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#got inspired by rewatching bridgerton

fayes-fics · 1 year

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Rescue and Ruin

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Anthony rescues something for you... and it will likely lead to your ruin.

Warnings: None really. Flirting, sexual tension, banter, and the promise of more. A lot of teasing, soaking wet Viscount.

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: Unbetaed. Very belated request fill for @daisfordaysstuff (request: I’m rewatching season 2 again, and I think I need one on this scene [lake Anthony]). I just had to post an Anthony story today to commemorate the birthday of Jonathan Bailey, the man who plays this titan of a fictional character. This is actually my oldest request fill, lingering in my inbox since Sept 2022. Sorry, my lovely; I hope late is better than never. I just got an idea of how I wanted this to play out. I hope you enjoy <3

“I’ll get it!”

A chivalrous call comes as you watch in dismay as your favourite bonnet take off in a gust of wind and flies over the lake, landing almost gracefully about twenty feet out into the gently rippling water.

You had just stolen down to the water's edge to get away from the crowds for a few moments of solitude, drawn to the beauty of the water as the sun danced on the little peaks caused by the gusty breeze. It had looked like a shimmering mirage from the terrace.

You are shocked when the one and only Viscount Anthony Bridgerton gives you a brief, polite nod as he passes you, then dives off a little jetty, still fully clothed, making you gasp loudly.

What on earth?!?

This is his garden party. Well, strictly his mother's, but he is Viscount, and this is the Bridgerton family country estate, Aubrey Hall. You are still awestruck to be here, a guest of your maternal aunt you are staying with here in Kent. Why on earth he would dive into his lake to rescue something as trivial as a hat seems mystifying. You are certain he has staff that could assist rather than take it upon himself and quite clearly ruin his outfit.

He re-emerges to the surface from his dive and swims with awe-inspiring speed towards your hat as it skates across the surface, propelling along not unlike some toy boat. When he finally reaches it, he holds it aloft triumphant and twists to swim back one-handed as he keeps it above the water.

You find yourself drawn down to the jetty he jumped off of. To give your thanks, express your surprise, and take back your hat and hope it is salvageable. You twist around to check, but all the other party guests seem oblivious to the incident or his actions, the string quartet playing so loudly closer to the house and the buffet table so laden everyone's eyes and ears are preoccupied.

“Thank you, my lord,” you demure as he pulls up to the jetty and places your bonnet on the wooden slats by your feet. “That was completely unnecessary, but I am, of course, so very grateful,” you curtsy and pick up the bonnet.

Luckily, thanks to his swift actions, it will be fine. Just the brim and lower edge touched the water. You wring out the soaked ribbons as best you can, then wrap them around your neck and tie them in a secure bow. It may be too wet to wear on your head for now, but at least it should dry while tied securely and draped down over your back. You curtsy again as you feel him watching you, unsure what else to do to convey your gratitude.

He laughs, and you see him fighting with the buttons on his jacket, still standing in the lake, the water around waist height. “There is no need to curtsy or to be so formal Miss…?” he squints up at you expectantly.

“Oh, it's Miss y/l/n,” you rush out and, for some reason, curtsy again.

“I mean it; please stop curtsying, especially to a man in such a state as me,” he says drolly, fighting off his jacket and tossing it, sodden and heavy, onto the jetty.

You are blatantly staring as he peels away his waistcoat and fights with his cravat. His thin cotton white shirt has turned entirely transparent in the water; it is barely there. Under it, you can see so much skin, toned and rippling muscle as his jerking movements strip off his clothing. Over his chest is a patch of dark hair clinging to the material you cannot look away from. You have never even so much as seen how a man looks without a shirt on before, and this sight makes your heart pound and your body tingle.

Glancing up from his actions, the corner of his mouth quirks up, and you know he has caught you—openly ogling him. Your cheeks are aflame, and you cut your eyes away.

“You may look, Miss y/l/n,” his pitch has dropped to something low and velvety, and it buzzes right into your core. Hesitantly your eyes dart back to his handsome face; the lip quirk spreads into a devastating, stunning smile. “It is alright; no one has marked us,” he assures, his gaze cutting to your right towards the house, then back to your face. “You shall not have broken any rules of propriety by talking with me. Or staring at me as you are,” he teases, an eyebrow arching appealingly.

“My lord, that is not what….” You begin to protest, knowing it's a lie even as you voice it; your reflex to appear chaste is so crucial to your need to find a match that your aunt and parents are so desperate for you to make.

But your words die out as he places both hands firmly on the dock and propels himself up and out of the water in one swift, athletic move. Your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth as he unfurls upwards from the kneeling position, drawing up to his full height. Water sluices down his body and makes his clothing cling to every single contour of his toned, defined torso. He looms closer; you tilt backwards, entranced by the tracks of droplets over the lines of his handsome face, his burned umber eyes catching the sunlight and boring into you as he crowds closer.

“Do not lie to yourself or to me, Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles, “we both know you were and, indeed, continue to stare”.

His words make your body riot; your stays feel too tight for your lungs to breathe, your skin pricking hot. He’s so close now you can smell the vaguely mossy lake smell on his skin, on what little clothing he has left on; it’s dancing there on the breeze alongside something spicier and amber that you can only assume is his cologne. You want to stutter an apology, to offer your thanks again, to ask him to leave, to ask him to stay, to ask him to touch you—so many jumbled, contradictory thoughts.

“The more pertinent question is, do you like what you see?” he murmurs and leans in, his words ghosting warm on the shell of your ear.

This is the sort of thing your aunt has warned you about. Rakes. Handsome, wealthy, titled men who will tease and take what they can from young, innocent ladies such as yourself. You want to be affronted, tell him to desist, and give him a scathing remark about appropriate behaviour. But once again, you don't. Your body drawn to him, you want to trace your fingers over the swell of his chest muscles, to feel those strong arms grab your waist and haul you against his sodden form.

“No answer is, in some ways, an answer,” he chuckles with a lilt that is both arrogant and devastatingly attractive.

“My lord, we may be seen at any moment…” Your protest is weak and breathy, not moving away as he continues to stand far too close to you, as lake water drips onto your shoes.

Suddenly a clammy hand wraps around your elbow, and you are being pulled towards the nearby cluster of thick trees and bushes that abut the lake. You almost stumble and smack into him face-first as he pulls up short and releases your arm. The air feels cooler here, with dappled shade, verdant and alive with the scent of flowering bushes and leaves. The view of the house and, indeed, the party guests is wholly obscured. No one would ever know you are here.

“Do you have an answer now that we cannot be seen?” he breathes inches from you, towering over you.

“My lord… I,” you cannot find words, hanging your head. You know this is wrong. Very wrong. Your aunt would kill you for being this wanton, for allowing him to do this to you. And yet…. Every fibre of your being wants this. To see what he will do. To see what you will let him do. You suspect it's more than you even understand.

“Say it after me….” he intones, a finger tilting your chin up to look into his fiery gaze.

“I…” he begins.

“I…” you parrot.

“Like…”

“Like,” you repeat, and the grin on his face grows wider.

“What….”

“What,” your breath quickening with each word.

“I…”

“I,” that finger still lingers under your chin, caressing gently.

“See.”

“See,” you exhale shakily.

“There. Now was that so hard…hmmm?” he teases, that finger now joined by his thumb stroking over the point of your chin, the lake water running down his forearm to the point of material bunched under his elbow that now drips down the front of your dress. The dampness seeps through the material and into your heated skin.

The cord of tension in the air is palpable. You don't know what to say or what to do.

“I have another question for you,” he buzzes, and the fingers on your chin slip lower, over your throat, lighting a line of fire as they trail over your delicate skin. Your pulse pounding in your veins. You swallow hard and feel the calloused fingertips trace into your suprasternal notch. “Maybe this one you can answer,” he huffs a sarcastic laugh as your body spirals and you fight to keep your breath even.

“What is it, my lord?” your voice barely a whisper.

“Would you be willing to help me, your gracious host today, get dry?” he practically purrs.

“How…. how on earth could I do that?” you stumble.

He smiles predatory and so handsome you give up and let your chest heave, ragged breathing.

“Under your dress, you wear a chemise, do you not?” he continues, those fingers tracing over the wet bow of your bonnet strings tied over your clavicle.

“Yes, my lord,” you answer shakily.

“Well did you know such items can be an excellent towel in a pinch,” he shrugs one shoulder and lifts an eyebrow as his fingers slip lower over your breastbone until they reach the neckline of your dress, at the swell of your breast.

There is no point in pretending he is not utterly destroying you now. You can’t school anything—the blush darkening over your skin, creeping up from your chest, the tingle in your lips, the hot flush you feel all over. A viscous pulse in your underwear that feels entirely alien and where your decision-making seems to be centred at right this very moment.

“So I suppose my last question, for now, is, are you willing to give it to me?” you gasp at his turn of phrase as those fingers swirl patterns over the neckline of your dress. “Your chemise, of course,” he amends with a wink.

Utter, utter rake.

“H-how can I give you my chemise without removing my dress too?” you wonder aloud.

“Well, that is the challenge, isn't it?” he smirks. “Now I can see two options here. I can do the gentlemanly thing, turn my back and allow you to undress and then you may hand me your chemise once decent again. I will dry myself the best I can and return to the house to change.”

“And the second option?” you cannot resist querying.

“Ahh, that,” he seems to pull even closer, and the fingers slip over the neckline and onto the silk ruching that covers your breasts; even through the material layers, you can feel his fingers lingering over your nipple and the throbbing between your legs turns almost painful. “The second option is that I am not a gentleman. Not in the slightest,” his answer cryptic but dripping with a dark, forbidden promise.

“What does that involve…?” you pant.

You watch, enthralled, as his tongue pokes out of his mouth and licks his bottom lip, and in seeming slow-motion, his mouth begins to form a shape to speak words…

“ANTHONY!!”

The yell is from a few feet away, on the other side of the bushes. Both of you jump apart as if burned.

“ANTHONY?!” the male voice calls again, “ARE YOU AROUND?”

It's obvious the person has no idea you are merely a few feet away, only that they are looking for him.

Stay here, Anthony mouths silently, and you nod, your heart beating wildly at the whiplash of experiences.

With one rueful glance at you, at the interrupted moment, he turns around and fights through the mass of foliage back out to the lawn.

“Oh, there you are!” the voice exclaims. “We wondered what the devil had happened to you!!”

“Colin…” you hear him respond.

“Hell and the devil. Why are you soaked through?? Did you decide to go for a swim fully clothed? Did you find my special tea??” his voice ramping up in incredulity as he likely clocks Anthony's bedraggled appearance.

“I have no idea what you are referring to,” Anthony’s reply seems clipped. “I rescued a small beautiful creature, if you must know,” he obfuscates.

“Ahh, hero antics,” Colin laughs. “Well, you had better go change right away. Mother expects you to make a toast for our esteemed guests in a few minutes.”

You hear Anthony’s frustrated noise of derision and have to stifle your giggle behind the back of your hand between deep breaths, trying to bring yourself back to a state of normality after the rollercoaster of experiences you just had.

“Urghhh, alright,” Anthony sighs, embattled, “I think I dropped my pocket watch back in the bushes. Give me one moment to find it, and I will accompany you back to the house.”

“Side entrance,” Colin responds dryly.

“Indeed,” you hear Anthony call.

You tense as the bushes before you start to rustle as he fights through them to reach you. He stalks up to you, and you gasp audibly.

“Shhh,” he warns quietly, his lips right at your ear, gusting hot, “it looks as if I must sadly depart. Your chemise is safe for today, Miss y/l/n.”

With a boldness you didn’t know yourself capable of, you grab the shirt's sleeves rolled up around his elbows.

“I would never want not to be helpful to you, my lord,” you whisper tremulant, fingers twisting in the soaked fabric. “If removing my chemise can ever be of assistance to you in future, please be sure to let me know.”

You cannot believe you allow yourself to say something so scandalous.

He pulls back slightly, and it's his turn to exhale unsteadily, his pupils dilated; his expression wild. You can see a vein hammering in his throat.

“Oh goddd,” he moans, closing his eyes as if pained.

“What?” concern suddenly flooding your tone.

His eyes reopen, and they pin you with their intensity.

“Mark my words,” his tone is low, gravelly, “if you continue to talk so brazenly, it will only encourage me.”

It is the sexiest warning bell you have ever heard.

“And if you continue to tease and defy me, I will pursue you. Relentlessly,” he growls, and once again, your body is rioting.

“Good god. How long does it take to find a pocket watch, man?” Colin calls impatiently, once again breaking the moment between you as it threatens to bubble over.

“I've found it!” Anthony twists to call over his shoulder. “I’ll be there presently!”

“Hurry up!” Colin grouses.

Anthony turns back, and his breath is hot over your cheek. He seems to stare at your lips for an inordinate amount of time as you stare back. Transfixed.

“Today, I shall be a gentleman,” he states reluctantly and draws away slightly. “However…” and your heart spikes in victory, “once that clock strikes midnight. I make no promises. And I shall be standing right here,” his tone decisive, his finger pointing to the spot right by his feet. “Just so you and your chemise will know where to find me,” he rumbles, then gives you a polite bow and is gone.

You have to grab onto a tree to stop yourself from swooning. Already knowing you will be stealing away from your room as the clock strikes midnight. Uncaring of consequences.

You want him to ruin you.

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marxo-fm · 7 months

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Secrecy

✯ Viscount Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!reader

Summary: You’re the princess of the United Kingdom, trapped in the Kew Palace with nothing to do but obey. That seemed to change after your brother makes an appearance at the ball held in honor of his arrival from the British Military, with a surprise guest.

Warnings: MDNI+18, Mentions of adult theme and language, slight smut with plot, inexperienced!reader, virgin!reader, praising, innocent!reader, Ghost gives reader an anatomy lesson and teaches reader certain things, fingering, slight angst, no use of y/n, head canon, no descriptions of race, skin color, hair type/length, or body type. Reader is in her 20’s and Ghost is in his late 20’s. This takes place during the Regency Era.

Words: 9.7K (I can explain)

A/N: Rewatched Queen Charlotte in one day and got inspired to somehow write this. Idk what came up in my head but I’m not mad about it. I love historical romance pieces and Bridgerton is one of my favorite shows, so this was inspired by that as well. Must I add, this will be a series (let’s act shocked!) but it’ll start off slow and then progress into something very steamy. I plan on making this 2-3 parts? Not entirely sure yet. I’m so excited to make a playlist and have this become a part of my page. I promised to write a Ghost fic in celebration of 300 followers!!! Thank you!!! That’s all peeps, enjoy this and thanks for reading once again. :)

To be in love, is to touch with a lighter hand. In yourself you stretch, you are well. —Gwendolyn Brooks, “To be in Love.”

The rain drummed loudly against the windows of Kew Palace, a historic refuge steeped in tales of bygone eras. Yet another dismal night had slipped away in silence, the relentless downpour obscuring any sounds of the world outside. The scent of rain, laced with the earthy aroma of centuries-old stone, permeated your room through the slightly ajar windows. Candlelight flickered, casting dancing shadows that played upon the antique furnishings, each one holding its own secrets from a different age. As you gazed out into the night, the blurred outlines of majestic trees in the palace gardens whispered stories of forgotten romances and royal intrigues, echoing through time.

Yet not one memory of romance had ever occurred to you, sadly.

You sat in silence, enveloped by the heavy presence of the palace's servants, who stood as immobile as statues waiting for a command.

The stillness in the room was deafening, capable of giving even the strongest a throbbing headache, yet this oppressive silence was something you had grown accustomed to. It was an everyday affliction, a reminder of your powerlessness and the stifling constraints of your position.

The relentless cycle of attending balls, tea parties, leisurely walks, and grand masquerades had become a mundane routine. None of these activities could dispel the relentless boredom that had settled over your life. Despite the lavish extravagance and social grandeur, they only served to further emphasize your dull amusement.

Unfortunate yet fortunate at the same time, you learned to be grateful for the position you are in now, but the life you have been given to live wasn’t what you enjoyed. That itself is a secret one must never know of.

Your contemplations were abruptly halted as your mother entered the room, her presence commanding immediate attention. You rose gracefully from your seat, bowing with an elegance through years of refinement. With a quick, composed adjustment of your dress, you presented yourself as the embodiment of poise and decorum. And of course, elegance. It was essential to maintain appearances in the relentless world of aristocratic expectations.

All the servants bowed down before their queen. A display of loyalty and respect—a testament to the power she held.

“Mother.”

“Dearest.” Her voice, filled with warmth and affection, broke through the icy layer of your mood. You responded with a genuine smile, one that masked the melancholy you often kept hidden. It was carefully maintained; your mother could never be burdened with your silent suffering. If she were to glimpse even a fraction of the emotions you endured, she would tirelessly pester and lecture, determined to alleviate your pain.

But this was a battle you chose to wage in solitude, for the sake of preserving the family’s reputation and your own fragile sense of independence.

“We have a ball to attend in the celebration of the upcoming arrival of your brother. It is to be held quite soon, though, we are not sure on the date.” Your ears perked and every melancholic emotions you were enduring suddenly became cheerful. Your brother is finally coming, after being gone for a year. Though it felt like centuries he had been gone.

“That is thrilling news, I pray he arrives safe and well. Have you shared this with our other siblings?” Other siblings meant your six siblings, you’re the youngest of eight children, and it’s rather lonely. It feels like.

“Yes, dearest. I have reminded them that a ball will be held soon. The members of the Ton will be attending and it will be grand.” She replied enthusiastically, “though I have something else to share, beloved.”

Your eyebrows rose, and your curiosity piqued. What more could your mother share with you about the ball? You sought more information.

After a brief pause, she continued, “He is arriving with a guest, a Viscount to be precise. This gentleman is to be accorded the utmost respect, just as I have instilled in all of you. He holds a special place in your brother’s heart, and it is imperative that he is welcomed with the same warmth and hospitality that we extend to family.”

You nod, “of course mother. May I know his name?”

“His name is Simon Riley, he is a fine and distinguished gentleman. He holds the rank of Lieutenant General. Quite remarkable if I do say so myself.” She looked at the servants before setting her eyes on you, “He is also very close to your father.” You gasped, for one to be close to the king—your father of all people, was quite rare. Since he is a busy man with important duties he must fulfill.

“I will treat him with the utmost respect, my dearest mother, rest assured.” Having made your commitment clear, you resumed your thoughts, still buzzing with anticipation for your brother’s return and the upcoming ball.

You returned to the chair you sat in before your mother shared important news, resuming in what you were doing before.

“Read a book, darling. You are amazing at that. Do not bore yourself here.” You nod graciously, you found her encouragement as something you deeply appreciated.

“Thank you mother, I shall read.” You made your way to the nearest shelf, curious as to why you haven’t done this earlier. Maybe your mother was right, do not bore yourself with such thoughts and emotions, instead find joy in reading. It helped you get lost in the pages and words, that you forget whatever was going on in that head of yours.

“Ladies, go help my daughter with the books.” Your mother ordered.

“Certainly, Your Majesty.” They all responded.

“It is quite fine mother, I can do this myself.” You assured, nodding to the servants and their faces expressed a puzzled look. Unsure of whom to listen to. “Yes, love, do as you may.”

The servants walk back to the area they had previously stood in, watching you carefully. “I must leave now, love, It is rather late.”

“Goodnight mother.” You make your way to the shelves once again, the area was dimly lit and the bookshelf stood tall. Its polished mahogany wood gleaming softly in the warm glow of a crackling fireplace.

It was calm.

The scent of aged leather and paper makes its way through the air as your peruse the titles, each elegantly bound with gold lettering.

You spot volumes of Jane Austen’s novels, her delicate pages filled with tales of love and societal intrigue. One most famously known as, “Pride and Prejudice.”

Nearby, a collection of poetry by Lord Byron beckons with its romantic verses. The room is adorned with lush velvet draperies and antique furniture, setting the scene for a world where manners, class, and etiquette reign supreme.

Your delicate fingers skim through every romance book there is.

As you select a book and settle into the armchair, the world outside slowly began to fade away. You immerse yourself in the intricate and vivid description, momentarily escaping the constraints of your era into the enchanting world of literature.

(…)

It is the next morning, as the sun timidly filtered through the drawn blinds in your room, its radiant presence compelling you to squint and shield your eyes.

The birds chirped and the sky is painted with bright whites and bright yellows streamed through the window, a sense of lightness enveloped you. Starting the day with a serene countenance, you blinked away the remnants of sleep from your eyes and smiled drowsily. Your fingertips traced the cotton sheets, as you embraced the morning's gentle charm.

You summon the bell in your bedchamber, signaling to the housemaids that you are indeed awake and require a comforting, warm bath drawn. You stand on your own two feet, welcoming the housemaids inside your bedroom assisting in disrobing your white cotton nightgown.

They draw a bath, filling it with steaming water infused with fragrant oils and rose petals. You step into the tub, sinking into the comforting embrace of the warm, scented embrace, a welcome respite from the chill of the morning.

As you soaked in the fragrant bath, your thoughts drifted to the impending ball. You longed for any additional information your mother might have left off about this highly anticipated event, eager for every intricate detail to fuel your anticipation.

Truth be told, your curiosity about meeting Viscount Simon Riley was quite overwhelming. You harbored an occurring hope that he would prove to be the epitome of a true gentleman. Your mother's praises of him fueled your optimism, suggesting he was a man of impeccable character and esteemed authority, which only heightened your eagerness to make his acquaintance.

Excitement was a vast understatement for the emotions coursing through you.

The revelation that Simon was not only close to your father, the King, but also held a special bond with your brother left you astounded. While many men enjoyed proximity to your father and eldest brother, the depth of connection your mother had described set Simon apart from them all. It led you to believe that he was indeed the definition of a true gentleman.

"Ladies, may I inquire if you have all gathered the latest tidbits of information regarding the upcoming ball?" You found yourself pondering, the fragrant bubbles in the warm bath soothing your senses, as you leaned back against the porcelain tub's elegant curves.

"Not quite, Your Highness," she informed, her voice filled with anticipation. "We've heard rumors that hundreds shall grace the occasion." Excitement surged through your entire being. Finally, the time had arrived to mingle with society, to dance, and to revel. It had been several long months since the last grand ball, and the prospect filled you with eager anticipation.

"Are any of you acquainted with Viscount Simon Riley?" Curiosity overtook you, though you couldn't quite fathom why. After all, you hadn't yet crossed paths with the man, and here you were, posing a question of seemingly little consequence to your maids.

They all gasped and stood quiet, maybe you have said something wrong.

"He is not a man of whom one speaks ill of," she responded cautiously, her voice betraying a hint of unease. "Viscount Simon Riley wields significant power and authority. However, Your Highness, that is all I am permitted to share." Her nervousness was evident, as if she were tiptoeing around a topic that carried great weight.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. This was information your mother had yet to share with you. The maids' description of Viscount Simon Riley sent a shiver down your spine, an ironic sensation given the warmth of the bathwater enveloping you.

"Do not worry, my mother shall remain unaware of this conversation," you assured with a gentle smile and a nod, watching as the tension melted from their bodies.

The curiosity within you compelled you to seek more information. "Can any of you describe his appearance?" You observed the maids exchanging uncertain glances before turning their attention back to you. As warm water continued to flow over your body, their soothing massages on your arms accompanied the anticipation of their response.

“It is okay to tell me,” you reassured with a playful giggle, “once again, mother will not know of this. It is not like you have committed treason!”

"Indeed, Your Highness," she began to speak in hushed tones, her voice carrying an air of trepidation. "Discussing Viscount Simon is a delicate matter. His influence is undeniably formidable, and we speak with a measure of fear." Her concern seemed to stem from the notion that their conversation might somehow reach the ears of this powerful figure.

A shiver of apprehension coursed through you. The maids' fear had a way of rubbing off on you, leaving you with an uneasy feeling about this Viscount Simon.

All excitement about meeting him quickly faded away into the endless void, everything your mother had described about him paled in comparison to the unsettling image the maids were painting of this man.

"Whispers of his enigmatic persona have swept through the highest echelons of society, Your Highness. They speak of him donning a finely crafted mask, shrouding his countenance in secrecy. Only a privileged handful among the Ton have been granted the privilege of glimpsing his true visage, and even the slightest revelation of his features carries the weightiest charge of all – high treason."

You gasped. Oh dear.

"Why does he shroud himself in such mystery?" The quest for information left you yearning for more knowledge. How is it that his existence remained hidden from your awareness until this moment?

Their fearful glances held your attention as they continued, "Your Highness, we remain ignorant of his motives for wearing that ominous mask. Its design, reminiscent of a skull, has earned him the haunting name of 'Ghost' among the hushed whispers of society."

Goosebumps prickled across your skin, and a shiver of fear coursed through you. The once-anticipated ball had transformed into a nightmarish affair, shrouded in dread and uncertainty.

He scared you, and you haven’t even met the man.

"That's enough, ladies. Please, remove this bath swiftly," you commanded. Your mood had done a complete somersault, and now you were acutely aware of your surroundings. It felt as though an ominous presence was creeping into your room, even though he hasn’t arrived yet.

Or maybe he has, but you’ve yet to know.

No no, don’t worry yourself of such horrid thoughts.

You repeat and repeat over and over. The fear of darkness and the ominous weighed heavily on your heart. It was a secret fear, one you dared not share, for you knew that if anyone discovered it, they would only dismiss your worries with laughter and reassurances.

The maids, their hands deft and efficient, hurried over to where you stood by the bath, wrapping you in plush towels to dry your delicate skin. With precision, they helped you into a graceful blue chemise dress, its fabric cool and comforting against your form, the intricate lacework and delicate embroidery adorning it a testament to their impeccable craftsmanship.

Each lace on the dress was adorned with a multitude of tiny individual diamonds, their facets catching even the faintest glimmers of light. The shade of blue, a soft and ethereal hue, served as the perfect canvas for these sparkling gems, making them gleam like stars in the darkness.

"'Tis a truly exquisite chemise," you whispered in admiration, extending your arms gracefully for the maids to slip on your pristine white gloves.

"Made for Her Highness, indeed, just like a rare diamond," your maids complimented, their words like a soothing balm to your nerves. Their unwavering support for uplifting your spirits never failed to bolster your confidence.

"Thank you, ladies. I must take my leave now, as there are matters to discuss with my mother and duties to attend to," you graciously replied, ready to face the responsibilities that awaited you.

(…)

"Yes, Your Majesty. The ball is scheduled for the end of this week, and all is proceeding as planned. Every detail has been meticulously arranged, and all members of the Ton have received their invitations," spoke your mother’s friend at morning call.

She took a delicate sip of her chamomile tea before speaking once more, her voice calm, "That is indeed wonderful news. I pray that everything proceeds without a hitch, and I have the utmost confidence that mishaps shall remain a distant concern." Her friend nods, before turning to you to ask a question.

You straightened your posture and offered a warm smile, "You are truly lovely, my dear. If I may inquire, are you excited for this upcoming ball?" As the question lingered in the air, a torrent of unsettling thoughts flooded your mind. The words of the maids, the mention of the enigmatic "Ghost," and the eerie mask all coalesced into a haunting collage of images. Your body quivered involuntarily, and a palpable sense of unease washed over you, like an ominous shadow creeping into the room.

You masked your true feelings expertly, putting on a facade of excitement. It was clear that your enthusiasm was reserved solely for your brother, not for the Viscount. You knew all too well that you couldn't reveal your fear, so you concealed it behind a carefully crafted persona, concealing the trepidation that lurked beneath the surface.

“Indeed I am quite cheerful. I already know well enough that this ball will be the best of this year.”

She takes a bite of her honey cake, proceeding to invade you with more questions. Questions you were not comfortable answering.

“Well yes…your mother—Her Majesty—is hosting the ball.”

"Ah, yes, of course," you quickly replied, feeling a bit flustered by the reminder. Her raised eyebrow and condescending gaze made you feel like a naive child, an unsettling sensation you couldn't quite shake off.

“Your Majesty, has she not yet met Viscount Riley?” Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Viscount Riley's name, sending a chill down your spine. The palace suddenly felt much colder, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. It was an uncomfortable and awkward moment for her to bring up such a question in the presence of your mother, Her Majesty.

"I am not privy to such information, my dear. However, I have every confidence that she will excel in his company and extend to him the respect I have diligently imparted. Would you not agree, my dearest?"

You nod graciously, before her friend decided to open her mouth once more with questions that made you shift in your seat. Uncomfortably.

"Forgive my bluntness, Your Majesty, but I have had the privilege of seeing him in person. And, if I may say..." Her voice trailed off, and her response piqued your curiosity, causing your brow to arch. It was evident that she was quite eager to acquire more information about a man you had not yet had the chance to meet.

“He is quite tall,” she began, and your mother adjusted her posture, “he holds such authority and he is not the man to disrespect, he doesn’t speak unless spoken to and most certainly does not show his face to just anyone.”

The maids' prior revelations had served as a disconcerting confirmation. Fear welled up within you, growing like a thunderhead on the horizon, and it cast a foreboding pall over what had once been an eagerly anticipated ball. The event, once a beacon of excitement, had transformed into a looming specter that filled you with apprehension and uncertainty.

“It is quite a mystery, but it is none of our business. Maybe if he is truly as good of a man he is, I will have him marry my daughter.” Your tea to become a chaotic spray, dispersing droplets and saliva particles across the table’s contents. Your cheeks flush crimson as you glance at your mother, her expression clearly reflecting her shock and disapproval.

“Deepest apologies mother, but marriage?” Her lips tightened as you contemplated her words. “If he proves to be a good man, then perhaps. If not, then no. You are two and twenty, it is time you settle down my dearest.”

“I do not know him.”

"Indeed, there is an abundance of time for you to become better acquainted with him," your mother replied with an encouraging smile. Her eyes sparkled with the anticipation of a promising match for her beloved daughter. "I've heard such positive things about Viscount Simon," she continued, her tone brimming with optimism. "He is reputed to be a true gentleman, and I can't help but hold high hopes for your future together, my dearest."

The description of Viscount Simon had already sent shivers of fear down your spine, and the thought of falling in love was an entirely different realm of uncertainty. You wondered if you'd ever experience the kind of love immortalized in poetry and literature, given the enigmatic and potentially imposing nature of this match.

You decided to let the future unfold at its own pace, allowing it to chart its course without rushing or forcing any outcomes.

You held a clear standard for your future husband: he must be a respectful and considerate man, not exhibiting any sexist, disrespectful, misogynistic, or rude behavior. However, if he proved to be the all those things, then marriage would not happen. Your mother, Her Majesty, fully comprehended your stance on the matter.

You valued a man who showed genuine interest in your passions and didn't pass judgment on them. Mutual respect and shared interests were important to you in a potential partner.

While you recognized the significance of politics and manly duties in society, you weren't inclined to marry a man solely focused on these matters. A well-rounded individual who embraced a broader range of interests and pursuits was more appealing to you.

Your mother knew that.

And you prayed the Viscount lived up to to your high standards.

(…)

On the night of the ball, you stood in front of the grand mirror, the flickering candlelight casting a soft, golden glow across your reflection. Your gown, an exquisite creation of silk and lace, clung to your figure in all the right places, its color a subtle shade of pink. The delicate embroidery and beadwork shimmered in the dim light.

Your heart raced, and your gloved hands trembled as you practiced your breathing, trying to calm the storm of nerves within you. The anticipation of meeting Viscount Simon, coupled with the pressure of societal expectations, weighed heavily on your mind. The maids had spared no effort in choosing every accessory, from the intricate hairpin adorning your carefully styled hair to the elegant necklace that graced your neck.

You hoped, with each practiced breath, that tonight would be a turning point, that Viscount Simon would prove to be the gentleman your mother believed him to be, and that the evening would be the start of something meaningful in your life.

——

"Good afternoon, dearest," your father inquired, his arm linked with your mother's. "Where are your siblings?"

You look around, carefully examining the palace in attempt to look for your other siblings, and you’ve caught them. Relief washed over you.

"They are in the library room, Father," you replied. Your gaze wandered over the opulent floral arrangements that adorned the palace. Vibrant blooms graced the staircase and the grand room's tables, filling the air with a fragrant aroma. The Ton had indeed turned out in force for this event, with couples arriving, their arms elegantly linked, creating a sea of fashionable attendees, and not a single person seemed to be without a date.

Although you’re the princess of the United Kingdom, you oddly felt…out of place.

"Mother, you've done a splendid job. This place looks absolutely marvelous," you praised, appreciating the grandeur and elegance that surrounded you. Her smile radiated with warmth, and her pink dress, a few shades darker than yours, effortlessly outshone all the other gowns the ladies wore in the palace, commanding attention with its regal allure.

Diamond encrusted corset with a matching diamond necklace, and many layers underneath the dress made it seem larger.

Of course, it was your mother, the Queen, who had graced the event with her radiant presence. Her regal attire and demeanor left no room for doubt about her esteemed status in the grand ballroom.

“Good evening, Your Majesty.” A man who appeared to be taller than your dad, bowed before him and shook his hand.

“Good evening, John. How is it here compared to the states?” The states? He must be American, you are sure.

“It is rather marvelous here, we don’t host balls as often as you do, but this ball is alluring.” And he is American so it seems, the accent was crisp.

“Thank you, John. I hosted this ball.” He bowed to the queen, your mother, before bowing down to you.

“Well of course, Her Majesty created the most perfect ball.” He complimented. Twirling the ends of his mustache, this was the first time you’ve ever met an American.

Your mother smiled, appreciating his sweet compliment towards her. “I must get back to Kyle, Ghost should be here any minute now Your Majesty.”

The mention of "Ghost" made your nerves prickle with unease, considering the unsettling details your maids had shared during your bath. As John reminded your father that Ghost would be arriving shortly, your stomach tightened with knots of apprehension. The looming presence of this mysterious figure cast a shadow over the otherwise glamorous evening.

“Thank you, John. I am quite cheerful in meeting him. It has been far too long.”

John bowed and left the area.

Your mother's concern deepened as she observed the horrified expression etched across your face. She gently placed a hand on your arm and whispered, "Dear, you look as if you're on the brink of fainting. Please, go to the refreshments and fetch yourself a glass of water. Take a moment to compose yourself." Your motherly care enveloped you, and you nodded, grateful for the suggestion to step away briefly from the anxiety that had gripped you.

The grand ballroom began to feel suffocating, and you yearned for a breath of fresh air, a momentary escape from the overwhelming atmosphere. The need to step outside and simply breathe because it became nearly overwhelming, and you decided it was time for a brief respite.

He will be here soon, and there is no avoiding it. This thought completely gnawed at your insides and there is no place for you to hide.

"Sister, are you feeling well?" your eldest sibling inquired, her cream-colored chemise beautifully complementing her shimmering jewelry. Her concerned gaze met yours, and you could sense that she found something amiss in your expression. The irony was not lost on you, given that you were about to meet a man who also bore the name "Ghost."

"I am feeling rather ill," you responded, fabricating a falsehood to avoid the impending meeting with "Ghost." While part of you wanted to avoid this mysterious figure, there was an even stronger desire to reunite with your dear brother. Your deception was a way to navigate the complex emotions and uncertainty of the evening.

How unfortunate. This man will haunt your dreams.

——

You made your way outside, the chilly breeze sweeping over your face as you finally found a moment to breathe. The cool air provided a welcome respite from the suffocating atmosphere inside, and you closed your eyes, savoring the sensation of liberation that came with each deep breath.

As you’re breathing the cool air, a voice is heard from a distance.

"My dearest sister, always wandering," your brother chuckled warmly as he approached. You turned your head swiftly at the sound of his voice and finally laid eyes on your sibling after many long months. He appeared strikingly different, somehow taller and more muscular, and the transformation left you momentarily speechless with surprise and joy.

"Brother!" You couldn't contain your excitement and ran up to him, welcoming him with open arms. The embrace felt like it lasted an eternity, as you cherished every moment, not knowing how long he would stay. It was a precious reunion, and you wanted to make the most of it.

"How have you been? I suppose everything has been well while I was away?" he inquired, his arms crossed as he surveyed the palace grounds. It was just the two of you outside, and he seemed genuinely interested in catching up on all that had transpired during his absence.

Amid the tranquility of the palace gardens, your brother's question hung in the air, and he observed his surroundings with a mix of nostalgia and curiosity. The evening's hushed elegance enveloped both of you as you began to catch up. He looked different from when you last saw him, and you couldn't help but wonder about the experiences that had shaped him during his time away. It was a moment filled with anticipation, longing, and the joy of reconnecting with your brother.

"It has been quite well! Rather normal," you replied with a smile, acknowledging the routine and calmness that had become the norm in his absence. His head tilted as he teased, "The word you're searching for is 'boring,' isn't it? After all, the fun brother hasn't been around." His hearty chuckle filled the air, bringing a touch of lightheartedness to the conversation.

“That is true. I have missed you a ton.”

“And I have missed you more, my dear sister.”

You couldn't help but glance around, hoping against hope that Viscount Riley had not yet arrived. The idea of facing him at this moment was almost unbearable, and you found yourself anxiously searching the surroundings for any sign of his presence.

How awkward.

"Oh, I thought you arrived with a guest," you blurted out, your hope that he had an emergency and didn't come alone shining through your words. The prospect of meeting "Ghost" or Viscount Riley had filled you with apprehension, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread at the thought of encountering him in person. Your brother's response would determine whether your unease would intensify or be somewhat alleviated.

But it was not.

“He is here, in fact, he is inside speaking to our father. I highly suggest you meet him, he is a fine gentleman, though he might frighten some. I can assure you, he means well.”

Meeting him now seemed almost inevitable, and you had to prepare yourself for this encounter with the enigmatic figure.

It is time you met him, to get it over with once and for all.

(…)

Viscount Riley stood before you, his face obscured by a mask that added an aura of mystique to his presence. As you gazed into his eyes, you sensed a depth of emotions and stories waiting to be unveiled. It was a stark contrast to the fear you had felt just moments ago, and now, you found yourself admiring this enigmatic figure, eager to learn more about the man behind the mask.

"Your Highness," his voice, deep and gravely, greeted you. An unfamiliar warmth spread through your stomach, causing your cheeks to flush crimson. It was a sensation you couldn't quite understand. Why did you suddenly feel so flustered in his presence?

"Good evening, My Lord. I extend my gratitude for making the journey to attend this ball," you replied politely, determined to make a favorable first impression, despite your royal status as a princess.

Your mother's friend had not exaggerated; Viscount Riley was indeed exceptionally tall, almost appearing otherworldly. Inhumane. His muscular physique was apparent even beneath the luxurious waistcoat he wore. The choice of an all-black ensemble, combined with the white skull-like mask, added to the air of mystery and intrigue that surrounded him, making his presence all the more imposing.

As Viscount Riley closed the distance between you, a sense of anticipation hung in the air, and your heart quickened with each step he took. His hand, encased in a fine glove, reached out, and you watched in fascination, your gaze locked on his as your brows raised. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension, leaving you both on the precipice of an intriguing encounter.

"Care for a dance?" Viscount Riley extended the invitation, his eyes lingering on you as he assessed your presence. His gaze felt almost intimate, as if he were undressing you with his eyes, although you quickly chastised yourself for such inappropriate thoughts. The offer to dance hung in the air, and you considered your response carefully.

You nod, “yes, My Lord.”

"Call me Simon, Your Highness," he suggested, his eyes captivating you with their natural hues in the dim light. They seemed to glisten like moonlight. You hesitated, feeling a mix of intrigue and reluctance. "I'm not sure I am comfortable calling you that," you admitted honestly, the formality of addressing him by his title still lingering between you.

"I have granted you permission, my love. Call me Simon, in private," he whispered softly into your ear, his words tinged with an intimacy that sent a shiver down your spine. His scent, a heady blend of sandalwood, enveloped your senses, and the warmth of his breath against your skin caused a flush of heat to spread through your body, leaving you feeling quite overwhelmed in his presence.

My love.

"Do you know how to dance?" Viscount Simon inquired, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, eliciting a soft gasp from you. As you turned to examine the ballroom, you noticed your family watching with smiles on their faces. "I do, Simon," you whispered, your voice barely audible in the intimate moment you shared.

"How about the waltz? Are you familiar with that?" Viscount Simon's hand slipped behind your back, drawing you closer to him in an intimate embrace. Your mouth hung open in astonishment at his boldness, aware of the watchful eyes of the Ton in the ballroom. The closeness between you two, especially in such a public setting, was bound to attract attention and speculation.

"That…I do not know how to," you admitted truthfully. The waltz was indeed a dance you had never mastered, primarily because it required a partner to perform it. The admission was honest, though it left you feeling somewhat vulnerable in this moment with Viscount Simon.

As he continued to examine you, Viscount Simon couldn't deny the striking beauty that stood before him. The tension between you grew thicker, almost suffocating, and he felt a subtle but undeniable change within himself. His chest rose with each breath, and with every passing moment, he seemed to grow larger, as if the weight of the atmosphere and unspoken emotions were affecting him physically.

“I will teach you, Your Highness.” He took your right hand into his left, wrapping his other large hand behind your waist. Pulling you inches closer, if that were possible. You were practically glued to his body.

Your left hand found its place on Viscount Simon's shoulder, and as your touch made contact, you couldn't help but notice the spark in his eyes intensify, transforming into a fiery gaze. The sensation coursing between you was entirely new and left you feeling uncertain about how to navigate it. Yet, there was one undeniable truth: it felt like the pages of a romance novel coming to life, and the allure of the moment was impossible to ignore.

The world around you seemed to fade away, as he began to guide you through the graceful motions of the dance.

He leaned down to your ear, “tell me, love, have you ever done this with anyone before?” You shook your head nervously.

Viscount Simon was nothing like the enigmatic and intimidating figure you had imagined before. He had swiftly disproven your earlier apprehensions, showing himself to be a skilled and confident dance partner. However, the lingering mystery of his masked appearance still intrigued you. Why did he choose to conceal his identity in such a way? Was it a habit, a comfort, or perhaps a symbol of something deeper? As he expertly swayed you through the dance, all your earlier fears seemed to melt away, replaced by a growing sense of fascination and curiosity about this complex man.

“What is going on in that head of yours?”

"I am just trying to be focused, My Lord," you replied, a touch of nerves still present in your voice. He cleared his throat before offering words of encouragement, "You are doing great. Don't think too hard about it, or you'll make a mistake." His reassurance helped ease some of the tension, and you tried to follow his lead with more confidence, allowing the rhythm of the dance to guide your steps.

“Everyone in the room are watching us.”

"Imagine it's just us, Your Highness. Nothing to fret," Viscount Simon whispered, his words a soothing balm to your nerves. With that simple suggestion, you closed your eyes for a brief moment, allowing yourself to immerse in the moment, focusing solely on the dance and the connection you shared, the world around you fading into the background.

"Very well done," Viscount Simon praised, a touch of warmth in his voice. His encouragement and guidance continued to make the dance feel like a shared experience, and you found yourself becoming more at ease with each step, as though the world outside this dance floor had ceased to exist.

The instrumental music slowly started to fade away, as you became enchanted under his mysterious gaze.

In the mesmerizing dance with Viscount Simon, you counted each step and movement carefully. One, a step forward, followed by several backward steps. Then, you counted to two as he gracefully led you to the side, and you followed his lead with precision, completely entranced by the rhythm and grace of the waltz.

"May I ask you a few questions?" you inquired, looking up at Viscount Simon. Or should you call him simply Simon? Your curiosity about the man behind the mask had grown steadily throughout the dance, and now seemed like the perfect opportunity to satisfy it.

"Yes, Your Highness," Viscount Simon replied, his tone respectful as you continued to dance in harmony.

"How long have you been in the military? I can only imagine it's been quite some time," you mused, curious about the path that had led him to his current station. Viscount Simon's physical fitness and the air of intrigue that surrounded him certainly hinted at a rich and varied history. Those eyes of his seemed to hold countless untold stories, and you couldn't help but be drawn to the mystery that shrouded his past.

"I am quite intrigued that someone has inquired about this, especially the princess. It's an honor," Viscount Simon began, a hint of appreciation in his voice. He continued, "I've served in the military for a considerable duration." His sigh hinted at a deeper story. "But I must wonder, why do you ask, Your Highness?" There was a curious and genuine note in his inquiry, as if he too was interested in the motives behind your questions.

His question took you off guard, and you momentarily pause for a moment. Heat swept across your face, and your stomach felt like a hundred butterflies were attacking it at once.

You clear your throat, preparing yourself to speak the truth.

"Well, your physique does suggest you've had a long tenure in the British military," you stated, your words coming out more bluntly than you had intended. You looked away, feeling a bit embarrassed by your straightforward observation. It was as if the words had slipped out of their own accord, revealing your unfiltered thoughts about him.

His head tilts as you both continue the dance, the tension became thicker in the moment.

“I’m glad you’ve noticed that, you have quite the eye darling.”

"I suppose it is rather evident," Viscount Simon replied with a good-natured chuckle, acknowledging the obvious. His height and impressive physical presence were indeed difficult to overlook, and it was refreshing to engage in such candid conversation with him.

“I would like to continue this conversation another time, Your Highness.” The music stopped, and suddenly your heart ached.

The fear and apprehension you had felt before meeting Viscount Simon now seemed misplaced and misjudged. Shame washed over you as you realized that your initial impressions had been far from accurate. Emotions you had never experienced before welled up within you, and you found yourself struggling to process this newfound connection and the complex feelings it stirred within you.

"You look quite sick, Your Highness. Should I summon a doctor?" Viscount Simon's concern was evident in his voice, and he signaled his readiness to assist. However, you shook your head, declining the offer. His expression shifted, and the color of his eyes darkened noticeably. The once-bright stars in his gaze seemed to fade, leaving a shadow of concern and curiosity in their wake.

"I must retire to my bedchamber at once. It seems I may have eaten something disagreeable," you explained, offering a plausible reason for your sudden discomfort. As you made your exit, you couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected attachment you had felt during the dance. Was it the chemistry that had taken you by surprise, or the disappointment of the dance ending so soon when you had secretly wanted it to continue? The confusion within you left you with much to ponder as you retreated from the ballroom.

You heard heavy footsteps in the distance, and you face the sound. Heart beating so fast and hard that you’re afraid it’ll break your ribcage.

Your eyes widened as you glanced back, catching the intense gaze of the tall man in the distance—Viscount Simon. The burning sensation in your stomach flared once more, and your heart raced at the unexpected encounter. It seemed that your paths had crossed again, and the intrigue surrounding him deepened further.

“My Lord, you are not permitted in this area,” you stuttered, your voice trembling with a mixture of surprise and unease. Viscount Simon’s inhumanly towering presence had a profound effect on you, causing your knees to grow weak and your heart to race.

The unexpected encounter left you feeling both vulnerable and intrigued, uncertain of what would come next.

Viscount Simon continued to approach you, seemingly unperturbed by your protest. His voice, when he spoke, carried a darker, gravely, and husky timbre, each word rolling off his tongue with a depth that sent shivers down your spine. It was a voice that held a mysterious allure, and as he drew nearer, you found yourself captivated by the man before you.

“You are still not allowed here, My Lord. Unless are married to me or if you have permission to do—“ he interrupted you for a brief moment, your breath hitched. “Do I have your permission?”

His simple question held a weight that left you questioning your own dignity and morals. "I-I suppose you may. I don't believe you'd cause any harm," you replied tentatively, your nerves causing you to fidget with your hands.

Viscount Simon took note of your hesitation and reached out to gently take your hands in his own. His touch was surprisingly rough and calloused, yet it had a calming effect on your frayed nerves. The unexpected gesture further deepened the sense of connection between you two, leaving you both intrigued and comforted by the enigmatic man before you.

The entire experience felt like something out of a romance novel, a dream brought to life. It was something you had never been entirely sure would happen to you, yet now, it had. The enchanting dance, the mysterious encounter with Viscount Simon, and the complex emotions that had unfolded were all like a dream come true, turning the pages of a story you had never expected to live.

“Open the door, the guards are all downstairs, no need to fret.” He demanded, in a gentle manner.

You obediently opened the door, allowing Viscount Simon to enter. As he stepped into your bedroom, a breeze swept in from the open window, which you had forgotten to close before attending the ball. The cool air helped alleviate the heat on your flushed face, and you welcomed the refreshing sensation, finding comfort in the natural element that had invited itself into your bedroom.

"This is my bedroom," you announced, leading Viscount Simon on a brief tour. You observed him as he moved toward your bed and the bookshelf. His large hands gently skimmed over the rows of books, and his eyes, visible through the skull-like mask, carefully scanned the titles.

“I didn’t take you for such a romance reader, Jane Austen, Your Highness?”

You noticed his finger resting on “Pride and Prejudice” and felt compelled to explain. “Yes, most of them are by Jane Austen, but her works are more than just romance,” you informed him, eager to share your love for literature.

“Excuse me, but there’s not a single book here that is not romance.” His interest in your personal space and choice of reading material piqued your curiosity even further. “Are you an expert perhaps?”

"No, I am not," you admitted, your tone laced with a hint of shame. The vulnerability in sharing this aspect of yourself with Viscount Simon revealed a layer of your character that you hadn't expected to expose during this encounter.

"I can teach you some things from these books, unless you already possess the knowledge," Viscount Simon offered. He selected a random chapter from one of the books and began to read aloud, his gaze eventually shifting back to you.

With his arms now crossed, the buttons on his vest seemed on the verge of bursting due to the muscles that strained against it. The prospect of learning from him, coupled with the undeniable physical presence he exuded, left you intrigued and eager to explore this connection further.

"Knowledge of what?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued by his statement. As Viscount Simon approached you, his every step seemed to carry a weight of its own, and you couldn't help but notice the way his breaths grew heavier, causing his chest to rise with each intake of air.

His masked face concealed most of his expressions, but his eyes continued to hold your attention, revealing a shift in his demeanor that intrigued you even more.

"May I, Your Highness?" Viscount Simon asked softly as he gently lifted your chin with his index finger, tilting it upward until your gazes locked completely. The sudden and intimate gesture left you gasping for air, and a rush of emotions from earlier returned with a renewed intensity. In that moment, it felt as if the world outside your shared space had ceased to exist.

You nodded, still unsure of what he was asking for, and confusion clouded your thoughts. Suddenly, Viscount Simon closed the distance between the two of you, narrowing the gap until you were in close proximity, and your breaths seemed to synchronize in that intimate space.

His lips were soft, and everything you read in the books are now suddenly real.

Viscount Simon’s right hand gently cradled the back of your neck, securing you in his embrace as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. His kiss was passionate, intense, and consuming, leaving you both breathless and addicted to the taste and sensation of each other. In this private room that had once held your deepest secrets, it now bore witness to your first kiss, a moment that defied propriety but felt undeniably right in that intoxicating connection between you two.

In the midst of the heated kiss, every thought and worry seemed to vanish from your mind. Viscount Simon's warm tongue ventured into your mouth, igniting a rush of desire that left you breathless. You held onto his vest with a desperate grip, the fabric of his waistcoat beneath your fingertips offering an anchor in the whirlwind of sensations that coursed through you. The world outside ceased to exist as you both lost yourselves in this intimate exchange, a forbidden connection that felt undeniably intense and irresistible.

He must’ve kept all this encased during the dance…

Viscount Simon's strong hand cupped your face, holding you tenderly as the intensity of the kiss grew. His groans of pleasure became more pronounced, and the raw desire in his sounds threatened to melt you into a puddle beneath him. The fire in your belly surged, an insatiable heat that refused to be extinguished. Every vein in your body seemed to pulse with desire as you couldn't help but wonder where he had been all this time, and why it had taken so long for your paths to cross in such an electrifying way.

"You... taste delicious," Viscount Simon murmured as he pulled away from the kiss, a thin string of saliva briefly connecting your reddened and swollen lips before breaking. Both of you were left breathless, taking moments to regain your composure as you watched Simon also catch his breath. His remark left you feeling dizzy and uncertain about what had just transpired, and the lingering question of why it had happened hung in the air between you.

“My Lord, why did you kiss me just now?” You broke the silence, and he looks up at you, still panting.

“I sincerely apologize for my actions, Your Highness, but I couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

Your voice wavered with a mix of desire and frustration as you implored, "Stop asking me such questions before I do something completely and utterly outrageous." The tension between you and Viscount Simon had reached an almost unbearable peak, and your words conveyed both the temptation and the peril of this magnetic connection that had ignited between you.

Your brows furrow, “I don’t understand what I did, My Lord.”

"Simon, Your Highness," he corrected, his tone both firm and possessive as he closed the distance between you once again. The formality mingled with intimacy in his address, emphasizing the complexity of your connection and the roles you both occupied in this uncharted territory of desire and longing.

Suddenly, Viscount Simon began to undress your chemise, leaving you with only your undergarments. Your voice quivered as you confessed, "Simon, I was told this was not allowed unless I am married..." The touch of his hands against your skin felt like lava, igniting a blazing heat that coursed through your body. The boundaries and proprieties that had once defined your world seemed to blur and fade in the face of this overwhelming desire and vulnerability.

“Do you want this?” He asked, a simple question that made you answer it in less than a second. You wanted to shout “yes” but that was deemed highly inappropriate. So you kept quiet and all you did was nod, though, Simon kept asking.

“A nod won’t do, Your Highness. I need to know if you want me to touch you, to kiss every inch of your body, to explore depths no other man has ever explored, and to tell you that you are mine. Do you want that?”

In that suspended moment, you gazed at him in awe, realizing that every description he had given you, every hint of desire and passion he had conveyed, was everything you had been longing for. It was everything you so desperately wanted. The anticipation that had built within you had finally reached its culmination, and now, in this moment, it had all become a breathtaking reality.

"I want you to do all of the above," you confessed in a breathy, fervent tone. In that intimate moment, you could discern the expression in Viscount Simon's eyes behind his mask, and the desire and hunger mirrored in his gaze confirmed the depth of the connection you both shared.

Lust.

Viscount Simon began to unbutton his vest and everything else beneath his waistcoat, gradually revealing his sculpted torso. Each chiseled muscle seemed to tell a story of years of hard work and sacrifice, with every scar etching its own narrative.

Unable to contain your fascination, you traced your fingers delicately across each scar, causing Simon to flinch at your touch. The intimacy of this moment, where you explored the physical evidence of his past, deepened the connection between you even further.

You asked in a voice tinged with sadness, “When and how have you gotten these?” Your fingers continued to trace the scars on his torso, and a part of you wished that he had never had to endure the pain and suffering that each mark represented.

“I would like to talk about these another time, I don’t want to ruin this moment, love.” You understood.

He gets up from off his knees and places both his hands besides you, you sat on the edge of the bed as he leans towards your face. “Would you like me to undress you, Your Highness?”

"You may," you breathed in response, your need for his touch growing more intense with each passing moment. Viscount Simon didn't completely undress you; instead, he lifted your petticoat all the way up to your waist, exposing your white cotton undergarments to him. Overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, you hid your face, unable to meet his gaze as your desire and vulnerability laid bare before him.

"In all my years of living, I've never seen someone so perfect," Viscount Simon whispered, his words of admiration sending shivers down your spine. He lowered his face to your thighs, and you gasped at the sensation of his soft lips and warm breath trailing across your bare skin. He left a trail of peppered kisses as he slowly made his way to your most sacred and intimate spot, igniting a fiery passion between you that seemed to transcend time and place.

Simon hooks his fingers on the band of your undergarment, and slid them off, leaving you completely bare in front of him. His jaw locks, looking at you like you’re the prey and he’s the predator, ready to devour his meal and fulfill his hunger.

"What are you going to do?" you questioned, your voice filled with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. Despite your previous experiences with literature and romance, this moment was uncharted territory, and you found yourself both intrigued and apprehensive about what might come next.

He completely ignored your question, taking his finger and touching it on your most sensitive spot. You gripped the cotton sheets, it became victim to your tight hold.

“Your Highness, this spot right here, may cause some discomfort.” He warned, his rough finger circling the bud slowly.

You struggled to breathe, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you found it difficult to form the right words. Your senses were overwhelmed, and your mind raced as you desperately tried to find your voice and articulate your thoughts in this intense and intimate moment.

Small whines and moans left your mouth, putting Simon in a haze. “Now right here,” his finger slid down your throbbing folds, “may hurt, darling.”

You balance yourself on both your elbows, seeing the intense sight in front of you. Simon’s head was in between your legs, and his fingers were on your cunt.

His middle finger enters a part of you that made you let out a scream in response, he may have warned you before, but it still hurt. “Did I hurt you, love? If you’d like me to stop, I can.”

"No, please," you assured him, your voice trembling with both desire and reassurance. "I assure you, I am fine." His hands remained firmly pressed against your thighs, and you welcomed him further into this intimate connection, surrendering to the intoxicating sensations that washed over you.

“Tell me when you’d like me to stop, my princess.”

My Princess. That alone let a moan escape your lips.

His finger began to slide in and out, and the sensations that surged through you left you breathless. It was a mix of pleasure and pain, a new and overwhelming experience that had your body tingling with desire and your mind racing with sensations you had never felt before.

"Oh, Simon..." you whimpered, your head thrashing from side to side as he continued to pay no heed to your whimpers and moans. His mouth descended to your most intimate place, and he began to explore you fully, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body as you surrendered to the exquisite sensations that washed over you.

“Stay still.” He ordered, ignoring your protests as his hands make their way to your waist and back to your thighs. Gripping them as if he’s scared you’re going to somehow leave his hold. His tongue laps against your entrance as his finger continued to slide inside and out, then quickly adding a second finger.

“Simon!” you screamed, your voice echoing through the room, unable to contain the overwhelming sensation that surged through you. The knots in your stomach tugged tighter, intensifying the anticipation as you neared the peak of ecstasy, the culmination of desire and longing.

Your legs instinctively wrap around his head, their delicate silk fabric clinging tightly as his warm breath tickles your inner thighs. With each gentle brush of his nose against your bud, a delicious shiver of anticipation courses through your body, intensifying the electric connection between you.

And there, you couldn’t take it anymore. You unraveled underneath him as he continued to devour you, his grip intensified as you thrashed your head around. Every delicate moans escaped your mouth, and you thought you’d never make these noises in your life, yet here you are.

“You are bloody delicious, my love, so sweet.” He kissed your thighs as he hovers over you. His breathe heaving and his chest covered in sweat. You couldn’t deny the attractiveness in front of you, it was almost impossible how someone could look this good in a mask.

"Thank you, Simon," you expressed your gratitude, and in his mysterious eyes, a glint of admiration shimmered like a hidden treasure in the depths of a secret world you had just begun to explore together.

“It is my honor, Your Highness. I am sure the next time we visit, it won’t be the same as this.”

"What do you mean?" you asked, your curiosity piqued, and an unspoken desire that he would stay by your side forever welled up within you. He sighed, his breath carrying the weight of unspoken truths, and his eyes held a depth of emotions that begged to be explored further.

"I mean, Your Highness," he began, his voice holding a note of determination, "that I will never let you go. I intend to reveal the deeper parts of myself to you, and I will slowly begin to show and teach you everything you desire to know." His words carried a promise of a journey into the unknown, an exploration of desires and emotions that lay hidden beneath the surface.

“I realized now more than ever, that I need you.”

——

NOTE: HOLY!!! This took a week (omg) and now it’s finally done. I’m actually so proud of this. Let me know if you’d like to be in the taglist. Once again, thank you all for reading my peeps! :) this was a promise made by me! Also, I may have watched Bridgerton hundreds of times and Queen Charlotte and all of those shows etc etc, but if there’s something historically incorrect, please inform me! I would love to correct it for future readers. Thanks once again!

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arynsims · 11 months

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Boop random sim !

Meet Irene !

Guyss it’s been so long ! I’m so sorry for not posting as much as before, but here am i with a new sim ! I’ve been rewatching the whole Bridgerton show, and i got the brilliant idea of creating a sim inspired by it ! So here she is ! I will probably put her in my gallery once I do the rest of her outfit.

Also, if you guys got some cc inspired by the series, please let me know, I’m desperately trying to find some good ones

#simblr #sims 4 #ts4 screenshots #ts4cc #new simblr #screenies #ts4 simblr #cas screenies #randomsims #Spotify

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moonlightpirate · 4 months

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Return to The Madding Crowd

Chapter 6: The Wedding Ball- This is the story of why you took so long to write

Part two of the Christmas gift! This was inspired by rewatching the movie and honestly a little bit too much bridgerton so this was part of the hold up because I was struggling with this chapter and how I wanted to write it. Hope you guys enjoy!

Taglist: (same as the last chapter let me know if you want added or removed) @nothingbutcloud @thegoldfishbowl @its-just-me-chey

Masterlist

Ao3

You sighed as the carriage pulled in front of your parents house. Without hesitation your parents got out of the carriage. As a final act of rebellion you stayed in the carriage hoping that maybe they wouldn't notice and you could bribe the driver to take you back. After a moment your mother noticed your absence and she roughly pulled you out of the carriage and gave you a push towards the house.

“Go inside and greet your brother while your father and I bring your stuff inside.” She demanded.

“Yes Mother.” You grumble as you make your way up the elegant steps.

The doormen open the door for you and you practically glare at them. You know it's not their fault your parents have money and can afford these kinds of luxuries. But you still aren't thrilled by their presence. Sighing you walk in and find your brother in the sitting room lounging on the sofa, eyes on you.

“Ah sister! There you are! How great to see you!” Your brother, James, grins as he stands up to embrace you.

“Never thought I’d see the day that you would get married.” You tease.

“Honestly, same here. But she is so beautiful and wonderful and just wait until you meet her at tomorrow's ball!”.

“Ball? What ball?”.

“The one to celebrate your return home and a pre wedding celebration.” Your mother chimed in.

“I’m not going. I don’t have a dress for one.” You state.

“Don’t worry darling, I already got you a dress. It’s in your room so you will be there.” Your mother smiled.

You look at your brother in fear before sighing in defeat and heading towards your room tired from the journey. Of course the dress was laying out on the bed for you to admire. Your mother did know you well seeing as it was in your favorite color and looked like it was in your favorite style. You weren’t sure if you should be happy or irritated that it was so perfect. After several moments of looking at it you finally picked it up and hung it up in the closet and got ready for bed. The next day your parents were running around trying to make everything perfect for the ball. One of the maids spent all day with you helping you bathe, doing your hair, and making sure your makeup looked just right. You despised all this fuss and began to wonder if your parents were actually up to something.

“It’s getting late! Guests will be here any moment please tell me she is ready!” Your mother exclaimed, bursting into your room just as you finished stepping into your shoes, “Oh my! You look absolutely beautiful dear. Let’s get you downstairs so you can meet your brother’s soon to be wife before our guests start arriving!”.

You make your way down the grand staircase towards where your brother and father are standing with another young woman in an elegant violet ball gown.

“Sister, this is my fiance Stephanie.” James introduced you.

“Finally it's a pleasure to meet you! James has told me all about you.” Stephanie curtsied.

You awkwardly curtsied in return, “All good things I hope. I'm afraid I haven't heard much about you. But I look forward to learning more about you before the wedding.”.

Before more could be said guests began to arrive much to your parents' relief. You had hoped that since it was to celebrate your brother's engagement that everyone would be focused on him but for some reason everyone was focused on you. It took all the guests arriving for you to be able to find time to sneak away.

“Maybe if you came home more often this wouldn't happen.” James teased, very much aware of how uncomfortable you were.

“Well if the family would be more sufferable I'd come home more often.” You retort.

“James! My pal, how are you? Sorry for the delay.” A tall gentleman approached from behind hugging James, “Oh I am sorry. May I ask who is this beautiful woman you have with you?” He inquired as he turned to face you.

“It's fine Henry. This is my sister Y/N. She's in town for the wedding. Come my parents will want to meet you and Stephanie will want to say hi.”.

Henry looked back at you wistfully as James dragged him away. The party was now in full swing with the guests dancing and laughing whereas you were hiding off to the side hoping no one would notice you. You really did long for the life you had with Bathsheba and Gabriel and hoped that you could return to it soon. So lost in thought you were startled when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Pardon me miss. I was wondering if I might ask you to dance with me?” A familiar deep voice inquired.

Turning around you found yourself looking at Henry, “A dance? Are you sure my brother won’t mind?”.

“He is entranced with his bride to be. I however have been entranced with you since I laid eyes on you. Please dance with me so that I may get to know you better at least.”.

You blushed at his words and were so stunned that you only managed to nod at him. His face lit up as he took your hand and escorted you out to the dance floor. You could see your parents' faces light up as the pair of you moved around the dance floor. Without realizing you managed to spend the rest of the ball with Henry, either dancing or talking while you sipped on some refreshments. Every day after the ball he showed up at your house with flowers for you. He also made sure to spend sufficient time with you when he arrived and before he left. Stephanie insisted that he was courting you but you simply refused to believe that such a handsome man as him would want someone like you. That was until a week before the wedding when you went out for a stroll in the garden with Henry.

“Thank you for getting me out. Stephanie seems lovely but she is starting to over stress about the wedding. Same with my mother. It was getting insufferable in that house.” You groan.

“You are most welcome. Are you looking forward to the wedding though?” Henry inquired.

You pondered the question for a moment, “Yes it will be nice to see James and Stephanie happy.”.

“I don't feel that is the only reason you are ready for the wedding.”.

“Whatever do you mean?”.

“I can't place it but I feel you are hiding something.”.

“If I am hiding something then there is more to this walk than just talking.” You huff.

He stopped walking and blushed a little, “Well you aren't wrong.”.

You look at him in shock as realization hits you of what he is about to ask.

“Oh….?” You question looking at him questioningly.

“Well I don’t want to step on James’s wedding. But we seem to have so much in common. I would gladly move to the country and help you run a farm if that is what you would like to do while I am away with work. Anything to see you smile and be happy. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen that I can have such wonderful conversations with. Please consider marrying me?”.

It felt as if a tidal wave was coming crashing down on you as you realized you had been living in a fantasy world. You were terrified of what to say to him as memories of what Weston, the soldier that had proposed to you last, had done to you when you turned him down.

“I….I am not sure what to say. I shall need time.” You smile at him before turning and running as far away from Henry as your legs could take you.

You hid yourself in the small shed not far from the house and collapsed to the floor as tears started to stream down your face. After several minutes you heard a soft knock on the door.

“Hey Y/n it's Stephanie. Are you okay? Can I come in?” Stephanie asked, clearly worried.

You muttered a sure in response before trying to sit up and make yourself look a bit more proper.

“Oh goodness what happened?” Stephanie gasped as she saw your tear stained face.

“Nothing, I'm just…..confused.” You sigh.

“Well what about?”.

“You have so much to do with the wedding I don’t want to take up your time.”.

“Please. I have enough time to help my future sister in law with something that is clearly hurting her.”.

You look into Stephanies pleading eyes and take a deep breath, “ I am a fool. I was never the type of woman to be swept off my feet by compliments and flowers and beautiful eyes and nothing else. But here I am swooning over Henry practically and that is all he has done is give me beautiful compliments and flowers in my favorite colors. Now he is wanting to marry me and not only do I not want that but…….” Your voice trails off.

“There’s another man isn’t there? One that you really want to be with? The reason that your parents dragged you home is because they don’t want you to be with him right?”.

“How do you know about all of that?”.

“They tried to do the same thing to James. Truth be told they didn’t want him to marry me. I had a feeling that was why you abruptly appeared.” Stephanie revealed.

“But he changed their minds obviously! How? Oh goodness I’m such a fool. I need to write to my cousin and to William and tell them I am so sorry and that I will try to come home to them after this wedding. I must go back to them. I cant stay here.”.

“That is how he changed their mind. By showing his determination to be with me and running away. I will talk with him and have him help you get back to your cousin which is where I’m guessing your love lives.”.

“Yes. But I’m not sure what to say to Henry. Last time I turned down a man he was rather brutal to me.”.

“Henry isn’t like that, trust me. Plus James would never allow it. Be honest with him and just tell him there is another man.” Stephanie assured you before standing up and leaving.

You sighed and stood up out as well dusting off any dirt and made your way inside and up to your room. Hastily you wrote to Bathsheba and William saying sorry and that you hoped to be home before Christmas. You snuck the letters downstairs and gave them to your maid to ensure they got delivered. It took a few days before you saw Henry again. You explained everything with William and how you could not marry Henry because you were fairly certain that William was going to propose to you. He seemed disappointed but told you that if William didn’t and you changed your mind that you knew where to find him in the future. You made a deal with your brother for a few days after the wedding that he was to pick you up and take you back to the farm. Of course you enlisted your maid to do the packing for you that day so that you wouldn’t be suspected by your parents. But your mother must have suspected something because that night just as you and James were sneaking out towards the carriage your father was standing there waiting.

“Where do you two think you are going?”.

“Nowhere in particular father. Was just going for a late night stroll with my dear sister.” James retorted.

“Don’t lie to me. You are taking her back to that man aren’t you?” He demanded.

“So what if I am?”.

“You were bad enough wanting to marry that woman with no wealth and no title. Now you want your sister to go and marry some old man who killed a man?! I won’t have it.”.

“I don’t care what he has done so long as he cares for y/n and loves her and she loves him. That is all that matters in a marriage to me. Now step aside or you will never see any of your grandchildren ever.” James threatened.

“Children please! We only want what is best for you!” Your mother sobbed from the front door.

“Then you will let me go to be happy!” You shout.

Your father glared between the both of you as James ushered you into the coach where Stephanie was sitting already. You sighed a sigh of relief as the coach began to move and the journey back home, back to William began.

#william boldwood x reader #william boldwood #reader insert #surprise #two for one deal #far from the madding crowd #sorry if this one seems rushed #i did enjoy this chapter #hope you do as well #😘😘😘😘#michael sheen

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bridgertonbabe · 2 years

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I wanna see benophie in the Irwin AU please 🥰😍🧡

Sophie hadn't grown up with the easiest life. After losing both her mother and grandmother at an early age she had been placed in her father's care, though he cared very little for how she spent her time and never gave her the time of day though she craved parental love so dearly.

In spite of her father's neglect, the one source of happiness that kept her spirits going was watching TV shows fronted by Edmund Bridgerton, the famous zookeeper and conservationist. She loved learning about all the different animals in the world, how Edmund with his wife Violet and their team nursed sick animals back to health, and the way in which the gregarious Edmund Bridgerton inspired the masses into being more courteous of the creatures they shared the earth with. But the reason why Sophie watched the shows on repeat, how she had worn out VHS cassette tapes and DVDs by rewatching them again and again and again was all to do with the warmth she felt deep in her heart from the energy radiating through the screen. Edmund Bridgerton was such a loving person, not just to his wife and kids, not just to the animals, but to every single person he met. Sophie liked to pretend that when he spoke to camera that he was speaking directly to her, wishing she could have a dad like Edmund Bridgerton who loved her so very much.

Sophie's world only got worse when her father married her step-mother, Araminta, who detested the young girl from the moment she met her, though Sophie could never understand why she was incapable of being loved. She relied on Edmund Bridgerton's TV shows even more, being the bright spark in her solemn little life. It was only when she was watching one of the shows that she first properly studied Benedict, the second eldest son of the Bridgerton brood, and Sophie realised how cute he was. From then on her crush grew and grew as she kept her eyes peeled for any brief glimpse of him on screen, rewinding and replaying and pausing every time he appeared just so she could look at him. His favourite animal were the elephants and they were Sophie's too, making her believe they were meant to be together.

Every year for her birthday she begged her father to go to Aubrey Hall Zoo, wishing for the chance to meet any one of the Bridgertons, but her father always denied her request, telling her he was too busy. Sophie never gave up hope but then her father died and suddenly she was trapped in a house with a woman who abhorred her, so much so that Araminta kept her locked up and forced her to serve on hand and knee for the family. Sophie dreamed of escape but she was beaten into submission and eventually became too scared to do anything that would go against Araminta's wishes.

She felt trapped, wondering if this was all that her life was going to crack up to be; but then a bit of good fortune fell her way. Sophie had been expecting to spend her twenty-first birthday in as much a miserable state as she always had - but then Posy surprised her with a ticket to Aubrey Hall Zoo. Posy told her that her mother had planned on going out for the day with her and Rosamund, leaving Sophie by herself and with the prime opportunity to live out her dream. Sophie could enjoy a full day outside of the house at the zoo and be back by six, when the Reilings were due to return home.

Though apprehensive, Sophie was also incredibly excited to be taking a risk and knew she had to throw all caution to the wind for the sake of her own happiness. As soon as her stepmother and sisters were out for the day, Sophie snuck out and travelled to Aubrey Hall Zoo. The wildlife park was exactly how it appeared on TV and she froze up when she caught a glimpse of young Gregory Bridgerton giving a demonstration with several birds of prey. She hoped to see as many members of the family as possible - though she knew there was one she longed to see more than most.

When she reached the elephant enclosure and took her seat among the audience, she held her breath when Benedict Bridgerton appeared before the masses, somehow looking even more handsome in person, and introduced Henry the elephant to the crowd. She was in awe as Benedict explained in great enthusiastic detail about the beautiful creature, Sophie knowing all of this information off by heart herself from the amount of times she watched the TV shows.

So enthralled was she with Benedict's presentation, she didn't notice a few rangers setting up an easel and paints by the elephant or a stool placed nearby. Benedict then informed the crowd he would be needing a volunteer to sit for Henry so the elephant could paint their portrait.

His eyes scanned the eager crowd, though Sophie was probably the only person without her hand up, feeling breathless all of a sudden as a gut feeling overwhelmed her, sensing instinctively that by some miracle of fate, she was going to be the one picked out among the sea of faces.

Benedict's reached her section, looking over, and then his eyes landed on hers - which was where he stayed for several seconds. Sophie hitched her breath, feeling as though Benedict could somehow see right into her very soul, as if he knew who she was. She thought she was being ridiculous but then without a word Benedict moved forward, holding his hand out towards her. Sophie's own hand moved of it's own accord, reaching out to him in turn and then they were clasped together.

She could feel the sparks coursing through her veins as they touched and as his pale eyes remained interlocked with hers. His face then broke out into his trademark crooked grin and he guided her over to the stool to sit down. He made conversation with her, asking her name, how she was enjoying her time at the zoo today, how good an artist she reckoned Henry would be as the elephant gently brushed the canvas before him. Even though their dialogue was in front of a crowd, Sophie barely felt self-conscious, not when she was utterly captivated by the man she had loved for many, many years.

The painting was then presented to Sophie, with Benedict informing her that Henry was one of the more abstract artists of the group as she surveyed the splashes of gold and silver on the canvas. Sophie declared it was the best portrait anyone had ever done of her (not to mention the only portrait) and received a round of applause from the crowd.

As the audience left, Sophie thanked Benedict, and though she wanted to stay longer, she knew she had to get home before Araminta got back. As incredible as the day had been, Sophie knew nothing more would come of it, but as she turned to leave, Benedict suddenly blurted out an invitation to come help him bottle feed the tiger cubs. Sophie stilled, surprised by the offer, but when she turned to Benedict and saw the hope in his eyes, she didn't have it in her to turn him down; especially when she wanted nothing more than to spend more time with him.

Sophie couldn't believe her luck as she cradled a tiger cub in her arms and fed it a bottle of milk, and she couldn't believe she was sat right next to Benedict Bridgerton as she did so. Their conversation never ceased with Benedict finding her just as fascinating as the animals he cared after, and the more they talked, the deeper she fell, and the harder she knew it would be to walk away from him at the end of the day.

Eventually, she knew her time was up, and she once again thanked him for the best day of her life. She was halted once again from leaving, though this time it was because of Benedict's lips pressing against hers, his hands cupping her face like she was the most precious thing in the world. Sophie kissed him back, savouring the beautiful dream in all it's perfection, figuring it would have to last her a lifetime.

Finally she took her leave, though she left her heart behind with Benedict. She returned home at half six due to a transport delay and though it was expected, it didn't make the beating she endured any less painful, with Araminta leaving her black and blue and locked away for a whole fortnight as punishment for her disobedience. As awful as her situation was, Sophie would have endured it all over again if it meant she could spend that glorious day with Benedict once more.

Then one night her door was unlocked and Posy entered. She told Sophie that her mother was out and that this was the only opportunity she had to run, to free herself from this nightmare, and gave Sophie whatever money and clothes she had, telling her contact her when she could. When Sophie left that evening she truly had no idea where to go - though in the end, it was her heart that guided her to where she ended up.

She really had no idea why she thought trespassing into Aubrey Hall after closing was her best foot forward or why she thought Benedict would welcome her in with open arms and give her the home she always longed for. She figured she was being grossly naive but she at least had to try, at least to check and see if the happy family life she had always pictured was pure fabrication or not.

A zookeeper came across her but as soon as Sophie provided her name, she was asked if she was Ben's Sophie - and suddenly her hope was renewed.

She was taken straight to the family home on the grounds, where the Bridgertons were settling in for dinner. When she was brought into the room, Benedict stood up so fast he made his chair tip over and he rushed over to her. He stilled when he observed the black eye and bruising on her face, asking her what had happened to her as more of his family appeared around her, wanting to help and look after her. Sophie was so overwhelmed with all the love the family were giving to a perfect stranger that she became tearful and the truth came spilling out. She apologised for inconveniencing them, explaining how growing up watching their shows was the closest thing she had to a loving family and she was aware just because she felt that way didn't mean she had any right to impose on them at all - but then Edmund Bridgerton hugged her, telling her there was no way they were turning her away and vowing to get justice for her.

The next morning, after a good night's rest in a comfy bed, Sophie once again apologised for crashing, thanking them for their hospitality and telling them she'd be on their way; except the Bridgertons weren't having it. Hyacinth and Eloise grabbed her belongings out of her hands and Violet and Edmund informed her she would be staying with them regardless. Sophie offered to work for them to earn her keep, to pick up litter or clean toilets, but the Bridgertons wouldn't hear of it.

Benedict stayed by her side, refusing to do anything without her accompanying him, and stealing kisses from her when nobody was around. Sophie was stunned when after only a week since she had first arrived, Benedict told her he was in love with her and saw his future with her, professing how he had loved her the moment their eyes had met and how he was certain fate had drawn them together. She had no idea how to respond other than to pull him into her embrace, thanking her lucky stars that her wildest dreams had come true and that she would live the rest of her life filled with nothing but love and pure joy.

#asks #irwins au #benophie

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erraticprocrastinator · 8 months

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Nine People Tag/Get to know me

Thanks @axl-ul I’ve been tagged in this before but wasn’t sure how to play until I read yours.

Gently tagging @frostedlemonwriter @aether-wasteland-s @awleeofficial @poetrypirate @cillmequick @tea-and-mercury @firesmokeandashes @racerchix21 and @desastreus and open @ for anyone else who wants to play.

Three Ships

I’ve only really got one main ship at the moment but I’ll throw in my second favourite and one from an old fandom.

Brimsley/Reynolds (Queen Charlotte, canon)

George/Charlotte (Queen Charlotte, canon)

Loki/Tony Stark (Marvel, non-canon)

Currently Listening

I’ve been vibing with You Spin Me ‘Round by Dead or Alive and Karma Chameleon by Culture Club lately, and oddly It Wasn’t Me by Shaggy 🤔 (not my usual taste in music). I’ve also been listening to Rewrite the Stars from The Greatest Showman because I’m writing a fic inspired by it.

Last Movie

I don’t really watch a lot of movies but the last one I saw was Pride (2014 film) which we’re studying for class and I really enjoyed.

Currently Reading

Unfortunately I don’t read nearly as much as I did when I was younger but I’m gearing up to reread Pride and Prejudice to prepare for my upcoming English exam. In all honesty the last thing I read was my own fanfiction and the last actual novel I read was probably Sherlock Holmes and the Hound of the Baskervilles (one of my favourites) or possibly I Am Malala.

Currently Watching

I’ve been watching a lot of YouTube this weekend (mostly Ark videos by Phlinger Phoo) but the last series I watched was Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story which I’ve been rewatching in random increments.

Currently Craving

Popcorn

Current Obsession

Writing! I’m very happy to have my spark back. To tie in with that, Queen Charlotte and also Ark: Survival Evolved, my favourite video game.

#writeblr #writing community #writing game #writer game #writeblr game #tag game #erraticprocrastinator #writers #fanfic writers #writers of tumblr #writing #ao3 writer #nine people tag #about me #get to know me

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written-by-ariddletobesolved · 2 years

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i feel...

Helsa in Bridgerton AU

It wasn’t the first time that they found themselves in this position, standing in very close proximity from one another.

Elsa didn’t dare to open her eyes, afraid that if she did so, reality would knock some sense into her and try to push her away from this—whatever selfish decision that she had made. With her eyes closed, she allowed herself the liberty to share this empty room with him, just the two of them. Her breathing hitched, as she felt his hand touching her gloved one, fingertips grazing over the fabric.

“We–” Elsa let out. “Your heart is with my sister.”

She should be ashamed for allowing her sister’s suitor to have her cornered, but between her deepest desire and her duty as a sister, Elsa wanted just once to follow her heart.

“My heart,” she heard him breathe so close to her neck before he continued, “is with your sister.”

It almost sounded like it meant nothing, like he was just repeating her words, and Elsa wanted to believe it, to hope that Hans Westergaard didn’t mean any of it. The scent of his aftershave filled her senses, and she tilted her head slightly to the side, feeling his sideburn brushing against her cheek. Her pulse quickened.

“What do you–” before she could finish, she heard his husky murmur.

“Say you do not care for me.” His presence was intoxicating and Elsa couldn’t think clearly. “Tell me, you feel nothing.”

Elsa began to pant, fist clenching, trying to resist the urge to pull him in. She wanted to say it. Oh, how she wished she could say it as freely as she did earlier. She hated him, yes, but did she feel nothing?

“I feel,” she whispered.

With every breath she took, her judgement got foggy, and for the first time, she didn’t know what to say. She was torn between what she wanted and what she shouldn’t do. Her mind told her to run away, to stay away from him, but her heart told her to stay.

Abruptly, the door was pushed open, forcing her to pull away. Her hand flew to her mouth as her eyes fluttered open. She was stunned, blinking rapidly as everything began to sink in. She turned towards the door and saw her cousin standing in disbelief before she skedaddled. Without bidding the Viscount goodbye, Elsa rushed to the exit.

She didn’t know what would happen if Honeymaren didn’t barge into the room, and she didn’t want to think about it. Shaking her head, Elsa tried to shove that thought to the back of her head. One thing she realised was that whatever it was between them, she wasn’t the only one who felt it.

—

Note: Introducing Helsa in Bridgerton AU, mainly inspired by Kate and Anthony's relationship. Disclaimer, this drabble is just a reenactment of that one scene from Bridgerton season 2, but with a little twist. I've been rewatching it lately and gosh, my mind kept wandering back to Helsa *fans one self*. Anyway, I have plans for this AU but I don't know if I'll be able to write like the full story. However I will share series of posts containing headcanons about Hans and Elsa's backstory in this universe, using the tracking tag: #helsa in bridgerton au. I will also post drabbles like this once in a while, trying to squeeze it into my busy schedule. I'm excited to share this with you all. Feel free to send me an ask regarding this AU. Cheers, everyone!

#helsa #helsa fanfiction #elsa x hans #helsa in bridgerton au #iceburns #queen elsa #prince hans #frozen #mary's writing #ariddletobesolved

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dreamwritesimagines · 11 months

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Hi Dee!! This may come out of nowhere a little but I'm kinda still riding the high of Enamored and it put me in an Anthony Bridgerton kinda mood (got me rewatching Bridgerton once more) so anyway, I was listening to this Anthony Bridgerton inspired playlist on Spotify and I'm SO not a Justin Bieber fan or anything, but this song came up, called "Anyone" and it is SO AnthonyxChérie coded, imo.

It specifically reminded me of the conversation Anthony has with his mom when Chérie is sleeping and ends up overhearing everything, and which is part of the reason that she ends up realizing that really he was the one for him and if it wasn't him, it wasn't going to be anyone else.

Anyway, you might wanna give it a listen, it's a great one! And once I make a connection in my mind it's not going away so I think I'll think of Enamored everytime I listen to it hahaha

Omg wait I'm super curious! 😍 I'm going to listen to it right now! ❤️

Thank you so so much for this love! ❤️❤️❤️

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pensbridgrton · 3 years

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okay one thing I hope they explore in season 4 is also how Pen wrote such horrible stuff about herself too as Whistledown. I would love to see Colin (and the other Bridgerton's maybe even Portia) realize how low her self-esteem was and be really upset by it so they go out of their way to show her how much they care.

i’ve seen a couple of fics tackle this and i’ve enjoyed them, but for whatever reason... i can’t say i want to see it heavily emphasized in canon. i think it’s because i’ve always interpreted penelope’s descriptions of herself as kind of... “this is how society sees me, let me just lean into it to keep my own identity a secret.” like an empowerment through subverting expectations, if that makes sense. she knows how people view her (and resents it, i think) but doesn’t have enough courage to speak up for herself... so just uses lady whistledown to do it instead.

now obviously, she definitely has insecurities but i always felt RMB was really about penelope growing into herself and realizing that it didn’t matter what people thought of her, and danbury and colin giving her the courage and inspiring her to speak up for herself. like she never thought badly about herself (other than in relation to colin and his feelings) but rather was just so painfully shy, she struggled to actually speak her mind.

and i dunno i’m not explaining this well i think - i wouldn’t mind if this was approached in canon (and obviously colin has to spend some time talking about how gorgeous she is/how much he loves her, but that’s a given for any romance) but i really do think they’re going to emphasize more of the damage penelope causes with lady whistledown and the risk posed by being exposed. they may tackle how terrible the featheringtons are to her, but personally i don’t think we’ve seen (at least from what i remember from s1 and apparently my memory’s shit lately) enough to suggest that penelope has low self-worth. she’s shy and doesn’t think she’ll ever end up with colin, but she doesn’t address her own appearance (other than yellow dresses)... again, i haven’t rewatched in months, but i don’t think penelope’s descriptions of herself are really that bad (other than exposing her family of course) and usually relate to how she’s dressed.

EDIT: i posted this, and then someone posted this quote from RMB which summarizes everything better than i could:

Deep inside, she knew who she was, and that person was smart and kind and often even funny, but somehow her personality always got lost somewhere between her heart and her mouth, and she found herself saying the wrong thing or, more often, nothing at all.

#penelope featherington #bridgerton #polin #kinda i guess #anonymous #asks

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bobfloydsbabe · 2 years

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OC Bingo ask time :::

When did the spark of inspiration hit you for your OC's (Willa or Augusta or both)? When did the moment of clarity strike where you had the 'alright we're doing this' moment? Was it a moment while watching it the first time, thinking back on the source material, a song that hit just right?

And if that's not how it works for you, how did your OC's come to life?

((Don't feel obligated to answer if you don't like the question - or you can answer a completely different question on something you want to gush about and pretend I asked that instead 😂))

Hey friend! I promised the answer this ages ago, but Uni has been kicking my butt, so my apologies for the late reply. Get ready to read a novel 'cause your girl's got some shit to say.

Willa

How Willa came to exist is actually a pretty good story. Quite a few years ago, now there was an ask game going around where someone would send a face claim, and you had to make an OC on the spot. Someone sent me Teresa Palmer, and Willa was born. Here's the original post. I had just started watching Chicago Med from the beginning, and Jay had just been in an episode, so it seemed like the right fandom and pairing. I was invested in Willa right away.

My lovely friend, Jess, sent me a dm begging me to tell her all about Willa. She's the only one I knew at the time who watched the One Chicago shows, so I was happy to oblige. I started writing her fic, decided on a name for it almost immediately (which never happens), and she was added to my OC page around that time, too. I made graphics, gifsets, teased her fic, and then abandoned her in true ADHD fashion. I followed the dopamine to my next hyperfixation and sort of forgot about her.

The 'alright, we're doing this' moment came about a month ago when I started rewatching old episodes of Chicago PD. I couldn't stop thinking about Willa, so I looked through the roughly three chapters I'd written of ELB before I jumped ship and decided then that I would post about her and her fic. A month later, here we are, and four chapters of Every Last Breath are available to read on multiple sites. Willa is the reason I became active in the OC community again.

Augusta

Augusta sprung to life from my obsession with Bridgerton and constantly listening to champagne problems by Taylor Swift. The song contains the lyric: "What a shame she's fucked in the head." That hit me like a ton of bricks, and not just personally. I imagined someone who went into self-imposed exile overseas to escape other people's judgment because of mental illness. I imagined a childhood friend of Kate's who was introduced to Benedict at hers and Anthony's engagement party. The reason they hadn't met before was that she'd been overseas for a while. My original idea and this fanfic idea merged, and that's how Augusta Hayes and her story, Cracks of Light, which is a nod to another Taylor Swift song, came to be. This is all a long-winded way of saying she came to be because I'm a Swiftie and have a soft spot for Benedict.

The clarity moment came when I didn't stop thinking about her for five months and decided to just post the first chapter of CoL. I'm still working on chapter two, but imagine I'll have lots of inspiration once season 2 drops in a couple of weeks. I'm always a slut for more Benedict.

#residentdormouse #answered #oc creator bingo #oc creator bingo 2022 #willa asks #augusta asks #oc: augusta hayes #oc: willa atticus #mail

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mylifeiskara · 3 years

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Rules: tag people you want to get to know better/catch up with

Was tagged by @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold and @hopskipaway thanks friends!

Favourite colour: Purple!

Currently reading: The Viscount Who Loved Me by Julia Quinn and I am so looking forward to seeing Anthony and Kate’s relationship in season 2 of Bridgerton now. There are going to be so many antics I can’t wait. I’m also reading Happily Ever Afters by Elise Bryant which is the exact type of YA book I wish I’d had growing up, so I love it a lot and if I got to write the movie version of it I would probably collapse and die.

Last song: I think it was favorite crime by Olivia Rodrigo, which I recently realized is a perfect Chuck and Blair song.

Last movie: The Personal History of David Copperfield! Starting off my summer of Dev Patel right 😌

Last series: I am in the midst of a Gossip Girl rewatch before the reboot comes out in July which has been a lot of fun. A lot of my opinions about characters and ships have shifted since the last time I watched a couple years ago, which has been really interesting to discover. I also just finished Hacks on HBO Max and that was a lot of fun, and I started Starstruck, which is also on HBO Max and is just all sorts of rom-com fun so far. (Please come to me for TV recommendations, my senior superlative in high school was “Class Netflix”)

Sweet, spicy or savoury: As someone with multiple cavities, I feel like I have to say sweet? I have a terrible sweet tooth lol, I’m very much a dessert person.

Craving: See above, I really want ice cream and chocolate. But I could also really go for either Chinese or Thai food.

Tea or Coffee: I love both, but probably coffee. Part of my morning routine is writing while I drink my coffee and I’ve really come to appreciate it. Also coffee very much reminds me of my grandpa so I like having that little reminder of him each day.

Currently working on: all of my fics I was prompted lol. I’m trying to get as much of it out of the way as possible before I start grad school at the end of August and then have to do writing assignments for my classes. Also still toying with the idea of a Malina fic that I couldn’t finish in time for Malina week but I still like the idea. I’m also rewriting one of my pilots that I turned in with applications but was inspired to work on again. It involves fake dating, perhaps one of my favorite tropes. And for fans of We Don’t Need To Say It, I have written a first draft of the pilot of Alpha, so like perhaps one day it will really exist in the world and you can say you knew me when 😂

Tagging/saying hi: @nakey-cats-take-bathsss | @mobi-on-a-mission | @useyourtelescope | @unremarkablegirl | @kancjs

#tag games #about me #lol ignore me if you've done this already i can't keep track of tag games and am bad at responding #but i always feel obligated to share what tv i'm watching it's a disease

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pepperdee · 3 years

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rewatched bridgerton. got inspired. rewriting tcoh. everyone's older. their clothes are bolder. my hand hurts. look at these flirts.

plz help me with ship names im really bad at them

#dedrick warflash #harmony kraft #rose king #henry flamm #tcoh #pepper draws #i need ship names for these guys #dedrick and harmony #rose and henry #plz help im so bad at ship names

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morethanaprincess-a · 3 years

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PEOPLE I’D LIKE TO GET TO KNOW BETTER!

( alias / name ) : Rae. It’s mostly what I’ve picked to go by in the RPC, though not many of my offline friends call me this.

( birthday ) : August 22nd.

( zodiac sign ) : I’m a Leo/Virgo cusp and I live up to it in most aspects (fortunately or unfortunately). I can be a little dramatic and I have to look good if I’m leaving the house (and most of the time, at home as well!). I’m also terribly impatient. Furthermore, I tend to be rather loyal, a perfectionist, and single-minded with tasks.

( height ) : 5′8″. Average to tall, I suppose? I was -just- tall enough to do some plus-size modeling for a year post-university when the job market had tanked. But otherwise too short for most work. I did personal training and makeup artistry for awhile instead before getting into my current field.

( hobbies ) : Writing (RP, blogs, occasionally fiction), reading (mostly fiction), cosplay, fashion, beauty and skincare, weightlifting, binge watching TV and movies, and on occasion, baking.

( favourite colour ) : Sapphire blue has been my favorite for years. I also love pastels of all types (pink, blue, purple, green especially), navy blue, emerald green, and blue-based reds. I tend to avoid orange, yellow, and brown, at least in terms of clothes and makeup.

( favourite books ) : This is a cruel question to ask someone who majored in English Lit, honestly. My favorites range from classics often read in English class to Kevin Kwan’s Crazy Rich Asians.

( last film or show watched ) : Midsomer Murders and Inspector Lewis, back-to-back. Mystery Mondays! I’m also on my fourth rewatch of Bridgerton and my 12th rewatch of Downton Abbey. I need to catch up on Men in Kilts, too. For movies, I just rewatched Diaboliques after like 6 years or so and it still holds up (If you’re a fan of thrillers and Alfred Hitchcock, don’t miss this French film!). Bless HBO Max for having a curated section of choices from Turner Classic Movies (when I’ve got a moment, I’m going to rewatch And God Created Woman again. I’m weak for Grace Kelly, Audrey Hepburn, Brigitte Bardot, and Catherine Deneuve).

( inspiration for muse ) : I go into this a lot on most Mundays, but I do pull a lot from TV, books, and films. I don’t talk about the book side of this as much, so I’d give shoutouts to The Royal We, Katherine McGee’s American Royals series, and The Royal Runaway for giving me plenty of plot ideas for this blog.

( story behind url ) : Very simple: it’s how Sonia wishes to be seen.

Tagged by: stolen affectionately from @electricea !

Tagging: You, if you’d like to do this.

#more-than-a-princess memes #(One last Munday contribution!)

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helloamhere · 3 years

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Rules: tag people you’d like to get to know better

I was tagged by @phd-mama whomst I am pretty sure has a direct throughline to my soul so I doubt this will make her know me BETTER but I crave a distraction!

Last song: I just looked at my spotify and it’s Blinded by Emmit Fenn and I was like, “who?” but that’s very on brand for me because my music listening is an enormous ramble through predictive algorithms themed around “moody music to think about quitting your job to,” lately. I’ve been listening to a lot of WAR*HALL when I actually pick my music tho, and Moon Taxi

Last movie: I watched American Animals with my wife and let me tell you, it’s a black comedy and a bit of a hard watch re: toxic masculinity and people making destructive choices but I was on the edge of my seat, recommend

Currently watching: It’s embarrassing how much I’m currently watching. Bridgerton, Community (a rewatch), New Girl, I’m inching through finishing Schitt’s Creek (I don’t want it to end), Tiny Pretty Things, Riverdale, literally any home renovation show I can get my hands on, Bling Empire, Designated Survivor (It’s!!! So!!!! Dumb!!! I!!! Love!!! It!!!!), Star Trek Discovery, Sex Education, Star Trek TNG (occasionally)...can you tell tv is like, my main comfort drug

Currently reading: I started Angel of the Crows but really did not like it. I just started the Obsidian Tower and I am also comfort re-reading The Girl With All The Gifts because parts of it inspired parts of my recent x-men fic so I am reminding myself of that as I am a little sad about nearly being done with that fic! I am reading this book for work called Indigenous Statistics that’s pretty cool.

Currently craving: To feel at peace at work (currently, every morning I feel very panicky and it’s not an inaccurate thing bc every day something truly shitty happens to me tbqh :[ ), to think that maybe somewhere somebody cares about education. A good complicated statistics solution that I came up with and got to share with somebody. A hug from my mom, the way she holds my hand when we watch star trek (I’m gonna cry!-- actually that too, I kind of crave a good cry), a long cold surf on a hot day, a train ride into somewhere new, a chocolate lava cake that is somehow simultaneously dangerously hot and also I can faceplant into it????? (I have no explanation, these are my stress fantasies) a really good almond croissant from this old local bakery that just Closed Due To Pandemic (UGH), an immensely late night sultry dance with a stranger in a random blues fusion dance convention, and the endorphin rush of finishing a fic (almost there!!!!)

I taggggggg @hazzabeeforlou and @ashes-and-dust and @absoloutenonsense and @banderlion and @choface and absolutely anyone who wants to do this, of course, I am so terrible at remembering people’s tumblrs in these moments, but your responses are wanted, I love learning about people’s little daily life experiences !

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