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lydiimae · 1 month

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Infatuation

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

MDI!! 18+

Part 2 <3

Warnings: Heavy drinking, mentions of opium use, mentions of prostitution, rough sex, fingering, oral sex, semi-public sex, squirting, marking, thigh riding, vaginal sex, dom benedict and sub reader, brief spanking, possessive benedict, LOTS of dirty talk

A.N: hi again, i'm back on my bullshit <3 first of all, thank you so very much for the love on my first Benny fic AND my first fic ever. liiiiike seriously, that was so sweet <3 T-T. anyway, this fic is another Benny fic- a smutty one at that. it is vaguely based off of the infamous party where Ben has his threesome, however, i changed it up quite a bit so take it at face value hehe. i am planning on making an Anthony one next, probably some more filth so I can practice getting my wording to a place i am proud of. also, i think i will maybe make this into a series??? so do let me know if you like it so i can get an idea >.< enjoy, ily, and THANK YOU AGAIN <3 ^-^

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You were never one to go to parties, especially the ones your dear friend Genevieve Delacroix invited you to. She had a knack for finding the most raunchy, wanton, artists who would throw parties full of courtesans, sex, opium, alcohol... the whole of it.

Being a maid for such a wealthy and well-known family, the Featherington's to be exact, meant you knew the secret lives that many lords and ladies lead outside of the stuffy confines of the ballrooms.

You were lucky to be the lady's maid of the sweetest Featherington, Penelope, and therefore you were even luckier to hear about the Bridgerton family. From what she told you, they were all kind and polite, just like anyone else. She had also hinted, quite shyly, to the men of the family being gorgeous. The third born being her favorite.

You had seen glimpses of pearly white teeth, dark blue tailcoats, and their chestnut brown hair but were never lucky enough to see a full image of any of them but Eloise and her sister, Daphne.

When Genevieve insisted on you tagging along with her and a friend from a higher-up place, you begrudgingly accepted. It was lucky that the young debutante you worked for insisted on having something important to do, so you snuck out and walked through the streets of London to the modiest's shop.

Genevieve dressed you in a tight but, incredibly beautiful, dark blue corset and a pair of black pants, to which you raised an eyebrow. "I look as if I am soliciting, not as if I am curious about this party you have been nagging me to go to." You comment, looking in the mirror.

"What if you solicit, hm? Where is the harm in spending a night with a lord or even another servant?" She returns, tightening up the laces on the corset before stepping back and looking over her work. "Besides, look at yourself. You have a body that would make any one of those silly debutantes jealous, why not show it?" She grins.

You sigh and turn to her, a small cheeky smile on your face as a result of her teasing. "You owe me for this, Viv." You tease and she laughs, putting on her cloak as she hands you your own. "There she is. The Y/N I know. We will have fun, I swear it." She says. Once your cloak is tugged over your shoulders, the both of you make your way out of the shop and towards the house where the party is being held.

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Benedict never snuck out, not before he got invited to Lord Granville's house. The man was nice enough about him completely insulting his art to his face, nice enough to recognize an artistic eye and even the hint of talent that Benedict possessed through merely speaking about art. He thought the gathering was going to be one where he would meet artists and practice his craft. He was wrong.

Of course, he was experienced in the world of sex, drugs, and drinking. He attended the gentleman's club with his brothers after almost every ball he attended, much like every other lord in the ton. He has shared his number of passion-filled nights with nameless women, some of which he cannot remember. The only remenice being the ache of a hangover, and the taste of expensive whiskey still lingering on his tongue.

He would have never thought that the artist had such a scene hiding behind such an unassuming townhouse.

He followed the artist in and was met with quite the scene. The room was hazy with the smoke of expensive cigars, the candlelight casting a low gold hue on the entire house. He followed the artist deeper and was met with courtesans soliciting men at every turn, to which he grinned.

Even further and he was led into a room where women were posed naked, in quite compromising positions, for eager artists who were trying to master the anatomy of a naked woman. Or so that is what Granville claimed.

He grins crookedly at the sight. "Quite the room, is it not?" Lord Granville piques up from behind him. He turns to face the man and nods. "Quite. Might I stay here? I have found myself needing practice of anatomy as of late and this is the perfect place to do so." He says, a playful glint in his eye.

Granville, of course, picks up on it and nods. "Of course, Lord Bridgerton. Do enjoy yourself." He returns with a knowing smile and a wink before exiting the room. Benedict sits at one of the free easles, one of the other men lighting a cigar and offering it to him. He accepts, and puffs on it as he begins to work.

He could get used to this.

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Genevieve leads you through the party, grabbing two glasses of what looks like scotch off of a passing servant's tray. She settles for meeting her friend, who you quickly learn is the wife of said artist who is throwing the party, on the stairs.

After a while of chatting you learn that the young woman's name is Lucy and her husband is Henry Granville, an artist whose work you always found interesting. You also are clued into the fact that their marriage is one of convenience, rather than love, as Lord Granville has no romantic nor sexual interest towards the opposite sex. You find no issue in what the young couple has, after all, you have seen much worse when it comes to marriages in the ton.

"Viv, might I go explore, or am I to only solicit?" You tease as you push off the wall. She laughs and shakes her head. "I am not your keeper, Y/N. Go and do as you wish, just be careful." She says, a hint of genuine protectiveness seeping through her tone of voice. "I promise. I will find my way back to your shop if anything goes awry." You assure before walking down the steps with a quick wave to both of the women.

You duck into a small room with a door that leads to a balcony after grabbing another glass of scotch from a passing servant. However fun it is coming to these things with Viv, you find them quite overwhelming. You are more attuned to the quietness of your servant's quarters, spending countless hours curled up with a good book that your young mistress so generously gifts you from time to time.

You walk out on the balcony, leaning heavily on the metal railing as you look up at the stars. The scotch, and the fact that you get much drunker much quicker than most, is making a delightfully warm feeling bloom in your chest. You take a deep breath of the fresh air to calm your senses before ducking back into the party.

You make it all of two steps before colliding into a broad chest, which sends your alcohol down the front of your torso.

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He was in that hazy, alcohol-filled room, long enough to get just drunk enough to where he was clumsy. He catches the woman he so foolishly clambered into on his way out of the room he was painting in by the waist, which sends her drink out of her hand and down her front.

"My God, I am so incredibly sorry my lady." He rushes, gazing down at the mess he made. His eyes widen at the sight that lies in front of him.

She's a young woman, young enough that she can not be past the age of two and twenty, in a very revealing corset top and black pants. Her hair is tucked up elegantly, yet a few unruly waves have fallen as a result of the night's activities. Her cheeks are pink, probably from the embarrassment or perhaps even the anger, of getting drenched in scotch.

The liquid drips down her neck, and he follows a drop from her neck to where it travels right between her breasts. The tops are peaking out from being hugged so tight. They are full, so very full. He wonders what it would feel like to run his tongue over the smooth skin, what it would feel like to roll her nipple between his teeth and suck.

He shakes himself out of it and meets her eyes once more before he gets any more aroused than he already is.

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You recognize him immediately as a Bridgerton, though you have no idea which one. He has a silly crooked smile on his face that you cannot seem to draw your eyes from, he also sports the undoubtedly Bridgerton chestnut brown hair.

He has longer hair than the one Penelope speaks of, but only just. Your eyes roam from his face to his chest, where he is wearing only a loose undershirt, his waistcoat long forgotten in drunken activities you're sure. His suspenders hang loose on his shoulders, just barely hanging onto his black trousers.

"You're a Bridgerton." It slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, the effects of three glasses of scotch. He grins wider, chuckling a bit. The noise makes your entire body heat up. "I am. Benedict Bridgerton in fact." He says, his eyes never straying from yours.

"And you are?" He ponders after a moment of silence from you. You jump at the question, having been too distracted by the look of his lips to even notice he was speaking. You clear your throat and adjust your posture. "Y/N L/N." You answer shyly.

"Well, Y/N L/N, can I take you to a room and clean up the mess I made of your top, or is that entirely too forward for a gentleman to ask within mere moments of meeting?" He grins, the alcohol he consumed only ebbing on his already large confidence when it comes to women. You only nod shyly, afraid that if you speak you will make a stuttering fool of yourself.

He offers an arm, which you take happily, and begins to lead you through the party.

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He pulls you into a room and, almost immediately, his hands encompass your waist. "You... are the most stunning woman I have ever had the pleasure of looking at." He murmurs, sending your heart soaring. You rest your hand on his chest, newly emboldened by the liquid courage you have been sipping on the entire night, returning his cheeky smile. "Is it too forward for a lady to say the same within mere moments of meeting?" You return.

He lets out a chuckle when you parrot his past words and he leans down. "A witty woman as well as a beautiful one, what else do you have up your sleeve Miss L/N?" He purrs, running a flattened hand up your back until it meets your hair. He tugs it down from its pins, sending it tumbling over your shoulders.

"Perhaps, if you are lucky Mister Bridgerton, I shall show you." You whisper, leaning in so your lips are but a hair's width away from his. Something dangerous and incredibly intoxicating passes over his features as he lets out a noise, a growl, that causes your core to dampen.

"You are a very forward woman, Y/N. I find it quite... infatuating to say the very least." He whispers before capturing your lips. You close your eyes and tangle one of your hands in his thick hair, the other finding his collar and giving it a slight tug.

He groans into your mouth, his hands enveloping your bum cheeks and pulling you even closer. He wants to feel the rise and fall of your breasts as he makes you pant. And by god does he.

You moan into his mouth as his hands squeeze the soft skin of your ass through your trousers, which gives him the perfect chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes smoky, like cigars and whiskey. It makes your clit throb painfully.

As if reading your mind, and body, he spreads your legs with his knee and slides his leg between them. His thigh presses against your closed cunt and you gasp, breaking the kiss to throw your head back. He smirks and holds you right where you are by moving his hands to your hips.

"So sensitive." He whispers and groans as you begin to move your hips back and forth against his thigh, chasing the feeling it gives you. "Fuck, you are just full of surprises aren't you darling? I did not even have to tell you what to do, you just did it," He praises, his eyes locked on the place where your clothed core meets his leg.

"Riding my thigh like a bitch in heat. I might have to keep you." He gusts over your shoulder as he begins to kiss the exposed skin there. Oh God, how you would love that. To be able to fuck him whenever you saw fit, yes please Mister Bridgerton. "Please." Is all you manage to strangle out as you begin to grind down on him harder.

He bites down on your shoulder, leaving a bright red mark there, which he smirks at before he slowly guides you to the dark red chaise that lies in the corner of the room. He lays you back, slowly unlacing your corset with his slender fingers. He throws it across the room when it is off, his mouth immediately taking in one of your hardened nipples.

You cry out when he sucks, watching him look up at you with a shit-eating grin that makes your cunt even more soaked than it already is. He sucks and bites your bud before turning his attention to the other, giving it just as much attention. "The least I can do is clean up the mess I made." He whispers over your nipple, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure straight down to your core. Cocky bastard, you think to yourself as you grip his hair.

You are a whimpering, moaning mess by the time his face returns over yours. He presses a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to your lips before sitting up and stripping himself of his suspenders and his shirt before returning his attention to you. He takes off your shoes and then unbuttons your trousers, slowly sliding them down your legs.

He groans lewdly at the sight. Genevieve had insisted quite heavily when she was dressing you up that you forgo panties. She said it made trousers more comfortable, less tight, so of course you agreed. You decide tonight, that if wearing no underwear will illicit that pretty noise from his lips, you will never wear them again.

"God you are soaked. Drenched from riding my thigh and a quick suck to your nipples." He whispers as he kisses the insides of your thighs. You whine and buck your hips up toward his face, which results in him quickly grabbing your hips with one of his hands and pressing you down into the cushion so you are unable to buck and writhe. "Perhaps I was right in my assessment of you, Miss Y/N. You really are just a bitch in heat. So desperate to be full of my cock, painted with my seed." He murmurs before licking a stripe up your slit.

You cry out and grip his hair with both hands, needing something to ground yourself as his tongue swirls around your clit. He lets out a growl at the taste of your dripping cunt, so sweet and yet so tart. Utter perfection. The noise you make in return has him wishing he could drink from your body for the rest of his days, die with you sat atop his face. Riding his mouth to oblivion.

He moves his hand down to his trousers, fumbling with the buttons to free his aching cock. He slides two fingers into your body without warning and you keen, your eyes rolling back as he collects your juices. He pulls his fingers out just as quick as they went in, and spreads your wetness on his length, stroking himself hard as he drinks from you.

"Ben... oh fuck.... so close." You babble as his tongue presses inside your hole, drawing the most heavenly noises from your body. He pulls away just as you start to see stars and you grasp at his hands, tears forming in your eyes from your denied release. "Please... Please..." You sob, desperate for the feeling to come back.

He chuckles deeply, hooking your knees over his shoulders. "I've got you, love." He assures, kissing away your tears before pulling back with a cocky grin that sends your heart fluttering. "You look like a masterpiece, crying for my cock. All flushed and swollen." He murmurs. You do not know if he is talking about you or your pussy, but you never wish for him to stop.

"Please, my lord. Please, please... I need you. I need..." You babble, completely free of any thought other than his pretty dick plunging inside of you. He curses and bends down, claiming your lips with his before thrusting into you without warning. He bottoms out, and both of you moan, the kiss becoming a mess of tongue and tooth alike.

He begins at a brutal pace, slamming into you so hard that the chaise creeks against the hardwood floor. You scream at the heavenly feeling of pain and pleasure, the sound muffled over his lips. Sweat splashes from his collarbone to yours as the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, the sickly sweet smell of sex enveloping your senses.

He grunts and breaks the kiss, holding one of your legs by the calf, his other hand cupping your jaw. Your mouth falls open as soon as his lips are gone, a loud moan coming from somewhere deep within slipping out before you can try and stop it. He grunts and sticks his thumb past your lips, afraid that someone will hear from outside the thin walls.

You happily oblige and close your lips around his digit, swirling your tongue around him to the rhythm of his thrusts. He moans at the sight of you sucking on his thumb like it's a cock, as his cock slams into your pretty pussy. "Fuck. I am keeping you. You are mine," He accentuates the word with a slap to your ass cheek, causing you to cry out over his finger and clench down on his cock. "Forever. No one else will ever-fuck.-be able to fill this sweet hole of yours. It is all mine. You are all mine." He grunts as his thrusts become sloppy.

He yanks his thumb from your mouth and attacks your swollen, throbbing, clit. He rubs it hard and fast, to match the rhythm of his thrusts and you cry out. He quickly intuits that you are as close to climax as he is and bends down, covering your lips with his own so that you can scream freely.

You do as he expected, letting out a long scream into his mouth as stars rush over your vision and your body burns hot. Your juices soak both his pant-covered leg and the velvety fabric of the chaise below. The feeling of your fluttering cunt tightening even further sends him over and he releases deep inside you before he goes limp over your body.

He pushes himself up after a moment, relishing in the sight below him. Your cheeks are flushed, lips swollen and bruised. You have a bite mark on your shoulder, your hair surrounding your head like a messy halo. Perfection. A ruined, beautiful, masterpiece made solely by him.

He brushes the hair out of your face and presses a sweet kiss to your brow. "Might I be privy to those many secrets you were so keen on hiding, Miss L/N?" He teases softly, grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket and beginning to clean the mess of mixed juices on your thighs.

You giggle. "The next time we meet, I promise to tell at least one." You return, your heart fluttering at the way he so delicately slides your trousers back over your legs after cleaning you up. He grins as he buttons them up, his hands encompassing your waist to pull you up to a sitting position.

You use the opportunity to wrap your arms around his neck, and it is his turn to laugh. "Next time, then. I will wait with held breath until then, I assure you." He whispers, helping you into your corset. "But for now, I owe you a lovely night, hm?" He murmurs as he pulls the laces of your corset tight. You sigh and nod. "I would like that very much." You whisper back, resting your head on his shoulder.

He smiles cheekily, "Is it entirely too forward for a gentleman to say he would like to do this every night from now on, mere hours after meeting?" He whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

No, Mister Bridgerton, it is not.

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dragon-kazansky · 3 days

Text

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Nine - Late night scandals

♡♡♡

"What do you think Bridgerton?"

Benedict turns around to find the artist he had accidentally offended at the gallery the other night.

"This one more to your liking?"

"Mr. Granville--" Benedict raises from his chair to approach the man.

"Perhaps they should take it over to Somerset House so it can be skyed right next to mine."

"I believe I owe you an apology, sir." Benedict says, feeling rather embarrassed.

"Unnecessary. I actually quite enjoy the eloquent stings of your critique. So?" He gestures back to the painting on the wall.

"A touch morose for my tastes," Benedict says.

Henry points to the next one.

"A tragedy. The hound deserved better," Benedict comments.

Granville laughs. "Where is yours?"

"My..."

"Your work," Granville clarifies. "Are you tell me you're not an artist yourself?"

"Well, I-- I suppose sometimes I like to... Well, I mean, I almost--"

"I believe 'yes' and 'thank you' are the words you seek. But either way, you should come by my studio." Mr Granville holds out a small card to Benedict, who accepts it. "The pieces I do for myself are there, and I think you will find my real work far less, um... Oh, how did you put it? 'Cold and lacking inner life?'"

Benedict scrunched up his face as he nodded, still burning with embarrassment. "I shall never live that down, shall I?"

Mr Granville leaves.

Benedict returns to his table where he had been absentmindedly doodling. Eyes. He was sketching out a pair of eyes. Pretty ones. From memory.

He sighs and closes the sketchbook.

♡♡♡

As you sit in the drawing room of the Bridgerton house, as invited by Violet, you discover that she had no idea about the boxing match, or that Daphne had been there.

You keep your eyes focused on the latest Whistledown paper, though you had stopped reading it.

Daphne was playing the piano while her mother interrogated her.

"A boxing match is no place for any young lady." Violet sighs.

"Is it a place for a prince? Was he at today's match, sister?" Hyacinth asks.

"He certainly was."

"It is a loathsome and barbarous form of entertainment," Violet was very displeased.

That was when Daphne took the opportunity to mention you had gone as well, which had Violet looking at you.

"You too?"

You glare softly at Daphne, who gives you a smug little look. Crafty one, she is.

"Anthony invited me," you admit.

Violet looked terribly ill all of a sudden. You were sure she would being this up with her eldest son at some point.

"What about the duke?" Hyacinth asks.

"What about the duke?" Both Violet and Daphne ask at the same time. You eye Daphne curiously from your seat.

"Was he also present?" Hyacinth asked, less enthusiastic now.

"I do not know," Daphne says. "If the duke was there, I did not see him."

Hyacinth leaves the piano to go see what Eloise is up to. She had been scribbling away in her book since you arrived.

You put the Whistledown column down and rose from your seat to seek entertainment near the window. Watching the street was surely more entertainment than listening in on that conversation.

Anthony enters the room and greets both his mother and his sister. You turn and he greets you too.

"Did you truly take your sister to a boxing match?" Violet hounds him.

"Your admonishment will have to wait. I have news," he cuts her lecture short. "Prince Friedrich has asked for my permission to propose." He looks at Daphne.

She stops playing. "So soon?"

"Well, what did you tell him?" Violet asks.

"That I know better than to answer for my sister. I have no objections to the man. People speak well of him. Whatever you decide, Daph, you shall have my support."

You look at Daphne quietly.

"I... uh... I..." She doesn't know what to say.

"You need not decide now," Violet tells her. "You certainly have no known him long."

"Let me know when you have an answer, and I shall convey it." Anthony says to his sister.

"Indeed." Daphne looks at him.

Anthony leaves as quickly as he came in. It was clear Daphne needed time to think.

♡♡♡

When Daphne had pleaded with you to attend the next ball with her, you couldn't say no. There was a sadness to her gaze, and you wondered from where it had risen.

Something had happened between her and the duke, and she had been off kilter ever since.

The ball, like all had been so far, was wonderful. The theme was a little more out there this time, but everyone was behaving quite perfectly.

You were standing with Daphne as she scanned the crowd. Exactly who she was looking for, you weren't quite certain. You would suggest the prince on the account that the duke was apparently leaving London tonight.

The prince could be seen across the room. He was in conversation with someone. You glance toward Daphne, but your gaze shifts as Cressida Cowper comes over. You give Daphne a gentle nudge.

"Daphne." Cressida chuckles. "You look beautiful, as always."

"Thank you, Cressida," Daphne says politely.

"You could have chosen anyone," Cressida says. "You have gentlemen lined up to pay you tribute. Yet you did not hesitate to steal my chance for happiness away, did you? I knew the marriage market would make rivals of us, but I never thought youcapable of being my enemy."

"The man made his choice, Cressida. What did you expect me to do?" Daphne asks.

Daphne walks off in the direction of the prince. You look at Cressida and then walk off in the other direction.

There is nothing you could ever say to her.

You begin to walk alongside the dance floor, watching the couples dance. A hand comes into view, and you turn to see a friendly looking young man smiling at you.

"May I have this dance?"

You take a moment to gather yourself. You had hoped one of the Bridgerton boys would be here to dance with you, but you supposed you couldn't rely on them every time.

"You may."

You go with him to dance.

It seemed Benedict wasn't here.

♡♡♡

Benedict was, in fact, making his way to the studio of Mr. Granville. He was intrigued by the artist.

He finds the address and knocks on the door. Henry Granville answers.

"Mr. Bridgerton."

Benedict stands there a little awkwardly.

"Come in, come in."

Granville lets him in. Benedict enters and follows him. He is led further inside and finds himself in a large room. A circle of easels presented around two nude models.

"I do not know what I was expecting, but it surely was not this." Benedict says.

"Oh, simply a gathering of like-minded souls." Henry tells him. "Here, let me show you what I've been working on."

Benedict is led further inside the studio. He passes a couple of painters discussing war so causally.

"What do you think?" Henry asks.

Benedict walks over and takes a look at the canvas.

"Hmm. It's a far cry from Somerset House, I must say."

"I shall take that a compliment."

They both chuckle.

"And I must say, I'm truly jealous. Is this your life?" Benedict asks.

"There are advantages to being the second-born." Henry tells him. "Heirs have the responsibility. Second sons have the fun."

They both chuckle again.

"So... why not go have some fun?" Henry gestures to the models. He's giving Benedict the chance to epress himself through art.

Benedict picks an easel and sits down.

♡♡♡

As you dance once again tonight, you spot Anthony standing off to the side. He's staring at the opera singer.

You hard heard whispers about him being infatuated with an opera singer, but had no idea if there lay any truth to them.

You continue dancing with your partner.

Benedict was still a no-show tonight, which you found to be rather disappointing. You had been looking forward to another evening of his little quips and teasing.

When the dance ends, you curtsy to your partner and head in the direction of Anthony and Violet. Lady Bridgerton had tries to introduce her son to a rather pretty young lady, but he showed no interest.

"Shall we dance, Lord Bridgerton?" You ask, looking at Anthony.

He turns and looks at you, for half a second, thinking you were another lady his mother was intent on pushing on him.

"Yes, let's." He offers his arm, and you take it. Violet watches you both go. Even if he chose you, she would be pleased, but she knows her son will not take you as his wife. You're his friend who has come to rescue him from her for a while.

Violet downs a third glass of champagne.

"She is persistent," you say.

"Hm?"

"Your mother."

Anthony chuckles softly. "Yes. Quite."

"The opera singer..."

He looks at you.

"Nevermind. Its not my business."

Anthony's expression softens. "I was - am - found of her."

"Yes. I assumed as much."

Anthony sighs. "It's complicated.

You nod and say no more on the matter. Anthony spins you around elegantly.

"Is Benedict not here tonight?" You ask, twirling with him.

"Benedict? No." He gazes at you. "Why do you ask?"

"I just noticed his absence."

"Missing your dance partner?" He teases.

You chuckle. "Am I that obvious?"

He winks at you, and you shake your head with a smile. "I'm fond of you boys. I can't help it when I notice one of you is missing."

Anthony grins. "How lucky we are to have gained such a special friend such as you."

As Anthony gives you another turn around the floor, you spot Colin speaking with Penelope. You smile softly at the sight and then turn your attention back to the eldest brother.

At least you'll have one Bridgerton on your dance card tonight.

As the next dance begins, Anthony keeps your company longer. You're aware this may catch attention from others, especially Lady Whistledown should she be here, but none the less, you dance with him twice.

You soon see that Colin has left Penelope on the sidelines to dance with Miss Thompson, and you also find the prince talking to Daphne amidst their dance.

The dance ends, and you manage to catch sight of Daphne fleeing the ballroom.

Anthony bows, and you curtsy.

"Until next time." He nods his head at you. You smile and nod, taking your leave. You worry about Daphne and intend to go check on her, but you're stopped by another gentleman.

You sigh and realise you'll have to dance with him before you can flee again.

The dance feels like it drags on, and on, and on. You smile, you listen to your partner talk, but your mind is focused on Daphne. She did not look well when she fled.

When the dance ends, you spot Anthony leaving the ballroom. You waste no more time and follow him.

He heads outside. You follow.

"Anthony?"

He turns and looks at you. "Go back inside."

"What's the matter? What's happening?"

"Did you see him?" Anthony asks urgently.

"Who?"

"The duke."

"He is here?"

"He was, and now I can't find Daphne." You realise he's concerned about his sister.

You hear something further in the garden, and Anthony hurries off. You follow him, close on his heels.

What you find is not what you ever expected to see.

Simon and Daphne were not just kissing. His hands were all over her. Her dress had been pulled down. You cover your mouth, though you can not hide the gasp that escapes you.

Anthony runs at Simon.

"Bastard!"

Simon receives a strong punch to the face. He falls to the ground, and Anthony takes another swing. He punches him a third time and then stands beside his sister. You hurry to her other side and checks her over.

"Daphne..."

She is speechless. She has no words for you. They have been caught in a compromising position.

"You will marry her," Anthony declares.

"What?" Daphne looks at her brother.

"Immediately. We can only hope no one saw you take such liberties, and my sister is saved further mortification. You will marry her!"

Anthony is angry.

"Brother!"

"I cannot marry her," Simon says.

"You have defiled her innocence, and now you refuse her hand? I knew you were a rake, Hastings, I never thought you a villain."

"I cannot marry her," Simon states more firmly.

Daphne looks hurt.

"Then you leave me no choice. I must demand satisfaction."

"A duel? Anthony, you cannot--" Daphne begins.

"He dishonours you, sister." Anthony looks at her. "He dishonours you and me and the very Bridgerton name. I have misjudged you, indeed. You have duped us both, but I shall not see my sister pay for my own misdeeds. We will settle this as gentlemen."

"I understand," Simon agrees. "I shall see you at dawn."

"I do not understand," Daphne says softly. "You would rather die than marry me?"

You look at Simon quietly.

"I am truly sorry."

"We need to go, Daph. Before anyone should see us." Anthony says softly.

You reach out for her arm gently and pull her away, Anthony follows you both.

Daphne takes her brother's arm after he begs of you not to say a word about anything. You swear by it, looking him in the eye. Anthony thanks you.

You drift off from them as you enter the ballroom once again.

Anthony approaches Colin and tells him he is taking her home. He asks Colin to take care of their mother. You decide to step in and help. Anthony looks grateful.

Anthony and Daphne leave.

Colin looks at you, but you just smile softly at him and ask him to help you with Violet. He doesn't say anything about Daphne or Anthony.

Neither do you.

♡♡♡

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@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

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@cosmixstar - @bree3parchen -

#Bridgerton shade of blue #benedict bridgerton x reader #Bridgerton #female reader #dragon writes

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michwritesstuff · 4 months

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She’s Gonna Save Me (Bridgerton: Benedict Bridgerton)

this is my first ever bridgerton fic! i’ve had such a writer’s block and post grad has been so difficult but listening to music and reading other writers’ works has me feeling inspired! so enjoy my first story in months and first of the new year :)

pairing: female reader (she/her) x Benedict Bridgerton reader x Colin Bridgerton (platonic!)

summary: Benedict contemplates a life pursuing art and living outside the expectations of his family and society. Does he find a wife and settle down or live freely? What happens when he meets someone who can offer him the best of both worlds?

notes/warnings: mention of nudity, alcohol consumption, activities that can be witnessed at Sir Granville’s scandalous studio saoirees…

word count: 2.4k

As the second eldest Bridgerton boy, Benedict never found himself extremely pressured by the standards and expectations of society. Those responsibilities were entrusted upon his brother, Anthony, the Viscount.

Benedict reserved himself to a more romantic life, preoccupied by his love and interest for art.

Attending every event of the season was merely a ploy to keep his mother happy and distracted from the fact that he had no true intention of courting any ladies.

He would drink, laugh, and dance the season away without ever calling on anyone.

Benedict believed that this season wouldn’t be any different.

******

When you first agreed to join your family friends across the Atlantic in London, you didn’t expect that you would be taking part in the ton’s social season.

As the youngest daughter, your brothers married with children and sisters off tending to their new husbands, your father didn’t feel the need to arrange a marriage for social or monetary gain.

Your family was well off in the states, your parents often described as ‘free spirits.’ They had always impressed upon you the importance of appreciating the beauty around you and romanticizing life.

With your mother’s passing, you decided to stay at home with your father, choosing to enjoy a quiet life in the country studying English literature.

Staying with Sir Henry Granville was beyond exciting and allowed you to interact and mingle with the more eclectic members of British society.

You had lasted all but a week before you were called upon by a Miss Lady Danbury.

She had stressed the importance of participating in the social season and the impending judgment of the ton and Queen if you did not participate.

While you never cared much for the opinion of others, you didn’t fancy the idea of being ogled every time you ventured into town.

******

“I heard she was rejected by every suitor.”

“She’s so ugly and unpleasant, a dowry wouldn’t even be worth it.”

“Apparently she’s slightly deformed.”

You couldn’t begin to believe the rumors circulating about you, the American.

You swore that the descriptions were ripped out of a storybook, describing some gremlin crawling from the depths of the earth.

Men and women alike had no problem spreading stories about the young lady joining them for the season.

Worst of all, none of them had even seen you yet. The modiste had made personal house calls, as requested by Lady Danbury.

Now you stood, in front of the carriage, at the first ball of the season, your debut.

You followed behind Sir Henry and Mary Granville, head held high and eyes straight forward as you waded through the ballroom towards Lady Danbury and the Queen.

You heard the whispers and felt the stares as you stood before the queen.

With one leg behind the other and your arms laid at your side, you gently bent your knee and curtsied before her.

She gave you a once over before bowing her head back, a silent approval.

Moving out of the way, you stood at the edge of the dance floor as Lady Danbury approached.

“Miss y/l/n, I do hope you don’t mind that I have taken the liberty of securing you a few gentlemen to fill out your dance card.”

“I expect nothing less from you, Lady Danbury” you smiled back, a teasing tone in your voice.

Your sarcasm and apprehension towards the season had not gone unnoticed by Lady Danbury.

She quite admired your wit and sharp mind, and more than anything, enjoyed the challenge.

******

You were now on your 4th dance of the night; your feet were hurting, and you wanted nothing more than to be curled up with a book.

Fortunately, your current dance partner was not completely awful and was actually quite charming.

Colin Bridgerton.

You had met him once before, in passing, when Lady Danbury had brought you to meet his mother, Violet, and sister, Daphne.

Apparently, Daphne had been named the Diamond of the season in her first season out on society and married a Duke.

His younger sister, Eloise, was preparing for her first season as well.

However, through your brief encounter with Eloise she did not seem as happy with the matter as her sister and mother were.

You had a feeling she would be a good person to befriend.

“Tell me about yourself Miss y/l/n” Colin inquired.

“Y/N,” you quickly corrected.

“Just Y/N is fine,” you smiled slightly.

“Well Y/N, how are you finding London and the beginning of the season?”

“London, well its quite beautiful. There is so much art, and history, and the architecture is amazing. Truly, I wouldn’t mind getting lost here. And well…this—” you paused, glancing around the ball at all the young women around you.

“May I be frank?” you asked, Colin’s eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Of course, Miss Y/N”

“I slightly detest all of this, my feet hurt, and I’ve been dancing for quite too long. Why would I want to marry someone I’ve met one time?”

Colin was slightly taken aback before grinning wildly.

“You remind me of my sister Eloise,” he stated.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I quite liked her,” you grinned back.

As the dance ended you curtsied before Colin as he bowed before you.

“I hope you find the person you’re looking for Y/N, but I have a feeling you don’t need all of this to do so.”

You smiled widely and slightly nodded before following him off the dance floor.

“I’ll grab us a drink,” he said before walking away. Your eyes followed his back for a few seconds before scanning the room.

They quickly landed on two men whispering in the corner.

The slightly shorter one had massive sideburns and a quizzical look that seemed as if it must be permanently etched onto his face. The other man had a certain air about him.

Even from across the room his light-colored eyes had a shine in them.

Colin returned; you thanked him before looking to the corner again. This time the slightly taller one had caught your gaze and lifted his eyes to meet yours. You felt your face flush and quickly turned your head.

“Colin?”

“Yes?”

“Who are those two men in the corner?”

Colin looked up to see his brothers in the corner looking at him inquisitively.

“Oh, those two? You don’t want to be near the likes of them. Poorly mannered and when they were younger, they would wet the bed for years well beyond what was normal.”

You were following along for a while until that last part.

You gave Colin a quick look to see if he was being serious.

His mouth remained flat and tight-lipped for a few mere seconds before letting through a boisterous laugh.

“My apologies Y/N, those are my brothers.”

Your eyes widened at the confession.

“Your brothers?”

“Yes, lets introduce you,” he stated, beginning to pull you across the ballroom.

“Colin, No I—"

“Brothers, this is Miss y/l/n, Anthony, Benedict,” he pointed out.

You curtsied before both of them before speaking up.

“I told you, just Y/N is fine Colin.”

You weren’t sure what his brothers would say about your slight improperness. It was clear that the Bridgerton’s were a well-respected family in the ton.

You glanced at the eldest brother who you learned was named Anthony who gave you a curt nod before excusing himself to sneak off from an inquiring Lady Danbury.

You smiled at him before turning your gaze to the second eldest Bridgerton.

“Y/N here was telling me about her studies in the states. She is well-read and well-traveled.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully pushing Colin slightly.

“You flatter me, Colin. Unfortunately, I am not perfect. For example, I am about done with all of this and was just about to call a carriage.”

“Oh, but you must stay for one more dance Y/N. Poor Benedict here has not waltzed once.”

Benedict tried to sneakily hit his brother for his clear meddling.

“While that may be true, I do not need my younger brother imposing on such a lovely lady.” Benedict states.

“Nonsense, everyone must waltz at least once,” you laughed, pulling Benedict towards the center of the room.

His eyes widened at your forwardness as he shot Colin a disapproving brotherly look, to which Colin gave him a grin and thumbs up.

As the music began you moved around the room with Benedict.

“So, Mr. Bridgerton, tell me what exactly it is you do.”

“Just Benedict is fine,” he stated, mirroring your words from earlier.

“Besides, aren’t I the one who should be questioning you about your skills?”

“That’s awfully backwards thinking, I hope you don’t get stuck that way” you replied sarcastically before being spun around.

When you returned facing Benedict, a knowing grin was stuck on his face. You were witty. He liked witty.

“I suppose that is fair. I’m an artist, well…I’m trying to be an artist. It’s a little complicated.”

You nodded understandingly, while the arts were enjoyed by many, it wasn’t exactly a noble pursuit, especially for you as a woman.

“You should come by Sir Granville’s studio, it’s quite…”

You couldn’t think of a proper word to describe the soirees Granville hosted. It was taboo and scandalous to most respectable members of society. However, if Benedict was an artist as he was claiming, he should fit right in.

“…inspiring,” you finished.

Benedict gave you an interesting look.

Little did you know, he had been to Granville’s studio, several times.

He hadn’t been in a while since his family had just returned from Aubrey Hall and the preparation for Eloise’s season had been quite hectic for his mother.

But you, picturing you at Granville’s studio was not something Benedict had imagined.

Women who were married or of low social standing was something else, but you, a young lady in her first official season stalking down the halls in such a disreputable manner. It didn’t fit the picture of the beautiful woman before him.

Benedict was quickly learning not to try and categorize you into one box.

“What do you know of Granville’s studio?” he asked seriously.

“Well, for one, I’m staying there. Two, I feel more comfortable among that community than here, if you understand what I mean…” you trail off.

Benedict gives you a small smile of understanding.

As the song ends Benedict lifted your hand to his mouth, kissing it gently before sightly lowering it back down, fingers brushing softly as he pulls away.

“Until next time Y/N”

“I look forward to it Benedict.”

******

Two months had passed since Lady Danbury’s first ball of the season. In that time you had befriended Eloise and Colin Bridgerton, often sitting in the parlor room of their home during the daytime, chatting the day away.

As such, you had also grown closer to Penelope Featherington who also came over often. You always considered yourself to be quite perceptive, so it was evidently clear that Penelope was fond of Colin. You thought about mentioning something, but it didn’t seem like your place.

Throughout your time at the Bridgerton’s household you had seen Benedict a handful of times. Unfortunately, your encounters were reduced to small greetings, stolen glances and light brushes as you walked past each other.

Until today.

You were sitting in the empty parlor room as Eloise ran to her room to fetch some ‘evidence’ and ‘clues’ about Lady Whistledown.

“Good Afternoon Y/N” Benedict greeted as he walked in, taking a quick look around the room to find the two of you alone.

“Afternoon Mr. Bridgerton,” you greeted back, a slight teasing tone to contrast your seemingly formality.

He gave you a knowing look before continuing.

“I hope I’m not being too forward, but I plan on attending Sir Granville’s tonight, I was wondering if I would see you there?”

You gave him a teasing smile before your face fell into a serious and hurt look.

“Mr. Bridgerton, I’m appalled, would a respectable young woman such as myself be caught there? Imagine the horror if the rest of the ton were to find out.”

He let out a loud laugh at your remark, in the short time that he had known you, you never failed to make him laugh.

“Yes Benedict, I’ll see you there,” you smiled.

“Good,” he replied.

******

That night you had a few drinks to help you take the edge off before guests started coming over. There was something about interacting with Benedict that made you nervous.

You were walking around the art studio observing the nude model and the artists renditions when you felt someone lay their hand on your shoulder.

“OH! Oh my, Benedict, you scared me.”

“Sorry, love, didn’t mean to startle you.”

You continued walking around the circle, admiring the art around you.

“She’s stunning, is she not?” you questioned.

“She is,” he answered quickly.

However, when you turned to look at him his eyes were already trained on yours.

You smiled widely, walking out of the studio as Benedict followed like a lost puppy.

“Will I ever get to see your art?” you asked him.

He smiled sheepishly as his arm reached back to scratch the back of his neck.

“I certainly would let you, if there was any.”

“Practicing here for a few months and you still have nothing to show?” you teased.

Benedict gave you a look.

“I may have asked around about you,” you confessed.

“And?” he asks.

From what you have heard, both from his siblings and other people around you. Benedict was a kind and creative soul, with a great appreciation for the beauty around him.

“Your family and friends speak highly of you, that’s important.”

“What about you? What do you speak of me?”

“Besides being a tortured artist? I think highly of you.”

He nodded his head again, before responding.

“I think highly of you as well,” he whispered quietly, leaning down slightly so he was more at eye level.

You blamed the alcohol in your system for what you did next.

Yanking him down by his collar, you pulled him close and reached up until your lips were flush against his, pushing with all your might as if you would never kiss him again.

“Y/N—” he pulled away, his senses flooding back.

“This is…no, I’ve dishonored you I—”

“Oh hush Benedict, I do not care about those rules. I want you.”

He looked down at you, holding your face in his hands as he searched your eyes for confirmation.

Biting your lip and grinning up at him, Benedict couldn’t help but pull you back in, one hand sinking to your waist to pull you closer, the other rested on your cheek.

“You know this means we have to get married now?” Benedict teases.

“That means you presume I would say yes,” you teased back.

His smile grew impossibly bigger as he pulled you back in for a tender kiss.

“Let’s just see how you perform tonight before we think about marriage” you joked.

Benedict pulled back with a smirk and look in his eye you haven’t seen yet as he looked you over.

“Art is all about practicing and perfecting, we might need to practice a few times before you make your final judgement” he teased back.

You threw your head back in surprise, a large laugh leaving your lips before you smiled sweetly at him.

This was not how you imagined the social season going.

check out the rest of my work ⤑ here!

#teentvimagines #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton masterlist #bridgerton imagines #anthony bridgerton #colin bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #Spotify

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marilynmonroefanfics · 6 months

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Random Imagine

Anthony Bridgerton x ChubbyMale!OC

Imagine this, Peter Granville, son to Henry and Lucy Granville, catches the eye of Anthony Bridgerton. Without even having to try.

Peter doesn’t have the artistic ability of his father nor the charisma and strong personality of his mother. However, his parents always encouraged him in his likings. The young Granville is highly intelligent, as a child he adored spending time in his room, reading books his parents lovingly purchased for him.

He’s reserved, kind and soft-spoken. Anthony first notices him when the Peter was invited by Lady Bridgerton to spend an evening with the family.

Over tea, Daphne and Eloise were absolutely enamoured by him, even Hyacinth and Gregory seemed interested - Lady Bridgerton couldn’t believe her eyes - her two youngest children were patiently taking turns in Peter’s lap, while he spoke of his interests and appeased the family’s interest.

Anthony, although he was pretending to read on the couch, discreetly admired the young Granville, everything about him - his sweet face, his beautiful lips, the way he blushed at the overwhelming attention he was getting, the small stutter he had because he was nervous - he was obsessed.

Imagine, Peter as a respected young historian, a man who spoke multiple languages - French, Spanish, German, Italian, Greek… - a man who took his parents love and care, completely transforming himself. He built a career for himself, while honouring his humble beginnings. He was someone Anthony truly admired and truly desired.

Imagine, Queen Charlotte absolutely loving Peter, showering him with titles and honours: 1st Baron Granville of Potheridge, 1st Viscount Lansdowne, 1st Earl of…

Peter was known as Lord Granville, a title Anthony loved to use. It felt right, the young man deserved it, he was surely more honourable than most of the men and women in the peerage.

Imagine Anthony, who would send Peter all kinds of gifts, sweet perfumes who reminded the Viscount of the young Granville, amazing jewels that reminded him of the latter’s gorgeous eyes. Or even beautiful quill pens, in hopes Peter would write him a letter.

Imagine, Anthony adoring the sweetness and naïveté of his crush (or soon to be husband). Oh! How amazing it would be for Anthony to teach Peter, how to kiss, how to be touched, hearing his wonderful moans-

Anthony Bridgerton definitely has a hugeee crush on Peter.

#bridgerton x male reader #anthony brigerton #x male reader #male reader #anthony bridgerton x male reader

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duchesssoflennox · 10 months

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On December 14, 1878, Princess Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse, died.

Diphtheria claimed the life of Queen Victoria's second daughter and third child. The disease swept the grand ducal household in early November and her eldest daughter, Victoria was the first to contract the illness (November 5). One by one, her other children contracted the disease: Alix, Marie, Irene and Ernest. Only Elisabeth didn't suffer the disease. She was sent away by Alice to the palace of Princess Charles, her mother-in-law. Alice's husband, Grand Duke Louis also fell ill shortly thereafter.

The young Princess Marie's condition worsened and she died on November 15. Alice kept the news from her children, and when she revealed Marie's death, the young Ernest was inconsolable that Alice kissed her son, breaking her own rule of not having physical contact with someone with diphtheria.

on December 14, she fell ill and death came quickly. Her last words were "dear Papa". She fell unconscious at 2:30 am and died just after 8:30 am, on the same day her father succumbed to typhoid in 1861.

The death of Princess Alice shocked Queen Victoria. The coincidence of Alice and Albert's death was described by the mourning queen as one that was "almost incredible and most mysterious".

Albert, Prince of Wales, who was attached to her younger sister, took Alice's death as a heavy blow. Writing to Earl Granville, he said that Alice "was my favourite sister. So good, so kind, so clever! We had gone through so much together..." Alexandra, the Princess of Wales, also sank deep in grief over her sister-in-law's passing, telling Queen Victoria, upon meeting her after Alice's death: "I wish I had died instead of her".💔💔💔

#queen alexandra #princess alice

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bumblesimagines · 1 year

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The Sun and Moon

Part 13/END

Request: Yes or No

God it feels good to properly end a series

~~~

The Granville house had been quiet for days. All their typical parties had been abruptly canceled and their friends had received no further word from them. The couple did not speak a word to each other nor to their servants, keeping to themselves instead. Dolly spent her days shuffling in and out of the guest room where the youngest Granville resided, labored breathing and occasional twitching being the only thing telling them he still had life in him. Five days, Theodore had counted, since the young man had fallen unconscious and remained in his sickly comatose state. The servants had quickly gotten used to the silence, working around the couple and continuing their work. The doctor visited once every day, taking the man's vitals and reporting the same thing to Henry.

"His health has not improved, but it has not declined either. We'll see what we can do when he awakens."

On the third day of no improvement, Lucy had lashed out and sent a flurry of insults toward the doctor, screaming as her husband dragged her out of the room. Since then, the doctor avoided giving any sort of report to them with her in the room. The only other visitors they got were servants sent from the Sharmas and Bridgertons. Flowers, letters, small gifts. Dolly made sure to replace the flowers once they began to wilt, replacing them with the ones Violet Bridgerton sent. Carnations, peonies, orchids. She made sure to add a card for Lucy each time, words from one mother to another. Lady Danbury had extended her help, offering to pay the doctor for his work. Or rather lack of.

The Bridgerton residence felt no different than the Granvilles. Quiet, solemn. Benedict kept to his studio and when he got home, he asked his mother for news before locking himself in his room to write letters or sketch. Anthony had been no different. He remained in his office most days, drowning himself in bourbon and endless work, just as he did prior to getting closer to (Y/N). Hyacinth and Gregory asked for news at least thrice a day, having the same reaction when their mother told them the same thing.

On the sixth day, when the sun began to peek through the curtains, (Y/N) flinched and opened his eyes, squinting up at the unfamiliar ceiling. He could hear birds softly chirping outside and as he heaved himself up into a sitting position, he spotted his furry friend at the foot of the bed, peacefully napping. Something wet slipped from his head, falling on his lap with a squelch. A wet rag. Furrowing his brows, (Y/N) set the rag aside and leaned back into the pillow.

"Poppy, darling, you can't be on the bed." He turned his head as Dolly entered the room with a vase of flowers in hand. She looked up when she noticed movement, gasping and dropping the vase, the shattering sound echoing through the room and awakening Poppy as well as alerting the rest of the house.

"Christ, Dolly, do you wish to give me a heart atta-" Stopping himself, Theodore stared at the young man as he rubbed his eyes.

"It's too early for this." (Y/N) muttered, voice barely audible and throat dry.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lucys' voice rang through the hallway and she stepped into the room, eyes falling on the broken vase before she looked up at her servants, brows furrowing and head turning in the direction of her son.

"Dearest.." She breathed, taking slow steps, almost as if she were afraid if she moved suddenly it'd shatter the moment. Lucy reached forward and hesitantly touched his face, gasping softly as the tears freely fell from her cheeks. Sniffling, she waved to the servants. "Someone fetch Henry!" She ordered, climbing further onto the bed and cradling her son in her arms, frail body shaking from the sobs.

"I-I'll inform Mr. Granville a-and get the doctor." Theodore stuttered, stumbling over the wet flowers scattered across the floor as he exited the room.

"What's going on?" (Y/N) questioned, arms weakly wrapping around his mother.

"You've been asleep for five days," Dolly explained quietly, blinking a few times before she crouched down, frantically picking up the flowers on the ground and setting them on a drawer before stepping closer to the bed, releasing a breath of relief. She lifted a hand and fanned herself before letting out a soft, relieved chuckle. "I'll get some soup for you, (Y/N). You must be famished." With that, the maid left the room as the other servants began peeking into the room, collectively gasping and muttering amongst themselves.

"What is Dolly talking about?" (Y/N) looked at his mother when she pulled back. Lucy wiped the tears from her cheeks and sniffled, affectionately stroking the side of his face.

"Lord Bridgerton went to see you at the estate. He claims that when he got there, you could barely walk. You collapsed in his arms. He tended to you until a doctor arrived the next day and you were brought back." Lucy explained, gently taking his hand and setting it on her lap, rubbing her thumb back and forth. (Y/N)s' lips parted, eyes shifting onto the flowers on the nightstand, the many letters beside it stamped with the Bridgerton symbol.

"He-"

"He left as soon as you were brought here. He hasn't returned." (Y/N)s shoulders slumped at his mother's words. Had he flaked cause things had gotten hard? Cause he couldn't handle it? Henry entered the room, disrupting (Y/N)s' thoughts.

"Father..." (Y/N) breathed. The first time Henry had looked had him since the wedding. Henry glanced at his wife, stepping over the glass and wet floor before he took a seat on the bed.

"Theodore... he- he said..." Henry swallowed, raising a hand to his face and releasing a shaky breath. A parent's worst nightmare; facing the possibility of losing their child without warning. Lucy reached over to rub her husband's back soothingly, sighing as all the tension from the past few days left her body.

"I'm okay." (Y/N) assured softly. "I'm okay."

"And we are so glad," Henry whispered, sniffling softly.

(Y/N) spent most of the day, resting. He kept himself entertained by reading the many letters, all from different friends. Kate, Benedict, Violet, and even Edwina. Not a single one from Anthony. He could hardly recall anything from the day he fell unconscious. The whole day had felt like a blur and the only thing he could remember distinctly had been Anthony calling out to him. Had Anthony truly taken care of him? Why had he left as soon as he could?

"The doctor says you'll be feeling better with some medicine," Dolly revealed as she got a spoonful of the liquid the doctor had given them. "Says it could be as early as tomorrow." She smiled, placing a hand under the spoon to avoid making a mess before bringing it to his lips. (Y/N) wrapped his lips around the spoon, swallowing the medicine and cringing, the bitter taste making the hairs on the back of his neck stand tall. Dolly offered him a glass of water which he gladly took, hoping it'd wash away the horrible taste.

"Your parents have refused to see any visitors for you until you feel better," Dolly stated, setting the spoon down on the table and taking a seat on the bed. "But, I did hear from one of the maids that Lord Bridgerton plans on visiting as soon as possible."

"Now? After all this time?"

"I know, but... The day you collapsed, he came here. He wanted to speak with you and your parents. I wasn't present, at that moment, but Theodore told me he gave a rather heartfelt speech and claimed he wished..." Dolly trailed off, a small smile toying at her lips.

"He wished what? Dolly, come on!" (Y/N) gently took her arm, shaking it lightly. Dolly laughed and shifted to face him, leaning in playfully.

"He wished to propose. Said that no matter what your parents thought, he was set on doing it. If you accepted, he'd said a small private ceremony could be held." Dolly giggled and scooted closer, taking his hands into hers and giving them a squeeze. "I believe him, (Y/N). Theodore may be hesitant, especially because of this sudden illness, but I truly believe he cares for you."

"What if he gets bored, Dolly? What if in a few months he realizes he wants a bride and a child? These types of relationships rarely last long. The thrill of secrecy and meeting under the cover of night... It can grow tiring and boring. What if he realizes the only thing he felt for him was just... a rush, or lust even? I cannot deal with another heartbreak, Dolly." (Y/N) shook his head, feeling his eyes begin to water. "I- I cannot."

"My darling, you've let the doubts plague your mind. Miss Edwina would not have called off a wedding hosted by Her Majesty if she did not believe Anthony loved you. I know you're afraid... Heartbreak is terrifying. But how will you know if you don't take risks? Take it from someone who did not take a chance on the one she loved... and now spends most days wondering what could've been." Dolly squeezed his hands once more.

(Y/N) wiped away the tear trailing down his cheek with his shoulder and sniffled. Dolly was right, that he knew. He couldn't let fear guide him forever. He had to trust himself and his heart. He had to trust Anthony and his words. He had seen something in Anthony had Somerset House, something that had pulled him toward the Bridgerton.

(Y/N) looked forward and bit back the smile toying on his lips, clearing his throat softly. “Is the painting to your liking, My Lord?” (Y/N) asked, seeing him turn to look at him out of the corner of his eye. (Y/N) kept his gaze on the painting and smiled fondly at the memories it came with. The painting was of Primrose Hill at sunset; when the sun would cast lovely shades of soft pink and warm orange against the shimmering water.

“It is quite lovely, Mr. Granville. I don’t believe we’ve ever been acquainted, have we?”

“We have not, I’m afraid. Lovely to meet you, Lord Bridgerton.”

“Please, call me Anthony, I insist.” (Y/N) turned to look at him and felt his skin lightly flush. As handsome as the ladies made him out to be, but he had a past of being arrogant and belittling.

“It’s impressive how much talent you posses at the mere age of..”

“Five and twenty, My Lord.”

(Y/N) had been so unprepared for what would happen over the course of a couple of months. But the more (Y/N) thought about his time spent with the Bridgerton, the more he realized that he wouldn't change a thing if he could go back. Even if it meant having to go through heartache once more because of Anthony. Even if it meant disobeying his father again and being the source of his disappointment.

"I suppose... We'll see how he truly feels." (Y/N) smiled at Dolly. She smiled widely and brought him in for a hug, sighing softly as she rubbed his back. She pulled back, giving his shoulders a squeeze.

"The Featheringtons are hosting a ball-"

"The Featheringtons?"

"Yes, I know, shocking. But, I heard they've invited everyone, including the Bridgertons and Sharmas. While the chances of Lord Bridgerton attending are low, if he does, you'll be able to speak with him." Dolly told him, running her hands down his arms. "If you're feeling well, perhaps we can convince your parents to allow you to go."

"It'll be a battle, for sure." (Y/N) laughed softly, smiling as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers.

"Thank you. For everything you've done for me, Dolly." (Y/N) whispered. "You do not get nearly as much credit as you deserve."

"Being part of this family is enough for me." Dolly smiled, pulling back and cupping his cheek. Her eyes watered and she chuckled softly. "You are the child I never got to have." She added, voice cracking toward the never of her sentence. A life filled serving the Granville family and she spent half of it raising a child. Dolly was a mother just as much as Lucy. They all knew that.

Sighing breathily, Dolly stood up and collected the dirty dishes on the nightstand, giving him one last smile before she left the room, greeting Lucy and Henry quietly as she walked past them. The two entered the bedroom and Henry lit the candle on the nightstand as Lucy took a seat on the bed.

"It's shameful for me to say that I did not realize certain things until I stood in this room and wondered if I'd ever see your eyes again." Lucy began, cupping her hands on her lap and staring forward. (Y/N) leaned back into the pillows, glancing between his parents silently. Lucy inhaled and turned toward her son.

"I failed you... As a mother, I failed you in every aspect. I was so caught up in wanting to be like the other mothers of the ton that I realized... I wasn't necessarily ready for a child. I felt as if I needed to prove I was as much a woman as the rest of them by having a child and in the end, I barely know you. I don't remember your first steps or your first words. I don't remember which lessons you excelled at as a child or which ones you had difficulties with. I- I... I have... no excuses. I made a choice when I approached Henry about having a child. I made a choice when I didn't play with you or when I didn't bring you around to the houses of my friends so you could play with their kids. I'd be lying if I said I had a role in the man you are today. And I am so sorry that I didn't try harder. That I didn't put you first above all else. I failed you, I admit that to you. And I hope that you forgive me, even if I don't deserve it. I was selfish and you deserved better." Lucy pressed her lips together and wiped her runny nose, the tears slipping from her cheeks and onto her nightgown.

"I forgive you." (Y/N) murmured, feeling his own warm tears coat his cheeks in wetness. It'd taken twenty-five years for him to receive an apology for his treatment, for his childhood, for the gaping hole in his heart wishing to be filled. While part of him wanted to hold onto the anger and bitterness, the relief of finally being seen and acknowledged washed those feelings away. Lucy gently took his hand into her own and held it, sniffling softly.

"I love you, dearest." She smiled and stood, releasing his hand. Lucy gently patted her husband's arm and made her way out of the room, leaving father and son alone. Henry remained standing beside the nightstand, fiddling with his fingers and avoiding his sons' gaze. He sighed softly, running his finger over his wedding ring.

"I owe you an apology as well. I wasn't the father you needed, I realized this much earlier than Lucy and attempted to make up for it by trying to protect you. I ran from you and from my responsibilities when you were born. I traveled to distract myself from my duties as a father and then... When I saw you were just a little kid... Just a little being in need of me and your mother, I... I tried to do better. I taught you what I could and tried to shield you from society but..." Henry swallowed and shook his head, lifting his gaze to look at his son.

"I also failed you and when I realized it, I grew angry at myself. I was never disappointed in you. You're young and you'll make mistakes. I was afraid of what that could mean and forgot that I was once in your shoes trying to make sense of myself and trying to figure out what love was. I should've done better. I should've listened to you more. For that, I am so sorry."

"All I ever wanted was for you and Mother to love me... And I know you do, but it feels good to finally get an apology after years of wondering if I was just asking for too much."

"You were never asking for too much, (Y/N). You were a child who needed his parents. We love you, no matter what you choose to do."

ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ

(Y/N) felt guilty admitting he hadn't been expecting much from the Featheringtons. Sure, he knew Lady Featherington wouldn't have wanted anything less than perfection, but considering the turbulent year they'd had combined with the new Lord Featherington, he figured they would've waited for next year to host a ball. Though, he supposed, the Featheringtons were always full of surprises. The room had been lightly decorated but the food and refreshment tables were worth salivating over. Of course, the most eye-catching thing they had must've been the stand where the musicians played. (Y/N) couldn't help but wonder if they were dizzy, especially considering the fact it actively rotated.

"Ah, it is a pleasure to see you are alright, Mr. Granville. It is quite kind of you to join us after spending so long bedridden. I do hope you're feeling better." What she truly meant was; I hope you didn't come while still ill. No matter how hard she tried, Lady Featherington had always been easier to read than most. Nonetheless, (Y/N) smiled.

"Thank you for your concern, Lady Featherington. I'm feeling quite alright." He assured and she relaxed, nodding and addressing his mother. Lucy glanced back at him as she left his side to chat with their hostess. It was a mystery how women could so easily pretend to enjoy each other's company.

Looking away from the two women, he spotted Kate and Edwina standing side by side, having what appeared to be a pleasant conversation. (Y/N) hummed and smiled. They'd finally put the betrayal behind them, it seemed. (Y/N) began making his way toward them and chuckled when Kate's face lit up at the sight of him. She looked stunning in her orange bejeweled dress and perfectly done hair.

"Oh, how good it is to see you. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to catch you before I left."

"You're still leaving for India?"

"I'm afraid so." Kate nodded with an apologetic frown. "But, fret not. I promise I'll continue writing to you." Kate's frown turned into a playful smile and she glanced at Edwina, looping her arm around hers. Edwina smiled in return and glanced toward the dancefloor, getting a sudden twinkle in her eye.

"How about a dance, Kate?" She questioned, wasting no time pulling her onto the dancefloor alongside the unsuspecting couples. (Y/N) chuckled as he watched them, almost missing the person staring at him from across the room. Anthony Bridgerton. Anthonys' gaze softened significantly and he leaned over to whisper something to his mother before slowly making his way around the room. (Y/N) turned his attention back onto the sisters, watching Anthony from the corner of his eye until the Bridgerton stood right beside him. The two remained silent, even after the dance ended and another began.

"It's good to see you on your feet."

"It's good to be on my feet." (Y/N) smiled, turning his head to look at him. Anthonys' shoulders deflated as he exhaled softly, eyes scanning his face, almost as if making sure (Y/N) looked okay.

"I can't imagine the fright you must've had. I apologize for the inconvenience."

"There's no need." Anthony dismissed quickly, shaking his head. "I assure you... There's no need to apologize. I am simply glad to know you are well."

"You've always been such a good friend to me, Anthony. Even going as far to play doctor for a day." (Y/N) teased lightly, chuckling when a grin broke out on Anthonys' face.

"Yes, well... I must admit I think I did a pretty decent job at it."

"Ah, did you now?" (Y/N) raised his brows and shifted his body toward him, crossing his arms. Anthony laughed softly and nodded, cocking his head.

"Don't believe me?" He raised his hand and held up two fingers. "How many?"

"Two." (Y/N) answered, only for Anthony to turn his hand and lift another finger in the process so there were three fingers instead. (Y/N) rolled his eyes and smiled widely, looking back toward the dancefloor as couples began to get into position.

"Mr. Granville, would you like to dance?" Anthony asked and (Y/N) blinked, turning his head to look back at him. He furrowed his brows, glancing toward the other guests around them.

"What are you talking about?"

"Right here, right now. Would you do me the honor?" (Y/N)s' lips parted as he stared at Anthony. Not a shred of doubt on his face. He swallowed. Could they really get in trouble for merely dancing?

"You can say no if you-"

"I'll dance." (Y/N) breathed and nodded. Anthony smiled once more and offered him his hand, pulling him onto the dancefloor when he took it. He could feel the gazes of everyone in the room shift onto them, whispering and murmuring erupting from the guests. The music began playing and (Y/N) took Anthonys' other hand, following along with the dance, even as the other couples glanced back toward them and stopped dancing.

"Just keep your eyes on me," Anthony whispered, and (Y/N) nodded. But eventually, they weren't alone. (Y/N) glanced over his shoulder at Edwina and Kate as they danced once more, the two sending them a supportive smile. (Y/N) released a breath and looked back at Anthony, feeling less anxious and more confident.

"Why is no one else dancing?" (Y/N) swore his heart skipped a beat as Her Majesty's voice echoed through the room. She didn't care, (Y/N) realized. She didn't care that two men were dancing together in public, in her presence. And when he looked in her direction, he only saw a genuine, pleased smile on her face. The very thing he needed to fully relax and enjoy himself, letting himself be immersed in the dance with Anthony. Taking his hand once more, the two stared into each other's eyes as the music came to a stop and the dance ended. They stepped apart and (Y/N) released his hand as Lady Featherington hurried into the room claiming she had a surprise for everyone waiting outside. (Y/N) turned his head when the Queen stopped beside them, her knowing smile telling them everything they needed to know. She continued on her way, her ladies-in-waiting quickly following after her. Once she had exited, so did the rest of the quests.

"I'll see you outside." (Y/N) said and turned, joining the crowd as they stepped outside into the garden. He slipped through the crowd and ignored the pointed stares and whispers. He didn't care about the rumors, not anymore. The Queen herself knew and she did not give a damn. So why should he? The people of the ton had and always would be cowards who hid behind their riches and looked down upon others. But (Y/N) had found something genuine and with the Queen's approval at that.

Chuckling to himself, he found a more secluded spot, away from the others where he could watch whatever surprise Lady Featherington had in store for them. Fireworks, most likely. Or perhaps some singers. (Y/N) inhaled the fresh night air and looked up at the sky. Peace, at last.

"You must really love to play cat and mouse, Mr. Granville."

"It's my favorite game." (Y/N) responded and turned to face Anthony, watching him approach. Anthony smirked and nodded, drawing closer until they were face to face.

"I was told what you planned to do once you reached my grandfathers' estate." (Y/N) revealed softly and Anthonys' face fell. "I'll admit, I had my doubts but... If it's true.."

"Yes, everything was true. I love you, and it has taken me far too long to tell you. I've loved you since the day you walked into my life and smiled at me. I love everything about you. I love your passion, your talent, and your kindness. You are everything I want in a person, in a lover, in a spouse. While we wouldn't be married in the eyes of the church and on paper, we would be married to our family and friends. The people who truly matter. You do not have to say yes-" (Y/N) leaned in as the fireworks were lit and set off into the sky, illuminating the two as the guests cheered and watched the fireworks in awe.

Pulling back and chuckling softly at the lovestruck look on his face, (Y/N) smiled and placed a hand on his cheek. "You may be an insufferable bastard sometimes... But my answer will always be yes." He cooed and Anthony smiled widely, leaning into his palm and placing a delicate kiss on his wrist. (Y/N) felt his heart warm and he turned his head to look up at the fireworks, resting his head against Anthonys' chest when he pulled him closer.

ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ

(Y/N) shivered, feeling fingers dancing up his spine. He buried his face further into the pillow, hearing Anthony snicker. The bed shifted as Anthony scooted closer to him, pressing soft kisses along his shoulders and up his neck until he reached his ear. (Y/N) couldn't help but smile.

"You must get up, (Y/N). Everyone's waiting for us. Besides, don't you want to see your surprise?" He cooed into his ear, gently nipping his earlobe. (Y/N) squeaked and released a muffled laugh, raising a hand up to his ear and rolling over onto his back, face scrunching up when the sun hit his eyes. Anthony smiled and leaned down, greeting his husband with a kiss. (Y/N) melted, hands gently cupping Anthonys' face.

"Good morning, my love," Anthony murmured, swooping down to pepper airy kisses to his neck.

"I thought you said we had to go?" (Y/N) laughed softly and pushed him back by his shoulders, lifting his brows up at him. Anthony shrugged innocently and grinned.

"Yes, but I'm sure they can wait a little while longer."

"Mhm, come on." (Y/N) shook his head, lightly pecking the tip of Anthonys' nose and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He heard Anthony groan softly and glanced back at him, snorting when Anthony dramatically collapsed back onto the bed, sprawled out and with a pout on his face. (Y/N) collected his clothes from the floor and set them in a pile for the maids to take before he searched for a new set of clothes, getting dressed whilst Anthony watched him.

"Weren't you making a big fuss about my surprise?" (Y/N) questioned, getting some of Anthonys' clothes out and setting them on the bed for him. Anthony sighed heavily and dragged himself out of bed, picking up his shirt and leaning over to give him another kiss before he got dressed as well.

"Give me a hint."

"No."

"Please?" (Y/N) pouted, arms wrapping around Anthonys' waist but the Viscount shook his head, one arm wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him toward the door. (Y/N) huffed softly and leaned his head back onto Anthonys' shoulder. The two walked down the halls of Aubrey Hall; the very place they'd had their loving ceremony. Anthony had kept (Y/N) occupied for days, refusing to leave the bed unless absolutely necessary. A new yet welcomed side to Anthony.

Heading down the stairs, (Y/N) nodded to one of the servants as they opened the doors for the couple. (Y/N) cringed and shut his eyes when the sun greeted them, taking a moment to adjust to the brightness before he peered down at the people below. The Bridgertons and Granvilles awaited them, along with three new figures. (Y/N) furrowed his brows and squinted at the familiar purple dress, only to gasp and smile widely, detaching himself from Anthony and practically flying down the stairs.

"Kate!"

"(Y/N)!" Kate squealed, releasing a surprised laugh when she was picked up, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders as he spun her in a circle. (Y/N) gently set her back down and pulled back, looking back toward the amused Anthony.

"Was this your surprise?"

"I rallied the Sharmas after hearing how much the two of you missed each other," Anthony responded cooly, looking rather proud of himself as he placed his hands on his hips and grinned at them. Kate rolled her eyes and scoffed lightly, leaning in slightly.

"He hardly did anything." She whispered, leaning back and crossing her arms.

"I believe that." (Y/N) laughed and turned to look at Lady Sharma and Edwina, greeting the two of them with smiles. Anthony slithered his arms around (Y/N)s' waist and pulled him back against his chest, looking back at his siblings as they raced to grab their favorite mallets. Edwina and Kate laughed, looping their arms together and retrieving their own mallets as the parents took their seats a safe distance away. Anthony pressed a kiss to his cheek and reached for the black mallet, only for (Y/N) to scoop it up, leaving him with the baby blue one. Anthony squinted at (Y/N) and shook his head, taking the last mallet and facing his family.

Daphne smiled wickedly, swinging her mallet over her shoulder and placing her hand on her hip. "Who's ready to lose again?" A chorus of protests erupted from the crowd and (Y/N) chuckled, turning his head to look at Anthony.

"Hey, Anthony?"

"Mhm?"

"I love you."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #bridgerton x male reader #bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x reader #Anthony bridgerton x male reader #kate sharma #Violet Bridgerton #Daphne Bridgerton #edwina sharma #lucy granville #henry granville #the sun and moon

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lesbian-honey-lemon · 3 months

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ok so my slightly stupid self didn’t realize this at first but.. Karmi’s 16 in the series, right? For being the youngest at SFIT to be originally Karmi’s thing, that means she had to have been there the year before Hiro showed up. So… Karmi was at SFIT at 15!!! I was SO immature at 15 lmao imagine literally being in college then. I bet her and Honey Lemon knew each other even if they weren’t besties back then. Honey Lemon gravitates to the genius children as much as Professor Granville does. Also Granville is still super worried about Karmi like she is with Hiro bc she’s literally the EXACT same age as Obake was when he blew himself up.

Also this means Obake theoretically could have been at SFIT at 15 too, and was just maybe a few months or weeks older than Karmi when he joined. and because my fic makes more sense if young!Obake is as young as I can get him, my worldview now consists of him being 15 when he joined, and 16 when he got exploded. he didn’t even have a drivers license yet omfg. I have Editing to do now..

#bh6 karmi #bh6 professor granville #bh6 obake #young obake #big hero 6 the series #big hero 6 #bh6 headcanons

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wespersdaughter · 2 years

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the only heaven i’ll be sent to - benedict bridgerton

hozier masterlist | general masterlist

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton worships his wife as she deserves. Warnings: steamy but no explicit smut (very heavy mentions I guess) A/N: Listen y’all, I’m so desperate for a Benny of my own to worship me. There are also some more vulgar words and references in here, it’s raunchy, sue me.

IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 AND YOU INTERACT WITH THIS POST IN ANY WAY I WILL IMMEDIATELY BLOCK YOU.

Ever since you were young, you were certain the mamas of society kept secrets about the relations of married couples to protect their daughters. Your own mother had instilled it in your brain that even flashing an ankle or your bare hands to a man was sinful. To the point where you wore gloves and long socks around your own brothers and cousins.

When you debuted, you were half-scared to even speak to a man. You didn’t want to disappoint your mama, or disgrace your name in the eyes of the Lord. So when Benedict Bridgerton was introduced with a gentle kiss to your gloved hand, your stomach almost fell through your vagina.

He had the most beautiful eyes, bright with laughter and sincere curiosity. And when you danced, you hoped he couldn’t feel your heart race against his chest. Judging by his dimpled smile, he at least heard your breath hitch.

Your mama was not pleased that you had fallen for a second son, but he was the brother of a Viscount and richer than your entire family. Once you were finally married, Benedict’s affections increased. Slowly and steadily.

He took care of you so beautifully, making sure you were always comfortable with something before doing it. It was unlike anything your mother or sisters or housemaids described.

You were married for two months when you discovered why mamas were so evasive on the topic of sex. Once was not enough. The first time you and Benedict made love, you almost died. You were sure of it. The heady rush of pleasure replaced the blood flowing through your veins, and you lost all sense of yourself.

It took ten minutes of sweet nothings and gentle affection from your husband for your soul to return to your body. Even then, you couldn’t catch your breath. You were so… intoxicated.

That led to full days spent in bed, or in his studio, or in the games room, round after round, like rabbits. Sometimes you spend hours cuddled together, rocking back and forth lazily. Other times, he would lock the games room and lay you flat against the card table, eating you out so expertly the staff worried about the screams. Your personal favourite location to fuck was Benedict’s home studio. The staff were forbidden from entering, only he had the key and only you could use it if he was away.

You were his muse, he wanted to paint you in every position you could hold yourself in, preferably in the nude or draped in the many jewels he spoiled you with.

He even gave you painting lessons, so he could fulfil a fantasy he’d been harbouring since his days at Granville’s parties. Now that he was married, the thought of anyone other than him seeing you naked or painting you while you were in that vulnerable state was unbearable.

But he wanted to show you just how much he worshipped you. One final masterpiece, a culmination of all you learned, and a work that would influence the rest of his catalogue forevermore.

Benedict posed first, taking his sweet time getting undressed, purely to tease you. He knelt before his favourite armchair, head buzzing with images of you, on your knees, on your back, limbs and face twisting with ecstasy.

It made your job easier and more difficult. It was easy to capture how beautiful he really was, his eyes were glazed, cheeks flushed, chest heaving. The difficulty was not jumping him immediately after he got into position, or when he would take breaks. Your attention lapsed just looking at him so you dropped your pencil or brush a few times.

Each time he’d laugh and in his deep, lustful tone say “It will be worth the wait.” For his sake, you sure hoped it would.

The sexual tension only built when it was your turn to pose. He specifically requested to undress you, then made sure to position you just perfectly. You were perched on his armchair, legs thrown over the armrests, one hand reaching to where his chin would be, the other gripping your plush thigh to keep them spread.

The hand reaching out trembled, from strain, tension or anticipation, you weren’t sure. Your body was close to overheating with need. You mentioned it to your love who smiled gently.

He finished his sketch, took his shirt off again and knelt before you.

You tangled your fingers in his hair.

“I worship you my love, and I will for the rest of our lives.”

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton smut #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagines

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antipolin · 13 days

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Since you’re a Luke T lover, what’s your thoughts of social media rehashing the idea of giving Benedict a male love interest before Sophie. There’s people who want to eliminate Sophie altogether and make them “Stephen” instead.

Many Benophies are upset because they’re already dealing with other shit (being skipped for Polin, possibly skipped again for Eloise).

I've said this before other places and I'll say it again.

It's HIGHLY misogynistic to want to change Sophie's gender and make her a man.

Plus, there have been absolutely ZERO implications of Benedict being bisexual, let alone gay.

He went to an insane party in S1 and could have hooked up with anyone there. He had a threesome with two other women. He's continuously shown IMMENSE interest in painting women in the nude, had a fling with Genevieve & then Tessa, a female model who he willingly modeled nude for and then had sex with her.

Not to mention, his big romantic poem/speech was about 'admiring a woman':

Benedict isn't into men. And if people want to headcanon that fine that's their prerogative I guess. But he's never ONCE shown any romantic or sexual interest in men. Period.

If people want LGBT representation in the show, they should ask for Henry Granville back and explore his life.

But my guess is that people who demand to make Sophie a man, don't actually care about REAL representation like that. They just want to fetishsize something.

Sophie Beckett is the strongest female character in the books. Everything awful she goes through, is inherently connected to her gender. She's the bastard daughter of an Earl. Who's step mother HATED her off the bat for no reason other than the fact that she was an illegitimate daughter that would have to take lessons with her own daughters, just as pretty as them, etc. That she would one day get a dowry that would cut into her own inheritance/money. Which wouldn't be an issue if she were a man.

Sophie gets treated like a slave in her own home because Araminta hates her that fucking much as a beautiful young girl/woman. Sophie nearly gets gang raped by THREE other men b/c she's a 'pretty young thing'. And has trouble getting a job anywhere half decent b/c she's once again 'too young and pretty' to be a governess b/c she would 'tempt' fathers at homes. And has no references to be anything better than a maid. And Araminta would have slandered her name.

All of this, purely b/c she was the illegitimate DAUGHTER of an Earl. Not a son.

You change her to a man, the entire story loses it's impact and meaning. She's the strongest woman in the entire book series and the ONLY working class woman that marries into the Bridgerton family.

She matters. Her story matters and should be told AS A WOMAN.

#anon #asks #Sophie Beckett #Benophie #Benedict Bridgerton

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sheadre · 2 years

Text

Phantom of the Opera Chapter Three

Summary: Lady (Name) Granville, daughter and only heir of Duke Granville just arrived back for this season from her tour in Europe. However, she came back to London with a secret. And it seems Anthony Bridgerton just found out that secret.

Word count: 1768

Anthony Bridgerton was one infuriating man - you decided when he showed up again at your latest play. He kept visiting the opera each week, always watching you from his family’s box. You had no idea what was in that man’s head, until the next ball. Mrs. Sinclair sent invitations to all members of the ton to celebrate her daughter’s sixteenth birthday.

By the time you and Lady Danbury arrived, most of the guests had already arrived. The house was beautiful, flowers decorated the stairs and the windows, candles lit the rooms. Lady Danbury greeted a few people as she walked with you into the ballroom, her arm entwined with yours. The orchestra sat down to start playing the first song of the night and soon, you found yourself in the arms of a lord, but you did not bother remembering his name. There would be a bunch of them trying to get a dance with you. You were aware how much your title and dowry drew the attention of young lords but it only made you more wary of them. You walked over to Eloise and Penelope when you finally got a break from all the dancing. Grabbing a bottle of champaign, you heaved a sigh.

“It seems men are idiotic everywhere on Earth…” you mumbled into your glass making the girls chuckle.

“That is a known fact, Lady Granville.” Eloise laughed. “Fortunately, I have enough brothers to dance with so I could avoid all the other men.”

“Talking about your brothers, the Viscount seems to like opera.” you noted as you looked around. “When I visited the theatre, I saw him there several times.”

“Not again.” Eloise groaned with a roll of her eyes. “I thought you heard about his reputation. Haven’t you?”

“You mean that he is a rake?”

“No, I mean the rumours around him and Miss Sienna.” she shook her head. “She was the only woman who he fancied for longer than a night.”

Your eyes widened slightly at that revelation. When you first talked to Anthony, you saw the broken heart under his layer of indifference but you never would’ve guessed it was Sienna to break his heart. An uneasy feeling filled your lungs as your eyes found Anthony across the room. When your eyes met, you averted your gaze and went outside quickly, suddenly needing fresh air.

You felt stupid because at that moment, you realized that you were hoping to get to know more about the Viscount before Eloise told you about Sienna. You shouldn’t have let him get closer, Sienna was your colleague, you couldn’t mix these things. The night sky was filled with stars and the chilly wind seemed to clear your head a little as you stood on the balcony. There was only one lady out there, enjoying the quiet. You closed your eyes and let the cold wash over you, hoping that it would clean out your thoughts of the Viscount.

“Lady Granville, if I didn't know better, I would assume you are trying to avoid me.” he spoke next to you, the smile that graced his handsome features could be heard in his voice.

“Lord Bridgerton, sometimes a lady wishes to be left alone.” you replied with a small smile. “But will not be granted such a thing because the race after the dowries has already begun.”

“Well then, you should choose someone who does not need your dowry to keep them afloat.” he shrugged, still not noticing your cold behaviour.

“And who would that be?” you narrowed your eyes. “You, Lord Bridgerton?”

“I could be… after all, I can keep secrets.” he smiled at you but you just grimaced with a huff.

“So now you’re blackmailing me?” you hissed angrily, aware of the lady in the back who seemed to be suddenly quite interested in your conversation. “What a way of courting.”

With that, you left him there dumbfounded. After searching for Lady Danbury, you asked her to go home. By the time Anthony made it through the crowd and out to the entrance, you were already riding in the carriage back home.

Anthony’s PoV.

The Viscount stood outside staring after the carriage with a dumbfounded expression on his face before he grunted angrily and went back inside. He didn’t understand it. She was staring back at him through the plays at the opera, she was amicable until tonight. What had happened? He went over to Eloise and Benedict and grabbed a glass of lemonade. He needed something to cool him down.

“What got you into such a sour mood, brother?” Benedict asked with a chuckle. Anthony glared at him in response.

“Thought I would finally find someone suitable to be my wife. Clearly, I was wrong.”

“Did you get rejected?!” Eloise almost cried out but Benedict quickly covered her mouth before she could draw the attention of the ton.

“Was it Lady Granville?” Benedict asked with a smile. Anthony’s silence answered the question. “Well, that woman is quite hard to understand. Don’t worry brother, you are not the only one.”

“I thought everything was going fine and suddenly, she just went all hysteric.” the eldest Bridgerton fumed.

“She was asking about you earlier.” Eloise spoke up with a frown on her face. “She asked about your relation to opera.”

“Wait, what?!” Anthony’s eyes went wide. “What did you tell her?!”

“Just that you were not there because of the opera, but a certain someone.” his sister raised an eyebrow. “By the way, you know you should really stop seeing Sienna now that you are actually looking for a wife.”

“I’m not there for Sienna!” he growled as quietly as possible. Then his eyes widened. He almost revealed her secret. He quickly left the ball, knowing that he shouldn’t linger around in case his sister got curious.

The next morning, Anthony was pacing in his study. He spent all night up, trying to come up with a solution to his problem. He had no idea what made him worry about his relationship with (Name) so badly. Lady Granville was just another woman who could be a potential wife, he could find another just as quickly if he kept looking. Logic would say to let her go but something was pulling him back to her every time he tried to think about anyone else.

Soft knocking interrupted his thoughts, then Daphne entered quietly.

“Daph, what are you doing here?” he looked at her with a surprised expression. His sister was already a married woman with many duties, it was a rare occasion for her to appear in the house.

“I came to visit, can’t I?” she asked, then closed the door and walked further inside. “Mother told me about your infatuation with Lady Granville.”

“I would hardly call it ‘infatuation’, Daphne.” he rolled his eyes. “Lady Granville is one of the many ladies who are qualified to become my wife. Besides, her social status is satisfactory as well.”

“Then why do all the rumours say that during all the balls these last few weeks you only ever danced with her?” Daphne smiled that knowing smile which made him want to crawl up the walls. “Anthony,-”

“She rather infuriates me.” he huffed. “There is no one else who can act as confusing as she can.”

“Anthony, you’re my brother and I know you.” Daphne put a hand on his arm. “You can be quite clueless when it comes to women besides you have quite jubbing words.”

“Then what do you suggest I do, my beloved sister?” Anthony asked impatiently.

“Maybe talking to her wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

Then Daphne patted his shoulder and left him alone with his thoughts.

That is how Anthony found himself in front of the opera. He knew the backstage like the back of his hand after how many times Sienna brought him in there. But Sienna was not the one circling in his head as he waved in between the staff members and singers. After the successful play, Anthony quickly made his way to the backstage so he could wait for (Name).

He just passed the corner when someone bumped into him, halting his movements. Anthony looked down to see the masked singer who occupied his mind. (Name) lifted her head, an apology already forming on her lips when she realised who she bumped into. Her eyebrows pulled together at his sight under the mask, he could see it then she quickly sidestepped him and hurried toward the exit.

“(Name)!” he called after her, chasing her small form through the tight corridors until they both reached the exit. He grabbed the handle before she could reach for it, both of them panting. He stared at her, trying to make her look at him but she just kept her gaze on the door, irritation making her jaw clench.

“(Name)-”

“I do not remember giving you permission Lord Bridgerton to use my given name.” she hissed angrily.

“Just listen to me please.” he tried to plead with her.

“Why should I?!” (Name) asked with her eyes narrowed. She finally turned to him but her gaze made him gulp with nervousness.

“I know what you may think, but-”

“You were seeing Siena then when that ended, you were shameless enough to try-, I do not know even what you tried with me!” she almost yelled, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Lord Bridgerton, I suggest you stay away from me.”

“I had no intention of playing any games with you, Lady Granville.” Anthony declared, determined to make her see that he didn’t mean anything bad.

“What about Siena?” she asked then. (Name) stepped back from him then. It was impossible for someone to make him so nervous yet she still managed to do so. Her voice grew so quiet as she pulled off her mask, hurt clear on her beautiful face. “Lord Bridgerton, I work with your former mistress and even if she tries to not show it, she is still heartbroken. What do you think, how might she feel if she ever realised the relation between us? I keep this mask on for a reason. I admire her for her talent and humility for profession. This part of my life is the most important to me, if you keep fooling around, I might be the one to lose everything, not you, Lord Bridgerton. So I ask you to leave me alone and keep your distance.”

Then she brushed past him while putting on her mask and disappeared in the night. Anthony stared in front of himself, processing everything she just said.

To be continued…

#romance #idiots in love #anthony bridgerton #fluff #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fandom #bridgerton x female reader

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burnthoneydrops · 1 year

Text

What Time Has Done (Part XII) Benedict Bridgerton x Original Character Series

Synopsis: The Castillons chose a drama filled night to return to society, part of which was out of their control

Requested: No

Word Count: 2283

Warnings: None, but lmk if i missed any :))

A/N: Ahh! I'm sorry the wait was so long! This semester really kicked my ass! But I'm done in a week and a half so here's to hoping I get more writing time over the summer!!

As we all know, there is nothing this author loves more than a scandal. Tonight’s soiree is sure to have more than its fair share, thanks to the recently widowed Lady Trowbridge. Some may call her celebrations too provocative, and I would caution any young lady from getting too caught up in the sensual nature of her fetes. For one scandalous move between an unwed couple, a wayward touch, or heaven forbid, a kiss, would banish any young lady from society in a trail of ruin.

Lady Whistledown

Benedict

“Mr. Bridgerton,” Mr. Granville opens the front door, a full glass in hand, “come in, come in”.

“I do not know what I was expecting, but it surely was not this,” Benedict comments as he is led to a room full of models and artists, the light warm and the energy much calmer than most high society gatherings.

“Simply a gathering of like-minded souls. Here, let me show you what I’ve been working on”.

“They speak of war abroad as if it will distract from inequities at home,” a man comments from his position behind a canvas.

“They do not need war to be distracted. Why, this Whistledown’s enough to turn their eyes from the needs of ordinary people,” the woman next to him replies.

“What do you think?” Mr. Granville questions, grabbing Benedict’s attention away from the pair’s intellectual conversation.

“It is a far shout from Somerset House, I must say,” Benedict smiles at the work in front of him.

“I shall take that as a compliment,” Granville replies, laughing.

“And I must say, I’m truly jealous,” Benedict continues, catching Granville’s eye, “Is this your life?”

“There are advantages to being the second-born. Heirs have the responsibility. Second sons have the fun. So, why not have some fun?” Granville gestures Benedict away.

Emmeline

My mind feels even foggier than it has the past couple of days, much to my dismay, as I had thought that getting back out into the world might open my mind once again past the suffocating walls of our house. Unfortunately, it appears as if I was mistaken. Mama insisted that we are not to waste any more of the season and are therefore to start attending events again. It was just our luck that one of our maids had found the invitation to tonight’s event under our evergrowing mail stack, or we might not have made it at all. Though the crowd feels cramped in the main room for the evening, I cannot help spotting a yellow dress on a girl of similar redheaded nature and I make a beeline for her, leaving Josephine at the entrance. I mutter a quick apology to her before turning my head back to my original target and whisper a quiet thank you to my lucky stars that she is standing alone.

“Quite the evening, is it not?” I start, tapping her elbow with my gloved hand. Once she realises it is me, she opens the space between her side and her arm, allowing me to link my arm through hers.

“Emmeline! Goodness, where have you been?” She exclaims a little too loudly for my liking, so I take the opportunity to poke her in the ribs before I continue.

“Not so loud, will you? I have only just entered, I do not need my presence announced to the entire ton at once,” I sigh, looking around to see if we had captured anyone’s attention. Thankfully, the band is midsong, so no one is any the wiser.

“Well pardon me if one of my closest friends has just appeared out of nowhere after an extended leave of absence,” Penelope counters.

“Yes, you must forgive me for that”.

“Forgiveness might come much easier if I am aware of the reason behind it?” She tries.

“I am afraid I cannot divulge that information at this moment,” I frown, knowing it wasn’t the answer she was looking for. I want to tell her all my darkest secrets right then and there, as she seems to have a way of making one open up about all their repressed traumas, but I fear hers’ might not be the only open ears and the last thing I need is Lady Whistledown hovering over my family again.

“Our host looks a bit fussy,” A voice comments from behind the both of us. I turn the both of us to look behind us and cringe at who it happens to be. “Do you think if he goes to bed we all have to leave?” Colin continues.

“It was lucky the lady produced an heir before the old earl croaked, no?” I respond, having heard whispers around the room of the hostesses’ unfortunate late husband.

“Miss Castillon,” Colin remarks, as if just having noticed my presence. “How remarkable to see you out and about. By the time that has passed since our last encounter, I thought you had caught some debilitating illness that should cause you to never see the light of day again”.

“Colin!” Penelope exclaims.

“No need for dramatics Pen, it’s all right. Wonderful as always to see you Mr. Bridgerton,” I say, half suppressing a smile.

“Is your father among the company tonight, Miss Castillon?” Colin asks.

“He is not. He is still recovering so Mama thought it best to leave him be at home,” I reply, hoping the illness is a good enough cover up for the time being.

“Ah, I see. Is there to be a grand welcoming back for you, or are you to remain here all evening?” Colin questions.

“I am quite content here in Miss Featherington’s company, thank you very much,” I smile at Pen.

“Very well, I look forward to possibly hearing about what has kept you so isolated as of late. I have been trying to get in front of Miss Thompson all evening. Surely she is not that interested in Lord Rutledge, can she?”

“I think what Miss Thompson is interested in is a swift rescue indeed,” Penelope replies, glancing at her cousin across the dance floor.

“Indeed,” Colin begins the walk over.

“Oh! Colin, I did not mean-” but it is too late, he is already making his way over to Miss Thompson, leaving Penelope and I to our reserved conversation once again. I catch the disappointed look in her eye and wonder how many times I have been seen making that same face. Though it has come to my attention that the Bridgerton pack seems to be down one usual member.

“Looking for someone?” Penelope breaks me out of my search, my eyes ceasing to gaze across the dance floor.

“No! No in particular, just seeing if there is any news I can gather visually while I am here,” I lie, though not very well apparently, as Penelope gives me a raised eyebrow and a coughed out laugh.

“You are not the greatest liar Miss Castillon,” she replies. I cringe, knowing she is right, but wondering how obvious I came across in my encounter in the street with Benedict. Or my conversation with Colin just mere moments ago. What a horrible friend I am, here with one of my closest friends since my return and all I can think about is myself. I hardly think I have asked her a question since I’ve arrived.

“Any news that I should be informed of in my absence, Pen?” I ask.

“Daphne appears to be caught in a love triangle of sorts,” she replies and I gasp lightly.

“Was she not smitten with the duke mere days ago?”

“She was, and then Prince Fredrich got in the way”.

I was sure that despite the Prince, Daphne and Simon were fated to be together, but it seems like my judgement was misplaced. I raise an eyebrow at Pen and she raises hers back, a small, knowing smile spreading its edges across her face. A laugh escapes the both of us and some of the gentlemen are staring at us now, but I cannot be stopped, for it was not like any of them were going to request a dance with me anyway. While a mysterious woman may be of intrigue to them, as far as they are aware, my mysterious disappearance was due to an illness of sorts. That is something no one wishes to touch.

The couples glide their way across the dance floor, a few sharing heart-filled smiles and glances, and I am reminded of one of the main reasons I love watching society. Love can be a beautiful thing, when it is allowed, and there are many opportunities for it to be made here. The suffocating presence of societal standards may stunt it at times, but when it is truly allowed to grow, it is beautiful.

“Does Daphne look unwell to you?” Penelope asks as something has caught her attention across the way. Anthony is guiding Daphne toward their family, him grabbing her arm while she looks lost in thought.

“Worried about something, no doubt. She was only gone for a short while, I cannot imagine what happened to cause such upset”.

Benedict

Benedict sits behind the same canvas before, and whereas most of the guests have departed, he stays, sketching the same two women. He stares intently at the charcoal in hand, trying to manoeuvre it in just a way to accomplish what he wants, but he never seems to be fully satisfied. He takes the drink from his side table and sips it quickly before putting it back down to refocus himself. The art is not going to draw itself.

“You have great potential-” Granville starts.

“It is nothing!” Benedict stops him abruptly, running his hands down his face.

“For such a staunch critic of others, you certainly lack a clear eye for your own work,” Granville continues, looking down at the frustrated gentleman next to him.

“It’s the lines,” Benedict jabs the canvas with the charcoal, “they’re not what they are supposed to be”.

“Oh, take the compliment, Bridgerton. There’s no expectation or judgement here. You are free to be yourself here, if that is what you should like. That’s what works for me at least. And I haven’t been dissatisfied with my lines in…quite some time,” the two share a laugh.

“Well, I’ve done worse I suppose, really,” he looks around the room, then, having noticed

the lack of other participants, “I seem to have enjoyed myself a bit too much this evening. I should be on my way”.

“If you wish,” Granville tilts his head, taking a drag from his cigar. “But you are welcome back anytime, for practice or for conversation. Should you find the need to talk about anything else that may be disrupting your lines”. Granville looks to the young gentleman as he grabs his coat. Benedict sighs, shaking his head. The conversation would drag on for too long if he were to truly divulge everything going on in his mind; at least he thinks it would. “You are allowed to follow your inspiration, Benedict. I’ll see you out”.

Penelope and Eloise

A tap on Penelope’s window alerts her to the presence of someone down on the street below, and with a glance downward she is greeted by Eloise, waving frantically for her to join her on the cobblestone. Penelope holds the front door closed behind her, looking worriedly at Eloise who holds a notebook and an excited smile.

“I have a theory,” Eloise states, opening the notebook.

“Eloise it is quite late-”

“A good theory! About Lady Whistledown. I thought she had to be a servant, but I was wrong, quite wrong. Because who truly has the time and means to be that remarkable? Who would actually be invited to all the parties, able to hear things unnoticed by others?” “Perhaps we can discuss it tomorrow,” Penelope tries again but is ignored.

“Lady Whistledown is someone free and unencumbered by society. She is a single woman of means, better yet, she might be a widow. I was thinking, what if it were Miss Castillon. Think about it! She disappears for three years, to study literature no less, and upon her resurgence into society, Lady Whistledown emerges- ”

“Eloise, I do not care! People have real, mature problems that have nothing to do with the identity of some silly writer.”

“And you are so mature now?”

“I am of age. I am out in society, which means that yes, I do have mature problems to worry about, such as marriage”.

“You should not care about marriage-”

“And what if I do!” Penelope cuts Eloise short. “I cannot expect you to understand, not

everyone can be a pretty Bridgerton!” Eloise, with tears welling in her eyes, backs away to the front gate. “Eloise, wait! I did not mean-” but she is gone.

Dearest Reader,

It seems as if my identity is being called into question once again. How I am amused by the theories of possibility that float about the ton, but I assure you, there have been no correct guesses to date. A rather interesting one is that I may in fact be Miss Emmeline Castillon. A three year departure may have done many things for her, but grant her this power of quill and paper it has not. While it may appear as though her recent exit from society may have been due to a familial illness, it has come to this author’s attention that there might be more shame involved than a potential illness would supply. The Castillon family has found themselves in a great deal of debt, which has forced them into the shadows. How ever will they recover? This author is dying to know.

-Lady Whistledown

#benedict bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #colin bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #whattimehasdone #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction

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