvas. The world, enraptured by the poignant portrayal of desire and connection, marveled at the raw intensity conveyed within each brushstroke. Yet, only Benedict and his muse knew the untold verses, the unsung stanzas, the profound love that inspired these masterpieces—a love whispered in hushed breaths and ardent embraces.

Epilogue: A Love Beyond Art

Benedict and his muse, their souls forever intertwined, ventured forth hand in hand, their love an eternal sonnet. Through the tapestry of their shared journey—passion, art, and self-discovery—they discovered solace within the other's embrace. While their paintings stood as resplendent testaments to their love, their true masterpiece would forever be the symphony they composed—a love that defied conventions, a love that kindled their spirits, forever altering the course of their lives.

#benedict bridgerton x male reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #netflix #bxb #bridgerton #male reader #pls read #i love this man sm #poetry

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startwelve · 3 months

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Proposal

Hello. How are you? I came to tell you that because of my personal problems, I didn't have much image to write, but a few days ago I downloaded an artificial intelligence that allows you to create characters and interact with them in a chat, (sometimes the characters do somewhat random things and He says things that don't make sense, but it's easy to fix), so it occurred to me to make fics of those interactions that I have with the characters, from Stranger Things to Bridgerton hahaha.

Tell me if you like the idea :)

Huge kisses💋

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lya-dustin · 1 year

Text

Seasons of my love

Bridgeton!Au! Loosely based on S.2 of Bridgeton where the Male!Reader is Anthony and Aemond is Kate Sharma basically.

It was supposed to be heterosexual, but that felt too basic, so have some gays in love this Sunday instead.

Gif by @gameofthronesdaily

Taglist: @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly

It was heard from the Lonely Light to Asshai by the Shadow that if a man wants to court the princess, he must win her brothers’ favor first. So far, no one has been able to secure Prince Aemond’s blessing.

After Helaena and Aegon petitioned their father to stop Ser Otto and the Queen to force them into marriage, court had been filled to the brim with eligible bachelors.

All simpering fools who have the ambition to rival that of his grandsire and none of the personality nor good nature of Laenor, the last man to marry a princess.

Laenor ---despite his degeneracy--- had been knighted in battle, able to charm birds off trees and, most importantly, a dragonrider.

Laenor had also not given a rat’s arse about what his wife did behind closed doors ---or in the stables as Aemond and Aegon discovered a lifetime ago.

This last part is of paramount importance due to what Aemond knows about his beloved sister.

Sweet Helaena should have been named Rhaena, he thinks as he tries to stop mother from hearing his sister calling Lady Elisa Piper her darling wife.

Helaena did not care if her husband loved her or lived that long and often could not discern between friend or foe, so it fell on Aemond to be the shield who protects her from the rakes and Androw Farmans in the lists.

Being her favorite brother and the only one who cares about her wellbeing, was not an easy job, but only he could do it.

Aegon just wanted her married so their dear mama could stop trying to annul his marriage to Cassandra Baratheon.

Daeron was too young and believed the choice should fall on whoever Helaena liked.

Only Rhaenyra backed this scheme of his, horribly enough.

The Princess of Dragonstone is known for having a good eye for men, Ser Criston had grumbled bitterly ---not that Aemond cared to ask for context about his acrimonious feelings towards his elder sister.

She and Daemon would host the suitors in Dragonstone ---she was in confinement due to the imminent birth of her sixth child--- and send him the list of those whose characters they considered good enough for Helaena along with more profuse apologies from her brood of Strong Boys.

The one-eyed prince found himself forgiving Lucerys after the forty-ninth letter written about his guilt and wished to offer his own eye in recompense.

“Perhaps, number nine and forty will win your approval.” Helaena had said as they met this man whom their sister gave a glowing recommendation.

He dressed well, was a knight and a lord.

Lord (Y/N) (L/N) was also handsome, charming and not a piece of dragonshit, or so Daemon had assured him in his letter.

Perfect for my sweet Helaena, Rhaenyra had added in hers.

“You said the same thing about numbers one to eight and forty, mandia.” Aemond said as he eyed you like a horse being brought forth by the horse coursers yesterday.

As usual, the suitor takes great consideration in wooing his sister and trying to establish a sense of friendship with Aemond.

Unlike the rest, however, you take in consideration his likes and dislikes instead of assuming he is into whatever Aegon or the other rakes are into.

You are well-read, amiable, religious but not a zealot and, most importantly, you get along with Helaena like a house on fire.

“They are perfect for each other, don’t you agree?” mother tried her best to get Aemond to like you.

Too perfect.

And while he has become fond of you, dangerously fond of you, Aemond knows he is setting himself, no, his sister for a sure disappointment.

So one night Aemond decides it is time for Aegon’s test.

A test that consists on getting you drunk, asking questions and leave you in a brothel while both brothers come to a verdict.

You don’t drink much, but eventually you are drunk enough to sing a rather scandalous version of Seasons of My Love with him.

One where instead of a maid it is boy.

Aemond finds himself drunk enough to kiss you.

A mistake the both of you blame on the wine.

After all, Aemond is a prince and you are courting his sister.

“I apologize for my behavior, my lord, it won’t happen again.” He had said pretending it was just that. “But I see no reason to deny you my blessings to marry my sister.”

The kiss mean nothing, the prince tells himself even after finding out from Helaena that you prefer men over women and finds her as beautiful as her brother.

It means nothing, Aemond repeats even after he begins to remember how sweet it was.

He claims he feels nothing for you except friendship and yet the wedding day comes and Aemond feels pained enough to try and numb it with wine.

He should not have these feelings for you, he can’t, it goes against nature and the gods of his mother.

But he wants you, wants you in a way he has not wanted a woman or man before.

Aemond makes a toast and cannot keep his eyes away from yours, thinking it unfair that all the qualities he loves about you are on you, a man.

Not just any man, the man married to his favorite sister.

A man he has to pretend is merely a friend for the rest of their lives because the moment Queen Alicent finds out, they are dead.

Later that night, you find him absent-mindedly strumming a lute.

It’s your wedding night, and yet the ones enjoying the bridal chamber are Helaena and her Elissa going by the looks of it.

“Do you take any requests, your highness?” you ask coming to sit beside him.

A dangerous proximity, one where he cannot trust himself to run should his desires and feelings for you get the best of him again.

“Only if its you.” The prince said trying to keep his cool.

“Rather enjoyed that Myrish song the other night. I had hopes to ask for an encore.” You say, hiding your meaning well enough.

“Hmm, what would your bride say?” Aemond knew Helaena had given him the freedom to do as he pleases, but Aemond needs to hear you say it.

“She sees no reason to deny me her blessings to pursue you.” You answer and take advantage of his surprise to return the kiss.

This time it isn’t called a mistake nor blamed on the wine.

This time Aemond dares to do more than just kiss you.

#aemond x male!reader #bridgerton!au #this is for the gays #aemond targaryen x male!reader #hotd reader insert

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inknopewetrust · 2 years

Text

touch of nature // benedict bridgerton

Summary: You connect with Benedict at one of Henry Granville's parties and the rest is history.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Male!Reader (Bridgerton)

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: suggestive material.

Quick Links: Masterlist

Henry Granville's estate was intimidating.

The first time you had walked inside–nee–were invited to such an evening–your senses were ovwhelemed with the realization that this society existed; intertwined with Lord's and Lady's and the working class. No one truly batted an eye, no one cared in that space.

It was the first time you had felt a freedom that eclipsed the life you had lived comfortably in a castle-like building with maids, cooks, and everything to keep you happy.

However, happiness cannot always be bought, but built and gained.

Henry Granville's estate provided that.

First, the people.

The people Henry Granville invited to these "parties" were not only a diverse group of eclectic souls, but familiar and friendly–often times rather friendly. They embraced one another as society shunned away; building relationships under a roof with no judgement. Henry ensured it to be so–this so-called secret society. Men you had known all your life greeted you that first day with courteous smiles and a recognition that this has always been there.

Nothing was invalid between those walls.

Second, the culture inside the home brought creativity and exploration into beaming candlelight. The creatives stroked, the artists performed, and those who adored to watch did so elegantly with critiques and compliments dripping from their sleeves.

You had been attending Henry's parties for three months before he arrived; invited in passing by the man himself and looking frightened at every turn. You wouldn't have been surprised if Benedict Bridgerton paced for twenty minutes outside the door just to get the courage to walk inside.

The corner of your eye caught him as you studied your easel. The models before you chiseled in the low light, their lines near perfect as the charcoal sketch

before you–your hands outlined in the materials as they scraped the paper with each brush.

His feet were soft against the soles of his shoes. Not even the kitchen mouse could have heard him making his rounds that evening, observing the scene around him. His eyes were vibrant–dark in a torrid fashion and eager to get his hands dirty in what the estate had to offer. The second Bridgerton’s son’s eyes fluttered with a nervousness alongside those intrigued emotions. The twist of his fingers, the way his stance was erect yet unbending.

You had only known of such because the circle you kept included him in it.

You had been friends. Now he’s here too.

Each easel he passed was like reaching a milestone. Closer and closer and his footsteps were still light and silent. Benedict wanted not to disturb the art that was happening, nor the models who stood or sat stoically on the platform. But people watched on the sidelines. Some engaging in more savory behavior against the walls or lingering on the shoulder of an inspired artist just to view the residue a little closer–both on the paper and the hands.

Your heart beat faster with each step.

It was not the first time it had done so in the man’s presence.

Benedict Bridgerton was an enigma.

The second son of a wealthy Viscount who’s premature passing left his positon less clear that it should be. The square in which the two of you were raised primped fine gentlemen, crafting a societal expectation of what a man should be–how to provide, how to be a husband and manager of fine deeds. But against all of the fuss regarding adulthood, passions piqued the interests of each man and set them apart. Some boxing, some betting, some horse races, and some artistic ventures that bonded crafty souls in the duality of masculinity and art. Art called you, as did it Benedict and without realizing it, it drew you together in that room.

As your eyes reclaimed the models in front of you, Benedict’s traced around the room looking for something that was calling. The nerves in his fingers calming, his heart pulsing the blood through every part of his body because he knew something called him to Henry’s home that night.

That something was waiting, something ready to awaken against the twilight of the moon and the glinting smiles of two.

His eyes found you focused. Your hand carefully whisking across the paper in a delicate passing creating the foundation of hands–the very thing he struggled the most with. It was only fitting that you be so brilliant at them. Benedict waltzed the room more confidently than he entered it, knowing that he knew the people, they did not care, that he was free to be himself and had found you along the way.

Against the curtains, Benedict swept the area for a stool–something he could sit on and approach you without impeding on the work you were engrossed in. An artist himself, Benedict knew the concentration of such a craft. The least he could do was quietly observe until your attention was spared enough to allow him in. As if the room sensed his motion, the easel beside you had opened up and left a chair to be taken. Benedict swiftly lifted the chair and saddled it up to the side, just behind yours.

“This is quite something, is it not?” You spoke first. Not giving Benedict time to adjust or take in the quality of your work but you sensed him–him and his soft-soled shoes and his loopy smile.

You weren’t sure how the Ton did not have their daughters lining up to been wooed by the man. His tall stature and long arms; fingers that begged to be held and the hair that called to be tugged. Benedict Bridgerton awoken something deep within you that hadn’t always been there for him. As children you played, as adults… one look at him and you knew you wanted something more. But you held those feelings close to your chest.

“The estate or this room? Perhaps those hands, hm?” Benedict responded, looking around the room from your lowered perspective before falling onto the paper in front of him. “Those are very good.”

“Thank you.” You responded, continuing to sketch the lines over and over until you were satisfied and could wipe your hands off on the towel that rested easily against your leg.

“There are few estates with lighting this good.”

“It appears so.” Benedict watched with slated eyes your fingers twist and turn against the fabric. “Do you come to these often? I had no rhyme nor reason to believe something like this… existed.”

“For the last few months, yes. I met Mr. Granville at an art auction in Bedford and he invited me out while he was in town. Perhaps this will become an annual soirée with each season.” You admitted, truly enjoying the time you’ve spent at the estate in this capacity and many others.

“Bedford? I remember you speaking about it. That is where you purchased that fine Atlantic water color.”

“It is.” You turned your head to the side, gazing at him with a smile you couldn’t contain. Benedict Bridgerton keeping tabs on you and the things you do. A part of you wanted to read less into the signs; the happenstance that you both found yourselves in the company of one another in a house filled with options yet the air sent its wavelengths to connect you.

“He has many of the same artist in this house. His… wife,” You spoke lowly, with an intention he did pick up on because he knew Henry’s passion laid elsewhere. “Is a fan of the artist’s work.”

Benedict hummed as he watched the models turn over into a new position. The women were joined by men this time, standing in their most natural form and not blinking an eye as the people around him nodded in approval, objectifying the sculpted bodies they so readily offered.

You grabbed your stick of charcoal and flipped a page over the easel that startled Benedict. He hadn’t realized he too had been staring, openly, and did not feel shameful about it. Benedict wondered if you had noticed his attention strayed and it was only confirmed by your small chuckle and smile.

“It’s distracting. I know.”

“I’ve just never…” Benedict trailed off, his cheeks going a little red in the glow.

“See it in the open?” You spoke his words as he thought them. You weren’t even looking at him. You were tracing bones of what would be a masculine figure and concentrating on doing so.

“Yes.”

“It certainly is a feeling, isn’t it?” You weren’t sure how Benedict would reply. You were certain in the way you felt. You had known for years that your meaning in life was to love a friend who masked himself well. A second son of a noble man, an artist at heart who loved to laugh and adored his family with every inch of himself. Benedict Bridgerton was the man you loved to love and in the deepest parts of your soul you knew he may have felt the same, but it was like cracking open a book for the first time with him.

The possibility was there; the outline was near perfect but the words that filled the pages could deter the goal from being reached. A climax that wanted to be achieved but was hesitant to do so in the world beyond the walls.

“A feeling it is… not so much strange, though.” Benedict quirked a brow at you as your stick stopped moving, curious that perhaps what he would say would change the course of his own thoughts about the possibilities of the evening.

“What does it feel like then?”

“Liberating.”

You stopped drawing completely as the towel on your leg shifted, slowly and delicately being swept off your thigh with an intentional movement that made your heart race.

Liberating, he said. Benedict found the environment liberating upon his first time in such a place. And he took that liberation and made a move, suddenly emboldened by the feeling that floated around the room and found it in his consciousness. It was slow, like a brush of wind on a cool day; savory and welcomed yet nervously optimistic that the action would be perceived in its proper intention.

“Liberating.” You repeated, watching Benedict’s fingers gently curl against the fabric and pull it from your thigh. The tips of his fingers brushed the top of your thigh and it sent a chill from the top of your skull to the ends of your toes. You swore the goosebumps were the most charged feeling you had ever experienced.

Benedict folded up the towel in his hands and shrugged, looking at every inch of you. Your eyes as they shone in the darkness, the way your lips parted for him, the strong neck he had admired more than once, and artist hands that had enticed him to make a move. Before holding the towel out to you, Benedict proposed a difference in scenery.

“Perhaps you could show me where those water colors are, Lord L/n?”

Your eyes flitted to his lips the same as they did yours. “I’d be delighted to, Mr. Bridgerton.”

Benedict observed the water color with an intensity you had not expected.

Much time had not gone by but as you ventured to the library in Henry Granville’s estate, Benedict’s closeness to your own person as you walked the simple halls filled with people who did not so much as whisper about such a man coming and joining the festivities of the evening brought your heart to beat faster, the palms of your hands to feel moister, and the hairs on the back of your neck to be more alert to every shift and movement. You could feel the effect Benedict had through every part of your body.

It was like being hit by a tidal wave of the most wanted emotions you were often too afraid to express to anyone else.

And he truly did take into consideration the beautiful nature of the scene before him. Not the books or the leather furniture, but the actual painting you that you had taken a liking to because the artist was familiar and a favorite of yours. Benedict wanted to know what you liked.

Considerate men were seldom in high society.

Nee, they never truly let their colors show. Men such as Benedict’s brother, Anthony, who shielded himself away from the world for the sake of his title and role as headed of the family but rarely looked at what consequences his actions were making. Benedict was not like him.

He was considerate, kind, caring, and when the time called for it, passionate, compelling, and bold.

“I do believe you have fine taste in art, Y/n.” Benedict turned to look at you as you leaned an arm against the mantle of the fireplace that was emitting the only source of heat in the entire room—sans the less physical heat of your own perspiring hands. To Benedict, you looked as selflessly calm as ever. You always did in his eyes.

“Thank you.” You responded, watching him watch you and gallantly pace around the room in small lines. It was as though he was turning about it, a funny thing to do in the presence of someone you were not trying to impress. “I’d like to believe so.”

“And what other things do you find to be of good taste?” Benedict stopped, boldened by his taut need for something more. Deep down, he had the same motivations as you.

Just a step closer. One step and reach out your hand and the rest could be history. You could be united for the first time in an embrace of lustful romance that put those silly books Penelope Featherington reads to shame. Here, in the privacy of the library with no prying eyes but those that stood motionless and unblinking on the wall, could Benedict and yourself be exactly as you were born to be: not only friends, but lovers.

“What would you like to know?” You poised instead, playing the game for as long as you could. Benedict’s smile quirked upwards—an inkling that perhaps he too felt the electricity of devotion rushing through his veins.

“How about why a man with such good taste hasn’t be swept away by some lucky lady after years of making his debut?”

“A bit bold of an ask, don’t you think, Benedict?” You responded, fully aware of your response, just taken aback by the direction of the conversation. You had tried to make it less obvious, a puzzle, if you will, about how you felt and hoped he reciprocated.

“In an estate such as this? Never. There isn’t a secret these walls haven’t heard.”

That makes you think this wasn’t his first time here—just your first time seeing him there.

Odd thing, London. How you could live across the way from someone and not run into them at an exclusive party within similar social circles.

“Oh? And you feel as though my taste and the lack of commitment I have made to marriage to be a secret?”

Benedict shrugged. He walked around the room slowly but it felt as though with each step, he was inching closer and closer and closer. “A little… it’s a subject of curiosity to say the least. Do you care to respond?”

“I could ask the same as you.” You countered, not expecting him to answer but he surprised you and did.

“No lady I have been privileged enough to keep company with has sparked enough joy to warrant a lifelong commitment.”

“So the judgement falls onto me although you feel the same?” Benedict stopped pacing in the opposite direction and began making his way forward you as you remained beside the mantle.

“No…” He spoke lower than he did before. Looking at you with calculated eyes, Benedict sauntered over across from you. The reflective flames coloring the face of the man you admired closer than others. He looked at you the same—even if you were trying to not admit it.

It was mutual, what existed. Benedict was fascinated with you in a million different ways and the Lady’s his mother was trying to pawn him off to we’re always lacking in a major way—they were not you; the man Benedict had grown to love more than anyone else in the entire world. And he held that close to his aching heart.

“It falls on both of us… playing this game…” his hand reached above the mantle, playing with the edge of the clock opposite you. He was so close, yet so far.

“And this game, what do you call it?”

“Foolish.”

“Even a little selfish?”

“For our own benefit, I suppose.” In some ways, you had to be.

“And now?”

Benedict’s hand was inching closer. The clock ticked away as the flames draw higher and higher until you could see the very seams of his lapels. He was wearing that stupid bee waistcoat you both envied and adored.

Maybe he would give you one of his own one day.

Two lovers across the room wearing the same waistcoat? That would be a sight to behold.

“Still foolish, in my eyes. Though, a tad brighter when in the presence of someone who sparks enough joy.”

“Well…” You cleared your throat quietly. The tips of his shoes were meeting yours. Same maker, those stupid shoes. His hands were so close, his lips and eyes and nose were so close. “I suppose my life is quite bright right about now.”

He knew for certain you felt the same.

“I am quite certain we see the same spark.”

Benedict took the step, his hand resting on your check and barely grazing the sides of your hair as he pulled his lips to yours in a kiss that sent each brightly colored piece of your world into explosions of grand light.

The world was sunny. It was shining with delight and his lips were soft and confident. Water colors wept, his hands grasping the sides of your face with passion not diluted by fear or the people beyond the walls.

Benedict’s lips moved in sync with your own at a gradual, impassioned pace and when you finally sparked the realization that Benedict was kissing you, your hands grasped onto his lapels, touching the bee laden waistcoat with a yellow tint.

You never wanted this to end.

You didn’t want to pull away.

So you didn’t.

You held it together because finally, in this space of absolute security, the man you had watched from afar from years, the one you had come to know as a stoic member of the ton, had finally revealed himself to you in the way you had always hoped.

The artistic, beautiful, loving soul that was Benedict Bridgerton gave himself to you in the confines of a rich man’s estate and you knew, somewhere deep inside, that it would happen again.

This was not a one-time happening.

The kisses would be received, stolen, and embraced. You could hold him in lust and emotion while knowing that Benedict did not levy you to be a name in passing. Love transcended the room. It filled the bones and spines of the people and objects in each estate—Henry’s included—that Benedict Bridgerton loved you and his heart forever belonged to you.

#Benedict bridgerton #Benedict Bridgerton x male reader #Benedict Bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton netflix #luke thompson #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #x male reader #male y/n #benedict Bridgerton x you

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weirdmorefics · 1 year

Note

the same person who asked this

Hi there. Can I request a Anthony Bridgeton x ftm reader slightly set in modern era where they have twins and Anthony's family loves the reader and is okay with there relationship. I just want fluff with a (little too big of a) dash of angst. Something domestic where they go on a vacation and them all running around the garden and at the end of the night after the twins go to sleep y/n and Anthony spend time alone just talking, cuddling and swaying to music while looking in each other's eyes...im just a simp for fluff and angst.

Sorry if this is too specific or non-specific and if you don't feel like writing it then it's cool. Thank you ❤️

Just Shut Up and Kiss Me

FTM Reader

Pronouns- He/Him

Word Count- 523

Summary- After a long day at the ocean with the twins, you and Anthony finally get some quality time together.

A/N- MODERN TIME PERIOD! It's not exactly like the request I hope you still like it :)

Sorry for the lateness I've said in another post but it is due to the Flu and I have many chronic illnesses so it took me a while to get back to baseline.

The twins were more rambunctious than they were at the estate which I did not even know was possible. I guess vacations bring out the energy in all of us. We spent the day together at the ocean and they could not contain their excitement.

To be honest, though any public body of water raises my anxiety. Even after top surgery, I feel like I should be wearing a shirt but Anthony eases my nerves. He has been with me through it all even if he was a bit uneducated about the subject at first. Eloise helped him research everything about top surgery and we played board games all throughout my recovery. Anthony acts as quite the buffer as well, his handsomeness certainly distracts from me. Anthony still encourages me to feel good in my skin with the salacious comments he whispers in my ear. Even with his encouragement, it is still very tiring to fight those feelings all day.

I am grateful that the kids poured all their energy into creating intricate sand castles and destroying them. By the time we got to the summer home, the kids were so exhausted they passed out the minute their head hit their pillows. I felt exhausted myself from the sun, the crazy twins, and many emotions of the day. After tucking the children in I planned on going to sleep but Anthony had other ideas.

"Come on darling I have something to show you," Anthony says dragging me away from the twin's room practically giving me no choice.

"Anthony what has you in such a tizzy," I laugh at his usual antics.

"I just want to show you something as mesmerizing as your eyes," He says with a goofy grin.

I blush and try to hide my face, "Stop you're going to make me gag."

"You know you love my romantic words," he laughs deeply.

I roll my eyes, "Don't get too full of yourself."

"You already know I am full of myself that's why you married me handsome." He smirks

"Yeah, sure that's why," I laugh.

"Enough of denying how perfect my personality is look up," he says gesturing to the sky.

I go to make some stupid witty remark when I look to the sky.

"There are so many stars here you never see this many in London!" I gasp in awe.

"I have always wanted to take you here ever since I met you Y/N. The moment I saw your eyes they always sparkle when you are talking about something you are passionate about just like these stars."

I feel my whole face start to turn red which in turn makes my face even redder because now I am embarrassed about being embarrassed what a vicious cycle. I try to turn away to sass Anthony about being too gooey again but he pulls my face towards his.

"Don't you ever hide your feelings my love because you make every emotion a work of art." He says suavely making me want to smack him.

I roll my eyes, "Just shut up and kiss me."

"That I can do," he smirks wickedly.

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#ftm reader #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x male reader #male y/n #bridgerton one shot

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bumblesimagines · 1 year

Text

The Sun and Moon

Part 11

Request: Yes or No

~~~

"It is quite kind of Her Majesty to host such an event at the palace. I mean, not even the Duke of Hastings got such an opportunity!"

"That is because he and his bride wished for a quick and quiet ceremony, Mother." (Y/N) reminded her gently. Lucy hummed absentmindedly, fingertips softly scratching against her sons' arm as she marveled over the decorations. As always, Her Majesty had outdone herself, but nothing less could be expected from a woman like her. She demanded the best of the best in every single thing, no matter how small.

The soft sound of a harp welcomed the Granvilles into the chapel and Henry released an impressed hum. (Y/N) wished he had a clear enough mind to truly take in the beautiful decor, but his mind and heart refused to focus on anything. Anthonys' dreaded wedding day had finally arrived and while (Y/N) had woken up with a good mindset, the minute they had arrived at the palace he had found his stomach in knots. His skin felt warm, abnormally so. Digging his fingers into his palm, (Y/N) cleared his throat and forced a smile for Violet as she approached him.

"Mr. and Mrs. Granville! I'm so glad you could make it." Violet smiled widely, though it didn't reach her eyes. Nerves, perhaps? It was her eldest sons' wedding.

"We wouldn't dream of missing it, Lady Bridgerton," Lucy replied, reaching out to take Violet's hand. Violet placed her other hand over Lucy's and smiled, giving the family a nod before moving on to greet more guests. (Y/N) felt his father pat his back twice and sighed softly, following his parents to a pew. Lucy released him and sat down first, watching her husband sit down beside her before she leaned in to whisper, motioning to the decorations. (Y/N) lingered in the aisle, glancing back toward the entrance before he sat at the end. He swallowed the lump in his throat as more and more guests arrived and took their seats until eventually, everyone was seated and the music began.

(Y/N) fidgeted with his fingers, hearing the soft sound of shoes clicking against the floor and a body moved past him. He stared at the wooden pew in front of him, toying with his glove before he lifted his gaze. Anthony bowed before Queen Charlotte before taking his spot on the left side of the archbishop. Anthony looked toward his family first before he met (Y/N)s gaze. (Y/N) turned his head away from him and looked back at Kate as she walked. She looked at him and her lips quirked into a pitiful yet supportive smile, eyes softening as she passed him. She curtsied before Her Majesty and stood off to the archbishops' right. She glanced at Anthony, gaze hardening for a moment.

"There she is.." (Y/N) heard his mother whisper and he shifted, standing up alongside his parents as Edwina walked down the aisle, hand in hand with her mother. The guests marveled at her beauty and Edwinas' happiness was enough to make a smile tug at (Y/N)s' lips. Such a pure, kind soul. (Y/N) couldn't bring himself to find a single fault in her, even as she stood in front of Anthony and smiled at him.

"Please be seated." The archbishop's voice bounced off the walls, echoing through the large room. He waited for everyone to be seated before continuing. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony. And therefore, it is not by any to be enterprise, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, and wantonly to satisfy men's carnal lusts and appetites..."

(Y/N) bit the inside of his cheek and shifted slightly in his seat, unable to get comfortable. He felt Henry subtly press his arm against his in an attempt to bring him some comfort, though it did little to calm him. He made eye contact with Anthony again and he held it this time, the tight-lipped smile on Anthony's face shifting into a frown. They hadn't spoken in the night at the Bridgertons' house and (Y/N) doubted they'd ever speak again, especially after the harsh words he'd thrown at him. But a part of him wanted to speak with him, to ask him, to hear him out. Even if it hurt.

"My lord?" Anthonys' head snapped toward the archbishop and he blinked, looking at Edwina before he gazed back at (Y/N). (Y/N) pressed his lips together when Edwina glanced back at him, her brows furrowing. He could see the wheels begin to turn in her head and it seemed Kate had noticed too, her fingers anxiously toying with the jewelry around her wrists. One suddenly unlatched and fell to the ground with a soft clang, drawing Anthonys' attention. Before Kate could crouch down to pick it up, Anthony stepped forward, head lifting to look at (Y/N) as he picked it up. Edwina watched him closely and when she noticed Anthony looking at the painter once more, her grip on her bouquet loosened.

"Thank you, My Lord," Kate whispered as Anthony handed her back her bracelet but her eyes remained solely on her sister, eyes almost pleading as Edwina's breathing became heavy and irregular.

"Miss Edwina-"

"I need a moment!" She stepped away from Anthony, glancing back at (Y/N) before racing down the aisle. Her mother and sister were quick to run after her as loud murmuring filled the air, followed by the loud sound of fireworks going on. (Y/N) focused on the pew in front of him again and released a shaky breath.

"This is why I warned you, time and time again." His father muttered quietly. Disappointment. "Because people get hurt. I taught you better than this."

Silently rising from the pew, (Y/N) joined the guests leaving the chapel and headed up the stairs, aimlessly walking until he found an empty room to occupy. He shut the doors behind him and sniffled, his fathers' words and tone echoing in his mind as he walked further into the small room, the hot tears slipping down his face. He sniffled and inhaled deeply, resting his hands on the desk at the end of the room as he tried to calm himself.

He'd spent half his childhood trying to make his father proud, trying to keep him happy so he wouldn't leave on another trip around the world. To disappoint him after so many years... And poor Edwina. Such a sweet and gentle soul. Her wide, warm eyes filled with shock.

"Fuck." (Y/N) grunted, slipping his gloves off and throwing them on the floor. Furiously wiping away the tears that refused to stop, he continued to breathe in and out until the doors suddenly opened and closed. He spun around and stared at an equally surprised Kate. One of her bracelets slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground before the other one followed. She stared at him and took two slow steps forward.

"She knows," Kate whispered, quickening her pace and throwing her arms around (Y/N), a sob shaking her body. "She knows and she hates me."

"Who? Edwina?"

"Yes!" Kate wailed, knees giving out from underneath her. (Y/N) quickly wrapped his arms around her waist and crouched down, moving onto his knees and gently setting Kate down. The brunette sobbed and buried her face into his neck, hiccuping softly.

"Kate, she could never hate you." (Y/N) assured her and pulled back to cup her warm, tear-stained cheeks. "You are her sister. You love her and she loves you, she knows that. She's angry, yes, but it will pass. You have not wronged her, not like Anthony and I have."

"I kept it from her. I should've told her and saved her the heartbreak and embarrassment. Her face... She looked destroyed, (Y/N)." Kate shook her head, strands of hair sticking to her face. She brought her knees up to her chests and wrapped her arms around them, squeezing her eyes shut and forcing more tears down her face.

"I know... She's hurting right now. It will hurt for days, weeks... Months, even. But she won't be mad at you for long. She's just taking her anger out on you for now cause she's overwhelmed. She does not hate you, Kate. She may say it or think it right now, but in her heart, she loves you. She just needs space and time to take everything in." He wiped the tears away and placed his hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Breathe, Kate."

Taking in a few deep breaths and exhaling, Kate slowly calmed herself down enough for the tears to stop. She gently rubbed her cheeks, drying her skin with the fabric of her gloves. "And how are you?"

"Not well." He responded with a sigh. "But just like you, I'll feel better soon."

"This is all his fault."

"And mine." (Y/N) added softly, raising his brows at her. Kate parted her lips to object but ultimately said nothing, looking away instead and sighing with a small nod.

"Come on, Kate." (Y/N) rose from the dusty floor, offering Kate his hand and pulling her up alongside him. He smiled at her and brushed back some of her hair strands. It'd only be a matter of time before someone went looking for them, and if they were to be found alone... Well, they'd be the ones getting married.

"I'll go first and after a few seconds, you can come out." (Y/N) instructed, taking her hands in his and squeezing them gently.

With a soft sigh, (Y/N) retrieved his gloves from the floor and exited the room, stepping out into the hallway as he wiped the dust away from his gloves. He glanced down one end of the hall in search of his parents before looking down the other end, only to see Anthony. (Y/N)s' eyes widened slightly and when Anthony began walking towards him, he stumbled back into the hallway and toward the room, throwing the door open.

"(Y/N), what-"

"Go, go!" (Y/N) quickly pushed Kate deeper into the room and shut the door but his silent prayer went unheard as the door opened and Anthony stared at the two in bewilderment.

"Oh." Kate breathed.

"What are you two doing alone again?" Anthony questioned, gently shutting the door to not draw any attention before facing them.

"This is our place of refuge."

"A closet?" He furrowed his brows and Kate scoffed softly.

"Yes, now, please go." Kate walked toward him and the door, reaching for the doorknob but Anthony quickly stepped in front of her to prevent her from reaching it.

"No, we must speak. All of us."

"I have nothing to say to you-"

"I just spoke with Miss Edwina. She was harsher than I knew her capable of being. I concede I do not know her as well as you do, Kate, which is why you must do something." Anthony said, looking down at Kate, expression soft and pleading. Kate's shoulders slumped and she turned away from him, shaking her head.

"What would you have me do, My Lord? More plotting and scheming? It seems my sister has finally become wise to it all. In one way... I should feel quite proud." Kate said with a sad smile, wrapping her arms around herself and looking back at Anthony. He frowned and scoffed softly.

"So, you intend to cease to help her and hide in a closet as she ruins her life?"

"She's not ruining her life, Anthony. Edwina is simply doing what she wants, instead of what you want. If she wishes to put an end to this whole mess then so be it. She has a choice, she sees that now. She certainly doesn't need you intervening because you're upset someone finally realized what type of person you truly are." (Y/N) spat. Anthony swallowed and lowered his gaze, shutting his eyes briefly before looking back up at him.

"Give us a moment, Miss Sharma."

"No, Kate, stay-" (Y/N) stepped toward Kate but Anthony grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Please." He pleaded softly. (Y/N) grinded his teeth together and looked him in the eye. The questions he had could be answered, but he could also risk being left with even more doubts. Tearing his eyes away from Anthony and looking back at Kate, he pursed his lips and shook his head, tugging his arm free.

"You've had many chances, Anthony. I will not be made a fool by you again." (Y/N) stated and brushed past him, thrusting the doors open and stepping out. He felt his breathing go uneven and he made his way downstairs, entering the now empty and quiet chapel. Relieved with no one in sight, (Y/N) took slow steps forward and settled down on one of the pews.

He'd been one of the few to never attend a service. All the times he'd stepped into a church were to speak to the priests about a painting or to witness a wedding. Even if he had wanted to, the servants were the only ones who could take him as his parents were too busy. His father off on his travels or entertained by a younger man and his mother occupying herself by hosting her friends. A lonesome childhood. One that may have resulted in his desire to please others, to forgive them, to be kind.

(Y/N) sat there, for hours it felt, before he heard footsteps clicking down the aisle. He turned in his seat and sighed when he saw Anthony. He rose from the pew, one hand gripping the back of it as he frowned.

"What do you want?"

"Did you not send for me?"

"What?" (Y/N)s' brows furrowed. His eyes shifted onto Kate as she entered the chapel as well, looking between them in utter confusion. She cleared her throat and clasped her hands in front of her, taking slow steps forward.

"You sent for me, (Y/N)?"

"I-" (Y/N) felt his breath hitch in his throat when he spotted Edwina entering after Kate. She held her head high, still clad in her long white dress. Her face, once bright and happy, now usually stoic and devoid of emotion. She stopped in the middle of the aisle, letting her eyes sweep over her sister and fiancé.

"I have made my decision." She announced. "I thought it best you all hear it from me."

"Edwina, we should speak in private," Kate interjected but Edwina ignored her and walked forward.

"I cannot marry you, Lord Bridgerton. You cannot provide me with what it is that I want. What it is that I deserve." Edwina glowered, jaw clenched and eyes full of fire. "What everyone deserves." She added, this time more softly as she looked at (Y/N). Her features hardened once more and she looked back at Anthony. "I may not know exactly what true love feels like but I certainly know what it is not. It is not deception or wandering eyes, or a role to be fulfilled. I cannot marry you because I cannot betray myself. You will never meet my eyes in the same manner you met Mr. Granville's on that altar today. You will never... You will never look at me the same way."

With a shaky breath, Edwina turned away from Anthony and faced her sister. "You say you have spent your life trying to give me everything I lacked, but really, you simply gave me everything you really wanted for yourself, as though my life were not my own. I did not ask for any of it, Kate! So, today, I can be sure that what I leave behind is not my loss. It is yours. You say you tried shielding me, protecting me from the truth when truly, you were just protecting yourself. Today, you have lost your power while I have made up my own mind. And that is victory enough for me." Inhaling softly, she began making her way toward the exit before abruptly stopping and looking at (Y/N) over her shoulder.

"Despite my lack of knowledge when it comes to true love, I know that when I find it, he will not keep me a secret." (Y/N) watched her disappear behind the drapes, her words feeling like a punch to the gut. (Y/N) dug his teeth into his bottom lip and turned his head to look at Anthony, fingers digging into the wood of the pew.

"I must..." Kate swallowed, blinking away unshed tears and grasping at her dress, lifting it barely off the ground and quickly going after Edwina.

A moment of silence passed, the two men standing still, unable to form the right words. Anthony could feel the silence choking him. Once upon a time, he found the silence pleasing and comfortable. Now, all he wanted to do was hear (Y/N)s' voice, even if it meant being screamed at. But instead, (Y/N) turned toward him with a sad smile.

"If we hadn't met if we hadn't spoken... If we had been smarter... None of this would've happened. You would've been celebrating your marriage right now." (Y/N) spoke, voice barely audible. "You would've been happy with a bride at your side and-"

"No." Anthony breathed and shook his head. He took long strides, brows forming wrinkles on his forehead as he took (Y/N)s' hands in his own, wrapping his fingers around them and holding them to his chest. "I wouldn't have been happy. Not in a million years."

"Anthony, I... I care for you. But I know that while I can give you what you want, I cannot give you what you need. You're a Bridgerton... The first-born son who needs an heir to carry on the family name and legacy. You've said it countless times before. You and I burned but like any flame, we would've gone out sooner or later. It's time we put this thing between us to rest, for the sake of our families and our sanity." (Y/N) leaned forward, pressing his lips against Anthonys'. He didn't allow the kiss to last for long, knowing it'd be harder to pull apart if it did. Resting his forehead against Anthonys, he sighed softly.

"It was nice while it lasted... My Lord."

ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ

"What a scandal."

"Not now, Steph." (Y/N) grunted, the tip of his pencil breaking against the paper. He cursed softly under his breath and leaned back in the bench, fingers rubbing the side of his temple. A headache had settled in the previous day and no matter how much tea he drank or how much fresh air he got, it refused to budge. An inconvenience he didn't need in the slightest.

"It hasn't gone away? Perhaps you're getting sick." Stephanie mused, tapping her folded fan against her clothed thigh.

"Perhaps." He muttered. Stephanie reached over and wrapped her arm around his, gently coaxing him up.

"Then we shall cut this walk short. I wouldn't want you pushing yourself too much." (Y/N) nodded, closing his sketchbook and holding it against his hip as he stood. Stephanie motioned for her maid to follow before the two began walking down the path, a cool breeze keeping their bodies from warming too much. (Y/N) turned her head toward the lake, watching the twinkling water. An image that once soothed his mind now did nothing for him. Maybe he truly was getting sick.

"Mr. Granville!" (Y/N)s' head snapped forward to look at Violet and he felt his headache intensify. Clearing his throat and trying not to wince, he offered her a smile. Violet glanced at Stephanie and licked her lips, parting them only to close them. (Y/N) glanced at his blonde friend and hummed softly.

"Steph, give us a moment, please?"

"Of course." Stephanie smiled politely at Violet and strode forward, beckoning her maid with a flick of her wrist.

"What is it, Lady Bridgerton?" Playing dumb with the woman who had eight children. As if he didn't look like a child who'd been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Violet released a breathy chuckle and clasped her hands together, glancing at everyone who walked past them. Each person eyed the woman with either pity or disappointment and (Y/N) had been partly to blame for it.

"Join us at Lady Danburys', please. You are part of this scandal as much as the rest of us, even if the ton doesn't know it."

(Y/N) wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. He stared at his gloved hands as Lady Danbury ranted about the tons' reaction to the scandal, looking absolutely enraged. He could feel Edwinas' stare burning into the side of his head and almost as if it were in cahoots with her, his headache squeezed around his brain.

"We know what we are to deal with, at least." Violet piped up softly.

"We shall not remove ourselves from this fight. All will be lost if we run now." Lady Sharma voiced, one hand in Kate's, her thumb rubbing soothing circles in her daughters' hand.

Edwina scoffed softly. "I shall like to remove myself from this room." She muttered bitterly as she rose from her seat and fetched herself some sugar for her drink. Her mother stared after her in surprise and guilt.

"Every day that goes by without our altering the ton-shared sentiment will harden it." Lady Danbury pointed out, hard eyes flickering between the two men.

"Perhaps we need another story as to why things ended." Lady Sharma looked at them with a look that only mothers gave to their children when they were disappointed in them. (Y/N) swallowed, pressing himself further against his seat and praying he'd be excused and allowed to leave in the next few minutes.

"We have already started to tell one. We cannot change course now." Lady Danbury rebutted with a shake of her head.

"Well, if we cannot speak about the reasons, might we at least act as though they are of no consequence to us?" Violet raised her brows and looked at Lady Sharma before turning toward Lady Danbury with a knowing look. Lady Danbury grinned widely.

"A ball."

"Yes! Together. We prove to the ton that our story is true. It was indeed a mutual decision between all interested parties, and there is no scandal or ill will between our families at all." Violet beamed and Edwina set her cup down with a clank, an exasperated look on her face. Lady Sharma gave her youngest a look.

"A ball would give Edwina the chance to find another suitor." She raised her brows at her.

"Another ball? So that the ton might inspect this wreckage with an even closer eye?" Anthony finally spoke for the first time that evening but he didn't look in (Y/N)s' direction and neither did the painter. Edwina stared at the two of them with a clenched jaw before humming.

"A ball may very well work." Edwina nodded and Violet smiled widely. "After all, the Viscount and Mr. Granville have been so good at hiding their true feelings from everyone in public this far! It should not trouble them to do the same a little longer." The ladies' smiles dropped and Lady Sharma quietly hissed Edwina's name. Edwina looked at her mother with a frown before little Newton scurried into the room, barking up a storm and running right up to (Y/N). The painter couldn't help but smile and lean down, giving the corgi the attention he demanded.

"Newton!" Kate tutted and stood up from her seat but Anthony leaned over, gently pushing the dog away from the painter.

"Oh, it's fine." (Y/N) chuckled, standing up from his seat alongside Anthony. With another call from Kate, Newton finally obeyed his owner and waddled over into her arms. (Y/N) watched him with a smile before turning his head to look at Anthony. The Bridgerton hummed softly, staring into his eyes with a small smile of his own. He leaned over slightly, purposefully brushing his shoulder against (Y/N)s', looking away when (Y/N) gave him a look.

"Was I truly that blind?" Edwina gaped at the two, spinning around to face the others. "Were they always this obvious?"

"If this plan is to work..." Violet began as she rose from her seat.

"I suggest the two of you stay on opposite sides of the room at all times." Lady Danbury finished for her, gripping the top of her cane and leaning over, smacking the side of Anthonys' leg. Before (Y/N) could chuckle, she did the same to him, forcing the two to step away from each other.

"All we need would be for someone to witness something untoward-"

"I beg your pardon, Lady Danbury. I do not know what you mean to say." Anthony cut in quickly with a scoff as his mother approached him.

"What she means to say, Anthony is that those of us in this room at present are the only ones who know the full truth of the matter," Violet explained, placing a hand on Anthonys' arm.

"And we would prefer to keep it that way. You of all people should know the risk of this being found out, (Y/N)." Lady Danbury raised her brows and he swallowed, eyes falling onto the carpet beneath him.

"I'm fully aware that many would call for my... our death if the ton were to find out."

"Precisely why there must not even be a passing look between the two of you, lest we wish to read about it in Lady Whistledown. Are we clear?"

"Quite, Lady Danbury."

"Yes." (Y/N) nodded, taking her nod as a dismissal and turning away. He walked out of the drawing room and headed down the hall, one hand ghosting over the railing. He felt the world spin and squeezed his eyes shut, hand clamping around it. Sucking in a breath, he brought a hand up to his forehead.

"Are you alright, Mr. Granville?" A servant questioned.

"Mm? Yes, I'm alright, thank you." (Y/N) replied breathily and smiled at the maid. She hesitantly nodded and continued up the stairs.

ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ

"This one is yours, right, darling?" Lucy motioned to the painting before them, smiling up at it.

"Yes, it's the lake beside grandfather's estate at sunrise. If you look closely, you can see Moonlight standing in front of the lake." (Y/N) smiled fondly. Lucy chuckled and nodded, staring at the painting for a moment longer, the longing to see her late parents again evident on her face. Stepping closer to her son, she sighed.

"Moonlight had always been your grandfathers' favorite. I'm glad you share similar feelings." Glancing at the painting one last time, she turned away and observed the statue nearby.

"Mrs. Granville." Lucy and her son turned their heads to look at Violet as she approached. (Y/N) inhaled. Right, the ball. Violet smiled at him knowingly before facing his mother and taking her hand.

"We're hosting a ball later this week. I was hoping you'd be able to make it."

"I'll have to speak with my husband first." Lucy returned the smile and gave Violet's hand a gentle squeeze, letting it slip from her grasp afterward and glancing back at her son before she continued. Violet watched her go before sighing and looking at (Y/N).

"Was that a yes or a no?"

"Sounded like a no." (Y/N) answered truthfully, offering his arm for her to take. Violet did so and shook her head, glancing at the others as they whispered and murmured, not even bothering to hide their distaste.

"If I'm honest... I had my suspicions. Anthony doesn't get attached to strangers so easily, especially his siblings' friends. At first, I thought you'd been the exception, and then when Anthony told me one day that he hadn't been feeling well and what he described sounded like a crush..." Violet trailed off, speaking quietly. "Deep down, I knew it had to be you."

"I know for most parents finding out your child is... Well, most would consider it a nightmare."

"But I don't." Violet frowned, shaking her head. "I certainly don't understand it, but I do not believe it is a nightmare. In fact, I'm relieved. For the longest time, I thought Anthony had been incapable of love after Edmund died. I knew he cared for the singer he'd been seeing but I didn't believe it was love. Then, you came along and I saw him look alive... And happy. You're good for him, (Y/N). I'll never be able to hate my children for being who they are and I certainly can't hate you for making my son happy. Whatever you two decide to do, I just hope you'll at least remain friends cause Anthony isn't the only one who enjoys your company in the family." Violet smiled warmly, inhaling softly before she stepped away to mingle with the others. (Y/N) watched her go and swallowed, continuing to walk down the aisle until he stopped by a statue.

(Y/N) knew he couldn't expect less from Violet. Her love for her children was tremendous and an example to all mothers. He doubted she could hate anyone unless they directly harmed her family. (Y/N) wished he'd met her as a child. Perhaps his youth would've been spent running with Benedict instead of being fretted over by maids within the walls of the Granville house.

"Your mother is an angel, I'm sure of it." (Y/N) murmured and looked at Anthony as he stood beside him. Anthonys' lips quirked, eyes looking over the statue before he turned his head to look at the painter.

"We shouldn't linger around each other for long, Anthony. Unless you wish to face Lady Danbury and her cane." (Y/N) glanced over his shoulder in search of said woman, in case her hawk eyes had spotted them together.

"I'd face her wrath a million times over if it meant being by your side." (Y/N) despised the way his lips formed a smile and the involuntary chuckle that slipped past them. Anthony perked at the sound of it and his eyes softened.

"You should give poetry another attempt, Anthony. It appears you're getting better at it."

"If that's what you want." Anthony continued, voice softening. He stepped around (Y/N) and went back to inspecting the statue to not attract any wandering eyes.

"Flattery will not change my mind, Anthony."

"Your smile says otherwise."

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