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fayes-fics · 3 months

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When The World Is Free: Chapter 9 - Partance

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Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: A tiny touch of spice... some making out, celebrations and some more late-night confessions.

Word Count: 3.4k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is when we find out if their whole gamble pays off... Happy Valentine’s Day! This is my gift to you 🫶 Also, be warned that the rating will increase in the next chapter. 😉 Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Montivilliers (just outside Le Havre), September 1939

You awaken early to the smell of fresh coffee brewing. A glance into the living room, as you wander downstairs towards the enticing scent, shows the sofa is already rearranged and blankets neatly stowed, as if not slept on at all - a little twinge behind your ribs at Benedict’s forethought around the ruse you shared a bed last night.

Almost reluctant, you enter the kitchen, and there he is, pouring two cups from the cafetière, the sunlight catching the ring on his finger as he does so. Your husband. Benedict Bridgerton. He twists, and you see he is wearing glasses, taking you by surprise. On the table, you spy a newspaper open. You are momentarily embarrassed that you are married to a man you know so little about; you didn't even know he wore reading glasses.

“Good morning,” his greeting is soft but apprehensive.

“Good morning,” you mumble back, taking the proffered cup from him without quite letting your fingers touch.

Guilt eats at your soul as you take a seat, the creak of the old chair as you sit down seeming so loud in the otherwise silent room - guilt about pushing him too far with kissing, guilt about your confession, as if you burdened his sleeping subconscious with an unfair weight. It makes the need to talk about anything else bubble up within you.

“I had an idea,” you break the silence as he takes a seat. He says nothing in response, just looks at you expectantly. “We could pretend our relationship developed long distance. Say that we met through Eloise a few years ago? But were both with other people at the time. Perhaps we wrote to each other and, over time, grew close? I thought we could write some ‘fake’ love letters this morning. Fold them up, make them look a little old and creased, you know, and then exchange? Carry the letters as if we truly sent them to each other. It doesn't have to be many. Maybe 3 or 4? Backdated, of course.”

As you talk, his face lights up. “It’s brilliant!” he enthuses quietly, whipping off his glasses. “It's the perfect explanation! Then it makes sense I rush to Paris to rescue you! And my sister. The outbreak of war made me realise what you truly mean to me,” he spitballs, talking fast, gesturing animatedly. “It would explain our whirlwind marriage too - that we couldn't live another day apart without…. without being together with the looming uncertainty of war.”

His chair drags loudly across the tile as he stands up rapidly, grabs your hands, and hauls you up and into an embrace, lifting you off the ground and twirling around—a spontaneous celebration.

“You are brilliant!” he exclaims fervently, and then your lips find each other impromptu. A kiss that starts as a mere brush to seal the pact rapidly morphs into something else. Before you know it, your mouths are open, tongues tangled, and he is hoisting you higher in his arms, his hands grabbing your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist so your nightgown rides up to your hips, the heat of his pelvis crushed against yours through thin cotton pyjamas….

And that is the sight which greets the returning homeowners and Eloise.

A loud squeak from Marie has you rocketing apart, sliding down his torso back to your feet, cheeks aflame. But it's too late. There is no way to deny what they walked in upon-–you wrapped around Benedict’s body as you kiss fiercely.

“Wow… I miss that passion,” Jerome wisecracks in a bid to break the tension.

Although she is silent, the look on Eloise’s face is one you won't soon forget—shock, abhorrence but a streak of inquisition, as if taking on new information and filing it away.

You and Benedict both mutter apologies in unison, which seems to charm your hosts even more into good-natured joshing as they unpack croissants and jams from a wicker basket.

“A breakfast for our newlyweds,” Marie chimes with a wink. “I’m sure you need sustenance after a night like yours.”

In some ways, although mortifying, you cannot deny the cinch they caught you in does not exactly hurt the illusion of you being a real couple.

And so you all take a seat and begin breakfast together. Each treat on the table is delicious, and the conversation flows easily.

“You do know Solene will be mad she was not invited to the wedding,” Eloise remarks offhand at one point.

“Pssh! Let me deal with my sister,” Marie counters with an almost stereotypical Gallic shrug and a dismissive chuckle.

—

With a couple of hours until your sailing, you pack the few things you unpacked in the last couple of days and then turn to letter writing as Eloise reads. You sit outside, a delicate breeze over your sleeves as Benedict joins you. You agree on some dates and then fall silent as you pick up pen and paper and compose letters.

Yours don't feel sophisticated, but they feel honest - writing about actual events back home and more recently in Paris to lend an air of believability, interspersed with words of affection, longing, and hope to be reunited. Your final letter is dated the day war was declared, expressing a need to see him as soon as possible.

You have no idea what Benedict is writing, but his intensity and speed impress you, pages seeming to pile up around his elbows as you see glimpses of his elegant, looped script.

“I just have much to say, that’s all,” he responds, somewhat enigmatic when you express your concern that his letters appear much longer than yours.

—

Before you know it, Jerome and Marie are dropping you off at the port in Le Havre, hugging you all so tightly with promises of letters, telegrams, and phone calls. You will certainly miss them and Solene; they have been so welcoming to you, even for such a short period.

Benedict wraps an arm around your shoulder as a porter loads your cases onto a trolley and accompanies you to the boarding queue.

“Just like we practised,” he turns his head and murmurs into your ear so only you hear.

And then he sweeps you into his arms and kisses you, instantly opening your mouth under his, your pulse racing even among the crowd.

“Do you mind?” Eloises hisses, disgust evident on her face.

Breaking the kiss, you giggle and bury your face in Benedict's shoulder as he shoots her his trademark elder brother look of derision.

“Do you want your best friend to come with us to England or not, sister? Because we have to look married and madly in love,” he points out, his arm stroking your back.

“You don't have to swallow her face,” Eloise grouses, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes as she pouts, looking aside.

“The more convincing, the better,” he counters, but their dispute is interrupted by your being called forward to the desk.

After asking for your tickets and passport, the surly young man looks at your passport and frowns.

“Are you planning to remain in the UK?” His ask is terse.

“Yes,” you reply, clear but polite.

“Reason?”

“She is my wife,” Benedict cuts in, that arm back across your shoulders.

“Do you have proof?” the man looks sceptical.

Benedict produces the marriage certificate from a folio in his case.

The man scans the document, his frown deepening. “You got married yesterday?” His questioning tone raises the attention of others nearby.

Your heart leaps into your mouth as a face you recognise materialises from behind a glass office. It's Theo Sharpe - the young soldier Eloise met in the bistro a few days ago.

“Is there a problem here, Jones?” he asks with an official tone.

“These two just got married. I have concerns…”

Theo peers at Benedict and you as if assessing you as a couple.

“What sort of concerns? They look in love to me…”

“We have letters!” you pipe up, nerves jangling.

“Letters?”

“Love letters we have written to each other over the months.” Benedict takes over. “When war broke out, I had to come and rescue the woman I loved. And then I could not resist proposing. And yes, we married yesterday. Sirs, you likely know better than anyone - war brings clarity to a man’s heart like nothing else. I could not go another day without her being my wife…” his speech is reserved but impassioned, and when he is done, he tucks you under his arm, kissing your forehead.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eloise frown as he hands over your letters, and you do the same with his from your handbag. Theo takes the pile and unfolds them, his eyebrow rising at something in one from Benedict’s pile.

“Jones, tell me that is not the sign of a man in love,” he tilts the page to his fellow soldier, seemingly pointing to a particular line.

The man coughs and runs a finger into his collar. “Oh… well… yes…” he seems to stumble, his cheeks heating.

What on earth did Benedict write?

“I think we can safely say they are a real couple, can't we?” Theo argues, refolding the letters and handing them back to you.

“Yes, yes, I think so…” the man agrees hesitantly.

“Well then, please issue the lady with the paperwork for residency,” Theo prompts, almost impatient.

You can barely contain the furl of excitement as the man dutifully grabs an official certificate and transfers your details, passing it under an embossing stamp and placing it inside your passport.

“Welcome to the United Kingdom, Mrs Bridgerton,” he smiles tightly as you see Theo shoot Eloise the briefest of winks behind the man’s back.

“Thank you, sir,” you breathe, almost stunned into a quiet silence, as again you are in Benedict's strong embrace.

“Well done, you were perfect,” he assures a few moments later as you walk up the ramp onto the ferry, his arms never having left your shoulders since.

With reality finally setting in, relief and elation radiate from inside - like the sunny day seeping into your being, making you feel the lightest you have felt in weeks. You can't help the grin you shoot him and drop a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“All thanks to you,” you demure as you cross onto the deck, “I owe you my life.”

“You owe me no such thing,” he counters immediately and sincerely. “Your idea - the letters - that is what sealed your future. You are much smarter and stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he adds, his tone ardent, a hand tenderly cupping your jaw as his thumb strokes your cheek.

Again, you find yourself lost in his eyes.

“God’s sake, you can quit the mooning now, you idiots,” Eloise gripes and elbows Benedict unceremoniously out of the way, drawing you into a bear hug. “I’m so happy!” she chimes into your ear.

“Me too,” you reply, laughing joyously, hugging her back as fiercely.

“I may have planned for this,” she winks, withdrawing to pull a bottle of champagne from her bag with a flourish.

And so, as the ferry pulls out of port and enters the English Channel, the three of you raise a toast to France as you watch the shoreline slip away. A kaleidoscope of emotions washing over you - a bittersweet farewell to your all-too-short French adventure, but also excitement and apprehension for the start of something new. A stay in England. And a new husband, well, sort of. For the first time, the future feels completely unwritten in a way that is freeing.

—

When you arrive in Portsmouth that evening, you immediately head for the stately Royal Maritime Hotel by the port. But there is a snag when you get to the check-in desk. The late hour and no reservation means only one room is left—with one double bed.

“I will sleep on the floor,” Benedict offers, ever the gentleman, as you all accept the room, knowing it's likely a similar story in all the other hotels with this many people escaping mainland Europe.

After dropping your luggage, you all head to dinner, which becomes drinks in a local bar, all of you wanting the celebratory mood to last a little longer. You nurse just one drink while Eloise seems determined to drain the port city dry, tipsily wandering off to the little dancefloor in the back room.

At some later point, while Benedict is at the bar paying the tab, Eloise returns, sidling up to your seat and loops her arms around you.

“You know how much I love you…?”

“What do you want, Eloise?” you chuckle, patting her elbow as you let her sway you with her hug.

“I've met someone,” she whispers excitedly, her breath sweetened by brandy, “and I realllllly like him. His name is Phillip. He’s lovellllyyy,” she singsongs.

“That's nice. But what does that have to do with me?” you ask, amused.

“If I were to spend the evening with him, would that be okay? With you?”

“You've never asked my permission to enjoy your previous dalliances, El; why now?” You are finding her thoroughly entertaining.

“Becaaaaause it means you will be stuck alone in a room with my brother,” she spells out. “And no woman should have to endure that,” she counsels with faux gravity, only mildly undermined by her comedic look of horror.

Your stomach vaults at the idea of a night alone with Benedict in a hotel room, but you must school your face to one of casual indifference.

“El, I shared a cottage with him last night; I think I can handle it.”

“Oh yes… and what in God's name was this morning all about?” she suddenly shifts the topic, raising an eyebrow pointedly.

You do your best not to choke on your sip of cocktail. “We saw you all coming up the path. Benedict thought it best for the ruse if we were caught in a compromising situation,” you bluff, waving your hand dismissively, even as you feel your cheeks glowing at the mere memory.

She side-eyes you momentarily but seems to accept it, giving you one more squeeze before bidding you goodnight. Her farewell to Benedict at the bar appears to be a smack on the arm and a warning with a pointed finger—ever the loving siblings. Then, with a flutter of butterflies under your ribs about the night ahead, you and Benedict head back to the hotel.

“Thank you again,” your tone is sincere as he unlocks the room. “If we had only known Theo would be at the port, maybe we wouldn't have had to go through all we did,” you point out wincingly, still apologetic, as he secures the door closed.

“We did what we had to. We were very fortunate he was there today; it was a wonderful coincidence, but we had to prepare for any circumstance. Besides, it is all water under the bridge now. You have your paperwork. You have your residency,” he points out brightly.

“But you had to marry me….” you point out, unable to let it go, guilt still shadowing your heart. “That was a huge sacrifice.”

“I am not the one who had to break a promise to another,” he counters softly. “You had to be the brave one here. You should not think of yourself as selfish. And you should feel free to pursue whatever you want in this world, y/n.”

Something in the choice of words in his heartfelt petition seems oddly reminiscent, but you cannot pinpoint it.

“I will still sleep on the floor,” he adds reassuringly, removing his coat.

“We… we could share…?” you feel your heart pound as you extend the tentative offer.

The look on his face is indecipherable, but you don't miss how his pupils dilate a fraction. “I promise not to kick…” his response is a genial callback to your discussion days ago.

You giggle, feeling that lightness in your being again. “And if you do, I’m sure I could find plenty of rope to remedy that. We are right by a port after all,” you can't help but banter back, gesturing to the harbour outside the window.

His responding warm laugh is like a balm.

He excuses himself to shower, and while he is gone, you unpack some basics. As you are delving in your bag for your hairbrush, the pile of letters Benedict handed you spills out.

Intrigued, you unfold them—curious to know what Theo had seen. The letters are a thing of beauty; you find yourself crawling onto the bed to read them properly. Pages of lyrically crafted praise that make your correspondence seem entirely lacking, more akin to a boring newsletter. You find yourself swept up in reading - lines of poetry, yearning sentiments and a few racier epithets that make your breath catch and your blood run hot.

‘Every night since we met, my love, I dream of nothing but you. Endlessly. I dream of your laugh, your smile, that wonderful little crease on your forehead when you think I am being foolish. You captivate me - body and soul. I dream of that delectable noise you make when I kiss you. I dream of tasting your skin. I dream of you coming apart in my arms, grasping me so tight you leave finger marks on my body. One day, my love, one day…’

You almost jump out of your skin when Benedict reenters the room, freshly showered, his hair in damp curls, sporting a distractingly fitted white t-shirt. You attempt to conceal what you are reading, embarrassed somehow, but it’s too late.

“I was wondering if you would,” he laughs softly when he realises.

“I’m sorry,” you utter, feeling as if you have snooped somewhere you should not have.

“Don't be,” he cuts in, smiling gently.

“How did you think up such poetic stuff?” you query, fingertips tracing almost reverentially over the words. A wistful ache in your being, hoping anyone would ever be inspired to write such an elegy to you one day.

“I just told the truth,” he shrugs.

“You must’ve been in love with whoever has made you feel like this in the past,” you sigh, standing up to put the letters aside on a table, feeling as if they definitely do not belong to you. Conscious of the slim band around your left ring finger, like a guilty weight stopping him from that possible life.

There is a long pause, making you look up at him. He is drawing near, something profound burning in his expression.

“You,” he breathes finally. “You inspired this in me.”

The confession knocks the breath from your very lungs, almost a need to bend double.

“Wh….” you cannot even find enough voice to finish a simple word.

He moves closer until you are almost touching.

“I heard you…” he admits softly, his fingers encircling your wrist, then bringing your hand close to his face. “Last night, when you thought I was asleep…” a plunge of utter dread in your stomach as you realise what he means. Your confession.

Oh no.

“Benedict, I….” but you can't finish. There is no end to that sentence, even in your quick mind.

“So I thought it was only fair you have mine,” he continues, a flicker of a modest but charming smile as he tilts his head to the pile of letters.

Your eyes cut briefly to them before darting back to him.

“Y… you dream of nothing but me…?” you stutter, parroting one of the many memorable lines, a flicker of desire and hope and yearning so strong you can't help but ask.

His smile turns crooked. “Every night…” he confirms, eyes glittering.

“A-all of it?” you can barely utter it, your cheeks heating as you recall precisely what he wrote that he dreams about.

“Every word,” he asserts before his warm lips brush the back of your knuckles.

It's like you are thrown into a hurricane, a hundred thoughts and feelings tumbling, making your breath catch hard in your lungs. But it all converges into one singularity as you stare up into those hypnotic eyes. An overwhelming need coursing through you. For him. A longing that is tart on your tongue and deep in your core. And you are powerless to do anything but grab his neck and pull him down into a searing kiss.

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crazyk-imagine · 3 months

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There’s a Heat Between Us, You Must Admit

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Plus size!rader

Characters: Plus size!reader, Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton, Violet Bridgerton, Mildred “Millie” Nightington (reader’s cousin), Bernard (the servant), Eloise Bridgerton, Francesca Bridgerton, Gregory Bridgerton, Hyacinth Bridgerton, Simon Bassett, Augie Bassett

Warnings: Anthony is an idiot, the bee scene (mainly from the book scene), drama, Daphne doesn’t want to see her friend end up alone, reader gives Anthony the biggest side eye ever, reader and Anthony are idiots, Millie is a sweetheart, reader and Anthony are competitive, the sideburns line was something I learned about, reader is stubborn, Anthony is oddly very emotional in this, reader knows a lot of things, reader doesn’t know how to deal with her emotions, pregnancy scare, the pregnancy scare reminds me of a sitcom

Word Count: 13,647

A/N: Reader’s last name is Starlington and also, super excited to have finally finished this one.

*1,700 follower celebration post*

Also, Happy Valentine’s day!!

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Sometimes you loved your dear friend Daphne and other times you didn't, right now for example, you don't.

Honestly you don’t know how this got brought up (again) but you’d wish she would stop; it’s not going to happen even if she wants you to officially join her family.

You knew her being the first to marry out of the two of you was going to lead to more of her shenanigans, but this was too much for you.

You sigh, setting your cup down to look her in the eyes, “I have no plans on being in this season.”

Her shoulder sagged, “I understand that but-”

“But, nothing. Daphne, I am more than content with my being staying very much untied to a man. If I happen to meet someone worth it, you’ll know.”

Anthony glances over in your direction and his mind goes elsewhere.

You’re his sister’s best friend who also became Benedict’s best friend soon after you met the rest of his family.

He isn’t particularly upset at the fact that you’ve managed to befriend his siblings (slightly better than he could) but, there’s something that keeps bringing a certain idea to the front of his mind.

“Are you going to take your turn or continue staring?” Benedict asks.

The eldest shrugs off his brother’s comment.

Anthony uses the dreaded “death mallet” and once again, manages to pass the others.

Daphne heads towards her siblings before they can scream and shout at her for sitting down instead of taking her turn.

You sigh, shoulders sagging because you know she means no harm; you know that but, you can’t force yourself to love and care for someone you don’t have feelings for.

You’d never admit it (out loud or to her) but there are nights where you do wonder how it would be if you did get married to someone you loved.

The concerning part is how her brother sneaks into your mind; not your closest friend, Benedict, or the third oldest, Colin, and of course not, Gregory.

No, Anthony is the one to invade your mind and corrupt your dreams with his charming smile and smooth movements.

And you would never dare tell Daphne or your cousin of your thoughts; no matter how hard she tries to convince you he feels something for you.

You take a deep breath, returning your focus onto the game only to meet a pair of oak brown eyes gazing upon you.

You tear your gaze away at the sounds of Violet walking down the stairs, carrying a smiling Augie in her arms earning a smile from you as you observe the happy baby.

You glance towards her and offer a polite smile, giving her a moment to settle down in the free chair before turning to focus on the young babe. “Hello, Augie,” you greet him with a baby tone and shake his chubby fingers.

“He’s always taken with you,” Violet comments.

“I am the one who always manages to search for his mother when he cries for her. Sometimes I believe myself to be a dog.”

She chuckles, “that’s not it.”

“Why else would he like me?”

“You have a natural instinct that he senses. Children know these things.”

“If that’s what you say.”

Daphne steps away from the others, wanting to see her child. “She is right, you know.”

“Not you too,” you groan.

“You will make a fantastic mother.”

“Someday.”

“It could happen sooner than one would think.”

“What are you planning?”

“Nothing.”

Anthony stares back at you once more, observing the way you interact with his dear nephew. As he searches for someone to call wife, his most secretive thoughts keep coming to mind. The more he searches and the longer you stay, the more he finds himself wondering.

His mother continues to help him in his search for a wife albeit reluctantly since she finds herself so fond of you. She’d never explicitly tell him to pursue you but, she could always kindly ease him into the right direction, which is when his disbelief comes to the surface, truly believing you to feel nothing for him.

He knows if he tried to pursue you and it fell through, he will have ruined a lifelong friendship for his family- as he watches Daphne hold her purple mallet for you to take- he realizes he can’t pursue you.

Not that he’d ever given it any real thought, but he’d never be able to forgive himself if he was the reason, you stopped coming by.

You shake your head.

She puts it in your hand, persuading you into taking her place so she can attend to Augie.

You step down from the seating area with little energy.

His sister offers encouraging nods.

“I see you finally came to join us,” comments Anthony.

You avoid his gaze- you can barely stand beside him. “Not like I wanted to,” you reply.

“You’re scared to lose?”

You scoff, turning to look up at him, “that is not what I said.”

He smirks, leaning closer to you, “you didn’t have to.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “we’ll see who’s laughing when I win.” You walk away, taking your turn. You’re satisfied until you sense him behind you.

He follows you, “for someone who didn’t want to play earlier, you’ve certainly found your spirit.”

“Or was it a trick?” You smirk, glancing at him when the ball rolls through the metal hoop with ease. “You look nice,” you comment, turning around to walk away.

Anthony’s brows furrow together, his body takes over as he steps closer to you, standing beside you. “What do you mean?”

You turn, struggling to find the right words without sending the wrong message. “I only meant you look nice. You know, people- people can actually see your face now.”

He continues to stare at you.

“Your sideburns were nice but it- they- people may have assumed you grew them to hide what lies in your heart.”

“And what do you think lies there?” The words escape him before he could process his thoughts.

“I believe the love for your family and future wife is there, along with the care and compassion you hold for them. I do have to admit, I am a bit glad you shaved.”

He tilts his head, “and why is that?”

“I was afraid you would have continued growing them and at some point, they would connect,” you use both hands the gesture from your sideburns to your upper lip, “and you would look as though you were wearing a mask of sorts,” you say with one hundred percent seriousness until you think about it and snicker, covering your face with your hand.

Anthony is also unable to keep himself collected and joins in. He straightens his posture, “what of you?”

You take a deep breath, fanning yourself. "What of me, for what?”

“What do you think lies in your heart?”

“The same as you, I suppose. Love and compassion for my family and the few friends I have.”

“What about me?” He asks before he can stop himself.

“What?” You don’t know what to think.

“I-” He walks past you, placing his mallet back into place before exiting, wandering to the garden. He needs to get as far away from you as he can in order to clear his mind.

You don’t understand what’s happened and place your mallet beside his before chasing after him.

He stares at you, half listening to you and his attention moves elsewhere.

“Are you even listening to me?” You stare at him, wanting to understand him. You’re too into your thoughts to hear the faint buzz.

The noise sends a shiver down his spine, he knows the noise too well; his nightmares (if he can remember any) always start with the faint buzz.

He doesn’t move as he searches for it. Sadly, for the eldest child, he doesn’t have to search for long as the small, striped animal floats around you. He prays to whoever is listening to hear his silent prayers for it doesn’t sting you; he can’t lose someone else to the blasted creature.

“Anthony?” You ask, glancing down when you feel something land on you. You realize why he can’t look away. “Hey, it’s alright.”

He can’t focus on your words, his mind rattled with the memory of his late father. “Don’t move,” his voice is low and shaky.

“I know, it’s a bee but, it won’t hurt me as long as I-” you close your eyes due to the discomfort you get from the sting, and it sends him into a whirlwind. “I’ll be alright,” you say, still trying to reassure him. You open your eyes to see how pale he’s gotten.

He invades your personal space, grasping onto your arms. “Are- are you-” He glances back and forth between your face and your wound. His voice is low, far too low for you to understand what it is he is trying to say but you swear you hear him mutter something along the lines of, “don’t move'' repeatedly.

You know you must calm him down before he can do anything. You reach for him, placing a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at you. “Breathe, Anthony. I need you to breathe.”

He can’t say anything, almost as if he’s choking on air. Images of his father invade his mind, filling him with worry and dread.

You can see he is close to tears. Your voice draws him out of his thoughts. “I promise you. I hope you know I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m fine but I will still have a doctor come and look at it so that it may heal properly. I’m right here. I’m here with you.”

Anthony’s hands grip your biceps, he notices how swollen the sting site has become.

“It stung me, but I am not hurting. This has happened before. I will be fine.”

None of your reassurances are having any effect on him.

The image of his father taking his last breath in his mother’s arm is enough to make lean in to suck the venom out.

“Anthony?! What are you-” You cut yourself off at the feeling of his shaky hands trying to remove the stinger. “Anthony, you must stop.”

“Shut up,” he hisses, trying to stay focused on keeping you healthy (and alive) while fighting to keep his father’s death out of his mind.

You take deep breaths, you try to push him away, but he is insistent and stronger than you. “I am fine, I just need to see a doctor and I-”

“Would you be quiet,” he finally lifts his head to look up at you.

You gulp, “I know- I know what tragedy has happened in your family but, today will not be the same for me.”

He doesn’t listen and continues to squeeze the area.

You gasp, eyes widening at the feeling of his hands being so close to your breast. This has gone too far; you must stop this before someone sees. “Anthony,” you place your hands on his chest to push him away once more.

“Stop it,” he shoves your arms off him. “Let me get rid of the venom.”

“There is a doctor who can do this and-”

“The doctor is not here. I am.” He stops squeezing when some liquid begins to spill out of the wound.

You look down, finding the trail of liquid, “see, you did it. Now, I am going inside to-”

Anthony pulls out a handkerchief, wiping away the trail. “It’s not all of it.”

You wrap your hand around his wrist, stopping him from patting you dry. “You must stop this, Anthony. If anything were to have happened, it would have happened already.”

“There is still more,” he mutters, staring at the irritated area.

“You need to stop.”

“I haven’t gotten all of it,” he turns, staring at you.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking of doing. Don’t.”

“I have to get the venom out before it kills you.”

“It won’t kill me-” you gasp, seeing the determination in him as he leans forward. You place your hand on his shoulder, keeping his head away but fail to remove his hand.

The click clack of women’s shoes against the rock pathway alerts you, but you feel as though you can’t move.

A gasp makes you turn to find his mother alongside your cousin, Mildred (Millie for short), staring at the two of you with shocked expressions.

Your heart rate increases and gain enough strength to fully shove him away from you, knowing how this looks.

He glances up at you with a confused expression.

“Anthony?” Violet calls out.

His brows furrow further, he looks over your shoulder, “mother?”

“What is going here?”

“She was stung by a- a bee.”

“A bee?”

“Yes, a bee. I’d told him repeatedly I was fine. I’ve dealt with being stung before,” you say, struggling to keep yourself together.

“You were stung by a bee and the boy found himself attached to you?” Mildred raises a brow.

“Don’t look at me like that, Millie.”

“I’m not, I’m wondering how you think this can be kept quiet.”

“Kept quiet?” You repeat quietly to yourself.

“Neither of us would repeat a word of what occurred today,” he argues.

“That doesn’t mean anything for a woman’s reputation,” Mildred says with an attitude.

“You do realize anyone could walk out here and spot the two of you, don’t you?”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Don’t you?”

He grits his teeth, “I do.”

“You should consider yourself lucky that it was us who found you and no one else, rake.”

“That’s enough now, Mildred,” Violet intervenes. “Let’s,” she takes a deep breath, “let’s go inside and talk about this further. Lady Starlington needs to be seen by a doctor.”

You can’t stand to be there any longer and turn away from him, walking past the two ladies and Anthony; your pace speeds up before you know it, you’re sprinting back to Audrey Hall.

Mildred sighs, “now what are we to do?”

“We will all walk back and discuss this,” Violet says.

“Of course, we are but, what am I to tell my parents? They’ll be curious to know why their niece’s name is in a Lady Whistledown column.”

Anthony grunts, taking a step towards the two. He passes by them and quickly announces, “we will marry before the end of the season.”

“Did he say what I think he did?” asks Mildred, watching his figure walk away with wide eyes.

Violet sighs, shaking her head, “I believe he did.”

“Did I do the right thing?”

The mother of the family stops, turning to face your cousin, “what do you mean?”

“I- I basically pushed themselves together into this potentially unhappy marriage. I know I sometimes I can’t keep my comments to myself but, I swear I had good intentions. It's just- when we came around the corner to see that I- I worry about her. I fear I may have ruined my relationship with the two.”

“I can’t give you an exact answer but, I can say that as long as you have your cousin’s interest and happiness in mind, the most you can do is hope for the best. They are both emotionally driven people, even if neither wishes to admit it. This will be hard for them, and it may be a test.”

“A test?”

“To see if they will make good of their marriage. You and I, as well as my other children, have come to realize how they connect with one another. They can’t see it for themselves but there is something there and now is the time for them to see it.”

“I suppose so. What if they can’t make it work?”

“Then I fear they will be in a miserable marriage.”

No one else disturbed you after the doctor left.

You sit at the edge of the bed, your vision blurs; you cover your mouth with shaky hands. You don’t want others to hear if they happen to be walking by. You cry, struggling to catch your breath.

Everything you’ve been feeling with the last few days is slowly escaping you. Your mother is requesting to visit and marriage situation with Anthony; it’s too much.

You take deep breaths, aiming to calm yourself down.

Maybe it would be better if you left and went home or maybe somewhere far from here.

A knock disturbs you from your thoughts.

You wipe your cheeks, hoping whoever it is will go away but fail as another knock comes through. You take a deep breath and open the door, “Viscount Bridgerton?”

He lifts his gaze off the floor, “what happened to Anthony?”

Any curiosity falls from your expression, “your making light of the situation?”

He shakes his head, “I would never.”

“I think you’ve done enough today. It’s almost time for bed.”

He takes a step closer to the door, his hand inches away from being crushed, “I,” he sighs, taking a step back, removing his hand from the door. “I have come to ask if you would have dinner with me.”

“With you?”

“I think it would be wise if we talked before anything becomes… official.”

“Now?”

“Are you going to use full sentences any time soon?”

“Why should I? Is it bothering you?”

“Nevermind that. Are you going to join me or not?”

“Will there be someone else there?”

He gives you a reluctant nod, “yes, your dearest cousin, Mildred.”

“I’ll be down in a moment. I will meet you there.”

“I’ll wait here.”

“Do you have to?”

“No but, I think it might be good practice for us.”

“Practice,” you mumble and shut the door. You walk over to the vanity, staring at yourself, wondering how you got into this situation. You snatch the extra handkerchief and pat your face, removing any evidence of your despair.

You take careful steps toward the door and exit, Anthony leaning against the wall across from your room. He holds his arm out for you to hold.

You shake your head.

“Don’t you think you’ve touched her enough today?”

He sighs, “Mildred.”

“Who else would it be?” She interlocks your arms together, pulling you ahead of the eldest Bridgerton. “Come on.”

“Do either of you know how to use it?” Anthony asks, staring at the stove.

Mildred shakes her head, “the maids are always around to do it.”

“Both of you sit down,” you say.

“Do you know how to work this?” he asks, sounding surprised.

“I do. It’s too late for us to have a full meal, instead we can have a glass of warm milk.”

They sit at the table in the corner of the room.

Anthony watches as you move gracefully around the kitchen.

“If you keep staring, she’ll catch you.”

He turns to her, “what?”

“You’re staring.”

“No, I wasn’t,” he denies.

“You can lie all you want but I know you care for her. Perhaps, you always have and never wanted to admit it before and the whole bee situation was a ruse so that you could stop being a ninny and marry her instead.”

His jaw drops, he doesn’t know how to respond. “I did not-”

She waves him off, “do not lie Anthony, I know you love her and have for some time now, only you must realize it now than later in your marriage. I do not want her… or you to be unhappy. Oddly enough, I seem to care for you but, obviously not the same way she does you.”

He scoffs through his nose, muttering to himself, “obviously.”

You place the glass of milk in front of the two, interrupting their conversation. “Don’t tell me you’ve decided to marry my cousin instead.”

Anthony nearly chokes on the liquid, setting the glass down and snatches the handkerchief you hold out for him.

He wipes his chin, “what makes you think I would want to marry, Mildred.”

She scoffs, “you’d be lucky to have me, Bridgerton.”

He narrows his eyes to her.

“I’ll be just outside this door, leaving the two of you talk and nothing else.”

You furrow your brows, “wait. Mil-”

She waves to you.

You take a deep breath, not wanting to face him.

It was different when he wasn't paying attention to you and rather his own life, but now... you hope he doesn't want to talk.

"We should- we should talk."

Everything in your screams to not run away and hide, even though it sounds like it would be the better option right now.

"How are you?"

"I would be happier if I was marrying for love and not because of your concern over my virtue," you mumble.

He overhears and sighs. “Don’t-”

“No, I understand. Truly I do, just- I need- it’s late. Apologies for keeping you up.” You grab the skirts of your dress and walk out.

Mildred watches as you run away. She spins around and stands in the doorway. “What did you do?”

“Me- I-”

She sighs. “Just shut up.”

He sighs and slumps in the chair. Mildred storms into the room after you.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” You take a deep breath, hunched over your vanity.

“You know, you two act as a married couple who have known each other for too long and no longer know how to act lovingly around one another.”

“You are wrong, cousin. He is- he is the scum- the scum that rests at the bottom of my shoe. Why would I ever marry someone like that? Much less that Bridgerton, I mean, Colin would be a better option and I don’t like him as much as I do Benedict.” You keep your head down, “people marry for less.”

“I wish to marry for love, if it ever decides to come my way but until then I will deal with him marrying the only person, I care about that is close to my age.”

“So, you care enough about me to marry me off?”

“Don’t phrase it in such a way that makes me the bad guy,” she throws herself onto your bed.

“Go to bed. I will be fine, Millie.”

She props herself up on her elbows. “Are you sure?”

“I am. Please,” you look up and turn around, putting on a brave face. “I promise you. I will be fine.”

“If you’re sure-”

“Which I am. Goodnight, Millie.”

She sighs and steps outside of the room, “night.”

“Good morning.”

You don’t respond to Mildred.

“Are you ignoring me?”

“I am simply showing you the way my soon-to-be husband will treat me.”

“What do you mean?”

“It has already begun. I awoke early and decided I wanted to speak to him after thinking about it all. I say hi but he does not.” You shrug, "it doesn't matter now."

"It does though. Let me," she sighs. "Let me speak with him. I can- I can fix this."

"No," you say. “I don’t want you to be in the middle any more than you have.”

“Alright... now onto more pressing matters.”

“Such as?”

“Your plans for the wedding?”

“Oh, right.” You continue to stare out the window.

“Are you sure you're alright?”

“I just-”

Anthony stops himself from knocking on the door and decides to listen.

“I thought when I was to marry, I would marry for love not because I need my virtue protected or saved."

"If he didn't agree to this-"

"I would be a spinster."

"That is how I will live my life," Mildred grabs your hand and gains your attention.

Anthony takes his leave, unable to stay there any longer.

“That is not how I want you to live your life. I want you to be the one to have another you can call upon if there is something the matter because I won’t always be there and I need to know that you are protected before I leave.”

“You’re leaving?”

She sighs. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out but yes. A week after you’ve been married, I plan on traveling the world.”

“Your childhood dream.”

“Precisely.”

"I- what if I'm not good enough to," you wave your hand around. "This."

"This what? I'm not sure I understand."

"What if- what if I am not fit to be a wife. I mean," you push yourself out of the chair and pace around the room. "I don't want him to be disappointed in the person he is to call wife. I don't want to be in a marriage of..."

"Regret?"

"Precisely."

She stops you by placing a hand on your wrists, “now is the time for us to plan your wedding. Violet and Anthony have been sitting in the tearoom since I came in here.”

“She’s- they’re- why didn’t you tell me?” You rush out the door.

You clean yourself up outside the door and nod to your servant, Bernard, to open the doors. You nervously smile at both.

Violet pops up from the chair closest to the window. “How are you?”

“Oh- uh- I’m,” you glance to the side and stare at her eldest, who locks eyes with you.

“I mean from the- well, you know,” she struggles to say.

You let out a breath of relief, “ah, yes. I do. I am- I am fine. I’m just happy that everyone else is fine.”

She smiles, “that is kind of you to say, but unnecessary.”

“I hear you came to talk about our upcoming… event.”

“Is that what Mildred told you?”

You furrow your brows, “is that not what you’re here to discuss?”

Anthony pushes himself off the couch. “Not yet. Mother, if you’d excuse us.”

“Anthony, I don’t-”

He gives her a look.

"We will be right outside this door."

"What did you want to discuss?"

"If we are to marry, we should have stipulations."

"You think I'll be so horrible that we need rules?"

"Not you. I believe if we have these, we'll have a better understanding of what should come from this marriage."

"Why don't I just stay by your side and show my face when you need me to so you can look like the perfect husband? Would that make things easier?"

He sighs. "That is one of the things we need to discuss, which events you'd prefer to come to."

"Oh, I get to choose those?"

"Please stop. I am trying to make this as easy as I can."

You clench your fists. "How am I supposed to be okay with this?"

“It’s my fault and I am trying to make up for that.”

You pause, “your fault?”

He nods, “yes, it was- it was me who... couldn’t.”

You step forward and place your hand on his, drawing his attention onto you. “It is not your fault when something so devastating comes to mind and you do all you can to prevent another. I do not blame you, but you must understand that I do not want to be one of those ladies.”

“Who?” The only word he can get out as he studies you.

Your compassion shifts into something of annoyance, one he knows too well. “You know who, someone who wants to be like Penelope’s mother or maybe even... all of the other ladies,” you chuckle, proud of the joke you made.

"I'm glad you can make jokes at a time like this."

You roll your eyes, "oh hush, I am still upset about pretending to be a perfect housewife for the one man every woman dreams of being with."

"Are you included?"

Your mouth agape as you stare at him.

"You two haven't maimed each other, perfect."

"Millie," you pinch the bridge of your nose.

"Oh, don't act so coy now."

You roll your eyes and sit down, waiting to hear what Anthony and his mother have to say. You pace along the floor, finding it to be quieter here than in the tearoom with the others, even if they weren’t talking it was still too loud. You know there’s no alternative for what’s transpired between you and your soon to be husband, but it still hurts knowing he will never love you the way-

“Are you alright?” Daphne’s voice draws you out of your thoughts.

You give her a small smile and hope she doesn’t poke further.

“I know this isn’t how it was supposed to happen but there is one good thing about your marriage.”

You scoff, “and what, pray tell, is that?”

“I finally can call you sister.”

You try not to show how happy that makes you, not wanting her to know she was right. “Thank you.”

She drags you over to the piano.

“I still don’t understand why you have many so pianos.”

She shrugs, “for moments like this, maybe?”

“Are you waiting for me to play?”

She nods, “of course, I am. You were always much better than I was.”

“I was not.”

“Show me then. Show me how awful you play, and I will not ask you again.”

You don’t know how long you had been playing for, but it was something you missed- not having a piano in your own home, you didn’t realize how long it had been.

You usually prefer to play when no one is watching but having Daphne by your side was nice, she always knew how to help calm you before things could get worse; everyone knew of your father’s temper, and no one wants to face that through his only daughter.

Anthony raises his hand to knock on the door but pauses as he listens, he doesn’t realize Daphne had learned a new piece. He slowly opens the door and finds you playing instead.

‘When did you learn how to play?’ He wonders.

Or maybe it was, you had always known, and he was too into his fantasies that he forgot to pay attention to the true version of you.

Just when he was hoping to learn something horrible about you; you’re becoming more and more like his...

“I didn’t know you played.”

You open your eyes and glance up at him, standing up as quickly as you can. “I don’t.”

He furrows his brows, “that’s not what I heard.”

“That- that was nothing.”

“Why are you lying?”

“I prefer to keep this information to myself so if you could kindly pretend you didn’t hear anything, that’d be best.” You exit the room, knowing you’ve left

Anthony in a wave of confusion. “What was that about?”

“She doesn’t like others to know of her talents because she knows they’ll ask her to perform one of them.”

“Her mother.” He finally understands.

“And her aunt.”

Now he truly gets it. "Is this what you two would do while I was out with mother?"

She shrugs and pushes the seat back. "Perhaps, or maybe you were never around long enough to learn about her even though you're entranced by her."

He stutters, unsure of where she could have gotten that idea. "What?"

She quickly hides her amusement before he can see. "Nothing. Goodnight Anthony."

He tries to stop her, but she ignores him, offering an excuse for needing to put Augie to bed. He wonders what else he doesn’t know.

You pace back and forth in front of his office door; this isn’t something you can do in person, is it? You sigh and wonder if it’s a wise choice to be doing this at all.

You slip the letter under his door and take a step back. “That wasn’t so hard.” You turn around and briskly walk down the hallway, hoping he doesn’t see that it was you who was there.

Something moving in the corner of his eye piqued his interest and moved closer to figure out what it was. He picks up the letter and opens the door, seeing someone’s figure turning the corner before losing sight of them.

He closes the door and opens the letter, wondering what you could have said when you’ve already said plenty.

Dear Bridgerton,

I I want to start off by apologizing for my outbursts, you don’t deserve them, and they are not aimed at you, but you happen to be the person I am talking to and... This is not how I expected the season to begin or end and I’m sure you didn’t either but if there is someone I were to marry, I’m happy it’d be you... because I trust you. I will do all that I can to be the perfect wife for you and if not, I apologize in advance.

Sincerely, Your annoying soon to be wife

The next day came, and you didn't know how to act.

You sit between Daphne and Mildred when he enters.

He sits in front of you and nods, acknowledging you, which you return.

The girls beside you don't know how to react, each staring at the other with a raised brow.

You two talked with his mother about the decisions for your wedding.

"Have you two discussed what you want?"

Anthony opens his mouth to answer but finds himself without an answer.

"Everyone will talk, and it will no doubt be in Lady Whistledown's column, but it would be preferred if we had a small ceremony, family only."

You don’t look up from your plate. Violet nods, listening intently. "I will use the dress my mother made when I was born, it'll save us time on getting a dress. The flowers can be your choice."

"And after?"

You turn to her, "it'd be smart to hold a small reception after all though it will increase because everyone will want to see who married the handsome and fortunate viscount."

You push yourself out of the chair. "I apologize but I realized I promised to spend time with the girls before we go out for our shopping trip."

"What just happened?"

"Have you two talked about anything regarding your wedding?" Violet asks her son.

"Every time we discuss something-"

"No, have you sat down and discussed what you two are to do? Who will be there? Anything that a soon to be husband and wife should discuss?"

His shoulders sag. "No."

"I want you to go in my place."

"What? Why?"

"It will give you two a moment to talk and prepare for the future hardships you two will face as a couple. Raise her spirits. She got a letter from her mother, saying she will not be able to attend. Perhaps that is why she is so uninterested today."

"She- how do you know?"

"I'm your mother, I know more than you would think."

Anthony waiting by the door frightened you. “Are you joining us?”

“I’m here in place of my mother.”

It takes you a few seconds to process what he said. “You are?”

He nods. “Shall we?”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

The failed whispering voices of the women around you, annoys you to the point where Anthony feels that he needs to do something. “Is there anything that has caught your interest?”

You shake your head.

“Let’s go. I know somewhere we can have a better time, away from the whispers of these women.” He leans in, whispering into your ear, “they’re jealous of you.”

You cover your mouth to hide your amusement, not wanting him to know he’s helping lift your spirits. You two exit the shop and return to the Bridgerton home. “Why are we back here?”

“We are going to have a drink.”

“With your family? Couldn’t we do that any day we wanted to?”

He holds his hand out for you to take, which you do. “Although that may be true, that’s not what I had in mind.” He places his arms behind his back, clenching his fist not wanting you to see the control you have over him. “We’re going to spend time in my office.”

“Oh? I’m invited in, I feel so special.”

“You should, very few are allowed in here, especially when I’m working.”

“Of course. The head of the house needs quiet or else.”

“I see going out has helped you.”

You watch as he fills the glass for you before grabbing it and swallowing it in one gulp. “You could say that.” You scrunch your nose at the sensation, maybe doing that was a bad idea.

He takes a seat in his chair.

“Could I ask you something?”

He nods, staring at you over the glass as he takes a sip.

“Did your mother inform of the one guest we won’t be seeing at our wedding?”

He slowly sets the glass down before returning his gaze to you. “She may have mentioned it.”

“Is that why you came with me today because she told you to and not because you wanted to?”

“She may have said she thought it was best if I take her place, but it was initially my choice to go.”

“You’re not lying?”

“What would I gain from lying to you?”

You sit up and reach for the bottle, filling your glass. “A relationship built on a lie.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Are you trying to make this harder than it needs to be?”

“I can’t just- you can’t honestly expect me to ignore that we are marrying one another when you never wanted to marry and I hoped that when it happened, it’d be with someone who loved me.”

He’s out of his chair before you realize he’s now sitting in the chair beside you. “What will it take for you to stop saying that?”

“What?”

He leans in closer. “Why do you think I could never love you?”

“I-” You gulp. “You have spoken before that you never want to marry, what else am I to think?”

“How do you know I couldn’t change? What if something comes of this relationship?”

Your breath hitches and you continue staring him in his eyes. “I suppose we’ll have to cross that bridge if we get to it.” You set the glass down and rush for the door, “I’ll take my leave now. I’m feeling quite tired after our outing.”

He grabs your wrist, pulling you back in before you could open the door. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pressured you into answering my questions.”

“What if I enjoyed them?”

You turn to face him with a small smile. “Then I am concerned for your being.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Be honest, did you mother tell you about my mother is not coming?”

“No,” he shakes his head, but you know the truth.

“You don’t need to lie on order to preserve myself, it’s okay.” You sigh, “is it sad that a small part of me wishes for her to be there?”

“Not in the least. It’s natural for you to want your mother there-”

“It’s not because she’s my family, I just- I need her to stop pushing marriage onto me.” You pace back and forth, “this is my way to prove her wrong but that makes me feel worse because it makes me seem as though I’m being a bad daughter.”

“You’re not,” he disagrees with you. “That is anything but you being a bad daughter. If anything, she’s- she’s scared to lose her daughter to a new family because they know you will be starting a new life, away from her and that’s why she doesn’t want you to help.”

“But what if-”

His hand slides down your arm as if his hand lingering wasn’t enough to drive you mad, he tightens his grip on your hand.

You force yourself to focus on his words and not the warmth emanating from him.

“Stop. All the negative thoughts you have are not going to help you. But listen to this, you are a good daughter, and she should be happy to know her daughter will be taken care of. As long as you are a part of this family you will be taken care of and not have to worry about expectations.”

“I won’t,” you whisper, not meaning to. He shakes his head and gives a small smile. “I promise.”

He realizes he’s been holding onto you this whole time and his arm falls. “Can I walk you back to your room?”

You nod, ignoring the warmth flooding your cheeks. “I would like that.”

“Will I see you at breakfast tomorrow?”

“You will, and if I ask you the same question?”

He smiles, “I will be there.”

“Good, I think this is a good start to our future marriage.” You step inside the room.

“I am sorry.”

“What?”

“The marriage… and the reason we are to wed.”

“What do you mean?”

“I lost myself and-”

You shake your head, placing a hand on his chest over his heart. “I do not blame you for something as traumatizing as your father’s death. Please know that.”

“But-”

“Anthony Bridgerton,” you tell him using a stern tone. “Stop it. It may not have happened under the best of circumstances, but I am happy that I will be wed to you than some other man. I can at least trust you.” You step back into the doorway, slowly closing the door as you bid him goodnight.

He stands there, touching the spot where your hand was until he drops it, straining his hand as he fights to clench it.

Benedict and Colin happen to be there when he turns the corner.

“Quite a show you put on there,” the second eldest says.

“Yes, you’re whole “I’ll be the perfect husband” speech was wonderful,” the third eldest chimes in.

Anthony scoffs, “would you two quiet down?” He grabs them by their collars, dragging them into one of their miscellaneous rooms. “Why aren’t you two out?”

“How could we be out when you’re here?” Colin asks.

“Trying to woo the love of your life,” Benedict adds on.

“I’m not- you two are acting like children.”

“Us? Acting like children?” Colin starts, glancing at his brother.

“No,” the artist shakes his head, “I don’t think so.”

The soon to be married man glares at his brothers, unsure if he wants to listen further or not but if he doesn’t let them continue it’ll be worse in the morning. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “If I let you two continue, will you keep quiet in the morning?”

“Morning?” Colin turns to partner in crime. “What’s happening in the morning?”

The artist glances over his older brother and grins, “is the soon to be wed joining his family and future wife for breakfast?”

“With him being silent, I’m going to say yes.”

“Finally, you agree with me.”

“I agree with you,” the third eldest argues.

“I don’t recall.”

“Okay, now that you two are done, I’m going to bed.”

“To dream of your wife.”

“She looked quite nice today, wouldn’t you say brother?” Benedict asks.

“I dare say, she looks even more radiant since her recent engagement.”

“You two are done,” Anthony shoves them out of the room. “You two will not speak of her like that again. She is your friend,” he jabs Benedict’s chest. “And your future sister-in-law,” and does the same to Colin. “You will respect her and not talk like this again, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

The next morning as soon as you step out of the door, your future husband paces. “You’re awake.”

“I am, it’s time for breakfast.” You close the door behind you. “Shall we go downstairs and join the others?”

“We’ll be the first ones down there.”

“Either way, I’m going down.”

He holds his arm out for you to take. “Shall we?”

You give him a small smile and nod. “After breakfast, what are your plans?”

“I have a few things I need to look over but after that I’m free. What did you have in mind?”

“I planned on going for a walk along the back of your family’s estate and perhaps we could talk about things.”

“Just the two of us.”

“Mildred could join us?”

“I’d rather she not.”

“I don’t blame you; she’s been on a rampage since earlier this week.”

The doors open and his brothers, Daphne and Mildred, are already sitting at the table.

“Of course,” he mumbles.

“Did you say something?” You ask him.

He turns his head towards you, offering a small smile. “No, it’s nothing.”

The glances between him and his brothers were interesting, intriguing to you and the girls, who also had no clue what was going on.

He stands behind your chair, hand resting on your shoulder. “I shall find you after I am done.”

You nod and watch him go.

“Well, that was interesting.”

Daphne shushes your cousin.

You lay across the couch, reading another book and were so into it, not even realizing that he had entered the room.

He smiles as he steps closer, wondering what’s going on inside your head, finding you to be more interesting as he observes you reading, compared to his sister. He leans against the back of the couch, bending down to catch your attention.

A shadow moving catches your eye and you turn, screaming soon after.

You place your hand over your heart, taking deep breaths. “For heaven’s sake! What was that for?”

“What do you mean?” He smirks, arms on around the sides of your body as he stays behind the couch. “What are you reading?”

You turn around and cross your arms, “why does that concern you?”

“Can’t a future husband be curious as to what his future wife is into?”

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. “Is that all?”

“It is. But that’s not why I’m here.” He doesn’t say anything else.

You get impatient and wave your arms around. “Spit it out. Come on.”

“We are to marry by the end of the week.”

Your brows raise is surprise, “oh.”

“Is that alright?”

You take a deep breath, “I just- I wasn’t expecting it to be so soon but that’s- okay.” You place the book beside you and stand up, brushing the wrinkles out of the skirts of your dress. “I need to go over some things with your mother.”

The humor falls from his face. “Wait- where are you going?”

"I just told you."

He follows after you, "I heard you but-" He reaches for you, pulling you back. "Can we talk?"

You take a deep breath to calm your beating heart. Why is this happening now? You thought you were over this. Your lips part as you stare at his hand. You shake your head, staring up at him. "I- what do we need to talk about?"

"Lady... things." He’s quiet for a moment. "I won't push you but know I'm here to talk if you need someone."

"Thank you." You take off, not noticing the way his hand slowly falls or the way he clenches his hand.

It's been a long time since he's felt the skin of a woman he was enchanted by, especially one he's to call wife.

"Did we catch a moment between you and your beloved?"

Anthony sighs, "don't you have charcoal to break for your fruit drawings?"

His younger brother puts a hand to his chest, offended by his brother's comment. "I'm hurt, Anthony. Truly, I am but it's not why I'm here."

He turns to face the artistic Bridgerton, taking notice of the serious look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Sister."

"Which one?"

"Not one of ours."

He furrows his brows, mouth agape to ask why but realizes who his brother is referring to. "I thought we had taken care of this situation?"

"We did but then she decided to cut their trip short and has been calling on you since she arrived today."

"I need you to take care of her. I cannot allow her to ruin my marriage."

Benedict nods, "you finally figured out you truly care for her, didn't you?"

Anthony chuckles, "I'm not discussing this with you. Call Colin if you need help."

"We got it. Go take care of my future sister."

He nods for the doors to be opened. "Good morning, ladies."

Your cousin shakes her head, your mother fawns over him while Violet takes a sip of her tea.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him.

He places a hand on the back of your chair. "I expect you all enjoyed your breakfast before discussing more of the wedding."

"Oh, certainly. Your family has been nothing but kind to us, Viscount."

You adjust the napkin on your lap to keep you from rolling your eyes at your mother's fake enthusiast tone.

Mildred pats your arm, knowing the strained relationship between you and your mother.

He notices the tension in your shoulders and wishes he could pull you away from all this madness. "Anything I can help with?"

"Oh, heavens no. You have other more important things to take care of. Leave this to us ladies, isn't that, right?"

You purse your lips and let out a quiet, "mmhmm."

Maybe it was better when she said she couldn’t come to the wedding. Yes, you were sad, but it was better than the real thing.

Violet glances between you and your mother. "Why don't we let the girls go on a walk with Anthony watching over them?"

"But-"

"I think this will be good for them. It will give them more time to talk."

The woman hesitates to say yes, debating if this is truly a wise decision before making a decision.

You didn't realize how tight you were squeezing Mildred's arm until she let out a whine.

Your eyes widen, "oh, Millie. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. I should have known better. I know how crazy she makes you." "This always happens?" You don't look in his direction. Your cousin nods her head, "unfortunately."

"Why has she made this unexpected visit?"

"She," Mildred pauses, giving herself time to think of a better answer than truth.

"She wants to know if I am with child and if the reason, you're marrying me is to save my family's name."

Anthony nods, he understands why you preferred planning this with his mother and your cousin. "Should we?"

You two glance over in his direction. "What are you implying?"

He shrugs, "I merely suggest we pretend as if there is something going on, give your mother something to worry about."

"You want her to pretend as if she is with child?"

He nods, confirming Mildred's nightmare.

"Please tell me you're not thinking of going through with this. It’s absurd and- oh, no. Now I like it."

You glance between the two. "Is this something you two finally agree on?"

They stumble for a minute, waiting for the other to argue and tell you no but come to realize you are, in fact, correct.

Daphne stumbles upon the three of you and smiles, neither Mildred nor her brother are arguing, and you don't look uncomfortable.

"Daphne!" Your cousin waves. "Come, come. We need your knowledge on a subject."

She nods, smiling. "May I ask what you need my help with exactly?"

"How does one pretend to be with child?"

She owlishly blinks, tilting her head staring at the woman as if she's lost her mind. "I'm sorry?"

"We are feeding into my aunt's absurd idea of her precious daughter being with child."

Anthony purses his lips, finding himself to be offended more than he had been by Mildred's comments. "I'm not the worst option for a father."

"Moving on," she waves him off before returning her attention to his sister. "We need information."

"And you want to do this?" She turns to face you.

Your eyes widen slightly, not realizing she was going to ask. "I think it would be... nice to show mother how well her child is without her watchful eye."

"And you're sure this is the way to do it?"

You shrug, "it's not so much if I think this is okay, it's more like she needs to realize I am my own person and can live a life without her dictating everything for me."

Daphen nods, "okay. I will help."

Mildred smiles and interlocks her arm with the Bridgerton girl's. "Come, we have much to discuss."

You turn to your future husband and raise a brow.

He stares at the two, wondering what advice his sister could have to offer before holding his arm out for you to hold onto as you all return to the hall for dinner.

"Are you sure about this?"

You hum, not having listened to a word he said.

"I asked if you're sure about this. Mildred and I were joking, we don't expect you to play along with this idea."

"Your kind, but this is something I need to do. She won't listen to reason if I tell her I don't need her help, she'll involve herself, no matter what."

"And this is how you'll get her to stop?"

You sigh, "we'll see."

The dinner was entertaining for most, you felt bad for embarrassing Violet and the Bridgerton name all to get your mother off your back, but you felt there was no other way to stop her from inserting her wants and needs before yours.

That was the first night you had a stern talking to from your future mother-in-law and- even though you could have thought of a better way to handle the situation, it felt nice to be taken care of the way a child should, compared to the way your mother raised you.

You didn’t talk to your cousin or future husband after and went to bed with too much on your mind.

Then came the wedding, it was as lovely as could be even if it was short notice and only family was invited.

It came as a surprise to everyone, mainly yourself, when your mother decided it was time to stop and act like a caring parent.

She smiled and fixed a piece of hair that was out of place. “I know this isn’t the wedding you dreamed about-”

“I didn’t dream of a wedding often.”

She sighs, realizing she’s been putting words in your mouth rather than stopping to listen to you. “I never dreamed of marrying someone I didn’t love. If I were to ever get married, I’d rather it be with someone I could have a future with than someone who would rather be with another.”

"I know."

"And you know what else- you know?"

She nods, "I've been trying to relive my life through you, and it isn't fair. I'm here to watch you marry the man who will provide, take care of you," she cups your cheeks. "And love you the way you deserve."

You shake your head, fighting to keep your composure, not wanting anyone to know of your breakdown. "He doesn't love me."

She nods, "he does, you just can't see it."

"How-"

Your mother shushes you, "it's time."

The reality of the situation didn't hit you until it was time to walk down the aisle but with the help of Mildred and Daphne, you were able to overcome it.

That was also the only time you've felt the lips of your husband.

Since the wedding it feels as though all the progress you two made was wasted, even Mildred was tired of your constant complaints before and after she left.

You sit in the library, biting your nail until it hurts and turn the page; a new habit of yours, one Eloise would be proud of.

You started hiding away to read when everyone went off to live their lives now that the beginning of yours has ended started. You’ve been reading more since your cousins’ departure; it was a tearful morning but you're happy to know she’s out living her life the way she wants.

Then Daphne and Simon left the hall so they could return to their lives in their own home with little Augie.

You've tried to go out with Violet and Lady Danbury, but they preferred to ask when you two would expand your family; safe to say you also hide in here for another reason.

The youngest Bridgerton’s are swept away for their studies as they continue to grow. Francesca and Eloise are nowhere to be found half the time (hence where you got the idea).

You don't know if you'd be able to handle talking to the other two brothers since marrying the eldest. The comments they make at breakfast are enough, going on a walk with them would be too much.

Not that you mind the quiet even if it does get lonely at times.

You push yourself off the ground, placing the book back in its place only now realizing how dark it had gotten and your candle has died, providing little light to guide you; its barely the size of your thumb and the wick is dying the longer you stay here.

You open the door, carefully closing it and wince as the hinges creaking echoes down the hallway. You pause at the sound of footsteps only to hear a familiar girls whisper. "Hyacinth?"

She smiles, "what are you doing here?"

"I was reading."

"In the dark?"

You two glance down at your source of light that died as soon as she mentioned it. "The candles died."

“Can you take me back to my room?”

You smile and nod, “of course I can.” You grab her hand and try to find your way back to the hallway where her room is.

“Finally, we found it.” You glance down at her, “I told you, we would.”

She smiles up at you with a sleepy expression. “I knew you would.”

You open the door and get her settled into bed before exiting.

You wonder what it would be like to have your own child and stop. Are you really thinking about what it would be like to have a child when you haven’t seen your husband since your wedding day?

You shake your head and continue down the hallway before turning around, realizing you made a wrong turn; you sigh, leaning against the railing, staring at the ballroom floor.

You remember the first time you arrived at the hall and saw him. You didn’t know why your heartbeat was so fast until your cousin explained it to you.

You wonder if he knows how you feel and if that’s the reason, he’s been avoiding you.

“What are you doing awake at this hour?”

You spin around and find- “Ben!” You cross your arms to cover you.

He smiles, “what are you doing out of bed and away from your husband?”

You take the jacket he offers you, “I’d rather be reading but my candle died- oh no.”

“What?”

“I left it in your sister’s room.”

“Ah, so you’ve seen the whole family other than the one man you should be seeing.”

“Quiet now, Benedict. Unless you want others to know you’ve seen your brother’s wife in her night dress.”

“It wouldn’t be the biggest scandal our family has dealt with.”

You lower your head, rubbing your forehead at his words. “You’re an idiot. I’m going to bed.”

Anthony had a rough night and going to bed was something he desperately needed, maybe seeing your figure laying in our shared bed would make him feel better; he always seems to calm down when his eyes land on you.

That was something he always enjoyed about you whenever you were around.

He stops removing his coat when the door opens, and his brother is behind you while you stay in the doorway with his coat around your shoulders.

His brother takes the item from you and takes his leave before Anthony starts asking questions (not before Benedict gives him a suggestive look).

He doesn’t want to ask- he shouldn’t ask, it’s not his place. “Something I should know about?” He hopes this doesn’t lead to a fight.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re going to pretend as if my brother walking you, my wife, wouldn’t be a scandal if we were elsewhere.”

“Why? Don’t you trust me?” You ask, tired of all the games; him avoiding you and now having an interest in you.

“Do you know how much it affects me?”

An annoyed sigh escapes him, revealing to you how he feels (about the situation and not yourself). “What affects you, sweetheart?”

You ball your fists, “stop calling me that.”

He can’t call you such an endearing name when he hasn’t been acting like your husband. “That is what a husband is supposed to call his wife, is it not? A charming word of endearment for a handsome lady, such as yourself.”

“Stop talking…”

“What else am I to call you? I cannot call you by your name, it would prove-”

“How little we care for each other.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You. I’m talking about you.”

“Me?”

“You are a pest.”

“A pest,” he whispers, finding himself offended.

“You have never once thought of myself in the manner of being one’s wife but yet you act like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re my husband.”

“Am I not?”

You study him. “You want to make a big deal out of this when you’ve been avoiding me since the wedding? Therefore, you are a pest.”

“I- I haven’t- when was I avoiding you?”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

He struggles to remove his coat and you make your way towards him, helping him.

“Your brother found after I helped Hyacinth get back to bed after she found me exiting the library. He didn’t want anyone else to see me in such a… intimidate manner.”

You stare at him through your lashes. “Anything else you want to add? Maybe,” you place his jacket on the back of the chair before taking a seat at the vanity. You start removing the pins and ribbons keeping your hair up, your tiredness hitting you as you prepare for bed.

He sighs, untying his collar. “I wasn’t avoiding, I’ve been… busy.”

“Busy? You’ve been busy?” You undo the sheets, settling onto your side. “I’m going to sleep until you can come up with another excuse on why you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I- believe me when I say I wasn’t avoiding you because I- this isn’t easy.”

You spring up, glaring at him. “And you think this is easy for me?”

“I’m not saying anything about our marriage. I have been,” he pauses, thinking of the right word. “Dealing with personal matters, things you shouldn’t have to worry about because of a mistake I made in the past. I am trying to protect this because I care about you.”

You gulp, “I’m sorry.”

“What was that?”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms as you stare at the ceiling. “I’m sorry for thinking you were avoiding me but to be fair,” you spring forward, pointing to him. “I- I-“ You struggle to speak as you catch the sight of his bare chest.

He knows what he’s doing to you and his chest warms at the thought of only you being the one to see him in such an intimate way.

You turn away, fiddling with the sheets. “Like I said, I’m sorry for assuming the worst but considering-“ You close your eyes, following the way his lips moved against yours. You push him away, the warmth of his chest lighting a fire within you. “Just because we are married, does not mean you can use your body to change the subject or get me to stop talking about something you don’t want to.”

The corner of his smile twitches before he allows himself to smirk.

You’ve only ever seen him use this expression with his family, never once was it directed at you.

You’re happy tonight ended the way it has, you’re feeling closer to him, learning more of what makes Anthony Bridgerton tick.

He closes his eyes, chest heaving with every breath he takes. “I’m here.” He pulls away from you.

Your hand falls at your side.

His figure fades away, leaving you confused.

You burst up, confused as to what your dream means and glance beside you, finding him still asleep. You push yourself out of bed, needing the get away for a moment, sitting in the bench underneath the window.

You stare at the stars, wondering if there was some way, they’d be able to respond to your questions. It’s only been several days since your marriage became official; you still feel as though you’re not and none of is real.

You think back to your first kiss you two shared at the altar and the one you shared before going to bed. Your fingertips brush against your lips, relishing the sensation you felt then as it fills you with something you never thought you’d be able to enjoy.

‘Is this what love is?’ You think, staring at the bright moon, knowing it won’t answer you.

You glance back at him and wonder if he’ll ever love you the way-. You wipe away the stray tear, knowing how much it’d break you if he decided to cheat or leave you entirely.

Your greatest fear was thinking you’d end up alone.

Now you fear he’d be the one to leave you without looking back.

He squints, the moonlight disturbing his slumber. “What are you doing up?”

Your head snaps in his direction. “Hmm?”

He repeats his question, sitting up in bed, his night shirt wrinkled and slipping off his chest.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you tell him, not believing your own words. You crawl back into bed when you notice he won’t fully fall asleep until you’re near.

As soon as you settle onto your side, his breathing evens out.

You lay your head on the pillow, fighting the thoughts you know will keep you awake, feeling you’ll need more sleep than anything.

"We need to try for a child."

He glances up from his work. "I didn't realize your mother was in town."

You narrow your eyes to him, something he is truly fond of even if you are upset with him. "I'm going to pretend as if you didn't say that."

You close the door and pace around the floor in front of his desk.

“If you find yourself calm enough to talk, could you repeat what you said when you busted into my office.”

He knows what you said, there's no denying what he's heard but what's got you riled up to bring up such a topic.

The wedding was only three weeks prior, he knows of the idle gossip some of the other women enjoy talking amongst each and he's curious as to who said something.

He's also been trying to keep himself busier than usual to keep him from staying up too late and thinking of performing such acts upon you. He sets his pen down, giving you his full attention. “Why are you asking now?”

“I’m not asking,” you argue.

Is it such a wise idea to try and push for this? Most likely not but you're too upset over the gossip to think logically.

He studies you for a moment, wanting to understand what happened to make you think such a thing.

“What happened? I mean, you and Daphne went out for a walk, right?”

You pause, trying to understand where he’s getting at before nodding.

“Who said something to you?” He raises his brow.

“No one… exactly,” you huff, crossing your arms.

“I know they’re expecting me to be with child by now or at least, in the works of trying for a baby and I don’t want there to be another Whistledown column with either of our names in it. It’s not just my reputation that could be ruined, it could be yours or your family’s this time.”

He can’t help but smile at your kind thoughts. “I appreciate the concern and I’m sure my family would as well, but everything is going to be fine. We don’t need to worry about this.”

You continue having your pity party. “I’m glad you seem to think so.” You furrow your brows, thinking about how he’s avoiding the topic. “Why are you putting this off?”

“Putting what off?”

“You know what I’m talking about, don’t act as coy as your brothers do when asked about their courtships.”

He doesn’t have a way out, does he? A knock on the door alerts him. “I have other business to attend to, I’ll see you at dinner?”

You scoff, “you pretend as if you want me and need me when we are in our shared room but now that we are out in the open you want nothing to do with me? Tell me, are you just using me for your own gain?”

He sighs, “please, can we,” he glances at the door to find his brother. “Talk about this another time?”

You nod, offering a fake smile, “of course, husband.”

His attention turns to you once more, “I thought we weren’t going to have the normal marriage?”

“It seems we were both wrong.” You shrug. “Goodnight, husband.” You yank the door open, rushing past Benedict and the guest without looking back.

Kate smiles watching as you put yourself further away from the one person she wants. “It seems you and your bride are having minor troubles, may I?”

Anthony grits his teeth. “What’s brought you here, to my family’s hall, today?”

Her mischievous smile turns into an evil smirk, “I’ve come to visit an old friend, after all, didn’t you say I was always welcome?”

“That was before you tried to take my family’s fortune and run off.”

She plays with the cuff of his coat sleeve. “If it makes you feel better, I have a husband.”

“Then you should be with him.” He removes her hand from him.

If this had happened a year ago, he would be crawling back into her embrace but now that he has you, the only person that can keep him sane; he’s not going to make that mistake.

He sits down at his desk, rereading the page he was working on when you came in. He knows he’d be stupid if he fell for her tricks once more and ruined your marriage (and family name).

She pouts, not liking the fact that he doesn’t want her anymore.

“Perhaps you should go back to your home. We must clean up for dinner,” Benedict chimes in.

She spins to face the second eldest, “dinner? I’d love to.”

Anthony pushes himself out of the chair. “That’s not an invitation.”

“Why? Are you scared I’m going to ruin your precious marriage? You truly think I’d be harsh to do such a thing?”

“We don’t need to think it if we know.”

She smirks in trump, feeling as though she’s won.

You glance at the two with a sinking feeling in your stomach.

Is this the way your marriage is going to end? It took a while before you could remember where you knew her from and as soon as it clicked, you were fidgeting in your seat. Why did he allow her to sit so close to him?

She knows he's a married man and doesn't care. Maybe she thinks the marriage is fake and- you aren't worthy enough to be his wife.

You push the food around on your plate, your appetite forgotten. You remember the rumors about their relationship but could never be proven since she went back to India with her mother but now that she's back, you don't know what to think.

He notices and wishes that she didn't invite herself to join his family tonight.

You ask him about expanding the family line and him avoiding the topic entirely because he doesn't want you to feel as though this is a duty the two of you have to do.

He remembers when you two were first engaged and how you wanted to marry someone who truly loved you rather than someone marrying you out of a convenience.

His heartbeat when you told you should try for a child, he nearly passed out on the spot at the thought of you baring one of his children.

He knows you'd make fantastic mother; he doesn't doubt that in the least but since the wedding day he's realized something he should have a long time ago- something Kate is seeing for herself; he truly loves you.

Nowhere is it near what she thought they had but she's happy that he has someone who cares for him in more ways than she could.

She bids her farewells before pulling you to the side. "I apologize for intruding on your family dinner, but I think you should know you have nothing to worry about."

You furrow your brows. "I'm sorry, what-"

She shakes her head. "He loves you in more ways than he ever could care about me. I saw it tonight." She smiles, "all I ask is that you take care of him better than I could. I know you're good for him."

You stare at the door as it closes, unsure if anything that’s just happened is real or if this is a fever dream.

“Are you alright?”

You turn to face your husband and gulp. “Perfectly fine, why do you ask?”

“Did- She didn’t say anything, did she?”

The blank expression from your face falls and is replaced by one of annoyance. “What if she told me something she shouldn’t have? Is there something you wanted her to hide from me?”

He shakes his head, “is it too late to say no?”

You scoff, “you’re an idiot.” You close the door, not caring if it slams shut or not.

He stops it before it closes in his face, “I’m sorry I- it’s not true.”

“Then what is? Why do you care whether she’s told me about yours and her relationship or not? I know about you two. I’ve read the columns and-”

“That’s what I was worried about. I don’t want you to think something that isn’t true happened.” He stands behind the chair in front of your vanity. “I don’t want you think I’m a rake when I’m not, us marrying has changed things-”

“Us getting married is the only reason you’ve changed?”

“No,” he stumbles over his words, something he does more when he’s around you than anyone else he’s ever spoken to. “I-”

You push yourself out of the chair and walk towards the bed. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I keep pushing and I’m sorry but right now, I just want to go to sleep.”

“After you listen to what I have to say.”

“I have not felt the way I do for anyone else. I- no words can come close to what I feel for you.”

His grip tightens on the back of the chair. “I cannot- cannot breathe when you are near.” He catches your gaze, “you drive me insane when you try and argue with me. I don’t understand how you have vexed me and stolen my every thought. When you are here all I can think of is you, when you go out with my sister, you are the one thing on my mind. I- you, you are the bane of my existence, but I can’t seem to keep myself from you.”

You turn around, catching his gaze in the mirror. “Why are you telling me this?”

He spins around, “so you understand why I have changed. It’s not because I don’t care for you. I care too much about you. I have for a long time which is why I was scared when that bee was near you.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I was terrified I was going to lose you and I didn’t understand why until our marriage.”

“But- that was days ago.”

“Exactly,” he takes a step closer. “I’ve been losing my mind trying not to push you into something you’re not ready for. And then, earlier when you came to me, telling me we should try for a child. I didn’t know what to think.”

“What about Kate?”

He owlishly blinks, trying to understand where you’re coming from. “What about her?”

“You’ve been with women before me and I’ve accepted that, but Kate was here, having dinner with your family. She’s- she’s been around town from what I’ve heard being whispered behind my back. She was here and you didn’t tell me. You- you say that you love me, but I don’t know what to believe when the woman you were in love with, who later broke your heart, returned into your life and you didn’t so much as think to tell me. Benedict was more involved than I was!”

You don’t know why you’re getting so upset over this, it shouldn’t bother you this much since you don’t-

“I didn’t want her to spout lies about me to you and make you think I am not going to be a good husband.” He grabs your hands, “believe me when I say she is not relevant. You are my future.”

Your chest heaves with every breath you take. “How-” Your nose twitches as you purse your lips, collecting your thoughts before you completely explode.

“How what?” He switches between looking into one eye and then the other.

“How could I be blind?”

“To what?”

“I have loved you since I could understand what the word meant and now you- you-” You gesture to your back, “help me with my corset. I cannot breathe.”

He nearly rips your dress off you as he pulls the strings keeping the oxygen from getting into your lungs.

You hang your head, trying to keep your emotions at bay.

“Sweetheart…”

You turn around, pointing at him with wet cheeks. “You have ruined me. You have ruined me for any other man since before my first debutant and have had my heart for just as long and I didn’t know it yet.”

He holds his hand out for you, allowing you to take a step closer to him.

You accept and stand with a few inches between you two. “You have bewitched me from the beginning, if you can accept my foolishness and accept me now, I would happily give myself to you only if you can return the feelings.”

“I wouldn’t be able to survive if I declined your love.”

For the first time since the wedding, the two of you share a genuine kiss and not one where he tries to use his body to distract you. It’s one that makes it feel like the world’s stopped spinning and you two are the only ones in the world.

A knock on the door alerts the two of you.

You wince, covering your eyes with your hand before reaching over for him. “Anthony, wake up.”

“I’m coming in and I hope you two are decent.” She groans, “God, you two are naked. Gross.” Mildred complains loudly to whoever stands outside the door with her. “I thought they’d at least have the decency to be awake by now.”

You can hear Benedict’s voice, but it comes out all muffled because you’re not fully awake.

He opens his eyes and turns his head to find your beautiful face lying beside him, hair in disarray on the pillow. His thumb brushes across your cheekbone. “Good morning, Viscountess Bridgerton.”

You find it hard to resist the urge to smile and open your eyes, staring at him with nothing but love and happiness. You hum, brushing back his hair so it doesn’t look as messy, wanting to see more of his handsome face.

“Good morning, Viscount Bridgerton.” You remove your hand from his hair, pulling his hand away from your cheek to peck his palm. “What do you have planned for today?”

“Spending time with my wife, although I do have to say, I don’t think she’d appreciate me lying in bed with someone as breathtaking as yourself.”

You can’t help but smile. “I think if you paid her the same comments you do to me, she’d understand.”

He sucks in air through his teeth, “I don’t know. I think you’d have to meet her to find out the kind of woman she is.”

“I think I know.” You lean against your elbow, meeting him halfway for a morning kiss.

“Would you two hurry up? We have plans. I did not come here on a boat to see you two to stay in bed when I have plans with my cousin. Do you hear me, Bridgerton?”

He sighs, flopping back onto his back. “How could I not?”

You smack his chest before pushing yourself out of bed. “I’ll be ready soon. Go downstairs and wait for me, Millie.”

“If you’re not down here before sunset. I’m leaving.”

You chuckle to yourself. “Okay.”

He pulls you closer to him, hands resting against your waist, slowly wrapping around you. He kisses the exposed parts of your back before pulling you down, kissing along your shoulders.

“This cannot be safe.”

“Just because it’s a new corset, doesn’t mean it’s not safe.”

“For the baby.” He ties the strings through the loops. “When can we tell them?”

“When they won’t freak out.”

“Never, okay.”

You chuckle and spin around, placing your hands on his shoulders. “They will know soon. It’ll be fine.”

He stares into your eyes. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I think that’s my line.”

“Not today.”

You peck his lips before ordering him to tie the corset. “I’ll see you after our walk.”

“Don’t overexert yourself.”

“I won’t. Goodbye, ‘Thony.”

His eyes never left yours as you’re dragged away by your cousin.

Benedict steps inside. “Someone’s happy.”

He shakes his head, ignoring his brother; so happy go feed into the comments.

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thatgirlstrawberry · 1 year

Text

Sick Surprise

Feb. Request-5

Spencer Reid x Single mother!fem!reader

In which Y/N and Spencer’s date gets canceled because she’s sick. He shows up at her apartment in for a big surprise

Warnings: Reader is a single mother, fluff and confusion, the reader’s kid being a smart ass just like her mom, cussing, lmk if I missed anything!

This is part 1 of a series linked on my pinned masterlist!

Y/N and Spencer had only been dating for a few weeks. It was fresh, new, amazing.

Spencer felt lucky to have mixed up coffees at the shop on the corner of his street.

“I got a hot white mocha with three shots of espresso and… a black coffee.” The cashier called out.

A girl about Spencer’s age hurried to the counter and grabbed one of the identical cups, not thinking about the other one there.

Spencer grabbed the other cup and pressed his lips together watching her walk back to her table by the big window. She had a book open on the table and a laptop open in front of her.

He looked down at the cup, his coffee smelling different than it usually did. He looked up just as the girl lifted the cup to her lip and made a face as she sipped.

Her eyes searched the shop until they Spencer’s and she smiled sheepishly, sliding off of her chair and onto her feet. She slowly walked up to him.

“Sorry, I think I accidentally grabbed your coffee.” She spoke, her face getting a bit red. “And I think you have mine.”

Spencer noticed how pretty her smile was. Her eyes sparkled even in the low light of the coffee shop. “Uh- Um it’s okay.” He held the cup out to her.

“We can switch lids, if you’d like.” She told him with a kind smile. “Since… y’know I drank out of it.”

“That’s a great i-idea.”

They switched lids and she inhaled awkwardly when they were staring at each other. “I’m Y/N.” She finally said. She didn’t stick her hand out, she just smiled up at him.

“I’m Spencer.”

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Spencer smiled as he walked around his apartment as he talked to Y/N on the phone. “So I was thinking we could have dinner at your place tonight.” He told her. He hadn’t been to her apartment yet.

He heard her inhale sharply. “Spence, I don’t think that’s a good idea…” she trailed off. “I’m sick right now.” She explained.

“Oh… well maybe we can do it some other time.” He said.

Y/N cleared her throat. “Yeah, okay. Spence, I gotta go.”

Before he could say anything she hung up and Spencer furrowed his eyebrows.

.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Y/N wasn’t lying when she said she was sick. Eloise brought home a little cold from Daycare and spread it to her.

Nasty ass kids.

Y/N panicked when Spencer suggested that they do dinner at her place and gave him a weird answer. She didn’t want him to come over partially because she was a little sick but the other half of her was afraid that he’d leave her because she had a kid.

“Mommy!” She looked at her daughter who laid next to her on the couch. They were both watching Mickey Mouse because Eloise would scream her head off if they weren’t.

“Yes, baby?”

She giggled and clapped her hands pointing at the TV. “Goofy so funny!”

Y/N nodded. “Yes he is!” She smiled. She wanted to tear her ears off, she had heard Goofy’s stupid ass laugh way too much that day.

A few more moments later, Eloise piped up again. “Mommy.” She said all serious.

Y/N looked over at her daughter, sniffling. “Eloisey.” She said in the same tone.

She crawled up on her stomach. “Want to go play. In mini kitchen.” She stated.

The mother nodded. “Okay baby. Don’t be too loud. Our under neighbor doesn’t like it when you stomp.” She nodded, tickling her sides. “And what do we say about our under neighbor?” She asked.

Eloise giggle. “Under neighbor Molly has no personality and no ass.” She droned like she was reading from a script, her baby lisp making it sound more innocent than it was.

Y/N winked and high fived her daughter. “Good, go play Ellie.” She smiled.

The girl crawled off the couch and scrambled into her room.

The mother sighed and grabbed the remote, turning Mickey Mouse off and going to Netflix. She turned on Love Island UK— the best in her opinion.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. She sighed and paused her show, rolling off of the couch. She heard Eloise’s little feet pattering in from the other room.

She bit her lip as she glanced back at Eloise trailed behind her.

She reached the door and opened it. “Hel— holy fuck, no!” Her eyes widened. Spencer flinched back and furrowed his eyebrows at his girlfriend.

She looked down at his hands seeing cold medicine, a box of cold and flu tea, and container of soup.

“Mommy, who?” Eloise asked from behind her leg, peeking up at Spencer. He looked completely shocked and utterly confused.

The mother sighed and looked down. “Eloisey, why don’t you go play, baby?”

She nodded. “Can have hotdogs an’ cheese for lunch?”

She tore her guilty eyes away from Spencer’s and looked down at Eloise. “Yeah, babe. Just give me one second.”

The girl pattered away, giggling and shouting about her pasta that she was cooking in her mini kitchen.

She looked back up at Spencer. “What are you doing here?” She asked quietly.

Spencer swallowed. “I-I’m sorry— I just wanted to bring you some things since you said you were sick— was she calling you m-mommy?” He rambled.

Y/N bit her lip. “Do you wanna come in?” She asked, stepping out of the way. He sighed and nodded, walking into her apartment.

He looked around at all of the toys and paper and coloring pages. “I’m sorry. My place is a mess and Eloise is sick and the only way I could get her to stop screaming was to let her draw and run around like holy tyrant and-“

He set the things he had brought on the small dining room table. “I like it.” She but her lip and inhaled deeply.

“Thank you. For bringing me that stuff.” She nodded, hesitantly stepping closer to him.

“You’re welcome.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the only sounds were Eloise’s little voice pretending like she was running a restaurant.

Y/N smiled. “Spencer, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I- I just though that it would s-scare you away and I really didn’t wanna scare you away and-“

“You could never scare me away.” He spoke, getting closer to her.

Her eyes softened. “But you’re still really young. What man wants to date a girl who got knocked up in college?”

“What happened? Is her dad around?” He asked, avoiding the question.

She sighed and looked down at her feet. “This guy I was dating got me pregnant at a party and then like— transferred to a college across the state when I told him.”

She crossed her arms. “That’s terrible, Y/N. I’m sorry. Do you have any support at all? I mean, not that you’re not doing great I just mean—“

“My mom and dad don’t help out much. They still shame me for having a baby anyway.” She told him.

Spencer tilted his head. He was going to say something but Eloise’s voice was getting closer and closer.

“Mommy, play food with me!” She whined. She looked up at the stranger. “You play too!”

“Eloisey, I don’t think he wants—“

“What’s on the menu?” Spencer interrupted her. Eloise smiled and rushed up to him, grabbing his pant leg and dragging him towards her play room.

Y/N smiled warmly at the sight and pressed her lips together, following them.

“Strawbewy soup, pop tarts, chick pie…” She kept going with fake dishes she had made up as Spencer sat down at her little princess table. “Mommy sit!” She stomped her little foot.

She chuckled and sat on the other side of the table, her knees pressing against the edge just as Spencer’s were.

She glanced at him as Eloise brought a piece of paper with a bunch of scribbles on it. “What you want?” She asked rather snappily.

Spencer chuckled. “Uh, what are you getting Y/N?” He asked, smiling at her.

“I’ll take…” She pretended like she was thinking for a while. “Strawberry soup please!”

She hummed and nodded rapidly. She looked up at Spencer. “What want?”

“I want a chicken pie.” He nodded.

“Otay… toming wight up.” She nodded, tearing the paper up from the table after she scribbled words on it.

She walked away humming, going to play with her little mini kitchen. “How old is she?” Spencer asked.

Y/N tore her eyes away from the little girl as she ‘cooked’. “She’s 3 going on 13.”

“Wow.” He smiled.

Y/N giggled. “I’m glad you didn’t meet her during her terrible 2s. She’d have gum in your hair and your shoe laces tied together by now.”

Spencer chuckled but got quiet as he looked at Eloise still dancing and pretending to cook. “You could have told me, Y/N. ”

Y/N bit her lip as tears filled her eyes. “I— i didn’t want you to feel like I was trying to make you stay.” She shook her head. She was quiet. “And I w-was scared that we would get abandoned like we did when I got pregnant. A-and I didn’t want you to feel like you have to do anything for her— I’m so sorry—“

Spencer tilted his head. “Y/N, If I’m with you, that means I’m with her.” He nodded. “It’s a package deal.”

She smiled, trying not to burst into tears again. She wiped her eyes when Eloise came up to the table again. “Mkay, mommy. Here is straw soup!”

She nodded at the girl as she got a bowl of water and a plastic fork. “Mm thank you baby! It looks super good!”

She giggled and turned to Spencer. “Here is chick pie!”

“Thank you, Eloise!” He gasped as she set a paper plate with a piece of bread on. “This looks yummy.”

Y/N chuckled at the use of his word. “Mm looks so yummy I might need a bite of yours.”

The girl was in the middle of babbling incoherent words when she started sneezing and coughing.

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “Looks like it’s mommy’s turn to play food!” She gasped, getting up from the chair and scooping Eloise up. “It’s time to get some medicineeee and some hotdogsss and some souppppp.” She tickled the baby.

Spencer followed them into the kitchen where she set Eloise down on the counter next to the sink.

Y/N reached up in the cabinet to grab the baby cold medicine out. “What’s your name?” Eloise asked him as Y/N danced around the kitchen grabbing orange juice from the fridge. Spencer walked and leaned on the counter next to the little girl.

“My name’s Spencer. What’s yours?” Of course he already knew what it was but it’s important to ask toddlers questions that they can answer easily.

“Eloise.” She nodded proudly. “You call me Eloisey like mommy.” She smiled and clapped her hand over her mouth, coughing.

Y/N came up to her shaking a shot glass (yes a literal shot glass) that had a mixture of cough syrup and orange juice in it.

“Eloisey’s special drink!” She smiled handing the girl the shot glass. She quickly drank it and handed the glass back to her mother.

“Mmmm!”

Spencer laughed and she looked over at him. “Hey, it’s the only way I can get her to take medicine.” She held her hands up in surrender.

The man shook his head. “No, yeah, I get it! Whatever works, works right?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah.” She sniffled. “Do you wanna stay for lunch? The menu is sparse but I make a pretty good hotdog bites and cheese.” She shrugged. “Also featuring that soup you brought.”

Spencer nodded. “Yeah, of course!”

.•.•.•.•.

Spencer now understood why Eloise liked to dance so much.

Y/N twirled around the kitchen, dancing around to the ‘Grease’ soundtrack. Eloise giggle in her arms as she screeched the wrong lyrics. Spencer wasn’t even sure that she he was saying real words.

Spencer chuckled and watched the two dance around. Eloise looked just like her mother.

“Okay! Time to eat baby!” She set the girl down in her chair and twirled back over to the stove where she took the hotdogs out of the pan and put it onto her green Mickey plate.

This kid was obsessed with Mickey.

She cut up the hotdog and tore sliced cheese up and put it on top. “Mommy, please! I’m hungry!” Eloise whined.

“I know baby, give me a minute I gotta get your fruit!” She smiled at Spencer. “Kid acts like I starve her.” She rolled her eyes.

He chuckled and walked over to the table sitting in the chair across from Eloise. “What kind of fruit do you like?” He asked her.

“I wike… ummmm bwuberries, appohs an…. oranges!” She listed. “Don’t wike nanas an gwapes.”

Y/N giggled from the kitchen, cutting up some oranges for her.

A few moments later, she set a plate in front of Spencer and plate in front of her daughter. “Where my cup, mommy?”

“In the kitchen.” She nodded, going back in there. “Do you want blue or pink juice?”

Spencer admired how they interacted. She was a really good mother and he could tell.

He watched her fill the small sippy cup halfway with pink juice and the other half with water. “Here you go sweet cheeks.” She smiled, setting the cup down in front of her.

Y/N looked at Spencer. “Would you like a glass of wine? Beer?”

Spencer shook his head. “Water’s fine.” He nodded at the glass she had already set in front of him before.

“Oh w-well do you want ice? Or a flavor packet?” She asked, her face a little worried.

“No I’m okay, Y/N.” He smiled. She sighed and nodded with a small smile on her face.

She sat down next to Eloise and kissed her cheek as she chewed on an orange.

.•.•.•.•.•.

After lunch, it was nap time. Eloise started getting cranky.

“You ass!” She cried when Spencer tried to play with her. “Ass! Ass!” Y/N gasped and scooped her up from the couch.

“No, Eloisey! We don’t say that.”

“You say ass all time, mommy!” She giggled.

Y/N sighed and looked at her boyfriend. “I’m gonna… go put her down. She’s tired.”

She walked into the room and left Spencer sitting on the couch.

20 minutes later, Y/N came back out with her hair a mess and sleepy eyes. She stalked over to the couch where Spencer was waiting patiently and collapsed next to him.

“God, she’s a terror when she’s tired.” She laid her head on his shoulder.

Spencer wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

A few minutes passed and that just sat there in silence. “Spencer?” She spoke quietly.

“Hm?” He hummed.

She looked up at him, a small smile graced her lips.

“Thank you for not leaving me.”

—————————

YUUUHHH DAY 5

Thanks to the amazing requester (chose not to be tagged) If you had something else in mind, I’m happy to rewrite!!

I LOVED WRITING THIS ONE

I was also asked to ask YOU if you’d like me to make this I to a series! I definitely will because I loooove this concept!

Feel free to request any fic!! Love y’all

#spencer reid #spencer fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x original female character #spencer x oc #crimimal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds

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noellawrites · 1 year

Text

Become A Bridgerton - Yandere!Colin Bridgerton x reader

requested by: @ilovechickenwings & anon

summary: Colin does something horrible to you on your eighteenth birthday which forces you to marry him.

warnings: rape, noncon, somnophilia, manipulation, drugging, baby trapping, forced marriage, breeding

author's note: this is really dark so please take care of yourself before and after reading <3

As you entered the Bridgerton home, you were struck with awe. Even better, today marked a special occasion. Today, you were celebrating your eighteenth birthday with your best friends, Eloise and Penelope. Your parents had allowed you to have a small sleepover to celebrate your age, and of course Viscountess Bridgerton and the elder brothers would be watching over you three.

You walked in through the foyer to the parlor, where most of the family was gathered.

"Oh, (y/n), welcome and happy birthday," the Viscountess said, embracing you in a warm hug.

"Officially marrying age, how exciting?" Benedict teased as he turned away from his easel and looked at you.

"Leave her alone, Ben!" Eloise groaned. Her and Pen stood up from the settee and hugged you as well.

"Do you ladies have any special plans for tonight?" Viscountess Bridgerton asked the three of you.

"I thought we could roam around the gardens and read a bit. Perhaps play pickleball or another yard game," Eloise said.

Behind you, Anthony and Colin entered the parlor. Hyacinth all but jumped into Anthony's arms, and Colin walked right over to you.

"Happy birthday, (y/n), and congratulations," he added, smiling at you and making intense eye-contact. You hadn't seen him since before he had left on his travels, and you had to admit he was now very handsome.

"Congratulations? What for?" you inquired teasingly.

"You are now marrying age, correct? Your mother told mine that you would be entering society next season."

"Oh, well yes, I suppose. I don't feel ready yet at all," you confessed, twisting a lock of your hair.

"If we want to walk in the gardens, we must leave soon," Eloise urged impatiently.

"Oh, right, sorry. I'll see you later, Colin," you added before being pulled away by your best friend.

Even long after, you were left daydreaming about how tight Colin's shirt looked, allowing you to see the outline of his strong chest. You liked the light facial hair he had grown and the new styling of his hair, which suited him much more. You thought about him even while Pen and Eloise were debating about Lady Whistledown, and all throughout your garden walk. What was this feeling blossoming in your chest?

---

"I'm not ready to be a wife, I feel like I have so much more fun left in my life!" you groaned, stretched out on one of the parlor settees. The Viscountess had allowed you three some time to socialize in the parlor alone after dinner, so you all took the opportunity to get comfortable and talk.

"Being a wife can be fun sometimes," Pen volunteered.

"And how would you know?" Eloise snapped, setting her book aside.

"El!" you scolded.

"There's the marital act, which none of our mothers have explained to us, but it is supposed to feel good. And if you have a nice husband, he might let you enjoy it, too," Pen shrugged. She began to take some of the pins out of her hair, causing red locks to fall around her shoulders.

"The marital act," you shuddered, "those words alone scare me enough."

"Colin, Benedict and Anthony know but they won't tell me. And of course Daphne won't, either. But I assume it has something to do with the process of carrying children," Eloise said.

All of a sudden you heard a loud knock on the closed door. The three of you gasped.

"Bedtime, ladies," Anthony commanded in a stern voice.

"Fine, brother!" Eloise shouted back, rolling her eyes and standing up from the settee she had been laying on.

---

The Bridgerton house had a quite a few guest rooms. It was one of the reasons you enjoyed staying there, as your home was definitely not as fancy. You made your way to a small guest room the maids had made up for you at the order of the Viscountess.

Taking a deep breath, you shut the door behind you and turned on the oil lamp. You changed into your nightgown and began undoing your hair, twisting the pins and decorative ribbons out of the style. Your mother had done your hair in a special style for your birthday.

A slight knock sounded at your door. Who could it be? Perhaps Penelope needed more sanitary napkins.

"H-hello?" you asked, opening the door slightly. Colin.

"Good evening, (y/n). I was wondering if we could talk? I brought some tea for you."

"This isn't a good time, I'm getting ready for bed," you whispered.

"Just a few minutes?"

"Alright," you agreed. Colin closed the door behind him and sat down on the bed. You sat down next to him, taking the tea saucer from his hands and sipping tentatively.

"You never told me, how was Greece?" you asked, looking up at the man beside you. Although he was only twenty-three, he felt like a grown adult compared to you. Even at eighteen, you still felt like a little girl.

"It was beautiful, (y/n). Maybe I'll bring you there someday. Would you like that?" he asked, eyes trained on you as you took another sip of the tea.

You nodded, wanting to speak but finding yourself unable to. You tried to set down the tea saucer but Colin took your hand and raised it up to your mouth again.

"W-what are you--" you stuttered before he made you take another sip.

"Shh, it's okay my love. Just drift off to sleep," Colin urged. After you finished the tea, he helped you lay comfortably on the bed.

You fought to keep your eyes open, but the last thing you saw was Colin staring at you with a sickly smile.

---

You awoke to the sound of birds chirping and the sun streaming through the guest room's shades. As you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, you realize there was a sharp pain in your lower region. It was not yet time for your monthly cycle, but perhaps you were early?

The shooting pain was still there as you hobbled to the washroom, hoping a quick urination might relieve the pain.

You looked into the bowl after you were finished, a small bit of blood there. You must be starting early, there was no other explanation. Maybe Colin knew something, as he was there with you before you fell asleep. You went to sleep a lot quicker than you'd been meaning to, but perhaps it was because you had a long day.

---

About six weeks later, you still had not gotten your monthly cycle since before you'd stayed at the Bridgerton's, aside from the small bit of blood from the toilet. You felt fragile and constantly sick. You looked bigger and your breasts felt heavier. You'd never felt anything like this, and you were scared. Did you have the plague? How could you have even gotten it?

After a few weeks of worrying, your parents were able to get a doctor out to your house to check on you.

The doctor, a stern old man, examined you, asked questions and inspected you thoroughly. When he was finished, he took your parents aside.

"You stupid, stupid girl!" your mother yelled from across the room. You looked at her, confused and surprised.

"What are you talking about?" you asked innocently.

"Who did you have sexual relations with?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about!"

"The marriage act, who did you do it with? Oh my, we must find the boy and ask him to do the honorable thing and marry her. Or else she'll be a soiled spinster!" your father shouted.

"I didn't do the marriage act, I promise! I don't even know what it is, I've never even kissed a boy!"

"If you will not be honest, we must take this into our own hands as soon as possible. You are pregnant, stupid girl," your mother spoke. She yelled back and forth at you with your father, but your brain couldn't comprehend it anymore.

You were confused, having been sick for almost six weeks straight. Six weeks ago was your birthday, when you had fallen asleep by Colin. Could that be the marriage act? You would have to speak with him as soon as possible. How does one get pregnant?

---

"I need to see Colin," you tell the butler urgently once you arrive at the Bridgerton estate.

The butler nods and escorts you to what you assume is Colin's study, as he is sitting there at a desk, writing in his journal.

The butler leaves and you make a guttural noise, alerting Colin of your presence.

"Oh, hello! It's great to see you again, (y/n). I've been expecting you."

"Y-you have?"

"Yes. I heard the doctor was coming to your home to check up on you. I knew it meant my seed had taken."

"What?"

"Marry me, my love. We can travel with our baby and eventually settle down. You will have a luxurious life with me, more than with anyone your parents could pick for you. Come on, (y/n). Become a Bridgerton."

"What did you do to me?" you cry, reaching your hand gently down to touch the tiny bump of your stomach.

"The tea I gave you put you to sleep and boosted your fertility. I picked it up at a bazaar in Greece, when I first had the idea to do this. I consummated our marriage, though a bit early. You would be wise to accept my proposal. This is your only chance at a good life, (y/n)," Colin explained with a slight smirk on his face.

You slid to the floor, dress cushioning your fall. You nod through the tears, in disbelief that Colin had taken advantage of you. You didn't even know what he'd done to you. You weren't sure you wanted to know, either.

#colin bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #yandere bridgerton #yandere bridgerton x reader #dark bridgerton #dark bridgerton x reader

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velvetcloxds · 2 years

Text

A HUSBAND'S DUTY | A.B.

Pairing: husband!anthony bridgerton x wife!reader

Word count: 1.6k words

Warnings: injury, little blood, getting stitches, anthony being an idiot, fem pronouns

Summary: after a little accident in town left you in need of some comfort while getting stitches, anthony fears he may be developing feelings for his wife

A/n: this was actually my very first anthony fic so go easy on me lol

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Anthony was admittedly concerned as he walked into the Bridgerton home, he had received a rather vague letter demanding his return but no more than that, though the cart of the physician that stood idle in front of the front door did not instill him with much relief.

"Whatever is the matter?” He demanded from the youngest Bridgerton brother, Colin looking no more in the know than he was, but a loud cry soon followed the silence and Anthony’s heart sank, though the voice it belonged to had been a rather new addition to his setting, he’d still recognize it without any prompt at all. “Is Y/n hurt?” Anthony added, now more alarmed than he was when he came in and Colin offered him a careful nod, hands reaching for his shoulders to keep him in place when he dared to take off towards you.

“There was a minor accident in town, Y/n tripped on her way into the carriage and managed to cut herself on the wheel,” he explained with an almost calming tone, knowing that despite the practically transparent charade Anthony enacted, there was no denying that the viscount cared deeply for his wife. “It is not as awful as her shouts make it appear, merely a few stitches to her arm, though she seems remarkably unfond of the needle, that is all.”

Anthony considered the words carefully, somewhat relieved that the injury was not as dreadful as the thousands of scenes his mind presented him at your first cry, but he was still uneasy. There was an unreasonable feeling biting at his stomach, it begged him to go to you, be there for you and he’d half the heart to pay it no mind but he was not sure he had enough restraint to do so.

“Eloise and Benedict are at her side, brother, you need not fret,” Colin began, a door creaking upstairs, footsteps fleeing down the hall, and with the bedroom now open to eager ears, he heard your voice even clearer than before, his name being the only thing to truly filter through as you begged for your husband to be brought to you and it was that shrill demand that had something in his chest snap. Colin sighed as he took hold of his brother’s top hat, watching the man strut up the stairs with determination.

“Please, no more,” you cried with your bloodied arm held tightly in place by Benedict, Eloise sat next to you on the bed as you shook your head in objection, resembling that of a child refusing to go to bed and were it not for the circumstance, Anthony would have taken a moment to take note of it, yet he cleared his throat instead. Your eyes found his in an instant, new tears, now of relief, cascading down your cheeks as your husband shrugged off his coat and shoes.

“Thank heavens,” Benedict sighed, carefully releasing your arm from his grip, a silent nod telling Eloise to follow him as he decided to leave you in the capable hands of his brother. “I wish you good luck, brother,” he mused as he patted Anthony’s shoulder, sparing you a sympathetic smile as he did. “She is intent on refusing help,” he added, and the siblings retreated to their own rooms.

“Anthony,” you breathed as he made his way towards you, nodding to greet the physician before climbing onto the bed with you.

“My love,” he cooed, sparing a glance at the worrying cut that traveled along your skin, an irritated wound if he had ever seen one, your squirming doing quite well in aiding the cause. “Have I not told you to be more careful with that spiteful step?” he reprimanded in the same soft tone, brows furrowed in concern as he moved his body behind yours, assuring a tight hold on you as your back rested against his chest.

“You have,” you agreed, nuzzling into his neck as careful hands rubbed at your waist to calm you down. “Please, tell them that there is no need for all this fuss,” you insisted and knew you would not get your way when he tutted lowly, kissing your forehead as you looked up at him with large eyes, a look he had never seen before, though that was but one of many new gestures you had shared within a few moments.

“I believe that despite your fighting, you are nearly free of this torture, merely a few more seconds, and then I shall ensure you never have to see the poor man again,” he bargained, and had you been of sound mind, you would have reprimanded him for attempting to manage your emotions, though you could not deny the serenity you found in his arms- what seemed utterly terrifying a second ago, was now but an uncomfortable excuse to be closer to him than ever before.

“Will you stay?” you sighed with a soft pout, allowing your head to fall further into the crook of his neck to better your view of his handsome face, one that was now adorned with a caring smile that you were sure he had conjured only for you.

“Until the very end, dearest,” he promised with a gentle shrug and you took a second before nodding, closing your eyes in preparation for the prick of the needle, breathing in Anthony’s cologne instead, feeling the soft material of his shirt against your cheek, the almost non-existent strokes of his thumbs against your sides, you were sure that if Benedict or Eloise could see you now they would think you mad. You thought yourself quite mad as well, finding so much solace, so much peace in a man who had married you while promising none, yet he held you so tightly, kept you so close, you felt as though you might shatter once he released you back into a world without his embrace.

You were unsure how long you had allowed yourself to be lost in Anthony before your stitches had been finished, the gentle tone of his voice bidding the old man goodbye summoning you back to your bedroom as you felt a flustered blush creep over your cheeks, gentle eyes looking down at you to ensure that you were in fact alright.

“I should apologize to your siblings,” you noted, daringly leaning further into him as he laughed softly, moving his hands to accommodate your shifting body as one arm cradled your back to keep you against his chest while the other dragged nimble fingers over the cloth that hid your closed wound. “I fear I may have acted fairly out of character.”

“You have,” he agreed and raised a brow when you avoided his gaze, looking down at your own hands as they laid in your lap. “Though, I do not believe any harm was done. In fact, now that my mind has cleared of worry, I can appreciate the terror on their faces upon my arrival.”

“You were worried about me?”

“Terribly. I cannot say that I remember ever experiencing worry quite like it,” he admitted and you felt your fingers entwining with his, you half expected him to pull away, return to the man you had known in the months after your wedding, the one who insisted on boundaries and distance, the one who insisted on pretending he was cold when he was truly just a man terrified to allow love into his life when it could so easily be stolen from him. “If I had any say in the matter, I would wish not to experience it again.”

“I am sorry for worrying you,” you nearly whispered, and he shook his head, smiling down at you as he regained your attention. “I did not know that Benedict had sent for you until I saw you standing at the door, and at the time I was far too relieved to see you to think of anything else.”

“You need not apologize, my love, is it not a husband’s duty to worry about his wife?” he teased, and it was though he achieved something marvelous when a smile sifted onto your lips as well, he knew he had matters to tend to, the day still long as he took note of tasks left abandoned when he came here, though he could not bring himself to leave you after the little ordeal. “How would you like to accompany me to some meetings in town?” he asked before he could stop himself and your face flooded with shock. “I am to finish up for the day and it would give me much more peace of mind if you were with me.”

“I would love to,” you squealed, knowing you ought to be hiding your excitement at such a simple request, but your moments together had left you drowning in greed, you would delight in whatever opportunity that held his presence as a promise. “I shall change first,” you giggled, smiling at him before he guided you out of his arms and onto the floor, watching you as you padded towards the bathroom.

“How fair the wounded bird?” Benedict teased as he stilled in the doorway, leaned up against the doorframe as he took a bite from his apple, brow raised at his brother who looked only at the closed door you had just disappeared into. “Anthony?”

“Something horrible is happening, Benedict,” he breathed, shaking his head as he met his brother’s gaze. “I believe that I am falling in love with my wife.”

all fandoms: @scandalous-chaos @the-blue-forest

bridgerton: @mirclealignr @saintlike78 @wrathspoet @esposamultifandom @murdockcastleslut @littlsstuff @golden-hoax @joline12829

other: @sarahisslytherin @leydileyla

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x yn #anthony bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton one shot #anthony bridgerton oneshot #anthony bridgerton drabble #anthony bridgerton blurb #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x yn #bridgerton fic #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction

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geeks-universe · 1 year

Text

Kiss of Death

Anthony Bridgerton x Assassin!Reader

Society has certain expectations of you. If only they knew of your nighttime activities…

The prestige and promiscuity of London’s high society had never been intriguing to Anthony. He was proud of his place in the world, and would defend his family’s name to his last breath, but he cared not for the bonds of propriety he couldn’t quite seem to slip.

His sister, Daphne, was quite the opposite. She was made for the social elite, like a warrior in a battlefield full of inexperienced children. Sure, there were moments she stumbled, but as much as he wanted to deny it, she was fully capable of navigating the bloodied waters herself.

He watched from afar, a small frown on his face, as eligible bachelor after eligible bachelor approached, only to scurry away a few short minutes later, forlorn expressions born of disappointment. Simon, it seemed, was the only one able to keep her attention, and it bothered the eldest Bridgerton more than he cared to admit.

“That scowl doesn’t suit you,” Violet commented softly, as if she were afraid her voice alone would pull his sister’s affections away from Simon.

“And he doesn’t suit her,” Anthony shot back, not needing to elaborate.

“Must you continue being so negative towards the pair?” His mother sighed, the weight of an exhausted topic between them.

“You don’t know him like I do,” he reminded her, shuffling his feet, debating whether to intervene or not.

“No,” his mother relented, “but I do know love.”

Anthony scoffed, but offered no further comment. He left the remainder of his thoughts unspoken to simmer in the air between them as they watched Daphne and Simon dance with two starkly different expressions.

“Lady Bridgerton,” an unfamiliar maid approached, her voice hushed. “There is a matter that needs attending at your estate.”

Anthony’s brows furrowed. Why would his mother be addressed, and not him? Moreso, what could possibly be important enough to interrupt the evening?

Violet’s gaze flicked over to Anthony, as if she were wondering the same thing, before she nodded solemnly.

“Might I inquire as to the nature of the matter?”

“His majesty, King Aldrich Lancaster of Windhaven, has requested your immediate attention.”

Anthony stood a little straighter at the mention of royalty, but his mother seemed unbothered by the title. An old friend then, he could only guess.

She nodded curtly, excusing herself before Anthony could even begin to protest and offer his company. Whispers began to spread like wildfire, turning a curious event into a fantastical one by the third row of listeners. It reached Daphne before he could, and the questions she wished to ask were echoed in the now suffocating presence of his other siblings.

“King?” Benedict raised a brow.

“What does a king want with our family?” Eloise huffed, rather annoyed at the entire prospect of having to entertain a guest of that caliber.

Anthony rounded the family up before too many acquaintances could set their insatiable nosiness on the Bridgerton children. The carriage he procured soon turned as loud as the party they cruised away from.

“She said King Aldrich?” Daphne asked, emphasizing the name with wide eyes.

“That’s the name,” Anthony confirmed, narrowing his gaze, hoping that his sister might have some inkling on what could possibly be transpiring at their family estate at that very moment.

She hummed, ignoring her two other brothers and Eloise as they loudly proclaimed their thoughts on the matter.

“Mother was good friends with the Queen before she passed,” Daphne offered. “They have one child, if I recall correctly. There have been rumors of the Princess debuting this social season, but not many people believed them to be true.”

“You think the King might have dropped his spoiled Princess off to find a suitable husband?” Anthony repeated grimly, unable to help the small bit of annoyance that had quickly seeped into his tone.

The last thing he wanted to do was act as a chaperone for some outlandish Princess who probably couldn’t see anything past the size of her ego.

Daphne shrugged.

“It’s as plausible as any theory, I suppose.”

Eloise must’ve been mirroring Anthony’s expression, because she loudly proclaimed, “I do not want a Princess in our house.”

“Nor do I,” he echoed the sentiment. “But, we are still a respectable family, so if we must, we will host our childish snob with grace.”

“Since when have you ever been graceful?” Benedict teased, dodging Anthony’s frown as he hopped quickly from the carriage.

Colin wasted no time following him, eager to see what the excitement was all about. Anthony let the others exit first, dreading whatever might be waiting for him behind the door of his family home.

“It won’t be that bad,” Daphne promised, nodding her head to press him forward.

It did the trick. He followed closely behind his sister towards the sound of hushed whispers. One was his mother’s, no doubt.

And the other…

The voice was accented, so lightly he had to strain his ears to hear the occasional lilt, and spoke with more grace than he thought a child capable of.

The Bridgerton children paused outside of the drawing room, too cautious to invade the space, too curious to leave it be. Even at his age, Anthony could not say he did not fear his mother’s reprimands.

“You may enter, if you wish,” his mother called out to them.

He did so.

And the room froze the moment he did.

Sat across from his mother was not a spoiled child, not even a child at all. Your eyes were quick to lock on his- sharp, piercing, yet gentle. Down the soft slope of your nose to the small smile on your lips, there was a kindness about you. Even so, the rigidness of your posture, and the tightness of your flexed fingers showed an alertness Anthony couldn’t quite grasp. Your hair, which shone with the roaring fireplace, was tied back in an intricate style of braids he couldn’t follow. The dress you wore was simple, far too simple for a Princess, and he still found it difficult to take his eyes from your form.

He had all but forgotten to breathe until Daphne nudged his ribs, reminding him of the years of etiquette training he’d undergone.

The steps towards you felt heavy, too heavy, like the sudden fast beating of his heart was begging him to turn around and flee.

“I-” His voice was too high pitched, he decided, and cleared his throat before trying again. “Your majesty,” he bowed, holding his hand out for yours.

Something rose in his throat when you granted him his unspoken wish. Your touch was featherlight, and even still, Anthony was sure it was suffocating him. He tried to touch his lips to your gloved skin, but he could not. The thought was maddening, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, and as he pulled away from you without actually kissing the back of your hand, he couldn’t help but wonder if you noticed.

The glimmer in your eye told him you most definitely did.

“Lord Bridgerton,” you smiled, the barest upturn of lips. “Please, formalities can be saved for the judgemental eyes of society. Your mother was my mama’s closest friend. Call me (Y/N).”

He heard Daphne’s nervous chuckle from somewhere behind him.

“I must apologize for arriving unannounced,” you continued, leaving the direct vicinity of Anthony. There was an elegance in each step that you took, but the way your gaze spread across the room was calculating. “I have business in London, and my father thought it would be a good chance for me to meet prospective matches.”

“My daughter, Daphne, debuted this season. I am sure she would be happy to discuss potential suitors.”

“Thank goodness, I can’t imagine having to sit through such a dreadful evening without good company.” Your eyes shined with a bit of hopefulness, and Anthony decided right there that you were impossible to read.

Eloise let out a very loud snort, followed immediately by a desperate attempt to visually cover her face.

The rest of the Bridgerton’s froze, unsure what to expect of their guest, and just as Anthony, and his mother no doubt, were about to profusely apologize, you let out the most melodic giggle.

Anthony’s stomach flipped at the sound.

“Please, do not let me intrude on the comforts of your own home. I do not enjoy the royal charade anymore than you do.”

Still, there was uneasiness in their actions.

“Well, I must retire for the night. I do hope you will all relax in my presence with time. It’s dreadfully exhausting to act as a proper princess all night.”

And with that parting statement, you left the room with suspiciously quiet footfalls.

“What just happened?” Benedict voiced his thoughts.

Colin couldn’t help but let out an excited laugh.

“We have a Princess staying with us,” Daphne added, both anxiety and elation lacing her tone.

“Well, so much for spoiled Princess,” Eloise muttered, earning an instant glare from Violet Bridgerton. “What? Don’t look at me, Anthony was the one who said it.”

“If I recall, you were not happy with the arrangement either,” Colin added helpfully, giving his sister a wide smile.

She stuck her tongue out at him in a way that was decidedly unladylike.

“You will not disrespect our guest,” the mother of the house stated firmly. “Any of you. She is to be treated with the utmost respect.”

“Why now?” Anthony mused to himself. It seemed that he didn’t do so quietly though, and his mother was quick to reply.

“She is of marrying age,” she shrugged, “And a beauty, at that. I’m sure her father believes now is as good a time as any for her to find a match.”

“I think it will be wonderful,” Daphne finally proclaimed. “Another woman in the house who will enjoy the same fineries as I do.”

“How splendid!” Eloise sighed dramatically, holding a hand to her chest in mock enthusiasm.

“Enough with the mockery, Eloise.” Violet sighed. “Her mother was a dear friend, and I think our family could benefit from having someone so well versed in eloquence.”

Anthony could see the small smile she’d given him clearly in his mind, like the image itself had been burned into his thoughts. Perhaps, it had been too long since he’d called upon Siena. He was getting worked up over practically nothing.

He would see her tomorrow, then, and rid him of his mind perverting innocent memories of a stranger.

He cleared his throat.

“I have business I must continue, I shall see you all in the morning.”

If his exit was abrupt, his family did not comment on it. In fact, they left him alone the entire night, and he didn’t hear so much as a peep out of them until morning.

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #Bridgerton imagine

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frost-queen · 11 months

Text

Shattered dreams (Reader!sister & Bridgerton Siblings)

Requested by: anon 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: You are debuted (around Eloise's age) and have met someone in secret. Unaware to any of your brothers. One faithful day they find out that someone is trying to hurt you for 'not listening & not being a good wife to be'. Hearing of this your brothers boil with anger and come to your aid.

The weather was nice, a soft breeze cooling the warming spring season. You took a deep breath, taking it all in. Spring was your favorite season after all. Not too hot, not too cold. Flowers blooming, birds singing and ducks enjoying their ponds. From afar you could already see the lake. Boats set on them to take a tour. Colin noticed your eagerness tapping you on your hand. – “Would you like a tour around the lake sister?” – he asked with a smile. He knew just how much you’d like that.

You formed a smile, holding your hand on his arm. – “Perhaps later.” – you answered. Colin furrowed his brows a bit confused. Why you wanted to wait stunned him. To be fair you wanted to take a tour on the boats, just with that someone special. With Hubert so to speak. You met him a few balls ago. None of your relatives aware of the meeting.

You were absolutely smitten with him. He’d be the one to save you. To care and comfort himself over you till he drew his last breath. You didn’t know why you kept it a secret. Perhaps because the encounter was so secretive and unproper by any standards set up by the ton you perhaps feared it.

Looking around you wondered where he is. Eyes slowly widening when your gaze met with his from afar. Your heart leaped and fluttered. He slightly motioned with his head for you to come and see him. You couldn’t hide the giddy smile on your lips. Slowly removing your arm from around your brother Colin’s. Colin frowned. – “I must ask mama something.”- you lied before he could question your intentions.

He nodded, turning his posture to Benedict and Eloise who were in a deep conversation. Colin over-heard their conversation, sighing loud with an eye roll. They were so headstrong in bickering about nonsense. You made your way over the green fields, keeping a close eye on your siblings behind you. You didn’t want any of them to see where you were heading. Taking several detours between small gatherings, you hoped to blend in and possible disappear from their eye.

The secrecy send a thrill through your body. Excitement bubbling up in your stomach. You gasped, turning sharply around with your back to them after spotting mama with Anthony. They were chatting with Miss Edwina and Lady Danbury. Anthony looking as if he’d rather chew off his own foot then be present any longer. It made you chuckle a bit at the idea.

You moved further, closer to the lake with your back kept towards them. Dipping through a gathering you hoped to blend in. Some ladies gave you a nasty look for suddenly joining in as if you were to eavesdrop or steal their possible suitor from them. You shook your head at them, letting them know that were not your intentions. You moved on nearing the lake. By the lake you looked confused around. Was he not here? Hearing loud a psst made you jump out of your skin. By your left, lurking behind a tree he stood.

You glanced barely over your shoulder before heading over to him. Hubert took you by your hand, pulling you closer to him. – “Miss Y/n.” – he said kissing your hand. You smiled lovestruck and flattered by the gesture. – “I have counted the days till I’d meet you again.” – he whispered. His compliment warmed your heart if he would’ve asked for your hand you would’ve accepted it within a heartbeat. You looked behind you to the lake. – “Shall… shall we go for a tour?” – you asked eager to go round the lake.

Hubert smiled leaving a kiss higher up your arm. You smiled a bit uneasy hoping no one had seen it as it was against standards. – “As the lady pleases.” – Hubert spoke. He offered you his arm as you took it. Hubert and you came in sight, making your way over to the lake. You kept your head down not wanting any of your siblings to recognize you.

You got on the platform. A boat waiting for you to get on. Hubert got in first. You smiled waiting for him to take your hand and help you down when he didn’t. He just sat himself down staring at the other side of the lake. You smiled sheepishly, lifting a bit of your skirt up. Foot dangling in the air, finding balance to set it down. The boat wobbled a bit when your foot touched the boat. – “Hurry up will you.” – Hubert said with a hastened wave. His comment made you stare stunned at him for a brief second.

Without thinking much further about it, you got onto the boat. Hubert took the oars, rowing the boat away. You took a deep breath, enjoying the ride. He rowed the boat further away from the mainland and out of sight. – “Is it not a lovely day My lord?” – you asked to stir up a conversation. His face made a ‘meh’ expression making you regret your question. – “My lord is everything…” – you started wanting to ask about his sudden mood when he stopped rowing. You blinked perplex when he threw the oars to you.

You caught them, staring confused at them. – “My lord… I do not understand…” – you said, looking back up to him. – “I am tired!” – he hissed out. – “Why don’t you row!” – he insisted upon. Your eyes widened at his request. – “Row… my lord?” – you repeated wanting to be sure you understood. – “Yes!” – he called out bothered. – “I spoke clear didn’t I or is your head filled with novelty nonsense?” – he said loudly startling you.

You quickly shook your head. – “Then start rowing.” – he insisted rubbing his shoulder as if it was sore. You nodded obedient with a nervous swallow. You set the oars in the water, giving it a turn. One oar plopped up from the water, splashing the boat a bit. It made you lose your balance a bit, nearly falling forwards. Hubert caught some water, wiping his vest with disgust. – “Apologies My lord.” – you quickly said. – “I shall do my best.” – you set the oar right, giving it another go. After a few failed attempts you found a steady pace to row the boat.

It didn’t took you long to start huffing and puffing at the weight you needed to row. His and yours. To be honest you weren’t that strong compared to Hubert. – “Can you not go a bit faster?” – he spoke with annoyance. You huffed loud, muscles soring up. – “Yes my lord.” – you obliged like a good girl. You started rowing faster and harder, feeling it immediately in your muscles. A pair in another boat raised their eyebrows at you.

Gritting your teeth you pushed through to row the boat around. – “My lord are … you enjoying … the view?” – you asked out of breath. Cheeks flashing with heat from the work-out. He remained silent, haunting the boat ride with it. Clenching your jaw, you felt yourself weaken with rows. Wondering why he was making you do this labor? You felt the wood roughen your palms.

Biting your lip, you tried to keep in any tears. It was so obvious to anyone he was making you do the labor he should be doing. It didn’t even seem to care him. Suddenly the idea of Hubert was very different. From someone you thought would be yours truly, he sure made you do work hard for it. You were slowing down, unable to keep up with it. Your muscles were so sore it used up a lot of effort to even move them. – “Why are you slowing down? Keep it up girl!” – he made clear.

His words stinging like a sharp knife in your heart. Looking up, you blinked rapidly to stop yourself from crying. – “Yes my lord.” – you replied softly. You groaned quietly rowing harder. Putting more work to your labor. Out of breath, you needed to use both hands to push one oar to make the turn. Grabbing the other one once more, you rowed back. – “My lord… are… are you rested well enough?” – you asked hinting to him to take over. He shook his head. Barely lifting a finger in assisting you. Your shoulders slouched with sadness.

Hardening your expression there even boiled some anger towards him. If this was how married life with him would be, you didn’t want it. Him making you do all the work while he enjoys your torture. You kept rowing as the mainland got in view. The colorful tents overtowering the ton. Hearing their laugher carry over with the wind it made you even angrier.

On the mainland looked Anthony briefly up, eyelashes fluttering to be certain it was you he saw on the lake. His eye narrowed trying to focus on you. – “Mama.” – Anthony said without adverting his eyes from you. Violet stopped talking to Lady Danbury, acknowledging her son. – “Is that Y/n on the lake?” – he wondered wanting to be certain. Violet turned her head. – “Why yes she is.” – she answered with smile. – “With a lord.” – she expressed giddy. Anthony’s eyes widened Violet tapped him on the chest.

“Do you know the lord? What is his name?” – she wanted to know. – “I don’t know.” – Anthony replied slightly worried. His eyes widened even more silencing his mother from asking any more questions, seeing you row. His expression hardened with anger. – “He’s making her row!” – he blurted out angered. He looked back, putting his fingers in his mouth to whistle loud. Colin and Benedict looked his way. Anthony called them over with one firm motion of his head. Colin and Benedict didn’t waste another second, hurrying over to his side.

He pointed at you on the lake. – “That little liar.” – Colin cursed out, clenching his hand. Anthony looked confused with a sharp edge to it at him. – “She told me she needed to ask mama a question.” – Colin filled in. – “Clearly she didn’t.” – Anthony bit back bothered. – “Why is she rowing?” – Benedict questioned. – “Shouldn’t he be rowing? Why is he making her do the labor?” – it didn’t sit right with him. – “I’m going to end this.” – Anthony said heading towards the lake. Benedict and Colin hurrying behind him.

On the lake Hubert put you to a stop. You exhaled loud and exhausted. Perhaps a bit too loud. You offered him the oars, smiling at his gratitude of taking over your task. You furrowed your brows when he pushed the oar down. He came closer making you wary. – “What are you acting upon my lord?” – you wondered. He forced himself onto you, making you push him off. It clearly didn’t set with him. – “Do you not love me?” – he asked or rather demanded.

His question baffled you. – “If you want to become a good wife you’ll listen to me!” – he said coming closer again. – “No!” – you called out, battling him away as he tried to force a kiss on you once more. – “I am just showing you my love!” – he yelled getting angry. – “It isn’t love if you force me!” – you yelled back kicking him against the knee. He groaned in pain, holding his knee.

You crawled further up the boat, wondering how you’d get out of this situation. Heck you’d jump out of this boat if it meant escaping him. Hubert rose standing tall. He grabbed you by your arm, yanking on it. – “ A good wife does as she is told.” – he rose his hand ready to strike you.

Anthony was boiling with rage already undoing one shoe of his to jump in the water. Benedict stopped a pair from getting in a boat so they could get in. Colin calling out your name from afar. You gasped seeing his hand go down ready to hurt you. Looking away, you kicked your foot up out of instinct. You felt his chest under your shoe followed by a splash. Opening your eyes, you stared at an empty boat. You crawled over to the other side, looking over the edge. Hubert resurfacing as he spewed out some water. – “Good thing we aren’t married yet!” – you shouted at him.

You grabbed the oars, finding the last bit of strength of yours to row back to shore. Out of breath you reached the platform. Anthony and Benedict hoisted you up from the boat, wrapping their arms around you. – “Where is he? Who is he?” – Benedict called out angered. You cried against your brothers chest. – “I am sorry… I thought he was the one, but he is not. He was so commanding all of the sudden. Making me row, the silence, the insults…” – you cried out.

Anthony hugged you tighter. Hubert swam to the platform as Colin stepped away to let him get up on it. – “Look what you did!” – he shouted with a stern finger at you. Benedict puffed his chest up. He pushed Hubert hard, sending him back into the water. – “If I see you near my sister one more time I’ll make you scream for mercy!” – Benedict threatened.

Anthony handed you over to Colin who comforted you. Hubert came climbing up the platform once more, chest laying on the edge ready to push himself up. Anthony lowered himself smiling angrily. He pushed Hubert back by his forehead, sending him back down.

“You are lucky there are witnesses or I wouldn’t be so well-mannered!” – Anthony called out. Hubert staid in the water afraid to get out and be plunged back by any of your brothers. Your brothers and you left returning to mama. – “Thank you.” – you told them. – “Family is always a priority. First and upmost.” – Anthony answered.

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eleanor-bradstreet · 1 year

Text

The Fireside

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett Rated: 18+, smut, cockwarming, dirty talk Word count: 3.2k Summary: Benedict is freezing and Sophie does her best to warm him up.

Author's Note: I wrote this as a winter fic, but hey - February is still winter! Happy Valentine's Day! 💝

“What on earth happened to you?” Sophie stood from her chair, letting her book fall to the cushion. Benedict stood in the doorway to their room, pale as a ghost, his black hair somehow turned grey. He walked toward her stiffly, arms hovering away from his body as if he couldn’t stand the feeling of his own clothes. When he moved closer, she realized that his hair was powdered with melting crystals of snow.

“Colin, Eloise and Pen,” he grumbled, stalking toward the blaze burning high in the tiled fireplace. Sophie now saw the drips falling from his fingertips and chin, and realized he was soaked through.

“But you went for a ride with Anthony and Kate. How did they get involved?”

“They were waiting for us when we got back. They had crafted the largest arsenal of snowballs I have ever seen. We didn’t stand a chance.” He frowned and crouched before the flames, holding out his hands, which were white and shaking.

“Oh?” Sophie couldn’t hide the smirk that crept across her face, so covered it with her hand, trying to look intent on his story.

“They were brutal,” Benedict said glumly, staring into the fire. “And I’m guessing out of some sense of familial propriety, they went easy on Kate and Anthony. I was the primary target. They didn’t just pummel me to the point I nearly fell off my horse, they did their best to drown me in the snow when I tried to retreat.”

“How awful,” Sophie was choking back laughter and silently impressed with the dedication of her brother and sisters-in-law. She knew that the Bridgerton siblings could always be counted upon for shenanigans when they gathered at Aubrey Hall over the Christmas holidays, but this was the first time she had seen Benedict bearing the weight of a prank. It was hilarious and adorable simultaneously, and her love for her in-laws swelled.

Benedict looked up and saw her trying to stifle herself. “You think this is funny?” He asked with mock annoyance.

All she could do was nod as she snorted behind her hand.

“Well, let’s see how you like it.” With a mischievous gleam in his eye he leapt up and captured her in his arms and immediately she felt the cold and wet seeping through. Squealing, she jumped away and managed to get her laughter under control.

“We really must get you out of those clothes.” She chuckled, brushing the last of the snow out of his hair.

Smiling but nodding wearily, Benedict peeled off his jacket and Sophie hung it in a corner where it began to drip a puddle onto the floor. He then moved to the buttons of his deep green waistcoat but his fingers were so slippery and stiff with cold that they slid helplessly. Sophie was reminded of the night they were reunited, so many years ago when he rescued her from the Cavender party and she had put him to bed with a fever. She had had to undress him then, when it was scandalous for her to do so. In the time since, it had grown to be one of her most favorite and frequent activities.

“Darling, let me,” she said softly, working top to bottom to slip each button loose. He grinned down at her gratefully, but she could see his teeth practically chattering, and could feel the cold pouring off of him. She felt a stab of concern. “You really are freezing, aren’t you?”

She knew her husband would never admit to a weakness out loud, but he gave her a lopsided smirk and quirked his head in such a way that communicated an affirmative. It was still comical how he found himself in this position, but she wanted to ensure his well being. The holidays would be dampened if someone came down with pneumonia, after all.

After she pulled the waistcoat down his arms, she pushed her chair closer to the fireside and instructed him to sit. Then she gathered a blanket from the bed and draped it around his shoulders. Benedict’s brows tilted upward in that gentle way that expressed his gratitude and happiness, and she felt her heart skip. She knelt in front of him and pulled off his boots and stockings. He had beautiful feet. Every part of her husband was beautiful, it was almost infuriating. Sophie had an aversion to feet, even her own. She had spent so much time polishing others’ shoes that she just wanted to avoid thinking about them anymore. Except his. Like the rest of him, they were strong and tendoned, but still slender and elegant. She loved to massage them, and took them into her hands to chafe his icy skin.

He tilted his head back with a groan. “God, Soph, thank you.”

Switching to his hands, she pulled them into her own and rubbed them gently, admiring his lovely long fingers as she worked over his knuckles. “We must thaw you out, Mr. Bridgerton.” The sweet smirk she gave him spread a warmth through his chest and he leaned forward to kiss her. Sophie couldn’t resist the press of her husband’s lips, but a chill ran down her spine when he pulled away.

“Benedict, your lips are frozen.” And then something exciting and oh so wicked flashed through her mind. Still holding his hands in her own, she arched a brow and looked up at him through her lashes. “I suppose I must kiss the life back into them.”

Then she was in his lap, her hands around his neck as she massaged his lips with her own, trying to stir them back to warmth. Benedict let out a happy moan, surging into her kiss, certain that her tongue was the most effective tool to invigorate him. He wrapped his arms around her and she shuddered. He was still cold, his shirt and trousers damp with melted snow, the press of his nose and fingers spreading a chill into her skin. It was like kissing a marble statue, but she couldn’t deny there was something titillating about it, the shock of ice competing with the familiar heat stirring inside.

Wordlessly, as their kisses grew deeper, she slid the blanket he was wrapped in back against the chair, then pulled his shirt over his head. It always hitched her breath when she saw his naked torso, so lean and muscular, sprays of freckles across his pale collarbone. Tentatively, she placed her palms on his chest. His skin was clammy and he sighed contentedly.

“You are so warm, Sophie.” He breathed as she glided her hands over him, pressing, chafing, unsure if she was actually helping him. She could feel desire knotting in her gut and just wanted to touch him, to admire him and feel his muscles tense beneath her fingers. The fire was burning hot beside them, and Benedict’s eyes were growing darker as he watched her. She wanted him, and she knew the best way to heat him up.

Taking his stiff fingers in hers once again, she stood and placed them above the neckline of her dress, her skin prickling at his cool touch. Benedict’s jaw locked, and she couldn’t tell if it was from arousal or the cold. Slowly, she guided his hands outward to her shoulders, snagging her dress beneath their joined fingers and letting it slide down her frame and pool on the floor. Benedict swallowed visibly, staring up at her and letting her puppeteer his aching fingers to undress her, as she repeated the same motion with her chemise.

“Sophie,” his voice was low and needy, his pupils black and wide.

“Warm your hands, my love,” she smiled coyly at him. “Just here,” and she slid his fingers up beneath her stays to hold her just below her breasts. While she pulled the laces loose behind her back, Benedict held still, feeling the swell of her ribs as she breathed, basking in the heat of her body under her clothes. Against his frigid skin, she felt searing.

When her stays slipped down her arms, she repositioned his hands, cupping them over her breasts. When he encircled her, she let out a soft moan, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. Benedict felt her nipples peak against his palms and cursed under his breath. Lord above, where did he find such a woman? Not only a breathtaking beauty, but one whose imagination in their intimacies never failed to surprise him. He was indeed warming up now, feeling his blood start to rush into all of his extremities.

As he held her breasts, Sophie raised her foot to his knee and bent to slowly roll the stocking down her leg. An animal noise rose from the back of his throat, and he found he had regained enough dexterity in his fingers that he was able to massage her soft flesh, kneading and tweaking, coaxing delightful noises out of her as well. Sophie continued with the other stocking, then shimmied her underskirt off of her hips and onto the floor. She stood now between his legs, fully nude and glowing in the firelight. She was precisely the flame that Benedict needed to warm himself by.

In a few fluid motions, Sophie knelt again, unbuttoned his trousers and peeled them off of him, leaving him naked and breathing raggedly in the chair, staring up at her, completely under the control of her whims.

“How are your fingers now, Mr. Bridgerton?” A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

Benedict’s eyes were hazy. “Nearly back to full strength.”

“Nearly?” Sophie tutted. “An artist needs use of his fingers more than anything. We must warm you more quickly.”

Then she moved back toward him, straddled her legs across his and lowered herself to sit on his thighs, wrapping the blanket back around his shoulders. Benedict watched with rapt attention as she pulled his right hand between their bodies and down to the apex of her legs, pressing his palm into her slick folds. She felt on fire.

Sophie groaned, fighting against the roll of her eyes as the chill faded from his skin, spreading into her and melting against the heat of her desire. Then she brought his left hand to her mouth, guiding his two longest fingers down her throat.

Benedict made a strangled noise as he watched her in awe, gently rocking her soaking mound against the heel of his one hand while she sucked the fingers of his other as deeply and diligently as if it were his cock. His hands were alive again, well and truly thawed by the pulsing wet muscles of her cunt and her throat. But he didn’t want to tell her that. He wanted her to keep going. He needed it.

When he rasped out her name, she released his fingers from her mouth with a wet pop. “Is this helping, my love?” She teased. “Are you warming up?”

“Starting to,” he wheezed, desperate for more of her attentions.

“I see,” her brow furrowed playfully. “Let me hold you close, my darling. I think that will do the trick.”

He nodded eagerly, then hissed when her hand wrapped itself around his cock, which had been rising to stand between them. With practiced motions, she smoothed his skin up and down his length, squeezing and tugging precisely the way he liked, though much slower than he wanted. His breath escaped in needy huffs as she stroked him, and in moments he was as rigid as steel.

“My poor, frozen Benedict,” she cooed, her voice somehow both comforting and deeply sinful. “I will help you. I will keep you warm.” Then she shifted forward, releasing his hand pinned between them, and sank herself onto his cock, easing him in to the hilt.

The both moaned loudly, unable to contain themselves. Benedict felt himself wrapped in molten bliss, the heat from Sophie’s core radiating out through his every vein. Though his limbs were still stiff with cold, his nerves were set alight, his every sense tuned to the warm, soft goddess enveloping him.

“Soph,” he panted. “My knees still need a minute. I don’t…”

“Shhh,” her arms wrapped around his shoulders and she drowned his concerns with a kiss. “You don't need to do anything. We are not going to move. I am just going to sit here and warm you until you are fully recovered.” She pressed her torso even tighter against his and spread her arms down the muscles of his back under the blanket.

“Your back is still cold, my love,” she whispered in his ear as she began to swirl her hands, chafing his skin with a rhythm that threatened to pull him into a trance.

Benedict muffled a contented sigh into the crook of her neck and dropped his head to her shoulder, melting into her, letting her hold him, wrapped in her arms and legs and body. He pulled the blanket around her back to envelop them both, cocooning them with the heat they built together. Sophie worked her hands across his back and neck and thighs and scalp, massaging sensation into every inch of his body, coaxing his muscles awake to find themselves delightfully entwined with her. The melted snow in his hair sent one last glistening drop down his jaw and she licked it away, tasting the metallic effervescence of snow, mixed with the familiar salt of his skin.

For half an hour, they simply held each other, murmuring sweet nothings into each other’s skin and lapsing into long, languorous kisses where their tongues danced. Benedict felt his entire body steadily returning to life. Better than a hot bath, his wife warmed him from the inside out. First he thawed, then he simmered, and now he was approaching a blaze, as his arms found the strength to grip her more tightly and his thighs, no longer numbed, felt the wet heat of her womanhood dripping down over his cock. He stirred in her arms more and more, and his kisses grew hungrier, more forceful.

While at first Sophie triumphed in the coquettish act of sitting speared on Benedict’s cock and focusing her attention on the rest of his body, with each passing minute it became harder and harder to ignore the delicious ache building inside her. He was seated so tightly within her, pressing all the way to her cervix, stretching her so pleasurably. His slight movements, even just his deep exhales while she massaged him, caused him to drag slightly inside her and it was all she could do not to cry out each time. She had grown so wet, so swollen, just from the prolonged solid weight of him, that she was now throbbing.

He was fully restored, that was evident, as his breath grew harsher and she felt the heat rising between them both inside the blanket. The poor, sodden man frozen with snow had melted entirely, burned away by the devilish seducer who haunted her bed and unlocked all of her desires.

As Benedict wound his fingers into her hair and plunged his tongue into her mouth, her nipples rasped hard against his chest. She moaned and clenched around him, hurtling close to the edge.

“Soph,” he groaned, bracing her in his arms and bending her back toward his lap, ready to pummel into her.

“Ben, wait!” She gasped, clutching at his nape. She was flushed, her lips bruised from kissing, and she felt so close to the brink that she was nearly in tears. “Don’t move. I’m nearly…I’m so close, just from…just from the feel of you. Please, please darling. Finish me…finish me with your words.”

Benedict’s mind spun. It was both humbling and outrageously flattering that he could bring her to this point without even moving. The thought that he could talk her into a climax and feel her come apart as she lay still in his arms made his cock twitch excitedly. He lowered to pin their bodies together and rumbled directly into her ear.

“My magnificent little wife, are you already about to go to pieces?”

Her fingers pressed harder into his neck as she whimpered in reply.

“And I haven’t even moved yet. I haven’t fucked you properly. You have just been toying with me like the minx that you are, sitting on my cock, holding me in your beautiful cunt.”

Needy noises escaped through Sophie’s nose and she began to gulp for air.

“But it worked, my lovely,” Benedict continued, trailing his lips softly down her neck. “You warmed me through. You took care of me. But it seems you are now the one in a state of distress. And you won’t let me move? You won’t let me fuck that need out of you?”

His voice reverberating through her whole body, Sophie cried out and began to squirm. Benedict tightened his grip on her like a vice, pressing her flush against himself.

“Ah ah ah, stay still. Don’t break your own rules.” He whispered fiendishly. “I want to see if this works too.” He nibbled on her earlobe. “If you are so mad for my cock that just feeling it will do you in. Are you that much of a wanton, Sophie? Is your sinful body that hungry for me? You are burning up…”

“Ben…” she panted, eyes screwed shut. “Please…”

“I can feel you quivering darling, getting so, so tight. God, you feel so bloody good. You’re going to do it aren’t you? You clever little thing. You’re going to come on me right now, and I didn’t even have to lift a finger. You love my cock that much, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Sophie squeaked, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes as she held her breath. She was climbing the last steps to the peak, teetering on the edge. The heat between them was so intense, the tight weight so torturous.

“Then prove it.” He growled. “Come on my cock with your swollen little cunt. Give in, Sophie. Make me feel it.”

And she broke, following his commands as if her body was an orchestra that he conducted. With a scream she arced against him, fingernails clawing into his neck, her whole body jolting and fighting the hold of his arms. Her channel gripped him, hard and repeatedly, the sensation so strong, white lights danced before her eyes. Benedict could feel every inch of her, every ripple and every shuddering breath washing over him. Almost in alarm, he felt himself give way too. Rocking her against his hips and moaning into her breastbone, he felt her milk him for all he was worth. The pulses of their muscles echoed through one another, skimming aftershocks as they clung together. The only sounds in the room were their uneven breaths and the gentle crackle of the fire.

Sophie lolled in Benedict’s arms, a satiated smile breaking out across her face. “I trust you are feeling better now, husband?”

The next day, much to everyone’s surprise, Benedict insisted on a rematch snowball fight, and Sophie joined in as well. Though they lost sorely to the other couples, they didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, they were smiling as they headed indoors, soaked and snow-crusted head to toe.

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp

#bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett #benophie #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #sophie beckett fanfiction #benophie fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #benophie smut #bridgerton smut

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weirdmorefics · 6 months

Note

bridgerton sister ran away just before the beginning of her season and discovered by Colin in St Petersburg under a fake identity and bought back home

The Familiar Barmaid

x bridgerton!sister

Pronouns- She/her

Warning- Mother issues

Word Count- 933

Summary- The reader wants to be an author, but unfortunately, she has a season to get back to.

Y/n Bridgerton had never dreamed of being married like her other sisters (Eloise excluded). Y/n loved reading, she imagined her own stories and stashed her written stories under her bed. She craved to be an author like the ones who made the books she admired. Her mother however had other plans for her since day one; come out, become the diamond of the season, and be courted by a handsome gentleman I loved who hopefully had an amazing title. I never craved that life I much preferred to live in the fantasy worlds I created in my head. This leads us to my escape from the Bridgerton household the night before my season.

I had packed the most important things to me; my writings, my favorite books, and the leftover money I had been saving from my gown fittings. I quietly took my horse out of the stable at night and rode the horse to a place no one would know Y/n Bridgerton.

I rode my horse for as far as she could go taking breaks in dingy inns that my Mother wouldn't dare to step foot in. By the time I was in St Petersburg, I was already short on funds. It was a better place to settle than most it had gorgeous views and so many new things to write about. As luck would have it the bar in town was looking for a barmaid. Unfortunately, the bar owner could tell very easily that I had no experience. Shockingly he gave me a chance! He said I reminded him of his daughter who recently married so her room above the bar was also available. It felt like fate like I had been sucked into my very own fantasy book.

I spent my days writing in the nearby park and the nights dealing with town drunks. Honestly, they weren't too bad just demanding their drinks. I learned quickly and I became their favorite barmaid only because I made the drinks the fastest but it still made me feel accomplished. It was a bittersweet feeling to have the town drunks appreciate me more than my mother but at least I was appreciated.

I felt true relief once the season was over no longer worried they would find me and make me a last-minute entry. The bar was just closing and I was washing the grimy tables when the chime of the door startled me. The man was bundled his scarf nearly covering his whole face.

I turned to him and frowned politely "I am so sorry sir we are just closing."

The man gasps once he hears me speak "Y/N?"

I quickly back up accidentally sending a chair to the ground with a loud thud, "I think you have the wrong woman sir."

My boss exits the backroom at the commotion, "This fella bothering you Rose?"

"Are you serious Y/n? Rose? Be a little more original," the man unwraps his scarf and my fists immediately tighten.

"Colin, what are you doing here?" I practically growl.

"You know this man Rose? Seems a little too uptight for you, but I am not here to judge your taste in suitors." My boss chuckles finding his comment hilarious.

Colin gags, "That is my little sister I'll have you know! And I am bringing you right home Mother has been worried sick about you!"

I roll my eyes "She probably did not even know about my absence until Lady Whistledown announced it. How did she cover it up? Am I in the States visiting my cousins?"Colin's face turns beat red which tells me I am right.

Colin tries to change the subject, "Your sisters miss you dearly, Daphne was devasted you were not there for her wedding."

I gasped, "Daphne is already married! The season just ended!"

Colin rubbed his arm, "There were a lot of issues with this season Y/n… honestly we all could have used some of that Y/n wisdom. I especially could have used some of that wisdom." He mumbled the last part seeming very embarrassed to admit it.

"Oh, Colin… I am so sorry. I miss my siblings all dearly but I am not meant for the home carer life. I am meant to be out there writing about anything I can get my hands on." I gesture to the world around me.

"That is one good thing about your departure, no one thinks you are Lady WhistleDown anymore," He smirks.

"Oh what a pity I did like causing fear and scaring the men off with the promise to write about them," I smile.

Colin sighs, "I will make you a deal Y/n, travel with me during my studies. You can explore the world that way, but you must write to Mother and the rest of your siblings and let them know you are safe."

"You know she or Anthony will just drag me back home," I frown.

"Not with me by your side, I am sure I can convince Anthony and she can convince Mama." He smiles as the plan begins to form in his head.

I smiley widely, "You have yourself a deal Colin Bridgerton."

He smiles back as my boss lets out a few stray tears, "You truly are just like my daughter, just as stubborn and hot-headed. Be sure to visit your welcome back anytime."

I gave him a side hug, "Oh boss you big old softie."

Colin laughs, "Y/n you are truly something."

"Why thank you," I take a bow. "Shall we take our leave?"

"We shall," Colin smiles.

#bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x sister reader #bridgerton request #bridgerton reader insert #colin bridgerton x you #colin bridgerton x reader

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fayes-fics · 3 months

Text

When The World Is Free: Chapter 5 - Sans Y Penser

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none really... mildly angsty situations, some flirting and interesting proposals.

Word Count: 2.9k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. HERE BE PLOT. A lot of things happen in this one afternoon. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Le Havre, September 1939

The port city of Le Havre is bustling with travellers hauling suitcases and steamer trunks, all walks of life converging on this point of exit. You weave through the crowds from the train station as a trio, headed for the bright red awnings of the company sailing to the USA. Benedict and Eloise hang back as you approach the ticket window.

“Name?” the brusque man in the booth opens with a crisp American accent.

“Y/n y/l/n,” you smile politely.

“You are not on the manifest,” he sighs after a pause to scan down the paperwork, impatience colouring his tone.

“But I must be,” you frown, “I was given this here…”

You push your ticket under the window, clearly marked with today’s date.

“Fraudsters,” his economic response.

“But… they were from your company? Outside your offices in Paris? And wearing your company livery? They… They said I could bring forward my sailing date from August to today. They took my original ticket and gave me this! It looks the same!” Panic rises in your voice with each sentence, dread churning behind your ribs as you realise you have likely been duped.

“I'm sorry, ma’am, but that is not a valid ticket,” is his monotone reply.

“Oh god. What can I do? May I buy another ticket now?!?”

His responding laugh is a loud bark, “Hah! Ma’am, we are booked up for weeks in advance. There is a long line every day of people hoping for last-minute availability,” he signals to a line of weary-looking, luggage-laden folks under a makeshift shelter.

“But I….” you feel your eyes watering and dread in the pit of your stomach like you are falling down an endless chasm.

“Ma’am, please step aside; I need to ensure valid passengers can board this ship…” he warns in a tone that is wholly without sympathy.

With a weak nod, you stumble away, back towards Benedict and Eloise. As you draw closer, their faces are a picture of concern, realising something is amiss. As you tearfully recount what happened, Benedict seethes, and Eloise wraps her arm around you, looking pained.

“I’m going up there. This is unacceptable!” Benedict grits out, righteous indignation fizzing from his very being.

You have to hold out a hand to physically stop him. “It's likely no use,” you appease.

His ire deflates a fraction at your hold on his coat sleeve. “At least let me try, y/n,” he modifies after a few beats.

“Alright,” you relent, dropping your hand, “but I do not expect a different answer.”

You and Eloise cling to each other as you watch Benedict remonstrate with the same man and then a different one at the window. All the while, your stomach is in knots, equal parts fear and hope.

It's five or more minutes before Benedict returns to you, his face pinched.

“I was not successful,” he screws his mouth, looking away as if he cannot meet your eye as he says it. “They don't seem to care that criminals are posing as agents for their organisation,” he rubs his eyebrow in irritation. “I would report it to the police, but it's not their jurisdiction here, and it still does not solve our dilemma…”

“Thank you anyway…” you breathe, “for trying at least…”

There is a long silence as the three of you stand there, stupified by the conundrum before you. The chime of a clock on the harbour building breaks your thoughts.

“It's 3pm. Your sailing back to England is in less than an hour. You should go. You two leave without me,” you demure.

“NO!” they both exclaim in almost comic sibling unison.

“I’ll be fine, seriously.”

“I’m not leaving you alone here for god knows how long until there is room on a ship to America. You can’t be alone. This isn’t Paris; this is a port city. It’s definitely not safe,” Eloise rattles off, looking at you imploringly.

“She’s right,” Benedict concurs. “You were safe in Paris together before the war. You are not safe here. A beautiful young woman. You are a target for thieves or even worse. You cannot stay here alone.”

You try your hardest not to let Benedict calling you beautiful derail your whole thought train, but it’s futile. Your mind is scattered like a pile of wooden toy railway coaches.

“I... I could return to Paris?” You finally suggest after what feels like an eternity of buffering. “I could call to check for last-minute availability every morning. It’s only a couple of hours by train. I’ll be always packed and ready to go…” you argue, not as yet realising the naivety behind your own idea.

“Paris will be the first target for Hitler’s invasion,” Benedict says gravely. “It could be much worse to remain there…”

“So what am I to do? I’m damned if I do, and I’m damned if I don’t…”

“There is only one solution, and that is for us to remain here as well until you can secure passage out of the country,” Benedict shrugs.

“Agreed,” Eloise nods emphatically as you go to protest.

“There are many more sailings back to England, and tickets are easier to come by,” Benedict points out. “We can move our tickets up. At least by a few days until we can devise a plan.”

“Wait… if there are no ships to America, why don't you come to England with us?” Eloise pipes up in a lightbulb moment.

“I have nowhere I could stay…”

“Nonsense! You will stay with us at Aubrey Hall. Won’t she, Benedict?”

“Oh yes, of course. There are plenty of spare rooms,” he assures.

“Gosh, umm... Maybe? I…” you hesitate. The whiplash of the last few minutes and the generosity of their offer momentarily overwhelm you. “That's very generous of you. The problem is I don’t know for how long it would be, or even if I should. My parents only agreed to me living in Paris under the watchful eye of Solene. This… this is entirely other…”

You startle as Benedict places his hands on your shoulders, pulling your attention to his sincere expression. “Y/n, you need to worry less about what your family thinks and more about yourself - what you need and your safety. This is escaping impending war; it’s a completely different circumstance from how you arrived here. The decisions you make right now have to be selfish and unburdened by expectations. It’s easy for others to judge from the distance of safety. But look around you. This town is teeming with people clambering to leave the country before an invasion. We do what we have to in unpredictable circumstances to survive.”

“You sound like a soldier,” you murmur.

“It’s what my father was,” he replies, releasing his grip but not moving away. “As a very young man in The Great War. He was lucky to survive, being an officer away from the front lines, but he taught me many things before he died. And one was about always making the smart choice if you can see one, even if it feels uncomfortable. The smart choice here is to escape by any means necessary. We all know Hitler has his sights set on France, especially Paris, as the figurative and cultural capital of Europe. You must get out. You must come with us.” You are captivated by his hazy eyes as he speaks, your heart beating fast as his face and voice grow softer. “Please. I could not live with myself if we left you behind,” he admits in a much quieter tone, but the plea is no less impassioned.

You cannot help it. You stare up at him, transfixed. Stanley has never been so eloquent. Or indeed so invested in your well-being.

“Alright…” your hesitancy soft, “but you must let me pay you for my ticket…”

His face seems to light up at your acquiescence. “One day… maybe,” he smiles.

And so that is what he does - leaves you and Eloise ensconced in a nice bistro overlooking the harbour with a large bottle of white wine as he walks over to the ticket office for the ferry company and swaps their tickets for a few days hence and purchases an additional ticket for you, steadfastly refusing to tell you the cost for it even for many weeks hence.

While you are in the ladies' room, Eloise strikes up a conversation with a young man in uniform at the adjacent table; you fondly roll your eyes as you retake your seat and leave them be. Your gaze, however, is never far from the window, to where Benedict last left your line of sight, somehow anxious for his return. When he reappears, striding purposefully towards the cafe, your chest flutters hard, his coat swishing around his legs, his hat at an attractive slant. If there is one thing you swear you could spend a lifetime doing, it’s watching Benedict Bridgerton just… be.

“Any luck?” you ask as he arrives and doffs his hat, taking a seat on your other side, throwing an exasperated glance at his little sister and the uniformed man.

“We are set to sail Thursday,” he smiles and signals for the waiter, ordering a glass of Beaujolais. “I also stopped in the post office to call Solene. She has said we can stay as long as we need to at her sister’s cottage a few miles from town.”

“Oh, that's wonderful news!” your shoulders relax for the first time in what feels like hours. “But wait, I remember she said there is only one bedroom,” you point out. “You’ve been sleeping on our sofa for days now… you deserve a bed. I’ll take the sofa…”

“No. Also, I’m not sharing a bed with my sister,” he shudders, “she kicks in her sleep!”

“Oh, thanks. So I guess you want me to have bruised shins, then??” You laugh with gusto, the ricochet day making all your emotions heightened, seemingly bouncing from one extreme to another. Right now, a strange bubble of joy at this lighthearted exchange.

“Not at all. In fact, I’d happily share with you instead to save your legs from the abuse!”

You know it’s said in jest, the comedic relief of the moment evident on his face, but still, a shot fires in your chest at the thought of sharing a bed with him. You decide to make light of it, even as your heart quickens.

“How do I know this kicking is not a problem that runs in the family? And you’re way stronger than her!”

“You can tie me down if it would make you feel better!” he chuckles loudly.

You flush all over, the very thought so beguiling yet scandalous. And yet you cannot stop your mouth running away with you, this flirtatious banter too tasty to resist, the wine you’ve been drinking far too quickly for the last half hour loosening your lips.

“I think you would enjoy that far too much, Mr Bridgerton,” you volley back, raising an eyebrow with a giggle.

His cheeks turn the most adorable shade of pink even as his eyes dilate rapidly, a corner of his tongue flicking out to pull his bottom lip under his teeth. It makes you want to sink your teeth right there, this impulse to be so physical with someone discombobulating. You've never had such errant, feral desires for Stanley.

“You're probably right…” he rumbles quietly after a pause.

You dare to hold his gaze even though you know it’s a mistake. This nightmare of a day makes you uncaring of propriety. He looks as wild as you feel inside, a glint in his eye that is at once permission and danger.

“Theo here has been telling me all sorts of helpful information,” Eloise leans in, breaking the spell between you, a slight slur in her voice from her wine.

Theo nods to you and Benedict. On closer inspection, he appears to be in a British soldier uniform.

“I have to get back on duty,” he explains apologetically as he rises from his seat, “but I hope the information I’ve provided to your sister here will help.” He adds with a tiny salute.

You look surprised at Eloise as she just shrugs. You thought her up to her usual flirtatious banter, not researching. Benedict looks impressed too. You both, however, don’t miss the note he slips to Eloise before he takes his leave. Perhaps not purely intelligence gathering, then.

“Theo is helping process entry to Britain for foreign nationals wanting safe harbour. The numbers have spiralled since the war was declared.” She begins to explain when he is out of sight. “There is sadly a waiting list. But there are a few ways to skip the queue…

“Those being?” Benedict prompts before you can.

“Having family relatives residing in Britain already or, top of the pile, being the spouse of a British national.”

You slump your shoulders. “I have no relations there. Uncle Robert was visiting, but he was already at sea returning to America when the war was declared,” you explain, wishing he had stayed a few weeks longer.

“I wonder if we can find any paperwork forgers around?” Eloise ponders aloud.

“Eloise,” Benedict's tone is one of brotherly warning and disapproval, “we will not be taking that route.” his tone striking a chord of finality.

“But… how else can we get her into the country without bending the rules?” she exclaims at him, frustrated, gesticulating.

“I’m thinking…” Benedict grouses back, rubbing his chin and looking deep in thought.

Eloise leans back in her chair and twists her mouth into a pout. She takes a swig of wine before twisting to you and casually making a suggestion that flips your entire being.

“You could marry this one,” she jokes, shrugging and gesturing at Benedict.

Your eyes dart to Benedict and his to you. A tidal wave of a hundred different feelings crashing through you at once.

“I’ll do it…” he offers, quick and quiet.

“El, don't be ridic…” your denial, spoken over his, dies on your tongue as you process what he said.

You can't help it, you gape open-mouthed at him. As does Eloise.

“You would?” you stutter.

He nods, mien sincere, but you could swear there is more, too, a rousing intensity.

“I was joking, brother,” Eloise frowns.

“It's the only solution that guarantees her passage out of France,” he argues, “that's the most important thing here…”

“But marriage? That is such a sacrifice… I could never ask that of you…” you shake your head, even as your stomach feels like a rollercoaster.

“That's why I'm offering, so you don't have to ask,” he shrugs as if this is not a big deal. “It is not me who has to make the sacrifice. It is you who has an intended…”

Stanley.

Your face falls as you think of the consequences. Marrying Benedict, if only for escape, would wound Stanley beyond belief. Your father, both your parents, in fact, would vehemently disapprove.

“We can annul it as soon as we get to England…” he assures.

“French marriages can be annulled, brother, yes, but in France. Not in England,” Eloise pipes up, ever the font of knowledge.

“Then I will grant you an immediate divorce,” he amends.

“I can't believe you are taking me seriously,,,” Eloise mutters, but both of you seem to ignore it.

“I’d still be a divorcee, damaged goods as my father would say…” you wince at the phrase but know it to be accurate in Long Island, as much as you hate it.

“I don't know how else to help you escape, y/n,” Benedict implores, slightly alarmed.

“Keep thinking!” Eloise interjects hotly. “I won't have my poor best friend here shackled to a Bridgerton brother. She has done absolutely nothing to deserve such a sentence, however short.”

“Eloise!” you scold without thought, “don't be so rude about your brother! He's wonderful….”

You immediately flush with embarrassment as she looks at you suspiciously. You dare not even look over to the subject of your praise, but you can feel the weight of his stare.

“But umm yes, let's keep thinking…” you mumble, embarrassed, looking down and picking at your cuticles in your lap.

“I need a bloody cigarette,” Eloise pronounces, suddenly standing up, her chair scraping loudly over the tiled floor.

“Sister, you do not smoke,” Benedict frowns up at her, again with that air of elder sibling forbearance.

“Sometimes I do,” she shrugs, her tone defiant, “and this situation definitely warrants one.” She jabs her finger by her side to emphasise her opinion.

With that, she marches up to the bar and orders one but does not return to the table, shooting you both a look before heading to the wall outside and sitting alone, staring out at the horizon and taking deep draws.

You and Benedict sit in silence, heads bowed in thought for what feels like an age, only interspersed with small sips of wine.

“I honestly can't think of another way out of this mess…” Benedict sighs, breaking the hush. “But I understand it's such an enormous decision; you need time to consider it.”

You are scared by how much your heart and mind are screaming, ‘I really don't, I will marry you,’ even if your gut churns with the idea of how you will explain it to everyone. You look up, and again, those blue eyes bore into yours. Sincerity, concern, empathy, and something that looks dangerously like desire. You could get lost in that look. Forever.

“I’ll do it…” you whisper, knowing you are playing with fire… and yet yearning to be burned.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

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cosmic-whispers · 1 year

Text

New Beginnings (Kisses: Part 4) - Azriel x Reader

Series Summary: A series of one-shots highlighting significant kisses throughout your relationship with Azriel. Part 4 aka THE kiss.

Warnings: fluff, suggestiveness, some light angst

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: Hello everyone!! I hope you all enjoy the final part of this little miniseries, I had so much fun writing it! This was supposed to be ready on time for @starfallweek, but the last 3 weeks have been really hard on me and I wasn’t able to work on it at all. Please let me know your thoughts, love you all!!

The light, crisp breeze carried the scent of freshly blooming flowers through your window. The bright, colorful flowers were waking from their winter slumber and Velaris had never looked more beautiful. The grass turned lush and green, and vibrant wildflowers decorated the city’s corners. Spring had arrived and it carried a sense of joy and hope to the citizens of the city. And yet, the uncontrollable melancholia growing in your heart seeped deep into your bones.

It was your last week in Velaris.

Your healing apprenticeship in the Night Court was coming to a close agonizingly fast and a cloud of gloom had followed you for the past week.

Despite your initial reluctance to come to the Night Court, you decided within your first few months there that it had been the best decision that you had made in your life. The knowledge and friendships you had gained were invaluable, and you thought of how much you would miss your newfound friends.

You thought of him.

Azriel.

You had formed a deep connection with the Illyrian in such a short amount of time. As much as it exhilarated you, it also frightened you how special he had become to you. He made your heart race in your chest and your pulse quicken beneath your skin. Your heart broke at the thought of leaving him. You knew the feelings deep in your chest ran deeper than friendship or a mere connection. You were falling in love.

You cursed the Mother. You would find the perfect male, fall in love with him, and then have to leave him.

A knock interrupted your thoughts, and you glanced at the opening bedroom door. Eloise’s head popped through.

“Hey, are you alright? You’ve been locked in here all day.”

You sighed, gaze shifting back to the window. You heard her close the door and shuffle closer to you on the bed. Her arm wrapped around your shoulders, hand gently squeezing, and you leaned your head on her shoulder.

“I should be happy,” you said. “I miss my family and it will be nice to be home again. But…” you trailed off. Admitting your feelings out loud made them all too real. It was easier to ignore them, keep them locked tightly in your chest. It would make the heartbreak easier to deal with.

“But you fell in love,” Eloise finished for you. You sighed, gaze still fixed on the trees blooming outside of the window. You didn’t deny it. “Most people would be happy.”

You stood up, shaking your head and pacing the room. “How can I? I’m leaving in less than a week and I’ll probably never see him again.”

“You’re overthinking, (Y/N). That male is completely smitten with you.”

“He’s just my friend.”

Eloise rolled her eyes at you. “And you think your friend would abandon you and stop talking to you just because you move away? Doesn’t sound like a good friend.”

You stopped pacing, throwing yourself backward on the bed and looking up at the ceiling. “No…he’s too kind to do that.”

Her warm hand gripped yours and you looked at her face. “You should tell him how you feel.”

“You’re insane.”

“And you’re stupid. He’s crazy about you. And you said it yourself–we’re leaving in less than a week. If he does turn you down, what do you have to lose?”

“I don’t know…” you trailed. Exposing your feelings and being vulnerable with Azriel frightened you. You wondered if you were a fool for falling for him so quickly after meeting him. Perhaps you were. But you could not deny the strong connection you felt towards him–how he made your heart beat wildly in your chest, how thoughts of his beautiful face consumed your thoughts, how the butterflies would erupt in your stomach every time he would show up at the infirmary.

Starfall was approaching. Azriel seemed so excited when he was explaining the celebration to you and you had always wanted to see the spectacle. Maybe you would tell him then. Maybe Eloise was right and he did return your feelings. While the thought of him rejecting you sent dread piercing through your heart, you could not stop the blossoming hope. Maybe he did return your feelings. Your leaving would make it complicated, but if he asked you to stay…maybe you would say yes.

“Maybe you’re right,” you said. “I think I should tell him how I feel.”

—---------

There was a dull ache building in Azriel’s shoulders and biceps as he kneaded the dough. He glanced at Feyre, who seemed energized despite helping Elain since early in the morning. He was definitely not going to complain or ask for a break before she did.

“Thank you both for helping me today,” Elain said, placing a tray of freshly baked pastries on the counter next to him. He waited until she turned her back to steal one and hide it within his shadows.

“Of course, Elain! Thank you for making the desserts for tonight,” Feyre said, smiling at her sister.

Elain smiled at Feyre and then shifted her eyes to him.

“(Y/N) coming to the party tonight, right?” she asked.

Azriel felt the heat rise to his cheeks and glanced down, staring intently at the dough he was working on. He resisted the smile that fought to rise to his face.

“Why do you ask?” he answered.

“She told Nesta that guava pastries are her favorite, so I made some for her.”

He glanced back up at his friend, grateful. She smiled knowingly at him.

“She told me she’d be here,” he said, thoughts drifting to you. He wondered how you would look tonight. Beautiful, no doubt about it. Would you wear blue again? How would you look with the twinkling, traveling stars behind you?

“I’m sorry that she’s leaving soon. But I’m sure you’ll be able to visit each other.”

A silent, calm panic spread through his body, chilling him to his bones and his ears started to ring. Elain must be mistaken. He looked at her, face serious and he struggled to keep his expression calm.

“What?”

Elain hesitated at his reaction. She avoided eye contact and twiddled her flour-covered fingers together.

“Eloise told Nesta that their apprenticeship ends in the next few days. They’ll all be going home next week.” His breathing grew heavy, and the incessant pounding of his heart caused his hands to shake. He pulled his shadows tight against him in a desperate attempt to shield his reaction. But the pity in the sisters’ eyes told him it was too late.

“I’m so sorry, Azriel. I thought you knew; that she would’ve told you.”

He shakes his head, unable to find his voice at the panic rapidly spreading through his chest.

“Maybe there’s a reason. Maybe she decided to stay,” Feyre said, trying to comfort him. He appreciated the effort, but the anxiety spreading through him made it difficult to find truth in her words.

“You should talk to her,” Elain said, rubbing his shoulder gently. “Maybe tonight.”

She was right. He needed to speak with you. There was too much that he needed to say to you. He did not want you to leave without knowing how he felt about you. He wanted to stare down into your eyes, filled with kindness and an edge of cheekiness he ached for. He wanted to take you on dates in Velaris and he wanted to be teased by his family for being so damn soft for you. He wanted your kisses–your touch. He just wanted you.

He would tell you tonight. He had to.

Perhaps you would reject him. Perhaps nothing he said would change your mind. But he had to try. You had to know. If there was a sliver of a chance that you would decide to stay with him, he would take it.

—----

Rhysand never spared any expense when it came to his Starfall celebrations. Decadent food filled the tables, soft music was being played by the live band that was hired, and the decorations were elegant and lavish. Faerie lights twinkled throughout the space, filling the rooms with a relaxed and enchanting atmosphere.

Azriel stood in the corner, a glass of whisky in his hand and he smiled and brought it to his lips as Cassian snuck in the wine that Rhys had banned for the night.

“I believe Rhys explicitly told you not to drink that wine,” Azriel said to him as he passed.

The General rolled his eyes at him. “Oh, Azriel, please do crawl out of Rhysand’s ass. What he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.”

He chuckled at his friend as he managed to get the cork out of the bottle and served himself a healthy amount. He placed the bottle behind a vase on the shelf behind them, winking at Azriel.

“Waiting for your damsel?”

He rolled his eyes at him. “She’s not my damsel. She’s my friend.”

Cassian grasped him hard on the shoulder, his grin wide and eyes twinkling. “I’m happy for you, brother. You deserve happiness in your life.”

He turned his face away from Cassian. “She’s leaving. It really doesn’t matter. I wish you would all leave it alone.”

“Have you spoken to her about this?”

“I will. I’m just…” Azriel did not want to continue. He did not want to admit how afraid he was of you walking out of his life and him never getting the chance to see you again. His stomach fluttered with nerves at the thought of confronting you about it. He was afraid of what you would say–that it would solidify your departure from Velaris. From him.

“Talk to her about it. There she is now,” Cassian said, pointing towards the entrance.

Azriel’s eyes shifted to you, his shadows swirling and whispering around him. Whatever it was that they said fell on deaf ears as all thoughts of anything else except you escaped from him. You looked ethereal. Perfect. Your black dress hugged your gorgeous figure like a second skin, falling to your feet and dipping entirely too low on your chest. Your makeup made your already beautiful features glow, like a mythical goddess. Your eyes met his, shining bright and entrancing him.

He found himself making his way over to you and you smiled wide at him once he reached you.

“Good evening, Azriel. Happy Starfall,” you said.

He smiled back at you. “Happy Starfall, sweetness. You look beautiful.”

You looked down, embarrassed and he smiled at your bashfulness. You glanced back at him and he pretended not to notice the way your eyes trailed over his form.

“You look very handsome, Azriel,” she answered. He felt heat rise to his face and looked away. “Are you sure the dress is not too much? Nesta helped Eloise pick it out. You know how they can be,” you said, giggling.

“Not at all. You are easily the most beautiful female in the room,” he admitted,

You grew shy again, looking down at the floor. The conversation stilted for a moment, the tension heavy between the two of you. There was so much that he needed to say to you, ask you. The nerves in his stomach swirled, and he debated whether this was the right moment to speak to you about your leaving.

Your gaze drifted to couples gathering on the dance floor. The band began playing a soft, romantic song and you began swaying.

Azriel figured there would be time to discuss serious matters later. At that moment, he would seize the opportunity to hold you in his arms.

“Would you like to dance?”

You looked at him and nodded, a sweet smile growing on your face, He grabbed your small hand in his, whisking you to the dancefloor. He placed his hands on your waist, pulling you close to him, reveling in your softness and warmth, your scent swirling around him. Your arms raised to wrap around his broad shoulder and you met his gaze. How often had he dreamed of holding you in this way? Of leaning down and pressing his lips to yours? He began to sway the both of you, stepping and twirling when the music called for it.

“You’re a great dancer,” you complimented, smiling up at him. His heart stuttered in his chest at your beauty and he felt the heat rush to his cheeks at your praise.

“You sound surprised,” he teased.

“Not surprised,” you said. “Merely making an observation. It makes sense that the Spymaster is light on his feet. You have great footwork, twinkle toes.”

He felt heat spread across his cheeks and glared at you.

“I am a feared Shadowsinger,” he said through gritted teeth and you raised an eyebrow at him in defiance. Insolent little female. The brief image of bending you over his knee and spanking your ass raw crossed his mind, but he quickly willed the thought away and continued. “Do not call me twinkle toes.”

“As you wish, twinkle toes,” you said, giggling. The audacity. Mother above, you would be the death of him.

He spun you unexpectedly, quickly drawing you back into his arms, body flush against his, and dipped you low. A gasp caught in your throat and your hands were splayed across his chest, the fabric thin enough that he could feel the imprint of your palms against his skin. Your eyes shone brightly, and you smiled wide. He wanted to stay there, relishing in the heat and softness of your body against his, but the other dancing coupes jostled you, shoving and forcing you both to step away from each other.

“Do you want a drink?” he whispered in your ear and you nodded. He led you to where the refreshments were laid out, and you grabbed a drink for yourself.

He kept glancing at you, admiring your dewy skin, alight from the exertion of your dance.

“This is my first Starfall,” you said. He could practically feel you vibrating with excitement, the bright smile on your face seldom leaving.

“You’re leaving.” The words flew out of Azriel’s mouth too quick for him to process what he had said. He regretted instantly as the smile faded from your face and your eyes grew sad.

“Yes,” you said, your voice quiet. You broke your gaze away from this, looking down at the swirling liquid in your cup. “Next week.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. Did you not want him to know? Were you planning on disappearing one day without even saying goodbye?

“I’m sorry, Azriel. I was going to. Tonight, actually. It’s just…saying it out loud makes it all the more real. As much as I miss my family, Velaris has started to feel like my home.”

“It can be,” he said, voice quiet. You smiled sadly at him and he took a deep breath before baring his thoughts to you. “I don’t want to lose you.”

You drew in a shaky breath before answering him. “I don’t want to lose you, either.”

He marveled at how easily you had him wrapped around your finger. At how quickly you were able to tear down the fortress around his heart and burrow yourself so deeply within his soul.

“You can stay,” he said softly. “I don’t want to pressure you. I will respect any choice you make. But, you must know that you will always have a home here in Velaris. Madja would love the help, we can find you somewhere to live or you can move in with us. You’ll always have security here, (Y/N). You’ll always have me.”

Your eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Thank you, Azriel. I don’t know…Things got a bit more complicated than I thought when I first came here,” you said. You began fiddling your fingers together and he could sense you getting anxious. His shadows swirled gently around your wrists, and you smiled at their soft caress.

“I have a lot to think about, I suppose.”

“Let’s not ruin the night,” he said, wishing he had never broached the subject. Your eyes had grown sad, and the bright smile that had been plastered on your face dimmed. “It’s your first Starfall. We should enjoy the moment.”

You forced a smile on your face and nodded. He grasped your hand in his once more, twirling you toward the dance floor, where he kept you for most of the night. He was engrossed by you, his rapt attention not waning from you despite his family’s attempts to steal you away from him.

“Starfall is about to begin,” he said and you smiled wide, eyes shining brightly in excitement.

“I can’t wait. I’ve heard so much about how beautiful it is. I feel so lucky that I get to witness it,” you said, getting ready to join the crowd gathering on the balcony. He grabbed onto your arms gently, pulling you back against him, and leaned down, close to your ear. Your sweet, addicting scent calmed his nerves. He knew he needed to speak with you alone and he was ready to take the chance.

“Would you like a better view?”

You nodded and he grabbed your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. He took you up two flights of stairs and down a hallway to his room.

The sight of you in his room, looking as beautiful as you did, made his heart race. He imagined you there in the morning, curled on the bed as you both woke up, eyes bleary and voices raspy. You splayed on the bed, bare skin dewy from exertion, and him buried in between your thighs. You and him, curled up in the loveseat, your voice lulling him to sleep as you read to him from his favorite novel. He was so enamored by you.

He grasped your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours and you smiled at him. He led you to the private balcony and you both stepped out into the night. The crescent moon did not provide much light, which allowed for the perfect view of falling stars.

He could hear the murmurs from the party gathered a few flights below, Cassian loud guffaw reaching his ears. The brisk air caressed his skin and he admired you as the breeze blew strands of your hair away from your face.

A single, bright streak illuminated the night sky behind you and you gasped, eyes widening in wonder. It was starting.

Hundreds, if not millions, soon joined, lighting the sky in a wild array of colors reflected upon the planes of your face. Despite the impressive show that enraptured you, he could not look away from you. He didn’t want to. You looked up in awe, your eyes bright and reflecting the stars, and your mouth was agape, a gasp stuck in your throat.

He loved you. He was transfixed by you. He loved every single thing about you. Nothing and no one had ever made him feel the way you did—like he belonged. You were his home. You were the blossoming of hope in his heart, like the warmth of spring conquering the barrenness and cold of winter. You were his new beginning.

You turned back toward him, a bright smile of wonderment on your face as the barrage of stars continued behind you. Your bright gaze met his, and in that moment, his entire world shifted. A sharp pain below his rib cage surprised him, the swelling of emotions within him encompassing every cell in his body.

In that moment, you become the center of his world. His mate.

—-----------

Your eyes widened at the onslaught of feelings that were traveling through your chest and the newly-formed tether between you. You stared at his beautiful face, mouth agape. Your mind struggled to comprehend the magnitude of what was happening, clouded only with thoughts of the male before you.

“Azriel…you’re my…” Your breath caught in your throat, cutting your sentence off. You found it difficult to speak as emotion swelled within you, forcing your throat shut and tears to spring to your eyes.

“Mate,” he whispered. He moved closer to you, his steps slow and deliberate, giving you the chance to get away from him if this is not what you wanted. But you didn’t step away. Your legs carried you closer to him and your arms raised to wrap around his broad shoulders, hugging him tight to your body. His arms coiled around your waist, tightening as he nestled his face in the crook of your neck.

You burrowed your face in the junction between his shoulder and neck, inhaling the addicting scent of mist and cedar. Azriel’s shoulders began to shake gently, his large frame unable to hide the sudden reaction. You grew concerned as a shaky sigh escaped him and gently moved away, keeping your arms wrapped around him.

The tears running down his face made a few of your own escape. You gently cupped his cheeks, thumbs caressing the soft skin, and dried the tears gently.

“Are you upset?” you whispered. He chuckled, his breathing still shaky. He shook his head.

“I hoped it was you,” he began his arms tightening around you and pulling you as close as possible. He was leaning down, keeping his face close to yours, your noses bumping. Your heart skipped a beat as one of his hands came up to brush against your heated cheek. His fingers were calloused, the scars like valleys and canyons on the plains of his skin. It was the most comforting feeling in the world.

“I never thought I’d find you. I thought I was cursed…that I was being punished for the things I’ve done and would be forced to see everyone around me with their soulmate while I was damned to roam alone, always in pain, always suffering. And then I met you. It was like you breathed life back into me, (Y/N). I wasn’t sure, but I prayed to the mother for you to be my mate.”

The swelling of emotions within you made it difficult to think, to respond to him. You let the emotions–the blistering, encompassing feeling of love brewing deep in your heart and soul–travel through the bond, and he gasped, tears continuing to fall from his eyes.

You leaned up, pressing your lips against his tear-streaked cheek. You pulled back, smiling at him.

“Azriel,” you began, voice tight with emotion. One of his large hands splayed across the small of your back, holding you tight against the strong plains of his body, and the other cupped your cheek, thumb caressing your cheekbones. “I always hoped, too. Since the moment I met you, I felt a deep connection with you. You make me feel so comfortable and I…I fell in love with you. You are the kindest, strongest, most courageous male in all of Prythian and I am so lucky that you’re mine. “

You leaned up once more, pressing another kiss to his cheekbone. His shadows swirled around the two of you, quick and alight with energy.

“You are my mate, (Y/N),” he said, eyes still brimming with tears and a large grin was overtaking his face. “All mine. Forever. I’m going to kiss you now and then I’m going to ravish you.”

Your body went pliant in his arms, melting against him and a pleasant heat spread across your cheeks and built in your lower belly. Your heart swelled, overwhelmed with his scent, his burning touch, his intense gaze fixed solely on you, and the waves of love and lust crashed against you through the golden thread between the two of you.

Your hand raised, tracing across the golden brown skin of his cheekbone, gentle fingers running over the soft freckles on his cheeks. His eyes were alight with pure joy, his cheeks flushed and a large grin seemed affixed to his face. He was the most gorgeous male you had ever seen. You were the luckiest female in the world.

“Yes,” you said. “Please.”

He leaned down, your noses brushing lightly, and finally brought his lips to yours. He pecked your lips, so gentle it made frustration grow in you. You huffed in annoyance and he chuckled. Damn Illyrian baby knew exactly what he was doing.

Despite his amusement, he seemed to be craving you as much as you were craving him, and he brought you deeper into him and traced his tongue over your lips. The fluttering in your stomach exploded and you gasped at the raw feeling of love and devotion you felt as he kissed you. For someone so infuriatingly calm, he kissed you like a male dying of thirst–a male that could never be sated. You rejoiced in the desire and love in you; at just how right it felt to finally give into each other.

“Stay,” he whispered, trailing his plump, swollen lips down your jaw and neck. “Please stay here. Please don’t leave.” Desperation coated his words and you felt your heart break. No. You could not leave. You finally had him–your mate–in your arms. He was yours and you had no intention of losing him.

“No,” you panted, gripping his shoulders tight as he kissed down your neck and began spattering kisses on your collarbones. “I’m not leaving you, mate.”

The spring breeze helped cool your heated skin as his wandering hands and lips explored you. You could not help but thank the Mother for blessing you with your new beginning.

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