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frost-queen · 3 months

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The moment I knew // part 8 (Reader!Bridgerton x Tewkesbury)

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

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@powwowsworld, @yomamacrusty, @mileyy22, @omgsuperstarg, @helen06dreamer, @misscaller06, @l4venderia, @dracoflaco, @loliakeoghan23, @emotionaldamageemotionaldamage, @reallysparklychaos, @ok-boke, @the-fifth-marauder7, @asgards-princess-of-mischief, @cherrysxuya, @lol6sposts, @cierrajhill, @heheyhey

Summary: During a ball sneaks Tewkesbury his presence more onto you. Almost desperate to be near you. Even so desperate he calls upon your house yet he isn't the only one. [ part 1 & part 2 & part 3& part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7 & part 9 ]

Candles were dazzling in the bright room. The walls warmed with the comfort of people. The ton bustled together in a room of delight. Chattering chippering up yet not too loud for the music to be overwhelmed. In a corner was the orchestra. The piano forte, violins, cello’s, enough to make the room dance. In the centre ladies and gents were waltzing. Graceful and delicately.

Each in their own world of slowly falling in love or hoping to be. Benedict appeared from between the crowd holding two lemonade glasses up so they wouldn’t get knocked over. He approached with a heavy exhale. Francesca and you turned more towards him. – “Your drinks sisters.” – he said lowering his hands to offer the glasses. Francesca and you took yours.

Benedict joined Colin’s side behind the two of you. Colin looked at Benedict half disappointed. – “What about me dear brother?” – he asked with pouted lips. – “Go fetch it yourself!” – Benedict replied with a sneer. Colin raised his eyebrows playfully at you when you had turned around to listen in to their conversation. – “I’ll fetch mine all by myself than.” – he exaggerated making Benedict roll his eyes.

The dancers came to a stop as the dance had ended. The room emptied as the orchestra began their next song. The first few notes shot up like a rush. Playful tunes that made you supress a squeal out of excitement. You hastily pushed your glass in Colin’s hands. Startled he nearly spilled some lemonade on his gloves.

“Y/n!” – he groaned out as you grabbed Benedict’s wrist. – “Come brother dance with me!” – you called out. Benedict got pulled with you swept amongst the crowd of joining the dance. Francesca came standing at Colin’s side. – “Now you have your drink.” – she said before taking a serious sip. You came to a stop as Benedict nearly stumbled. You positioned him before you and dove right into the dance that had already begun.

Benedict was a bit slower watching those beside him to what he needed to do. He held his hands up as you clapped your hand against his diagonally. You then clasped your hands together and spun around. Benedict started to catch on clapping his hands against yours at the same time making you laugh. You heard laughter from all around you as this dance was not so stiff.

A pleasant folklore dance with lot’s of spins, hops and fun. Tewkesbury’s eyes widened seeing you amidst them dance with your brother. He knew what kind of dance it was. Gulping nervously he very much wanted to join. Looking quickly around he grabbed the first girl’s wrist he saw near him and pulled her without a word into the dance. He forced his way to be beside you.

The couple that were already dancing near you got stopped in their movement, leaving them confused for a brief moment. They cleared the way as Tewkesbury dove right into the dance. He took the girl’s hands facing your back as he followed the dancers go in a circle forwards.

“What an honour my lord.” – the girl said breathlessly. – “Quiet!” – Tewkesbury said to her trying to focus on you. They came to a stop, changed hands and went back the other way. You furrowed your brows looking at the suspicious back of the person hopping before you. – “Is that?” – you muttered before Benedict pulled you to a halt. Clapping your hands against his again. Benedict let you spin under his arm. Benedict then walked over to you to come at your side.

Tewkesbury’s eyes widened as he hastened himself at your side. Taking your hand before the girl he was with could do so. Feeling the sudden warm grip on your hand made you look up. – “My …” – you wanted to address his presence but got pulled to the centre by your brother and Tewkesbury. Each holding your hands as you had formed a circle with the other dancers. Coming together in the middle to then part back to a full circle.

In a confused haze they pulled at you needing you to follow the direction they were going. The full circle going to the left. There was a brief pause before you were pulled in the other direction. There was another stop as you stood lost when Tewkesbury stood before your brother and you before the girl he danced with. – “What are you doing?” – Benedict shout-whispered, clapping his hands against Tewkesbury’s. – “May I dance with your sister?” – Tewkesbury asked before taking a spin as did Benedict.

You and the girl did the steps in silence and confused as to why you were suddenly dancing with each other. – “Please.” – Tewkesbury pleaded as Benedict sighed deep. Tewkesbury took it as an agreement turning his posture away from Benedict and giving the girl a gentle nudge to get her out of the way. You took each other’s hands hopping to the side and back.

You watched Benedict leave the dance returning to your siblings. – “You scared my brother away.” – you teased. – “I asked.” – Tewkesbury responded taking you by the waist. You did the same twirling around with him. – “This is more fun isn’t it?” – he said. – “I’ll decide that.” – you responded trying to supress a smile. Tewkesbury saw the mischief in your eyes knowing you weren’t serious.

He let you twirl under his arm before he pressed his hand on your back and pulled you to his chest. He was a bit too eager making you fall against his chest, needed to have pressed your hand to escape a hard bump. – “Where’s your partner?” – you asked glancing to the side. Tewkesbury pulled you back in by your chin, wanting you to look at him. – “Right here.” – he whispered making you look bashful away. – “Don’t be silly.” – you slapped him against his chest. Tewkesbury took a hold of you dancing around with you. Hastened and energetic that you were out of breath. The music slowed, fading out as the two of you were panting.

Tewkesbury bowed before you as you took a hold of your dress and curtsied. The two of you moved to the side allowing other dancers to join the next dance. – “May I see your hand?” – Tewkesbury asked. – “Wha--- why?” – you responded confused. Cheeks flushed from the heat. – “May I see it?” – he pressed on. You moved your hand up with a taunting smile. Your dance card dangled on the cord around your wrist. – “Perfect.” – He mumbled pulling at the cord. – “Hey!” – you called out as it snapped, dance card now in his hands. – “That’s mine!” – you called out wanting to grab for it. Yet he was faster pulling it back out of your reach. – “I’ll keep this.” – he showed you the card with a smirk.

“If you think you are being charming, you are wrong silly boy.” – you answered crossing your arms. Tewkesbury shrugged his shoulders. – “You can have it back when I’ve claimed all my dances.” – he replied finding it cute how angry you were trying to look. – “You see it has my name on it.” – he continued as you puffed loud. – “Where? I don’t see your name.” – you said tauntingly back looking closer at your dance card just for the dramatics. – “Right here.” – he began moving his gloved finger down your entire card. – “Tewkesbury.” – he spoke slowly as his finger went down.

“It’s in invisible ink.” – he added jokingly. You punched him in the armpit just to stop him from laughing at his own smoothness. – “Au!” – he called out, rubbing the pain area. You stuck your tongue out to him as Tewkesbury did the same just to play with you. He dangled your dance card happily up to tease you even more. – “Stealing girl’s dance cards are we now?” – you heard as Tewkesbury stiffened. He turned, dropping down into a bow at the presence of his grandmother. – “I…I was just…” – Tewkesbury began as his grandmother shushed him.

“Who are you girl?” – she asked narrowing her eyes at you. You dropped into a curtsy. – “Miss Y/n Bridgerton, My lady.” – you introduced yourself. She only hummed intrigued. – “I hope my grandson has his manners.” – she shot him a glare making him swallow nervously. You stepped up, coming a bit in between him and his grandmother. – “He has been more than polite, My lady. A dream as to say.” – you spoke to her. His grandmother hummed intriguingly again before taking her leave. Tewkesbury exhaled relieved once she had gone. The dance card was for your plucking as you took it from him. – “I’ll have this back now.” – you laughed out backing up.

Tewkesbury smiled widely following you trying to take it back from you. You kept backing up till you bumped against someone. It made you gasp, turning round quickly to apologize. – “Enola!” – you blurted out upon seeing it was her you had bumped into. She furrowed her brows. – “You know my name?” – she then looked beyond you putting on a smile to Tewkesbury. – “Viscount.” – she addressed as Tewkesbury smiled nervously back at her. Then the two dots connected. – “Ah you must be the girl.” - she spoke with a giggle at Tewkesbury.

“I can see why he likes you.” – she spoke as Tewkesbury was waving his arms across behind you. - “What was I not to say that?” – Enola said dumbfound just to tease him more. Tewkesbury slapped his palm against his face in agony. You looked back to Tewkesbury who nervously rubbed his hand to the back of his head. – “Y/n!” – you heard, drawing your attention away from him. Francesca appeared from between the crowd making her way over to you. She eyed Enola and Tewkesbury before coming to take you away from them.

You brushed past Tewkesbury letting your hand brush against his. His eyes slightly widened feeling the card being forced into his hand. He closed his hand keeping the dance card by him. Enola came at his side as they watched you leave. Tewkesbury opened his hand and held the dance card up. Letting it twirl in the air by it’s snapped cord. – “You are so in on her.” – Enola teased with a comforting pat on his shoulder. Tewkesbury looked from the dance card to where you had gone.

The next day you were in the Parlor with mama, Francesca, Hyacinth and Gregory. Your brothers had gone out. Just a boring midday. Mama was knitting. Francesca reading a book with less interest. Hyacinth and Gregory playing a game of cards. You sat near your sister, head laid back to stare bored at the ceiling. These calling hours could be so dreadfully boring someday. The time of the day where anyone without an invitation could announce themselves at the house.

Mama had let her calling card known with who would be at home. The door opened as it barely made any of you move. – “Is that how you all spend the day?” – your eyes widened at the voice of your sister. – “Daphne!” – Hyacinth shouted loud dropping her cards immediately. All of you jumped awake getting up to greet your sister. You were hugging her when the duke dropped in with Augie. Augie now at the age of three he held Simon’s hand.

“Ladies.” – Simon greeted. Hyacinth and Gregory rushed up to him to hug him. Simon let go of Augie’s hand and hugged them tightly back. Francesca picked Augie up to play with him. You hugged your sister tightly as you had missed her dearly. – “You must come more often.” – you told her. – “I know.” – Daphne responded giving you a tight squeeze.

Daphne took your hand and led you to the armchairs. – “Now you must tell me all.” – she spoke. – “There is not much to say.” – you told her. – “Now that is a lie.” – Francesca pitched in as Augie bounced on her knee. – “Is that so?” – Daphne asked intrigued. – “There’s this Viscount.” – Francesca went on. – “Viscount? What Viscount?” – Daphne wanted to know looking curiously and eagerly at you. – “It’s… it’s… not like that…” – you told her a bit unsure of what was happening between the two of you.

Would this simply grow into a friendship or was there room for more from both sides. To be honest Tewkesbury have been giving you mixed signals. All with the whole Enola thing going on. – “Then what is it like?” – Daphne wanted to know more. The door opened once more, this time the doorman entered. He cleared his throat before speaking. – “A visitor for Miss Y/n Bridgerton.” – he called out. – “Me?” – you said confused getting up. – “Well who is it?” – Daphne asked. The doorman cleared his throat again. – “He said Miss Y/n Bridgerton could guess.”

You already had a clue so you left the Parlor to head into the hallway. Your idea had been right. Tewkesbury stood by the door waiting for you. – “Miss Y/n.” – he spoke dropping into a bow. – “What are you doing here?” – you shout-whispered at him. Tewkesbury got startled a bit by the tone of your voice. – “I…I came for you.” – he said. – “My sister is inside.” – you told him a bit panicking. – “Francesca?” – he guessed. – “Daphne!” – you told him. – “I…I just wanted to see you.” – he responded as you kept looking frantically over your shoulder.

“I hope my grandmother had not scared you away.” – he asked when you gave him a gentle nudge back towards the door. You stopped furrowing your brows. – “I…you needn’t be frightened of her. She’s all bark but no bite.” – he told you taking a hold of your hand. – “I promise you.” – he continued as you got lost in his eyes.

Forgetting about your surroundings and only thinking of him. You were so deep into his eyes that you didn’t hear the door open. Till you heard a voice. – “You must be the Viscount?” – Daphne spoke. You jumped out of your skin, pushing Tewkesbury behind you.

“I am.” – Tewkesbury replied politely, moving a bit from behind you. – “And he is just leaving.” – you said pushing him back. – “Wha…no… no Miss Y/n.” – Tewkesbury whispered at you holding you by your wrist as you pushed him back. – “Come back another time.” – you whispered back to him. Desperate to get him away from Daphne yet he stood his ground, not moving quick enough. – “I still have your dance card.” – he whispered back making you look panicking over your shoulder.

Daphne watching the whole display. Tewkesbury holding you by the wrist trying to stay close as you tried to push him out of the house. She tilted her head with an intriguing hum. – “A cup of tea Viscount?” – Daphne called out. – “Yes!” – Tewkesbury called out letting go of you and stepping to the side. Daphne gestured to the Parlor. Tewkesbury went in as you followed behind. In the door opening plucked Daphne at your cheek with one of her glances. The one you feared the most. The one that stated that she knew more than you could see.

“The Viscount!” – Francesca pointed out teasingly. Simon turned his head looking the boy up and down. – “Isn’t it wonderful that he came to visit.” – Daphne said. Tewkesbury glanced over to you, catching your gaze. You held it still for a moment, for a longing moment where you stared into his eyes. Daphne looking between the two of you. – “Y/n tea!” – Francesca called out making you hum loud. You took your leave to set some tea.

Tewkesbury came to sit down in the armchair as Daphne had offered to him to sit. Both Simon and Gregory got up, coming to sit at each his side. Tewkesbury swallowed nervously at the stare Simon was giving him. Gregory smiled rather teasingly at him yet it uneased him a bit. – “You were at the opera.” – Gregory stated. – “I…I was…” – he replied. You returned to give him his tea. Taking a seat by your sisters across from him.

Tewkesbury drank his tea nervously hoping his hands weren’t shaking too much. – “Are you nervous boy?” – Simon asked. – “Simon!” – Daphne hissed at him for trying to intimidate him. Tewkesbury nearly spilled some tea. – “No…no your grace.” – Tewkesbury answered. You smiled sheepishly at Tewkesbury feeling a bit embarrassed by your own family.

“He’s very handsome.” – Hyacinth sitting on the ground in front of him. Staring dreamingly at him. Tewkesbury smiled. – “If you do not marry him then I want to marry him.” – Hyacinth said to you. – “Hyacinth!” – you shout-whispered at her to stop embarrassing you. Francesca snorted loud. – “Alright I believe calling hours are ending.” – you had jumped up, wanting to end the attention on you. – “Are you perhaps feeling shy sister?” – Francesca asked as you slapped a pillow at her head.

You gestured for the door as Tewkesbury followed. In the hallway you waited with him as the doorman opened the door. – “Have a good day my lord.” – you told him pushing him a bit to the door. Tewkesbury stood in the door opening turning back to you. – “Your family is lovely… please do not fear mine.” – he said almost desperately. As if he wanted you to know his rather cold grandmother could do you no harm.

You leaned against the door with your head, curling up a smile. – “I am not afraid.” – you answered. Tewkesbury took your hand and kissed the back of your hand. – “Till our next meeting.” – he told you taking his leave with a bow. – “For that I cannot wait.” – you spoke out of reach for his ears, watching him get in the carriage.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

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70spunkstars · 6 months

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So, this is love?

A/N: I kept daydreaming of Dad! Hobie and then writing but scrapping all of the works I’d written so hopefully I actually post this one. (Based off of my DR)

Summary: It’s cold out and you and hobie are the parents of twin girls.

Tags: Fluff, fluff, LOTS OF FLUFF !! Dad! Hobie, parent ! Reader. It’s all very domestic and cute. Reader is African American and has Gullah Geechee origins (iykyk). Super short bc I’m in the middle of a writers block

Day bled into night. This evening, you sat and rested with your baby girls while Hobie cleaned and cooked for the four of you. It’s fall and all you wanted to do was stay in with your family.

Cuddled up under a quilt you’d made yourself. The protective colors of blue white and yellow adorning you and your babies, excess fabric laid against the couch waiting for Hobie to slide underneath.

The moment was so surreal. As if it all just hit you at once that you were a parent. A parent of two children! Every time you looked at your babies you saw yourself and traces of Hobie. One had your eyes and Hobie’s nose, the other had Hobie’s eyes and your nose.

“Dessert’s hot.” Hobie smiled from the kitchen making you look up from your sleepy infants. He wiped his wet hands on a towel and picked up two large plates.

“Shit’s heavy!” You watched and tried to hold in your laugh as he carefully made his way to the living room and set the plates on the table in front of the couch. Finally, he sat down gracing a loving kiss to your lips and your babies heads.

“Twitches?” Beaming as you picked up the remote. It was one of your favorite movies to watch during your teen years, Hobie would watch it with you all the time when fall first started. But now it’s a day or two after Halloween. “I think we should watch The Grinch” Hobie challenged with a raised eyebrow and a smirk that made you laugh. “And who got the remote?”

Smacking his teeth and turning to the infant that sat laughing at him in his lap making all 3 of you start to laugh.

You’re halfway into the movie now, the other twin woke up and your babies were polishing off y’alls food. Your head laid comfortably on Hobie’s shoulder and your twins sat between you both. Hobie’s arm stretched over your shoulder, hugging you and your girls close to him.

While Hobie was actually watching the movie you gazed at him lovingly,

“So this is love?”

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Idk what this is and it’s really bad but I had to write something or else the daydreams wouldn’t stop 💔

Will probably write a better version of this after the Bridgerton AU starts

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cocteaucherry · 1 month

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trials and tribulations .3

summary- falling in love with your sworn enemy was not something you planned.

cws- p&p au/ bridgerton au, inaccurate use of regency language, 18+, misogyny, sexual tension, future smut in later chapters, slow slow burn, LENGTHY descriptions, ooc Suguru, suguru x f!reader, talks of f!masturbation , not proofread

a/n- awkward silence when I up and left for 22 days with no explanation, I’ll touch more on that in a later post but for now enjoy!

taglist @mandysfanfics, @ti-mame, @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer

The rain belted on the glass as you stood on the other side watching as the world washed away.

You felt as if you needed a cold bath, something to wash the prints of Suguru Geto’s touch off your clothes, your hands graced over the areas where his touch lingered.

Why did you feel deprived of his touch? Why did you need his touch?

“Miss l/n I’m sorry to interrupt-“

He was caught off guard by your small yelp, you had to be more attentive in this house

“Sorry Ijichi! I get lost in thought a lot.” You bowed in apology before he also returned one.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been more gentle with my approach.” He cleared his throat with a small smile, “It’s getting rather late and the rain hasn’t stopped.. we would offer you a carriage home but the roads have been washed out.”

“I guess I’ll wait for the rain.. or I’ll try to walk.” You shrugged contemplating your options, you really didn’t want to walk especially in this weather.

“Actually, Mr. Gojo has offered you to stay in a spare room for the evening.. we wouldn’t want you catching a cold.”

You smiled before letting out a small laugh, “I’m very grateful.. but I don’t want my mother and father to worry.”

“We assure you that your parents won’t be worried, I’m sure they’d be more upset with us for letting you walk home in this.”

Your eyebrow rose as you crossed your arms, “Forgive me for asking, I know he’s ill at the moment but will I ever get to see him during this visit?” The request came out rather timidly to your dismay but it made Ijichi sweat nonetheless.

“Well-uhm- you see Mr. Gojo wouldn’t want you to get sick as well.” Ijichi was definitely not great under pressure, you noted.

You uncrossed your arms nodding your head, “alright then, I will happily stay in a room until the rain stops.”

“Then you may follow me.”

Your head was spinning with questions, why would Ijichi possibly lie abt Gojo? Why would Gojo invite you knowing he was ill? Your heart ached in your chest, Geto's actions being the one to cause it.

Your stomach dropped and your blood ran cold, if the roads were washed out that means Geto couldn’t get back as well? Was he also going to stay?

You shook your head pushing the thoughts away. Hopefully you’d only encounter him one more time tonight.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

“Suguruuu~ are you listening?”

Suguru was snapped out of thought, he stood before Gojo’s bed, the white haired man staring at him with a sick grin. “Yes… I am.” He mumbled, pushing strands of rain soaked hair out of his face.

“Y’know, for a man who’s supposedly sick you seem rather energetic .”

Satoru smirked, leaning his head back, “I’m just plagued and riddled with sickness Sugu, and it seems you are too..” he pointed a finger wagging it teasingly.

The raven haired male stared blankly at him, crossing his arms, “I’m perfectly fine Satoru, please get some rest or die of pneumonia.” He turned on his heel, preparing to exit, “I’m going home-“

“Yeeesh about thattt- I’m afraid you’re not going home anytime soon, roads washed out.”

Geto froze a vein appearing above his eyebrow, “Am I supposed to stay here for the night?”

“With her yes, maybe if you’re lucky she’ll give you a kind ‘goodnight’” Satoru hummed, staring out the window to see the tumultuous rain belt down.

“Not planning on it, Satoru,” Suguru mumbled, stepping out of the room.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

The rain wasn’t letting up anytime soon.

You found yourself wandering the halls, the occasional strike of lightning helping to guide your way.

You admired the classic oil paintings that adorned the ornate halls smiling to yourself when you found a portrait of a familiar face.

hair as pure as snow with a slightly rounder face and those blue eyes that seemed to bore into your soul.

Although just like usual he was never alone, always accompanied by what seemed to be his shadow.

Dark hair that was shorter with those intense amber eyes.

“Thought you went home miss l/n”

this man truly was a shadow.

You turned to the voice of Suguru Geto, but he looked more undone. Hair slightly wet as it fell past his back some strands stuck to his forehead.

“How come you’re always near or behind him?” You ignored his question pointing your head to the portrait, footsteps echoed as he stood next to you. “How come you never answered my question?”

“Why would I answer you? Why should I?” You spun to face him as he avoided eye contact with you, “You never give me a reason to answer kindly.” You scoffed as you walked impossibly closer to him, Geto’s heart skipped a few beats as he finally made eye contact with your gaze.

He cleared his throat trying to regain his stance (control), “Satoru and I have been together for…awhile, while we both are wealthy, his family is significantly stronger.”

“So that makes you his equal, even possibly a scapegoat.” You stepped back, your eyes quickly shifting to his hand that twitched at your movement.

A grin appeared on his face, “Quite the opposite, I help save his ass on multiple occasions. He’s not the best at keeping his head straight.. or keeping his pants on.”

You choked on your saliva at the sudden mention which caused him to chuckle from his throat, “What? I know a forward woman as yourself isn’t taboo to the mention of sex? Satoru excels at that.”

You felt a blush creep under your skin, “What makes you think that?”

“The way your face visibly became uncomfortable told me that,” his eyes drifted quickly up and down your frame, “I can tell when a woman is.. how do I say this? Frustrated?”

“Frustrated?!-“ you yelled out but quickly covered your mouth to whisper it, “I’m frustrated because you- you’re!-“ you stuttered angrily, scolding yourself for not having a better comeback.

“Maybe you should try exploring your own body first before going after someone like Satoru, just a suggestion,” Geto said, turning on his foot to walk down the darkened hallway.

You had almost forgotten it was raining during the conversation, the soft patter of rain filling your ear drums as you try to reconcile what just occurred.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

You weren’t sexually frustrated, You weren’t sexually frustrated,

You repeated in your head as you buried yourself into the pillows of the way too extravagant bed, “ridiculous, he doesn’t know anything..” you mumbled clasping your hands close to your chest.

You tried to force yourself to drift off to sleep but your head began to pound and your body became warm, the handprints he left on your waist, they still left an excruciatingly burning linger. The way his hair framed his face annoyed you.

His avoidant stare annoyed you. His soft voice annoyed you, his strong hands annoyed you. His sly smirk, His perfect teeth, the way his fingers graced your breasts.

His last words echoed in your head broken by your lust “Explore, body”

You were taught otherwise in your life, should you?

You felt your hands drift towards your panties playing with the hem, would you really touch yourself out of Suguru Geto’s words?

You let out a frustrated groan, you couldn’t let him win.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu x reader #x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto angst #gojo satoru #suguru geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto smut

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604to647 · 2 days

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Barón Tovar Takes a Wife

First Movement (Adagio sostenuto)

5.5K / Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero Tovar x fem!reader, a childhood best friends to lovers story

Summary: About to make your society debut and enter London's marriage mart, you don't expect an old friend whom you haven't seen in over 10 years to make a surprise appearance at the first ball of the season.

Warnings: None! Fluff! B, C, D, E, F Bridgerton make appearances. It's me so there's a cute nickname (won't spoil). The masterlist includes a few words about how this reader insert is written - essentially, no reader description other than having hair and wearing dresses in the style of this era, reader has a backstory; much of this part is exposition (so maybe a little slow but we'll get there!😊)

A/N: My plan is to post the entire series before Season 3 of Bridgerton airs, because the story is intended to take place in the background of the same season and if things don't make sense after the show comes out then oh well 🤭 I'm also only 2/3 of the way through Julia Quinn's books, so please forgive me if some of my characterizations of the Bridgertons are not wholly correct 🙏🏻

Wonderful Bridgerton inspired dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰

Series Masterlist

The Duchess of Hastings stands behind you, admiring the reflection in the mirror of the two of you together, “I dare say, if you had debuted with me during my season, there is a good chance that I may not have been the Diamond.”

“Oh, shush, your Grace,” you make a funny face at her in the mirror, to which she laughs and pokes you in the ribs, “Don’t you start with this ‘Your Grace’ business with me.”

That Daphne Bridgerton is your dearest and oldest friend in England is something you consider to be one of the great fortunes of your life, of which, as the daughter of a Count, you have many. Violet Bridgerton and your mother, the Countess, had been dear friends and as such, much of your early childhood in England had been spent at Bridgerton House, running around with not only the same aged Daphne, but her elder and younger siblings as well. The Bridgertons are one of the most beloved families of the ton, their good natured and spirited personalities recommending themselves to everyone, and accordingly, your memories of when your two families would gather remain some of the most joyous of your childhood.

Sadly, your dear mother passed away from illness when you were only seven years of age and your beloved father, who loved her more than life itself, could not bear to stay in England much without her. The Count was one of several nobles charged with governance of Her Majesty’s Royal Naval Fleet; a gentle man, his purview was primarily diplomatic (as opposed to militaristic) and he thus travelled widely, often and always for long periods of time.

Though he did not wish to remain where so many of his memories dwelled, the Count could not bear to leave his only child behind, and consequently, you had joined your father on his travels. He proudly raised a cheerful, spirited daughter who loved the seas and adventure as much as she did reading and music. Your father found that exposing you to and requiring you to immerse yourself in so many foreign cultures at a young age led you to be the most sympathetic and kind hearted child, one who others found easy to converse with and befriend on account of your good humoured nature and open minded heart. Unencumbered by the rigid etiquette requirements (and dress code!) of British high society, you happily embraced many freedoms that other young ladies of your age and breeding did not have the opportunity to enjoy. Your father taught you much about the ships and business of the naval fleet, subjects to which you took a great interest; to this day, you know your way around most ships better than some sailors. The Count was especially proud of your affinity for diplomacy, understanding the importance of fairness and tough negotiation both in foreign matters and managing fleets. You loved all of it – spending countless hours pouring over maps and letters of diplomatic matters with your father and absorbing all you could; as you got older, you took great pride in the way your father would sometimes seek your opinion and advice on business matters and delighting when he would praise you on your ideas.

While he was unorthodox, your father could not be accused of being neglectful; he would not forgo your formal and societal education, knowing that one day, you would have to return to live in England. Hiring only the most adventurous and brave governesses to accompany your travels, the Count ensured that your literary, numerical, musical and artistic accomplishments and pursuits could rival those of your peers back home. You learned to dance the dances of grand balls, though you had only the few foreign dignitary hosted events to practice. Your only other occasion to practice came when you would return for your infrequent visits to England, reuniting with your beloved Bridgertons to spend nearly all your time catching up and laughing with Daphne and her siblings, and take in what you could of British society before once again being swept away on another ship. Though brief, these reunions with your friends, coupled with your frequent letters were enough to ensure your friendships remained strong and cherished over the years.

Two years ago, Daphne had made her societal debut, meeting and marrying her love, the Duke, during the marriage season and you could not have been more delighted for your friend. That season should have also been your debut season, except that you and your father were in the Far East and would not have been able to complete the Count’s business and return in time. Since you had postponed one year, what was two? If you had your way, you would have made it three, not eager to give up the life of travel and leisure that you’ve grown accustomed to. However, when the Queen wrote to ask why the daughter of one of her esteemed Counts has not yet been presented, both you and your father had to regretfully concede that your life as a carefree sea farer was over.

And thus, you find yourself in your present circumstance: in a luxurious silk gown the colour of swan feathers, wearing what might actually be swan feathers in your hair, about to be presented to the Queen before embarking on your first social season. To be honest, you’re not terribly nervous, save for whatever nerves one always has whenever attempting something new, and you have good reasons not to be.

The first being that you are in the very capable hands of your great friend, the Duchess. The now Dowager Viscountess had promised your mother that when the time for your debut came, it would be the Bridgerton family’s honour to sponsor you. If anything, you felt that the honour was all yours – not only were you to have the support and backing of one of the most respected and revered families during your season, you would also be blessed with their company. As fortune would have it, due to the timing of your debut, Violet had prepared herself to take on the duty of presenting not one but two girls: yourself and her third eldest daughter, Francesca.

Fearing it was far too much work and pressure, you had assured Violet, whom you loved as a second mother, that she need not fret too much over you; you’re a woman of twenty-three with more world experience than most men twice your age, and encouraged her to focus her attentions on her own daughter. Violet had been aghast at the implication that she didn’t think of you as one of her daughters, and you were about to be on the receiving end of a scolding that only a mother could dispense when Daphne came to your rescue. As the Duchess of Hastings, she herself had the right to present young ladies at court, and she declared herself delighted to be your patroness this season. This was decidedly a win-win; not only could Violet concentrate on Francesca’s prospects, you could now look forward to spending the season with your dear friend by your side.

The second reason you’re not overly anxious is that despite being older than most of the girls debuting at the same time, you know you have plenty to recommend you to potential suitors. No, you are not terribly conceited nor do you hold your own attributes in such high esteem, but rather, very practically, you know most suitors will not let a small thing such as age deter them from the handsome fortune your father has bestowed upon you.

The Count was forever exasperated with the shortcomings of the laws of inheritance and how they prevented his one child from inheriting his estate, but he made up for it the best he could with the legal avenues available to him. First, he set aside a healthy dowry for you, so that you would be sure to attract a similarly healthy crop of high society gentlemen from which to choose a husband. Second, via his will, you would be provided for for the remainder of your life with a generous per annum allowance that rivaled the income of many estates; you were to want for nothing even if you never married.

And finally, known only to a select few, your father had a vast investment in an international fleet separate from the naval fleet of the queen; a beloved exploration and trade business venture that was the Count’s passion project - you and him spending many enjoyable hours pouring over the plans and movements of this fleet. The dividends from your father’s shares went directly into a trust of which you (and any future children of yours) are the sole beneficiary, though the capital had to be held by a man. It was the Count’s thinking that in addition to the income, it was only fair that you benefitted from a venture that you had invested much of your own heart and time into. Naturally, being a part of your father’s estate, this investment could be passed down to the next Count (a distant relative), but your father had other plans. If the intended recipient was willing, you father wanted to sell his shares to his future son-in-law, allowing for the dividends to continue flowing to you and so that you may remain close to the business via your husband’s involvement.

In other words, there are plenty of reasons that potential suitors who might otherwise be dismissive of your age and lack of societal presence, may find you attractive (the least of which were probably your charm and wit); you can afford to be choosy and you fully intend to be. And while you’re not quite so hopeful to wish for a great love like that of your parents, or even Daphne and her beloved Simon, you dearly wish for a husband that will understand and respect you; one who will celebrate you for your mind, experience, opinions and all the reasons why you’re different due to having grown up the way you did.

Daphne seems to have high hopes that there will be many potential suitors who will live up to your expectations. You’re less confident than she, but still more optimistic than not.

Flopping yourself down on the chaise next to Eloise, the two of you heave heavy sighs in unison. After the nerve-racking presentation to the queen earlier this week, the following days have been a non-stop flurry of ribbons, fittings, etiquette lessons and teas with the express purpose of study in the who’s who of the ton. In just a few hours, all of Violet and Daphne’s hard work and preparations will be put on display when your contingent attends the first event of the season: the Danbury Ball.

Eloise passes a box of candy to you and you select a treat gratefully. Though Daphne is your closest friend, you’ve sometimes found yourself having a fair amount in common with Eloise and know her to be a trustworthy confidant; this is one of those times. While you don’t think you have it in you to hate anything as much as Eloise despises the marriage mart, the both of you at least have the good fortune of being able to be picky with your suitors and moreover, wish to exercise that particular privilege. For Eloise, marriage is a cage. For you, it’s the not marriage itself, but a union with an imprudent match that you wish to avoid. If you can no longer be free to sail the seas and wander through the valleys and streets of the foreign lands that call your name, you must insist that the home you’re being called home to roost is at the very least, pleasant.

“I beg of you,” murmurs Eloise, “Please let all the fashionable young men fill up your dance card so that there shall be none left for me.”

You steal another piece of candy, “I’m afraid there’s more than enough young men to go around, El. Plus, you really ought to beseech Franny for your request, my dance card may struggle for applicants on account of me being such an old maid,” you giggle.

“None of that negativity now,” chimes in Daphne from the open door, “tonight is full of possibilities.”

During the season, you’re staying at Bridgerton House so to be close to all the finery of dresses, jewels, shoes, ladies’ maids and moral support that you may need. Your father is staying nearby in another house on Grosvenor Square, and comes by most days to see his daughter and dear family friends for breakfast at the very least. You have loved your life with your father, but at times like these, when you are laughing at and listening to the loving snipes and bickering of the Bridgerton siblings, you often wonder what it would have been like to have a more traditional upbringing. Pushing that thought out of your mind, you stand and pull Eloise up with you so that the two of you can follow the Duchess to the next room where you’re expected to choose from the glittering selection of dresses laid out for tonight.

As you lean towards selecting a pretty lavender gown, Daphne fills you in on the processional arrangements for your entrances tonight, “Mama, Franny, Anthony and Kate will take the first carriage, then you, Eloise and I will follow in the second. We will enter the ball in that order as well.”

“What about Colin and Ben?”

“They’re meeting with some friend from Colin’s travels whom he met in… I want to say Greece? They will make their own way and meet us at the ball.” You nod agreeably; as long as everyone is together at some point or another, your first season event will feel a lot less daunting.

---

As you walk into the Danbury estate, you cannot but feel a bit overwhelmed by all the elegance and glamour on display. Though no stranger to luxury and finer things, it’s not very often that you find yourself amidst so much opulence. Eyes shining as you take in the finery, your voice is full of excitement and genuine awe as you compliment Lady Danbury and thank her for hosting tonight’s soiree. Hand clasped tight in Daphne and Eloise’s as you make your way down the main hall to the ballroom, you see Colin further down on the right side of the hallway, waving alongside Benedict. Waiting by the wall with the Bridgerton brothers is a third gentleman, tall and broad shouldered with soft, curly brown hair who currently has his back to you; Colin has on a mischievous grin and he’s speaking to the stranger quietly, eyes flitting back to you and his sisters periodically as you approach. This can’t be good, you think with suspicion. When you’re a few steps away from meeting with the brothers, Colin gives the stranger a slight nod and he turns around; before you even have a chance to look upon the newcomer’s face, you hear a familiar sweet baritone voice say, “Hello, Dulce.”

At first, you’re in shock; the Spanish word for candy is not a nickname people commonly call you and it’s one you haven’t heard in over ten years. Then joy of recognition and realization overtake you and you completely forget where you are, crying out, “Pero!!!” Your arms behave of their own accord and fly open to wrap around his neck as you launch yourself into the handsome man’s arms.

He hugs you back firmly and whispers low in your ear, “Happy to see you, too” before releasing you, the both of you immediately stepping apart and drop your hands to your sides, remembering where you are and that the eyes of the ton are always watching. But you can’t help but beam; nor can you look away from Pero’s face.

Pero Tovar had been your most constant and beloved friend for many of your happiest childhood years spent abroad. Pero’s father, a Barón of Spain, was in charge of naval governance for his country in a similar capacity as your father was for England and accordingly, their paths crossed regularly in foreign countries. Both men of gentlemanly dispositions, the Count and the Barón had forged a deep and lasting friendship as they conducted their business. Another thing that they had bonded over was the fact that they were both widows who uncharacteristically chose to bring and raise their children with them on their travels.

So, although Pero is eight years your elder and already in his early teens when you first met, being the only two children of sea loving foreign diplomats in the strange lands you found yourselves in readily recommended you to each other and you had become happy and frequent playmates. Pero devoted hours and hours to your amusement, allowing himself to play more juvenile games of pretend that he may not otherwise with compatriots of his own age, and with his encouragement you grew to be brave and curious, always wishing to keep up with the older boy. He helped you with your studies, and you played music for him, learning and mastering the pieces he enjoyed the most. The two of you shared a love of literature and it became your special version of a traditional hunt in each new country you landed in to find foreign language versions of the other’s favourite books so that you could read the translations alongside your worn English copies. Some of the most cherished copies of your favourite books, ones you carry with you from country to country still, were gifts from Pero.

As you got older, your shared adventures expanded to include exploring the streets of new cities, trying local cuisines and frolicking on the beaches of the coasts of Italy, Portugal and even India. The last time you had seen him, he was a strapping young man of twenty and you had been twelve. His father was returning to Spain for an undetermined amount of time to deal with affairs of his estate, and Pero would be entering university, having postponed his acceptance for two years already. Although you had each promised to write, the letters were far and few between and eventually you lost track of Pero – you can hardly blame either of you; you were travelling with your father and not always easy to find, and you didn’t really expect a young man concentrating on his studies to have the time to write to a young girl despite having been her very best friend for so many years.

But now he’s standing right in front of you and you can hardly believe your eyes. He’s impossibly tall and wide, a far cry from the lanky boy with whom you scrambled over rocks on the beaches of Portugal, but he’s still tanned, leading you to surmise that he must still sail or at least get a healthy amount of sun regularly. And while his face is older, devastatingly handsome with a cutting jawline partially hidden by untamed facial scruff, he’s completely recognizable to you. An easy clue is the scar that runs from above his left eyebrow down past his eye, though faded from when you saw it last, but it’s the indulgent smile he’s giving you right now that gives him away to you.

“What are you doing at this ball? Did you know I would be here?” you can’t help but continue to stare at Pero wide-eyed, grinning like a fool.

“Oh! We made the connection earlier this week at dinner,” chimes in Colin, “We were going to bring him over to the house but thought this would be more fun.”

You make to swat at Colin’s arm. “How did you meet this scoundrel?” you jest, with absolutely no malice in your voice, pointing your thumb at the still laughing Bridgerton brother. As your group starts to move towards the ballroom, Pero falls into an easy step by your side, “We met when Colin was taking in the crisp sea air of Mykonos, and then again last year in the vineyards of Tuscany. He made for excellent company after a long day of helping the locals prune grape vines. Naturally, when I arrived in London for business this month, I had to look him up.”

Daphne is now tugging you towards the ballroom by your hand, and in turn, you’ve grabbed onto and are practically dragging Eloise down the hall with you. You shout back to Pero, “I want to hear everything!” and can’t help the smile that spreads across your excited face when he nods after you.

“Oh!” you breathe, invigorated from the surprise of seeing Pero, as you come to a stop right before the entrance way. Daphne smiles over at you, “It was so hard keeping it a secret from you!”

You’re astonished, “You knew about Pero as well?”

“Yes, I thought it might give you an additional boost of confidence to have another friend’s support during your first event.”

You smile at your sweet friend and squeeze her hand affectionately, “Thank you! It does and I’m delighted to see Pero again. But in truth, my confidence could never be lacking when I have a friend like you next to me.”

Daphne gives you her biggest smile and squeezes your hand right back. A moment later, the three of you step into the ballroom and meet the gazes of the other attendees as you’re announced.

---

The ball is a whirlwind. It seems you hardly have a moment to even catch your breath, never mind catch up with Pero. From the moment you walked in to the grand hall, you were pulled in this direction and then that, introduced to new person after new person, some of whose names were familiar from your visits home over the years, and others only from the copious amounts of study you’ve done on the ton over the past week. You’ve certainly forgotten all their names by now.

Then it’s dance after dance after dance with the young gentleman that Daphne parades in front of you. The dancing itself is quite pleasant and a lovely way to shake out some of your jitters, but you find the small talk hardly enough to get to know your partners, and when the dance is over and you’re once again being whisked away to another introduction or meeting that the Duchess has lined up for you. The few opportunities you’ve had to take a breather and indulge in a glass of lemonade, you’ve been happy to retreat back to Pero and your small familiar group; but just when you’ve started to entreat your old friend to open up about his adventures since you saw him last, another potential suitor will be introduced and the entire cycle starts over again.

It’s only when you’re halfway through the evening that the frenzy has died down enough that you can observe and be amused by Pero’s behaviour at the ball. While you’re constantly twirling around the dancefloor, you notice that he never leaves his position against the wall and doesn’t dance at all; he mainly scowls and looks displeased, hardly speaking to anyone other than the Bridgertons or you when you have a free moment. You feel his eyes follow you as you glide across the dance floor with the young men that have asked you to dance, and even when you’re making your way through the room on Daphne’s arm, meeting and making small talk with the other families of the ton. When you do happen to look up and search for him, you often find him glowering and looking dissatisfied, though if you catch his eye, his expression will soften slightly.

Once while you were dancing with Lord Whitfield, you had caught Pero’s eye mid-turn and made a silly quizzical face at him, as if to ask What’s going on with you? and you think you see him laugh briefly before the steps of the dance require you to turn away from him. You wonder why frowns so fearsomely and if there’s a reason for him to be so stoic and curt with the rest of the ton. It’s so odd to you as you’ve never had so much as a cross word from him in all the time you’ve known him, not even when you had snuck out of the compound in Singapore when you were nine so you could watch the fireworks display. Pero had come looking for you, his face serious and eyes panicked when he finally found you in the busy square, but he never once got mad. Instead, he swore not to tell your father, and promised that if you had wanted to see the fireworks up close, he would accompany you. And then he did just that the next night and the night after that. But here, when not engaging the company of his friends, Pero’s countenance is positively sour. Any hopes harboured by the mamas of the ton for snagging a Spanish nobility son-in-law this season are quickly dashed. Barón Tovar is decidedly not here to find a wife.

With the evening more than half over, you realize that unless you make the point to do so, an opportunity to speak more than a few minutes with Pero will surely not present itself. And while you are having fun meeting potential suitors, your mind consistently wanders to Pero throughout the evening. Aside from simply wishing to catch up with him and be in his comforting presence, you do have something important you feel compelled to speak to him on.

After a particularly spirited quadrille, you curtsey your gratitude for the dance to Mr. Sedgewick, and before any of the young men you spy hovering nearby can approach you, you hurry as elegantly as you can toward where Pero is standing awkwardly pressed to the wall.

Pero, having seen the look of determination on your face when seeking him out, asks with concern when you come up to him, “Is everything okay, Dulce?”

There he is, you smile when you see the kind, gentle expression of the boy that you knew for so many years, “Everything is fine, Pero. Although I must admit to needing a respite from all the endless socializing. Do you think we could get some lemonade?”

“Of course. I would be happy to accompany you in fetching a glass.”

With Pero by your side, any person who previously had designs on engaging you during this brief break between dances now thinks better of it; you chuckle to yourself as his fearsome expression comically paves a clear path for you to the refreshments table. Once having secured your drink, you ask Pero if you can speak to him privately.

Careful not to lead you from view of other people lest it incite a scandal, Pero finds a quiet place in the entrance hallway and turns to find you looking up at him rather seriously.

When you’re certain you have his attention, you launch into your confession, “Pero, please allow me to tell you how sorry I was to hear of your father’s passing. I remember him as such a kind, generous man, and such a wonderful friend to my father and by extension, me. I will always think of him with tremendous fondness.”

“Thank you, Dulce. I know he thought very highly of both you and your father and forever treasured your friendships.”

But you’re not done and start to shake your head, eyes filling with tears, “And I’m so very sorry that I did not write to you at the time. I didn't know where you were, but I should have been more diligent in my efforts to find you. I deeply regret not being there for you if you needed someone. I hope you were not alone during that difficult time.”

You hang your head in shame. Pero feels a deep affection for you blossoming in his chest; before him is the same sweet and compassionate girl he knew when he was a boy. Tender-hearted and endlessly considerate of the feelings of others, you always had more empathy than you knew what to do with; he himself had been on the receiving end of your care and concern more times than he could count. Pero gently tips you chin up with his gloved finger, “It was a tough time and I miss him a great deal. But he was an incredible man and I strive to follow the example he set for me everyday. So, in many ways, he is still with me. No need for any apologies.” He gives you what he hopes is a soft and reassuring smile.

In return, you grin, “Who are you and what have you done with my friend? The boy I knew would have made me pay dearly for even the slightest offense - my portion of dessert for a week, at the very least.”

Unable to hold back his own grin, Pero is finding it easy to slip back into this familiar type of playful banter with you, “Well, I was trying to be a gentleman, but since you think me nothing more than a brute, I shall have no trouble devising an appropriate punishment. For your transgression against me, I demand… a dance.”

You laugh whole-heartedly and it feels wonderful to laugh loudly at something genuinely funny rather than the quiet polite laughter you’ve been making most of the evening. “A dance? Well, that is hardly a concession for me! One dance with you means one less spot on my dance card for some lord I don’t know but who Daphne thinks I might find charming,” you joke.

“Are you finding your potential suitors so far to be villains or are they all just very boring?” smirks Pero.

Giving him a little punch in the arm to show him you’re not really complaining, “I am not so terribly unfeeling. They are for the most part fine enough gentlemen. The particular circumstance we find ourselves in just makes them so very eager. It can feel terribly awkward.”

“None of them are good enough for you anyway.”

“Oh, and you are?” you jest, eyes full of mirth.

“Dulce, I’m the worst of the bunch,” counters Pero, leaning in close.

“I don’t doubt it,” you haven’t smiled this wide all evening.

“Be that as it may, the price you must pay to regain my favour remains the same. Shall we?” Pero holds out his arm, waiting for you to accept his dance invitation; you hold on to him gratefully and head back into the main ballroom, realizing this is the first dance of the ball that you’ve truly looked forward to.

When Pero takes his place across from you, the tittering from the crowd that the Barón has finally taken to the dance floor can be heard over the opening notes of the music. You can’t help but giggle, and Pero beams back at you – your light laughter more melodic than any music he’s ever heard.

Hand firmly curling around your waist, Pero sways you to the beat and the two of you carry out the steps of the dance comfortably together. You hadn’t realized how much stress you’ve been under or how much tension you’ve been holding in until now, when you find yourself actually relaxing in Pero’s strong hold. For the first time this evening, you’re dancing without nerves or the pressure of having to make polite conversation or a good first impression; you can simply be. You sigh in contentment.

“What is it, Dulce? Are my dance skills not to the standard set by your other partners this evening?”

“Hardly,” you chuckle, “I know for a fact that you dance remarkably well. And if I were to have any complaints, the blame would rest squarely on my shoulders since we learned these dances together.”

“That’s true, we can only be as good as the partners we practice with.”

“Exactly. At least that’s what Madam used to say, right before she would rap you on your shoulders with her rhythm baton,” you muse, nostalgic.

“That weapon had a name? I have not thought of Madam for many years now, but upon my word if I did not straighten up and stiffen my arms just now.”

You share another chortle as only two close friends with a long history of fond memories and inside jokes between them can. When you sigh again, Pero cocks his scarred eyebrow at you.

“Do not think me dissatisfied, my Lord. It is simply just so comfortable dancing with you, as if it has not been over ten years since we last did so.”

“I feel the same way, Dulce.”

You smile sincerely at Pero; although you could explain yourself further, you somehow know that he understands your meaning without you having to do so. Feeling content, both heart and mood light in the safety of Pero’s closed frame, you find yourself wishing that you could spend the rest of the ball dancing with only him.

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theromanticartist · 7 months

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Penelope & Colin Bridgerton enjoying a romantic day at their countryside cottage.

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FanFic by The Romantic Artist

Penelope and Colin Bridgerton, fresh off their wedding, traveled to their cottage for a romantic picnic. With every moment alone they had together, it seemed like the perfect time for Colin to make love to his bride.

The sun heated up the meadow around them. Colin spread out a blanket, and Penelope began to unpack the picnic basket. She had asked their maid to put together an assortment of his favorites: colorful macarons, slices of cheese, and a fresh bottle of wine.

Colin watched in awe as she worked, marveling at her beauty and grace. She was kind and gentle yet witty and strong, a perfect combination for a life partner. Even more so, she loved him back with a passion that defies words. Colin felt deeply blessed that such as woman could love him too.

Penelope felt his adoring gaze and blushed. “What is it?” she asked sweetly.

“I was just thinking how lucky I am that I am the man you love," he said softly, taking her hands in his own and pressing them against his chest. "Your love for me fills me with such wonder. I don't know what good deed I did to the world to deserve a marvelous woman like you."

Penelope smiled at him, tears welling up in her eyes. She leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips before pulling away to look into his eyes. "I'm so glad that you'd chosen me to be your wife. I love you and I always will."

As the couple enjoyed their picnic in the garden of their cottage, he could feel Penelope's gaze upon him as if she was admiring each tiny detail of his being. The warmth of her eyes on him made his heart flutter and made him want to stay in this moment forever. He knew that her love for him only grew stronger with each passing day and it humbled him to know that he was so cherished by another human being.

"If you continue to look at me like this, I'll have to make love to you," he threw a playful threat with a smirk on his lips.

She laughed. Then rose one challenging brow," I'm still looking."

Colin found himself unable to resist her any longer and, leaning in, he kissed her softly on the lips, his hands cupping the side of her face. As their passion grew, his hands moved down her body, caressing the curves of her waist and fondling her breasts.

Penelope arched her body against his as she felt the warmth of his touch. His hand moved lower, stroking her delicate skin beneath her cleavage. She gasped with pleasure and ran her hands through Colin's hair before pushing him onto his back and straddling him. She smiled down at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she began to slowly roll down her dress sleeves and cleavage.

Colin's eyes seared her skin with desire.

He couldn't resist and tug down the hem of her cleavage at once. Her breasts popped out. With one passionate motion he leaned forward, pressing his face between her breasts and tasting the warmth of her skin. His tongue left a burning trail up the creamy expanse of her chest, until it reached the peak of her right nipple where he indulged himself with every ounce of desire. Penelope moaned in pleasure at each tantalizing suckle and lick. Her breasts were sweet and supple to his touch, her nipples hard against his tongue.

She moved her hips in a frenzied circle against his straining erection. A growl of pleasure rumbled deep in Colin's throat as he felt the heat from her body seep through his clothing.

"Oh, God. Are you-"

He slid his hands up her thighs, confirming what he had suspected: she wasn't wearing undergarments.

"You had this planned all along."

She bit her lower lip, blushing. "Uhum," she confirmed with a quick nod.

Colin looked up to the sky. "Thank you, Lord, for giving me the perfect wife!"

Penelope let out a giggle before being taken by Colin passionate lips on hers. (To be continued...)

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pagesfromthevoid · 2 years

Note

I love the Benedict series already!! It’s feeding into my Bridgerton hyperfixation that I thought was over but is apparently not lol

Whatever the Poets Say | b.b. | 3

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: reader’s last name is Everly. None otherwise.

Author’s Note: It’s testing season so I have a little too much time on my hands. But also I’m posting this to spite the anon who says there’s no demand ❤️

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

Dearest readers,

Last night was a splendid mixture of gossip and high society. The Viscount was seen dancing with several young ladies, though none of them seem to have gotten his attention quite like Miss Edwina Sharma. As our season’s Diamond, Miss Sharma does have quite a few gentlemen callers. But who would she be to deny a proposal from the season’s most eligible bachelor?

Speaking of the Bridgerton family, Miss Eloise Bridgerton was spotted dashing out of the ball, having only enjoyed one dance before she mysteriously disappeared. Perhaps her sister’s shadow is a bit too much to follow in. Her brother, the second eldest –Benedict entered the ball late. If this author’s sources are correct (and they usually are), Mr. Bridgerton was enjoying the company of a lovely lady downtown before spending the evening chatting with Miss Everly. Even this author cannot deny there is a certain…spark between the two. Perhaps Miss Everly will be the next Mrs. Bridgerton.

On the topic of the Everly family, who do not often grace these pages, the Lord and Lady Everly will be hosting a gala for the first time. While the Everly family has hosted balls and parties before, the Lady Everly has not hosted one since her daughter was born. This author is certainly looking forward to seeing if Mr. Bridgerton and Miss Everly find themselves in each other’s company once again.

Only time will tell.

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

“You are getting quite chummy with the Everly girl,” Collin said, handing the papers to Benedict, who was more interested in the sketch pad in his lap.

Benedict let the papers drop to the floor. “She’s a writer,” he explained simply, focusing on the eyes of his drawing. “And she is very nice.”

“Is that why you’re sketching her?” Eloise teased, snatching the paper from his hands.

Benedict’s brow furrowed, and he finally looked up at his brother and sister. They were both now admiring the drawing, pointing out little details they both enjoyed. Benedict quickly stood, snagging the book back, looking at his siblings with annoyance. He hadn’t even realized he was drawing her, truthfully. He set out to finish the previous drawing, but his mind simply got away from him. And when his mind wondered, so did his pencil. Though, he could not complain: he was thinking of Miss Everly, and her desire to write. To escape, and tell stories. To make her mark on the world.

Was that not why he painted?

Well, no. They had agreed last night, hadn’t they? They did what they did –wrote and painted –to escape.

“Are you going to call on her today, brother?” Eloise asked, kicking her feet up onto the seat now as she opened up her book.

“No,” he quickly said, sitting back in the windowsill. “I have classes at the Academy that start today. I do not need to be distracted.”

Eloise rolled her eyes as Collin snickered in the corner. Benedict shot his brother a pointed look, frowning deeply now as he set his tools down. No, he could not call on her. Not today, at least. He didn’t want to give her any ideas –while she was a lovely woman, and he enjoyed their conversation –Benedict was not ready to marry. And she certainly was, it seemed. There was no need for him to waste her time when he didn’t intend to court her.

Anthony stormed in then, throwing the flowers he had taken with him on the table. Benedict sat up straight now, then slowly stood up as his older brother began throwing a fit over the elder Sharma sister, Kate. Anthony had decided last night he would marry Edwina, but it seemed that her sister was very much against the match. This morning only proved so when Anthony had gone to call on Edwina and was turned away by Kate and the line of suitors that were already there. Of course, none of them had asked Anthony for this information; but they didn’t need to. When the eldest Bridgerton was angry, everyone was made aware –whether they wanted to be or not.

“Perhaps you should take this as a sign,” Eloise suggested, though she did not look up from her book. “Either find someone whose family does not find your presence revolting or do not get married at all.”

Benedict chuckled under his breath, but covered it with a cough. “I am sure you will bring her to her senses. You are ever the charmer, brother.”

Anthony was glaring at Eloise as he spoke, frowning deeply. “I will not be finding another bride, Eloise. Miss Edwina is perfect for me.” Eloise simply rolled her eyes again, returning to the book in her hand. Anthony turned to Benedict next. “I will be returning tomorrow, first thing in the morning. I do not care what Miss Sharma says; I have nothing but good intentions for her sister –”

“Except a love match,” Benedict reminded him, brow raised. But Anthony shot him a warning look, and Benedict returned to his seat in the window.

“Are you any better, then, Benedict?” Anthony inquired, giving his brother another pointed look. “You have insisted you will not be marrying any time soon, yet every time I turn around, you are with Miss Everly.”

“Miss Everly and I are merely polite acquaintances,” Benedict insisted, shaking his head. “I have already decided to leave her be, anyway. I do not wish to get her hopes up.”

“See to that.”

The two stared each other down for a moment, before Anthony huffed in annoyance and departed, leaving the room with uneasy tension.

“And he wonders why Miss Sharma dislikes him,” Eloise muttered under her breath.

*****

“How could you not tell us you were interested in Mr. Bridgerton!” Lady Everly exclaimed, holding up the scandal sheet.

She rolled her eyes, refusing to look up from her journal as she scratched out another line. “We merely spoke at the ball, it was nothing more than that. We did not even dance.”

“A gentleman does not simply chat with a young lady if he has no intentions of courting her,” her mother insisted.

“Mother,” she whined, shaking her head. “He also did not call on me today. Does that not suggest he was simply being polite?”

Lady Everly huffed in frustration, setting the paper down and picking up her tea cup. “You are trying to find a husband, darling. Not a friend. Do keep that in mind.”

“She can have both,” Lord Everly reminded his wife, pulling the chair out from the table to sit down next to his wife. “Are we not friends, Priscilla?”

Lady Everly gave her husband a thoughtful look. “Yes, but we did not idly chat prior to you courting me. The chatting came during our courting.”

Lord Everly hummed in response, picking up a grape and popping it into his mouth. “Perhaps courting has changed since we did it.”

“Tradition does not change.”

“And why not?” She suddenly challenged, looking at her mother now. “Why can I not simply enjoy the conversation that Mr. Bridgerton offers me without having to consider marrying him?”

“Because it is improper for a young lady and a young man to interact in such informal ways, unless they are courting or married,” Lady Everly bit back, giving her daughter a cold look now. “Do not push me, child. I am your mother, I do know best.”

A knock interrupted her scolding, with the butler standing there with a tray and a note. “For Miss Everly,” he said simply as Lord Everly took the envelope and handed it to her.

She frowned a bit, not expecting anything. Her mother motioned for her to open it and she hummed, popping the seal open and pulling out the note inside. Written a bit messily, Eloise Bridgerton was inviting her for afternoon tea with herself and Penelope at the Bridgerton family home.

“How delightful! You simply must go, it would be impolite not to!” Her mother exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Have Annalise pull out that lovely blue dress we just got from the modiste! I’ll need to be dressed, I’ll have to escort you, of course.”

The butler departed, shutting the door behind him as she smiled to herself. Lord Everly watched her from the corner of his eye, grinning. “No need, love. I will be happy to take her myself; I intended to meet with Lord Bridgerton anyway.”

Lady Everly and her looked at him with surprise, but he simply smiled at them, insisting that it was fine. Lady Everly sighed and relented, then ushered her daughter upstairs. As she shut the door behind her, she swore she heard her mother say:

“You are up to something, Kenneth, I just know it.”

*****

“You came!” Eloise exclaimed, throwing her book to the side as she jumped off the seat. “I was not sure if you would want to or not; I know Whistledown has been whispering about you and my brother but –”

“I would not have missed such a lovely invitation,” she interrupted, smiling happily at Eloise.

Lord Everly cleared his throat, bringing their attention to him. “Miss Bridgerton, is your brother home?”

“Which one? I do have four,” she reminded him with a mischievous grin.

“The viscount,” he corrected, grinning back at her.

“Fortunately for the rest of us, Anthony has taken his leave. I’m not sure when he will be gracing us with his presence again.”

Lord Everly did not seem overly concerned that the viscount was absent, simply shrugging. “Oh well, I am sure I will catch him another time. Do enjoy your tea, dear.” He winked at her, stepping from the tea room and taking his own leave.

She watched him leave, curious as to what her father was seemingly up to. Eloise had the same idea, watching the man disappear out the front door.

“Is he always so…cheerful?” Eloise asked, sitting back down.

She followed Eloise’s lead, sitting down beside her with a nod. “For the most part, yes. He’s quite lovely, truthfully. Though I am not quite sure why he insisted on escorting me today; he claimed to have a meeting with your brother.”

“How lucky of you to have such a doting father,” Eloise mused thoughtfully.

“Miss Eloise, I did not mean to remind you of any sadness about your own,” she quickly corrected, worried now that she had hurt her new friend’s feelings.

Eloise merely shrugged in response, in time for Penelope to make her way in with her lady’s maid close behind. Both young women greeted her happily as she sat. When all was settled in, and pleasantries exchanged, they dismissed their maids and shut the doors from prying ears and eyes.

“I just ran into your father,” Penelope said, taking off her gloves and setting them on the table. “He is a very kind man.”

“He is also up to something, according to Miss Everly,” Eloise teased, resting her elbows on the table as she leaned in some.

“What do you mean?” Penelope asked, brow furrowed.

She shook her head, stirring her tea carefully. “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. But I swear, as I left the dining hall this morning, I heard my mother tell him she knew he was up to no good.”

“Perhaps he is trying to secure your courting with Benedict!” Penelope offered as an explanation.

Eloise practically choked on her tea as Miss Everly shook her head fervently. “Oh no, no. Mr. Bridgerton is not courting me, I am certain. At least, he has made no indication other than simply being nice to me.”

“Is that not all it takes these days?” Eloise drawled, leaning back in her chair as she crossed her arms.

“If that is the case, then Collin has been courting me for quite some time,” Penelope pointed out, looking at her best friend with a grin on her face.

“Please, you can do so much better!” Eloise exclaimed, hitting her friend in the arm. “Besides, you and him are such good friends.”

Penelope didn’t respond, paying closer attention now to her tea and adding far more sugar to it than was probably necessary. On Penelope’s other side, Miss Everly was sipping her own tea, trying not to comment about how close Collin and Penelope seemed. From an observer’s standpoint, it had certainly seemed as though Collin was courting Penelope. But if Penelope was simply good friends with Collin, could that mean she and Benedict could be friends too?

The thought made her smile to herself, considering how easily she could be friends with Benedict Bridgerton. Though, she also considered how easily she could fall in love with him, as well. It was a brief interaction, sitting in the window of the ballroom. But it was the most meaningful conversation she had all night. And more so, he was so genuinely interested in what she had to say. Who wouldn’t want to love someone who listened so well? Who made them feel seen?

She certainly knew she wanted to love someone like that.

Perhaps, even, someone like Benedict.

The realization hit her hard, and she stared at her tea cup blankly. Did she want Benedict Bridgerton to love her? He had made it clear last night he had no intention to marry this season; and she certainly could not wait for him to want to. Suddenly, the room felt too small and too cramped. And she was too aware that she was in his home, gossiping about him and his brother with his little sister.

“I think I need to step out for a bit of air,” she murmured, setting her cup down with trembling hands.

Penelope looked to her with concern, frowning. “Are you feeling ill? Should I send for your lady’s maid?”

She shook her head, standing up quickly. “No, no. I will be fine in a moment; I just need to step out. Sometimes tea just overheats me.”

Eloise and Penelope exchanged confused looks as she stepped out of the room, and towards the back of the house and their courtyard. She pushed the door open, running a hand over her face as she shut it behind her and rested her back against it.

“Miss Everly?”

“Oh hell,” she managed to whisper to herself, closing her eyes for a moment. Then she opened them once more, pushing off the door and facing him.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” she greeted, bowing her head.

He held an easel under his arm, with a canvas, as well as a kit in the other. There was paint on his hands, smeared from working she could only assume, and his sleeves were rolled to the elbow. It was the first time she was seeing him less than formal, and it was a lovely sight indeed. But she dropped her gaze, looking away from him and into the gardens.

“I was just stepping out for some air,” she explained, taking a moment to regain her composure. Then she finally looked back at him with a smile. “Eloise invited me for tea.”

“Ah, of course,” he replied simply, looking anywhere but her.

There was an unusually tense silence between them for a moment, as he rocked on his heels and she dropped her gaze to the ground. The longer they stood outside, alone and unchaperoned, the more trouble they would find themselves in. But she didn’t want to be the one to end the interaction; she enjoyed his presence too much, even if the silence was almost deafening.

Though, the silence was becoming too much.

“Were you painting then?” She asked, suddenly, motioning to his tools.

Benedict came back to his own senses, looking down at his canvas, then nodded. “Oh, yes. I was using one of the statues in the gardens as a model today.”

“No lovely young ladies were willing to fill the spot?” She teased, smiling at him now.

“None I wished to stare at for hours,” he joked back, that crooked grin of his returning once more.

She adored that grin.

“I would love to see your work,” she continued, nodding towards the door. “Inside. With a chaperone, perhaps?”

Benedict looked around for a moment, as if realizing how bad this looked, then quickly shook his head. “I would love to, but I…I have class at the academy. I simply cannot be late. But you should return to tea; I am sure my sister is growing impatient.”

He reached to open the door, just as she reached as well. Their fingers, just barely, grazed one another’s as they touched the knob. For a moment, it was as if nothing else was there. No house, or butlers. No sisters waiting for their return; no need to fear being caught. It was simply her and Benedict, barely touching and alone outside. And their eyes met, just for a second, and she swore his gaze dropped to her to her lips.

She yanked her hand back, taking a deep breath, and smiling at him. “Another time then, Mr. Bridgerton.”

He swallowed hard and nodded, opening the door for her. It was with a final nod, and a trembling smile, that she hurried back into the tea room.

Oh, hell indeed.

#benedict bridgerton #Benedict Bridgerton x reader #benedict Bridgerton imagine #Bridgerton

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mrsdulac · 10 days

Note

Top five Bridgerton characters? Top five Bridgerton relationships? (can be romantic or platonic) Top ten movies? :)

Ooooo this is a good one! Thank you 🩷🩷🩷

Bridgerton Characters:

5: King George (he makes me sad 😭 he just wanted a simple life and a family that loved him)

4. Eloise Bridgerton (she reminds me of me sometimes. she’s a naive dreamer 💕 and her insecurities concerning living up to Daphne’s example…felt that in my spirit)

3. Edwina Sharma (protect her at all costs)

2. Queen Charlotte (FASHION ICON! SORROWS! PRAYERS! ✨)

1. Lady Danbury (grace and sophisticated incarnate. she is THE MOMENT 🩷)

Bridgerton Relationships

5. Eloise & Benedict (they embody sibling energy perfectly lol and I love how supportive they are of each other)

4. Eloise & Daphne (listen nothing makes me happier than sisters who quarrel but still stand by each other and Eloise and Daphne remind me of my relationship with my own sister at times)

3. Agatha & Violet (GOSSIP QUEENS! JUDGING THE TON TOGETHER. NEED I SAY MORE?)

4. Charlotte/George (need me a love like this post haste 😭💕)

5. Charlotte & Agatha (MORE GOSSIP QUEENS but also they’re lowkey besties. Agatha has been around for so much of Charlotte’s trials and I wish the Queen Charlotte show demonstrated more of that!)

Top 10 movies

10 - The Hateful Eight

9 - Gothika

8 - Eve’s Bayou

7 - Evil Dead II

6 - Doctor Sleep

5 - Kill Bill Vol 1

4 - Battle Royale

3 - The Wiz

2 - Django Unchained

1 - Candyman 1992

#tysm!! 💕#now i wanna rewatch bridgerton LOL #aquaristintern #ask game

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stars-of-kyber · 9 months

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In the distant future of Walking The Wire, what do you think Kanthony children excell at? Is Neddy the illusionnist like his Amma and does Charlotte throw daggers (to the despair of her Papa)? Inquiring minds need to know, Cee!

Heyyy!!! I'm so happy you're liking it <3 it means the world to me! I spent so much time pouring my heart over this story and I can't believe I managed to finish it before posting lol So proud of me

We'll see a bit of this soon, in the epilogue, when we meet 10-year-old Ned who takes after him Amma more than she'd be willing to admit, but I can spoil a bit lol

Ned's an acrobat like his dad, which causes his mother her fair share of white hair. He loves his mother's magic tricks and he's happy to take part in them whenever he can, but he's never had the patience and grace to learn. He fell in love with flying as a little boy and there was nothing to be done about it.

Miles is the one for illusionism. He'd spend hours watching his Amma and desperate to understand how things were done, so Kate taught him. He loves trying to come up with new tricks and new gadgets for new tricks. He actually leaves the circus for a while to go to Uni, he studies mechanical engineering and robotics and then he comes back filled with ideas on how to improve things. He's the one who'll take over the magic number for his mum when it's time for her to step away.

Charlotte does not throw knives sorry. She picked the whip. Anthony's not really sure who was the fucker who showed his precious little girl (he thinks it was Frannie and Michael). Little Lottie does not rest until she's absolutely proficient in it.

Anthony never really becomes the Ringmaster which is 100% fine by him. The job goes straight to Belinda Basset the day Violet is forced to step down. Ned takes over the artistic part of the show with the help of Charles Bridgerton and Janet Starling, while Mary deals with the administrative one along with David Basset. Some of the next-gen doesn't stay with the circus or works for it from afar.

Aggie becomes a solicitor and takes over the legal work from London. Alex Bridgerton becomes a photographer and Jane Bridgerton is a journalist. Georgie Crane is a microbiologist, but she always stops by to watch the performance every time her fam is around Cambridge. John Starling is actually cast in the Cirque du Solei, which is a huge point of pride inside the circus.

#my writing #asks #bridgerton #walking the wire #kathony #Circus AU #next gen

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coquelicoq · 2 years

Text

she's beauty, she's grace, she'll insult you right to your face

part iii of bridgerton characters as text posts

[Image description: 10 stills featuring the character Kate Sharma from season 2 of the TV show “Bridgerton” with tumblr text posts edited in.

1: Kate is in a misty forest wearing a cloak with the hood down and is looking into the camera with a slight smile on her face. The text post by tumblr user GeorgiaTNSV reads “Current mood: wanting to have a hooded cloak and to be in a misty forest”

2: An unimpressed Kate is sitting outside looking up at an offscreen Anthony, who has just said that women do not hunt. The text post by SecondhandFairyWings reads “'Women are weak' I'm strong enough to carry your corpse to the woods.”

3: Kate raises a teacup to an offscreen Lady Danbury and smiles sarcastically after they overhear some of Edwina's suitors talking about her gatekeeping. The text post by LargeLoka reads “i naturally look mean but it keeps the weak people away”

4: Edwina cries on Kate's shoulder as Kate hugs her, looking worried. The text post by veinitas reads “wow it sure is exhausting being so beautiful and right about everything all the time”

5: Kate is standing outside smirking at Anthony after he attempts to give Edwina a horse. The text post by sriou reads “do you ever make a good ass sarcastic remark and u just smile to urself ur so proud”

6: Kate smiles proudly down at Edwina while telling Lady Danbury of Edwina's accomplishments. The text post by besamu reads “older sisters are the backbone of society and deserve financial compensation”

7: Kate snarks at an offscreen Anthony while standing fashionably dressed in the woods with a gun propped on her shoulder. The text post by seifukucat reads “it's very important that i am both cute and powerful”

8: At the races, Kate glares at Anthony after discovering his manipulation of her. The text post by GreaterHorrors reads “i am looking disrespectfully" and a reblog by InternetMysteries reads "i am glaring with vitriol and malicious intent"

9: During Pall Mall with several Bridgertons in the background, Kate grins, delighted, at an offscreen Anthony right before whacking his ball into the woods. The text post by SleepRan reads “I came out to attack people and I'm honestly having such a good time right now”

10: In the gardens of Aubrey Hall, Kate gives Anthony a supremely unimpressed look as he makes excuses for not proposing to Edwina. The text post by tumblr user done reads “with your shit”

/end ID]

#'how many of these do you have' that is for me to know and you to find out #bridgerton #bridgertonedit #kate sharma #bridgerton characters as #text posts #my posts #this set was hard to make because she is so snarky at so many different times and the matching was such an undertaking #idk that i am entirely happy with it...like would we call her remark to anthony about edwina being an enthusiast for novels of love #'sarcastic'? i think she is sincere about the words she's saying (so not sarcastic) but she's saying them in a voice dripping with sarcasm #it seems like an oxymoron but somehow she makes it work #it's less the words that are sarcastic and more the context? idk idk #she's a master of the form and i am but her humble apprentice #links

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delehosies · 2 years

Note

For Benedict: falling in love with a writer

have had this in my inbox for aaaages and i have inspiration and some spare time so benedict blurb!!!

You had grown up alongside the Bridgerton's. You spent time with them almost every single day - particularly with Benedict, who over the years had grown to be one of your closest friends.

Now, Benedict was under the impression that he knew everything about you, knew everything that irritated you (which he often used to his advantage), he knew how to make you smile, what you hated, what you loved. But he didn't know about your one true passion.

But what he didn't know was that you spent hours awake, scribbling furiously under candlelight as you worked out characters and plot holes. Sometimes if your emotions were particularly prominent you had no choice but to resolve them with poetry. You kept it hidden, to yourself - knowing it would be very unlikely for you to become the next Jane Austen, and your writing felt a little too personal for publishing at this point. You were content having your stories to yourself.

You had misplaced your beloved notebook, and spent the entire day filled with anxiety, practically tearing your bedchamber apart as you searched for it, and searched again, and again. By the evening you were close to tears, and as you prepared for dinner with the Bridgerton's you had, rather dramatically, begun to give up all hope of ever seeing it again.

Unbeknown to you, Benedict had found your notebook mere hours earlier- tucked down the side of the drawing room sofa. He had dropped his pencil, and when retrieving it discovered it. It would be a lie if he said that he hadn't read it, and though he thought it may have been the journal that contained Eloise's usual drivel. he soon realised it was not her handwriting. That this notebook contained words of fiction, poetry and prose.

He was in awe as he flicked through the pages, eyes skimming through the pretty words, it was unlike anything he had ever read. Ben adored it. Aubrey Hall was a recipient of many guests, and he wasn't sure who it may belong to - until one of his sketches fell from the book and onto his lap. A sketch of Y/N. His Y/N.

When you arrived at Aubrey Hall that evening Benedict almost immediately cornered you, notebook in his pocket as your parents greeted each other. "When were you going to tell me that you're a little poet, hm?"

You felt your cheeks begin to burn, watching as Ben reached into his inside pocket and retrieved the book. "Give it back, Benedict."

"Give what back?" Ben smirked, this teasing his idea of flirting. Unbearable - the only way that this could get any worse, any more embarrassing, was if he held it above your head and made you jump for it. Luckily for you, the idea hadn't crossed his mind.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms above your chest. "You know what I'm talking about."

Benedict pondered for a moment, your eyes locked. The smirk refusing to drop from his lips, even as he slowly held out the notebook to you and you snatched it from his hands.

"Finally. I'm assuming your mamma didn't teach you not to read other people's private notebooks." you tucked it protectively underneath your arm.

"And how was I supposed to know that it was private? With all due respect, it's not as if it was shut away with a padlock, Miss Y/N." Benedict queried, his voice smug as he lazily draped his body against the wall.

He had a point and you knew it - you found yourself nervously nibbling at your lower lip, making Ben frown. He reached over and gently brushed your lip with his thumb to prevent you from biting it raw. "Be careful." He murmured, your heart beginning to speed up.

You stared at each other for what could have been hours, butterflies erupting in your stomach. "Excuse me..." You mumble, Benedict shifting slightly so that you could side step around him. He watched as you darted down the hallway, your pretty dress trailing after you as your shoes clicked against the floor.

"I'll be expecting a poem dedicated to me, Miss Y/N!" He called after you, making your lips turn up into a wide smile - book clutched to your chest as you practically ran from him, ran from your feelings.

Benedict wasn't quite sure how he hadn't noticed it until now - how he had ignored the ache that scratched at his chest, his heart. But he knew now that he had to have you. He needed you, to cherish you, to love you.

#♡requests!#graces bridgerton posting <3 #benedict bridgerton blurb #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton

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frost-queen · 7 months

Text

The moment I knew // part 5 (Reader!Bridgerton x Tewkesbury)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @cayt0123, @powwowsworld, @yomamacrusty, @mileyy22, @omgsuperstarg, @helen06dreamer, @misscaller06, @l4venderia

Summary: Finally it is your time to debut, yet your idea of a first ball does not go as you imagined. A mystery girl taking your place by his side. Can hearts be mended or shall they forever live in spite? [ part 1 & part 2 & part 3 & part 4 & part 6 & part 7 part 8 & part 9 ]

The doors opened. The feeling of a breath held in. Slowly lifting your head. Eyes locking on the Queen. Her eyes slightly narrowed full of judgement from afar. Taking the first few steps, you kept your gaze on her. Walking by nobles of the ton. Your family amongst them. No matter how much you wanted to acknowledge them, you didn’t. The queen settled with ease on your walk. Then a stop. Taking a graceful deep curtsy for her. Anthony smiling proudly at you. Benedict pressed his lips together, turning his gaze away.

“I promised I wouldn’t cry.” – he whispered blinking rapidly with his lashes. Colin waving his hands before Benedict’s eyes to keep his eyes dry. When you rose gave the queen you a pleasant smile. Turning back around, you headed back. Francesca sighed dreamily. – “Now it is official.” – she whispered to Gregory. – “Now she can marry Tewkesbury.” – Gregory spoke looking back to Anthony.

“Hush.” – Anthony breathed out. Gregory’s gaze went to Colin seeing him mouth an ‘oh she will’ to him. Gregory chuckle turning to Hyacinth to whisper it in her ear. Hyacinth gasped loud making Anthony hush them. In the meantime had you returned to mama. Exhaling deep you flopped down into a chair. Immediately plucking the feather from your hair. You gave the thing a bored look before handing it over to mama.

“You were so graceful my dear. I suspect you’ll be the season’s diamond.” – Violet gushed letting her fingers slide over the feather. You laughed softly. Looking past mama, a girl caught your attention. Hair as brown as chestnut. A mischievous glance in her eyes and a charming smile on her lips. She briefly made eye contact with you before the doors opened for her.

Then she was off presenting herself to the Queen. Mama tapped you on the knee to sit more graceful. You changed your posture sitting better when the doors opened again. The same girl from before walking out. She barely left the entrance when she plucked the feather from her hair. You quirked your eyebrow up when she tossed her shoes off.

Bending down to pick them up and continue on barefoot. You huffed funnily at how little she seemed to care. Getting up you followed mama into another room. There you waited for the queen’s decision on who the diamond of the season would be. You didn’t really cared as you only cared about seeing Tewkesbury again.

After being a year parted from him, you desperately wanted to be with him. Dance the night away with him and declare your love for him. Violet puffed annoyed wrapping an arm around you when they didn’t announce you as diamond of the season. You re-joined with your siblings as Violet kept muttering complaints. You welcomed Benedict’s hug seeing he had cried a little. – “You’re a baby Ben.” – you whispered to him.

“I do not care.” – he whispered back. – “Everyone can see I cried because of my sister’s debut!” – he declared loudly embarrassing you a bit. – “Ben…” – you whispered seeing some nobles chuckle. - “Stop embarrassing her.” – Francesca pitched in slapping Benedict with her glove. Benedict jumped quickly hiding laughingly behind Anthony. Gregory and Hyacinth walked beside you, heading back to the carriage. – “Are you to marry Tewkesbury now?” – Hyacinth asked getting in with you.

“That is what I intend to do.” – you answered. Anthony joined your carriage. – “I do have a say in it.” – he made clear with a brotherly scowl. – “Try your best brother.” – you told him seeing Hyacinth giggle. Colin came squeezing himself in the carriage making Anthony move closer to Hyacinth. – “There is no changing her mind.” – he spoke sitting down. – “and that you must remember brother dear.” – you rubbed in with a pleasing smile.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

The entire household was in a rush. Benedict crossing the hallway while trying to put on his glove. Anthony making final checks on everyone. – “Colin your collar.” – he pointed out seeing it stick out. Colin sighed trying to fix it. Francesca approached him, slapping his hands away so she could fix it for him. Violet held her hand against the back of her hair. – “I’ve lost a pin.” – she called out searching the floor. Eloise joined them presenting herself mockingly to her family.

Anthony sighed loud not even the energy to speak about her lack of care in appearance. – “Eloise at least tie your shoes.” – he said scratching the back of his head. Eloise pulled her dress up, revealing her ankles as she looked dumbfound down at her shoes. Anthony turned his head looking up to the ceiling with a soft groan. – “I’ve send the wrong sister away for manners.” – he muttered to himself. – “Where is she anyways? Y/n!” – Anthony shouted out your name. You appeared from out of the parlor, all dressed up. – “Mama a pin.” – you said walking over to her.

Violet turned to so allowing you to adjust her hair. – “Eloise your ankles are showing.” – you told her without a second glance. Eloise looked down seeing that her sock was not pulled up high enough. She immediately bend down to pull it up. You stopped Benedict adjusting his cuffs. Anthony watching you with admiration. How mature you appeared. You noticed him staring making you furrow your brows. Anthony slightly shook his head, letting you know it was nothing. Grabbing Benedict’s arm, you followed the others outside to the carriages.

Your first attendance to a ball. Lady Danbury always hosted the first ball of the season. Once inside the carriage you felt the anxiety rise. Knee trembling whilst you fidgeted nervously with your fingers. Colin who sat beside you noticed it. Taking your hand, he put a stop to your fidgeting, bringing your hand to his knee. You thanked him with a warm smile. Feeling him squeeze your hand lightly, it eased your nerves. It was rather not the ball you were nervous off.

Rather seeing him again. A year. A year now you hadn’t seen him. Only his words written on paper to comfort you. Opening your reticule you looked down at the acorn inside of it. His promise buried inside of it. His promise of loving you. diving with your hand into the reticule, you held onto the acorn. Pressing it warmly against your palm. If you listened to your heart closely you could feel his words. His words of love for you.

Blink and it will pass. Indeed it has passed. The year you had been away from him felt at first like an eternity, till you had much fun and forgot to count the days. It no longer felt like agony, more like a deeper longing. Sometimes when you forgot to think about him, you felt guilty. Guilty of not having him in your mind. Would he forget about you too? Would he have days too where he forgot to think of you? Letting go of the acorn, you didn’t want to think of it. Pulling your hand back, you closed the reticule once more.

Eyes adverting to the shimmering dusk. Soft tints of orange and pink brewing behind a pressing darkening sky. Lady Danbury’s estate drew closer making you take a deep breath. – “Are you ready?” – Francesca asked you. You nodded. She extended her hand to you, making you let go of Colin’s hand to take hers. – “Don’t let anything stand in your way, Y/n. This is your season.” – she said encouraging. The carriage came to a stop. Colin stepped out as you had room to go closer to Francesca to give her a kiss on the cheek.

Colin waited for you to step out. Taking his hand, you stepped into the open air. Looking up to Lady Danbury’s estate. Out of the second carriage stepped out mama, Anthony, Benedict, and Eloise. Taking Anthony’s arm, he guided you inside. The warmth of her estate clasped around you like a blanket. The symphony of music becoming clearer as the doors opened. Dancers in sync as they twirled. Lady Danbury approaching to greet you all.

“Y/n Bridgerton, what a rare jewel you are.” – she complimented making you curtsy for her. – “Good luck to you.” – she smiled eyeing Anthony. Anthony swallowed nervously, not following immediately. Lady Danbury chuckled amusingly already seeing several interesting suitors looking your way. Smiling at herself, she walked off making Anthony more nervous than he already was. Getting on the tips of your toes, you looked around for a sign of Tewkesbury. Anthony saw two gentleman around their twenties hesitate to make their way over to you.

You gasped confused suddenly being pulled away by your brother. – “This is worse then I thought.” – he mumbled to himself, pushing a way through the crowd with you. – “I only have eyes for Tewkesbury.” – you reminded him. He turned to look at you with a hard stare. – “That I worry too.” – he confessed making you laugh pleasantly. Anthony came to stop where he had a good view of the entire ballroom from each side. He smiled noddingly seeing Colin and Benedict make their way through the crowd over to you. Francesca right behind them.

Francesca joined your side as your three brothers agreed on a set of rules regarding their sisters and possible suitors. – “Have you see him yet?” – she asked wrapping an arm around you. You shook your head, pulling yourself up to look around better. – “He’ll come and when he does you’ll be the first he dances with.” – she answered making eye contact with a young man her age. Anthony noticed it stepping in between Colin and Benedict to reach her and you. He came standing in front of her, shaking his head.

Benedict laughing loud. Anthony grabbed the both of you by the shoulders, pulling you away from the dance. – “Let us fetch a drink sisters.” – he spoke pushing you and Francesca forwards. Francesca smirked at his silly behavior. Benedict and Colin remained having a chat with each other. Colin was staring at the dancers, Benedict turned away from them to acknowledge mother from afar. Colin’s brows furrowed when a pair moved revealing a familiar face.

It was Tewkesbury. He sighed relieved having found him till he noticed the girl he was dancing with. Hair as brown as chestnut. He let her twirl under his arm, gaze constantly on hers till she rejoined him closely. – “Who is that?” – Colin wondered making Benedict turn around. His eyes fell upon Tewkesbury dancing with the young lady. – “Is that not…” – he questioned, Colin confirming his doubts. – “Tewkesbury with another.” – Benedict’s eyes widened looking sharply around to where you were. – “She cannot see this.” – he told Colin knowing how much it would break your tender heart.

Colin gasped anxiously seeing you return with Francesca and Anthony. Colin rushed over coming to block your view. He started you with his odd behavior. – “Anther drink sister?” – he questioned. – “Colin I just went to fetch one.” – you told him showing him the glass in your hand. Colin snatched it from your hand, drinking the lemonade in one gulp down. – “Another sister?” – he repeated. – “Colin!” – Anthony snapped at him.

“Colin what is with you?” – you questioned seeing him take a step aside to keep your view blocked out. Furrowing your brows something felt off. You leaned to the side to try and look as Colin blocked your view again. You tried the other way, getting the same result. – “What are you not letting me see.” – you asked loudly finding his behavior odd and annoyingly. Francesca groaned loud pushing him aside. – “Fran no!” – He called out as the view got cleared.

The dancers spun around as you saw Tewkesbury among them. Instantly you started to smile, till you noticed the girl stepping up to him, looking lovingly up in his eyes. Tewkesbury staring lovingly back at her. He waltzed with her around the room as you stumbled back, feeling like you were going to pass out. Francesca gasped loud, covering up her mouth. Anthony’s eyes widened with shock. – “I tried to shield you…” – Colin breathed out feeling a bit guilty.

Tewkesbury and the girl you recognized from the palace to meet the queen came to a stop. She twirled again under his arm, meeting up with him. Tewkesbury’s gaze was on her till his eyes shifted briefly to the side. His eyes staring in shock at yours. She stepped to the side, expecting him to follow when he didn’t. She furrowed her brows seeing him stare frozenly. Looking over her shoulder, she noticed you and your siblings. Heartbroken you turned around, wiping your cheek dry.

“Wait!” – Tewkesbury called out. – “Wait Miss Y/n!” – he moved to go after you, the girl needing to move to not be pushed over by him. Francesca went after you. – “Miss Y/n wait please.” – Tewkesbury said hastily reaching your brothers. Colin and Anthony blocking his path so he couldn’t follow you. – “Let me through! I need to speak with her!” – He said desperate and annoyed that your brother’s wouldn’t let him pass. Anthony grabbed him firmly by the shoulder. – “You stay away from her!” – He called out, pushing him away. – “Miss Y/n!” – Tewkesbury called out loud catching the attention of many bystanders.

Benedict joined his brothers, leaving through the crowd. Tewkesbury stood still feeling a sudden hand on his shoulder. Looking to his side he saw Enola by his side. She motioned for him to follow her. Meanwhile had Francesca caught up with you. She had taken a hold of your elbow, pulling you to a stop. You turned round, letting yourself fall against her chest. Crying loudly as she comforted you. How betrayed you felt. While you remained loyal to him, had he found someone else.

Someone else to cherish and confess his love to. What a fool you have been. A fool for love to think someone would remain loyal to you. To have believed his words with such truth. It hurt with every inch inside of you, hating that you still wanted him. Your brothers joined your side, having found the two of you. – “I knew it!” – Anthony called out making Benedict glare at him for not being the right time. Colin wrapped his arms around you. He could not believe it.

Firsthand he had seen how caring Tewkesbury was towards you. Firsthand he had witnessed the pure love between the two of you. A love story crumbling down to ashes with the coming of another. Nothing more you wished to leave the ball. Benedict agreed, leading you towards the doors to leave for the hallway. – “Miss Y/n!” – you suddenly heard, catching Tewkesbury hasten his way over to you.

“Miss Y/n please.” – he begged coming closer. Benedict and you came to stop. Benedict stopped him by his shoulder, not letting him come any further. – “I’m going home, my lord.” – you said with a stiff curtsy. Benedict let go of him as you turned round. Tewkesbury grabbed for the ribbon on your back, wanting to hold you.

He felt the fabric slip through his fingers when you walked away from him. Lowering his head, he watched the doors close before his eyes. Benedict and you got into the carriage, returning home. Numbly you stared out of the window. Had you hoped too much?

----------------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

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lavendaers · 1 year

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it’s time for a new starter call! and these will all be post event, so like/reply if you want a starter and let me know who you want it from and for. if we have an event thread going on and you’d like to transition it into post event things, feel free! i’m 100% up for that. i also have about 50+ replies in my drafts as well as around 50 memes in my drafts. my goal will be to have everything done before saturday.

alina starkov / aware / (2/3) zay babineaux, benjamin belly conklin / unaware / (0/3) deena johnson / aware / (0/3) edwina sharma / aware / (1/3) anthony bridgerton felicity smoak / unaware / (0/3) feng xiyun / unaware / (0/3) gale weathers / aware / (1/3) randy meeks gina porter / aware / (0/3) grace le domas / aware / (0/3) gu mang / unaware / (0/3) hu tao / aware / (0/3) inuyasha / unaware / (0/3) jie li / aware / (0/3) jing qi/jing beiyuan / aware / (1/3) wu xi kamisato ayaka / unaware / (2/3) ricky bowen and ally of wonderland kinn theerapanyakul / unaware / (1/3) pete liu mingyan / aware / (0/3) lizzie saltzman / unaware / (0/3) matt taylor / unaware / (1/3) josh washington nesta archeron / aware / (0/3) ouyang zizhen / unaware / (0/3) quan yizhen / aware / (0/3) rey skywalker / unaware / (0/3) sophie beckett / aware / (0/3) steve harrington / unaware / (1/3) thea queen xue meng / unaware / (1/3) mo ran xue yang / unaware / (2/3) jin guangyao and xiao xingchen yue qingyuan / unaware / (0/3) yushi huang / aware / (1/3) hua cheng zuko / aware / (0/3)

#* STARTER CALL \ ALL.#hw: starter call #i am working 12 hours on friday so i think i can do it

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bethaven · 4 months

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#25 Summation, reflections and plans for 2024

Now that the calendar is over I want to wrap things up with some thoughts and facts about of what have been and what is coming.

The calendar

In this calendar I've written about 24 series that have meant something to me through my life. There are other series I might actually like more than some of them today, but they've all changed how I see things or how I feel about a certain subject. I started of with M*A*S*H, which will always be my all time favourite and which came into my life early. I ended with Julie and the Phantoms, which just recently came into my life and about which I still have a lot to learn. Some posts almost wrote themselves, while others needed some rewatches and reminiscing.

Here are all the posts:

#1 M*A*SH

#2 The Big Bang Theory

#3 Gilmore Girls

#4 Sex and the city

#5 Oc

#6 How I met your mother

#7 New Girl

#8 Please like me

#9 Modern family

#10 Glee

#11 Gossip Girl (2007)

#12 Miss Fisher's murder mysteries

#13 Tales of the city (2019)

#14 Hollywood

#15 Grace and Frankie

#16 Bridgerton

#17 Young Royals

#18 Emily in Paris

#19 Find me in Paris

#20 Sex Education

#21 Ginny and Georgia

#22 Heartstopper

#23 Xo Kitty

#24 Julie and the Phantoms

Other series/movies that were recommended in posts

Never have Iever, Angus, thongs and perfect snogging, Anne with an E, Queen Charlotte - a Bridgerton story, Younger, Girls, Skam, Élite, Skins, Atypical, Pose, A secret love, Boys in the band, Minx, Tales of the City (1993), More Tales of the City, Further Tales of the City, Looking, Queer as folk, Glamorous, Orange is the new black, Everything's gonna be ok, Nanette/Something special/Douglas, The Good Place, Friends, Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, How I met your father, Scrubs, Beverly Hills 90210, 90210, One tree hill, Dawso n's creek, Hart of Dixie, Young Sheldon, Gilmore Girls - a year in the life, Grown-ish, M*A*S*H (1970) and After MASH.

The list for 2024

I stream A LOT of media, and mostly series, some weeks up to 40 hours. This because I usually have something on in the background, it makes me focus even better. I work from home about half the time and the TV is always on, on these days. But it's normaly rewatches and comfort series and I have a hard time starting new ones. So, to help with this, my goal for 2024 is to complete a list of series I want to watch, but haven't dealt with yet. I might not complete them all if I don't like them, but the goal is to start them all.

The unlisted

The irregulars

Raising Dion

Cloak and Dagger

Never have I ever

Everything sucks

Heartbreak high

Elite

Derry Girls

Umbrella academy

Bodies

White Lotus

My life with the Walter boys

The Crown

Minx, season 2

Smiley

BONDING

Everything Now

Todas las veces que enamoramos

Dead to me, season 3

Love and anarchy, season 2

Cunk on earth

Survival of the thickest

Kitz

Julia

Parks and Recreation

The Flight Attendant

It's a Sin

Gentleman Jack

The Sex Lives of College Girls

The Comeback

This is us

Griselda

I'd love to get other tips you think I might like to add to the list! it's mostly Netflix, HBO Max and Disney+ that works, but feel free to tip on anything.

New seasons in 2024

Apart from new discoveries I'll surely get back to some old favourites from time to time. And some of them have some very interesting updates coming up.

Young Royals, season 3 (March)

Bridgerton, season 3 (May 16th and June 13th)

Emily in Paris, season 4

Heartstopper, season 3

Ginny and Georgia, season 3

Confirmed seasons but not confirmed year

Bridgerton, season 4

XO Kitty, season 2

That 90's show, season 2

Ginny and Georgia, season 4 (2025)

Thank you.

Thanks to all of you who've hade the patience to read at least one of these posts. I made them mostly for myself, to be honest, but I'm always glad if someone else enjoys it too! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all of you!

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theladyofdeath · 2 years

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The Viscount Who Loved Me {Fourteen}

TVWLM Masterlist

An A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfiction, inspired by the first 2 seasons of Bridgerton.

Written alongside @snelbz

**CHAPTER WARNING: NSFW.

Ships: Nesta x Cassian x Elain - Feyre x Rhysand - Elain x Azriel x Gwyn

Summary: (see TVWLM masterlist!)

A/N: Thank you for reading! We're almost 3/4ths of the way done posting this beast! We would love to hear what you think. x

Tag list is at the end. If you’d like to be added, please comment below or submit an ask. :)

Dear Readers,

Is it just me or has a certain Viscount been eyeing a certain Diamond? If only one could know what happens when the ton isn't watching.

The Suriel

Azriel was standing by the refreshments table as others danced around the floor, lost in their partners’ embraces. He had hardly moved in the hour since the ball began and if he was being honest, he wasn’t sure why he was still there.

Cassian and Elain had announced their proposal to the ton.

Azriel should be happy, should be thriving and joyous and celebrating on behalf of his brother, but he could not find it in himself to. The only other person that looked as pissed about the situation was Nesta, who stood against the wall since the announcement.

Cassian and Elain could not have looked more thrilled, however. They spun around together, her lost in his arms. Azriel watched, fretting and wishing he was in his rooms, drawing.

He had just had a glass of champagne when the last person he wanted to see approached him, but the moment she said his name, he was lost in her voice.

“His Grace does throw a lovely ball, Azriel.”

Azriel turned to find Elain staring up at him, eyes wide and glittering.

He smiled, although he feared it wasn’t very convincing. “Indeed. He can complain all he’d like to, but he does have a knack for them.” Leaning closer, he lowered his voice as he said, “Don’t let him fool you though. This is all the work of his housekeeper, he just paid for it all. Miryam is the real mastermind.”

As he winked, Elain’s hand came up to cover her mouth as she laughed. “Well, I guess I can keep his secret.”

Her engagement ring shone in the light of the crystal chandeliers, seeming to glare at Azriel from where it sat on her finger.

Clearing his throat, he gave her another forced smile. “Are you enjoying your time here?”

Elain beamed as she turned around to the room. “I am, Lord Lunasa’s home is certainly beautiful, but it’s the gardens I can’t get enough of.” She faced him again, those brown eyes soft and at ease.

Azriel liked that she felt that way around him.

“I’ll have to admit that they haven’t gained my attention like they have yours, and I’ve been coming here almost my entire life,” he admitted, sipping from his champagne.

“Feyre and I discovered them while you all were on your hunt this morning,” she said, and then her eyes brightened. “Didn’t I tell you Nesta was a good shot?”

“Yes, you did, I just wish I could’ve seen it myself.” His eyes settled on the woman herself across the room. “Largest buck I’ve seen this year and she took it down with a single shot.”

He should start praying to the Cauldron on Cassian’s behalf ahead of time, for whenever he inevitably does something that pisses the eldest Archeron sister off.

“Nesta is very talented,” Elain said, full of pride.

His eyes were on her as she said, “As are you.”

“No.” She waved him off. “Feyre can paint, Nesta can hunt and dance spectacularly. All I can do is garden.”

“It takes a special person to grow something from nothing,” Azriel said, quietly, and something flashed in Elain’s eyes that disappeared as quickly as it had come. The flash of it had his heart tightening and her cheeks reddening.

“Thank you,” she said. “You are always so very kind to me.”

“You deserve that kindness,” he promised. That look in her eyes returned. “Would you like to go for a walk through the gardens?”

Elains smile faltered. “I— now?”

Azriel nodded, making a slight gesture to those around them. “Surely we would not be missed for twenty minutes.”

Elain hesitated. The look in her eyes that he’d liked so much had vanished and now she would not meet his gaze. “Apologizes, my lord, but I must decline.”

The formality of her words had his body tending. “Pardon?”

She met his gaze and there was nothing there. Nothing but something that resembled regret. “I fear it would be inappropriate. It is late and we would be alone.”

He wanted to tell her of all the times they had been alone before but no words came to him. Had he overstepped? Perhaps he had, but when she approached, their conversation had been light, welcoming, comfortable.

Now, it was everything but.

“I was not trying to be inappropriate,” Azriel said, voice low, unsure of what else to say.

“Of course not,” she promised. “But…I am to be married.”

Those words…

She said them as if they explained everything and perhaps they did.

She would soon be married to Cassian, she was another man’s betrothed. Not his. She never would be his.

“I apologize,” he said, and the words hardly came out.

Her gaze found his for no more than a second, before finding her skirts dreadfully interesting. Nodding, as if that was acceptance enough, Elain played with the ring on her finger.

Cassian’s ring.

Taking a step back, Elain curtsied. “Excuse me, Lord Draeven, I should find my sisters.”

The words felt like a punch to the gut. It had been weeks since she’d used his formal title, had been calling him Azriel since before their visit to Cassian’s country home. “Elain…”

“Good evening, Lord Draeven.”

Her steps were hurried as she crossed in front of him, heading down the long hallway that led to the wing of rooms the Archeron’s were sleeping in.

Swallowing, Azriel watched her go, not sure of exactly what had taken place to upset her as badly as he had. He wanted to follow her, to apologize again, but he thought better of it, downing the rest of the champagne in his hand in one long swill.

Deciding that he was done with the party, he took his leave without saying a word to Rhys or Cassian, not able to locate any of them in the spacious ballroom. If they needed him they knew where to find him.

As soon as he entered his rooms, he regretted it. Should’ve stayed at the ball and gotten drunk on Rhysand’s champagne, rather than come up here and wallow.

Propped against one of the walls was the painting he’d done of Elain. He had debated on giving it to her while they were here, had been mulling over his conversation with Gwyn.

Now, he knew what a mistake it would have been.

Now, the painting alone brought a pang to his chest.

It was time to accept what he could not control.

Elain would be marrying Cassian. She was not his. She never was and she never would be. It was not his place to ask for walks, was not his place to have meaningful conversation. It was not his place to act as if he cared, even though he truly did.

Azriel took the painting of Elain and placed it in his portfolio, out of sight.

Then he laid down and cursed himself for caring in the first place.

Yet, as he closed his eyes, her face was the first thing he saw.

Whether she spoke to him or not, he was already damned.

It was simply too late.

<.>

Feyre wondered what Rhysand was thinking as they spun around the dance floor. Without the Prince present, she didn’t feel obligated to dance with anyone else. No, she had danced with Rhysand thrice and although others had asked, she had stated that her card was full, even though it was not.

They had just finished the waltz when they stopped for a drink.

“I am exhausted,” Feyre stated, wiping the dampness from her forehead. “I feel as if we’ve been dancing for years.”

“Take a break,” Rhysand replied, eyes soft as they roamed her. “If you’d like, we can take a walk, get out of the stuffiness of the ballroom.”

“Do you not have duties as a host?” Feyre asked. “Surely they will know you are absent.”

“I assure you that ten minutes will not alarm anyone,” he promised.

Taking a moment to look around the room, she found Elain and Cassian speaking with a lord who was known to have connections in the wine business. They were likely discussing refreshments for the wedding.

It was still hard to believe, that her sister was going to be a Baroness. She’d had no doubt that Elain would accept Lord Cassian’s proposal, she would be a fool not to, but Elain had always believed in true love. Even when they were little girls, playing house with their dolls, Elain wistfully dreamed of the day the love of her life would sweep her off her feet and make her his wife. Looking at them across the room, Feyre knew Elain could come to love her new husband, but she knew as of right now, there was no love between them.

It made her profoundly sad for a reason she couldn’t place.

“Feyre?”

The brush of Rhysand’s fingers against the inside of her arm caught her attention again and she turned back to Rhysand. “I think a walk would be lovely, your Grace.”

Narrowing his eyes at the use of his formal title, he caught her smirk as she took his arm and he led her out of the ballroom. Rather than taking a left and heading out into the gardens as Feyre had expected, Rhys turned right, taking them deeper into the manor house.

“Where are we going?” She asked, disappointment making her voice softer than she’d meant it to be. When he’d asked her for a walk, she had hoped it meant they would end up in the gardens again. She’d hoped it meant he was going to kiss her again. Those kisses he gave her when no one was looking, to the back of her neck, the shell of her ear, the inside of her wrist, kept her up last night, the even breathing of her sisters in the same room the only reason she hadn’t sought him out.

The arm in hers tightened as a smile bloomed on his handsome face. “There’s an open air conservatory on the roof. Fresh air and privacy from the leering eyes of the ton.”

A rush of nervous excitement filled her bones. To be alone with Rhysand again…

It was all she could think about.

She longed for another taste of him, another moment of drowning in pure bliss.

“And why would we need privacy, my lord?” She asked, and he chuckled. He loved how she took his title and used it to tease him.

“I assure you, I only have the truest intentions,” Rhysand said, leading her to the back staircase. “I will be a perfect gentleman.”

Feyre met his gaze and raised a brow. “Must you?”

Rhysand stopped and slowly turned to face her. His dark eyes were lit with amusement and desire. “And what are your intentions, Feyre darling?”

“Education.”

She started up the stairs without any explanation and it took Rhysand a moment to spur into motion. Halfway up the stairs, he caught up to her. He stopped her just before she topped the stairs, his hand on her wrist, “What do you mean by that?”

“I told you that I had very little knowledge when it comes to…what we did in the theater.” Her voice started out confident, but she was stumbling over her words by the end. “I was…merely hoping you might be willing to give me another lesson.”

Cauldron, damn him, this woman.

Climbing up another step, he was level with her face for once, rather than his usual towering. Her lips parted as he brushed a thumb over them. “Lesson one,” he replied, voice low, leaning in, stealing the space between them. “What we did in the theater has many names. Call it what you will, sex, fucking, making love, but acknowledge what it is.”

Feyre wondered if he could hear her heart skip a beat, as it did when Rhysand got crass with her, but his mouth covered her before she could say anything. His arm wrapped around her waist, tugging her towards him, and she gasped as her hands braced herself on his strong shoulders. His tongue swept into her mouth, eliciting a soft whimper from Feyre.

Ripping his mouth from hers, Rhys pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers. Breathing heavily, he said, “Now tell me again, Feyre, what is it we did in that theater?”

Her eyes were wild with need, the light from stars above making them glow and her chest was rising and falling rapidly. “You fucked me.”

Rhysand shuddered. “And how did it feel when I fucked you?”

“There are no words to describe how magnificent it felt,” she said, and her voice was shaky as his hands swept down her sides, to her hips, where he bunched up the fabric of her skirts. “The experience has left me in utter, agonizing want these last few days. Need.”

“Need,” he whispered, a breath against her lips. “And what is it you need?”

“You.” Her words were barely audible as if speaking had grown to be too much. “You, deep inside of me.”

Rhysand practically groaned at her words. He lifted her skirts up and with every hitch of the fabric, Feyre’s breathing increased. When he had an opening, he slid a hand beneath the dress and her shift until it found the throbbing warmth between her thighs. “And what is it you want deep inside of you?” He asked, kissing her softly, quickly, as a hand slid beneath her undergarments. He slid a finger between her slick folds. She was, indeed, in want. It drove Rhysand mad. “My cock?” He asked, voice low, and slid a finger slowly, so slowly up inside of her. “My fingers?” He thrust them in deeper, and Feyre gasped. “My tongue?”

She blinked, her eyebrows furrowing. “Your…tongue?”

The smile on Rhysand’s face became positively feral. “Imagine that I’m kissing you, just like this…” His words fell off as his mouth claimed hers again, his tongue sweeping her mouth. He only pulled away once she was panting, her hips rolling needily against his hand. He brushed his thumb over her mouth again. “But instead of kissing these lips, I’m kissing these.”

He punctuated his words by swirling his thumb around her clit and added another finger to her core.

“Oh my,” Feyre breathed, eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

“Do you think that’s something you would like?” He breathed, praying she’d say yes.

“I suppose we should try it and see,” she said, hands running down his chest. Against his hand, those hips continued to move, begging him deeper, needing something to claim her then and there.

Rhysand let loose a breath and before she could form a solid thought, he was on his knees.

“Right here?” She asked, heart beating wildly. She looked around even though it was clear that they were completely alone.

“No one uses these,” he said, then added, “except the servants.”

Feyre balked but frowned as his fingers slid out of her. “And if a servant walks upon us?”

Rhysand’s eyes grew dark as he motioned for Feyre to sit upon the smooth marble, wide stair above him. She did as she was told. “Considering they’re all at the ball, they shouldn’t.” He lifted up the skirts of her dress. “But if one should happen upon us, let them see how much I please you.”

It was wild, reckless, and completely thrilling. Rhysand pulled off her undergarments and put them in his pocket before guiding her leg over his shoulder and trailing slow kisses down her thigh.

When he was settled between her legs, he looked up at her and grinned, cruelly and wickedly.

It set her soul alight as that need in her core grew immensely.

“Eyes on me,” he breathed and then lowered his head.

Feyre was holding her breath so tightly that when he pressed a featherlight kiss to her sex, she released a shocked puff of air.

Rhys lifted an eyebrow and raised his head, looking at her. “Yes?”

“That’s all it is?” She asked, voice strained.

“That’s all?” He repeated, and Feyre immediately knew she would regret the words. “Baby, I’ve only just begun.”

His head dropped again and this time, Feyre felt his warm tongue slide between her folds. Her gasp turned into a moan as he repeated the motion but dragged it up further, circling the sensitive nub his thumb had been teasing only minutes before.

Her head fell back, resting against the stair above her, her back arching off of them completely, and she moaned softly.

“Eyes on me, Feyre, darling.”

Rolling her head back towards him was a harder task than she would have imagined, but she found those violet eyes staring up at her. There had been emotion she couldn’t name that she’d felt in her chest for the past week and she found it reflected in his gaze. “I want you to watch me as I devour you.”

Her skin prickled at such a grand word, but it was not used lightly. He did devour her.

He sucked and licked until Feyre was seeing stars. The sounds flying from her mouth echoed in the silent staircase, each one growing in intensity.

All the while, she watched. She watched his brows furrow and twitch, watched him close and open his eyes, watched his head bob and his tongue dance. And when that tongue of his slid up inside of her, she watched him meet her gaze and grin.

The sight alone had her reaching that point of release. The feeling of utter euphoria was simply the icing on the top of the cake.

The staircase filled with her cries as her knees shook around his head but Rhysand didn’t stop, he only pushed forward, fucking her with his tongue until her body was so tense that he thought she may break in half.

Then he moved back to her clit, sucking the sensitive nub between his lips as two of his fingers filled her and continued to do his tongue’s previous job.

When her release found her for a second time, Feyre practically screamed his name, followed by a string of curses that should never leave a lady’s mouth.

Rhys waited until her knees quit shaking, waited until her breathing evened out to press a kiss to her inner thigh and lower his legs from his shoulders.

He adjusted her shift and then pulled down her skirts to cover her. As he reached for her hand, he crooned, “Consider your lesson complete.”

Her smile was brilliant as she stood, legs almost as wobbly as they’d been the night they’d spent together. “Very enlightening, your Grace.”

His tongue darted out, licking his lips, and it took Feyre a moment to realize what he was doing. What he was licking off of his lips. Her cheeks burned. “Can— Is that something I can do to you?”

The lust that had extinguished in his gaze came flooding back. “You want my cock in your mouth, Feyre?”

The way he spoke, it both scandalized her and aroused her. “If it’s something you would want.”

“You have no idea how much I would want that.”

Grinning, he leaned in and kissed her. She tasted it then, something salty and heady and…sweet. Pulling away, her tongue brushed her bottom lip and Rhys’s eyes tracked the movement. “You taste divine.”

Feyre could hardly breathe with how badly she wanted this man, needed him. She was about to ask him to take her to her room, his rooms, it didn’t matter where, just as long as he was between her legs, fucking her within the next few minutes, when there was a noise from the hall at the bottom of the stairs. He turned and looked, waiting, listening.

Finally, he turned back and cupped her face. “We should go back to the ball, we’re bound to be missed by now.”

Disappointment bloomed in her chest, but he was right. Nesta had no doubt noticed her absence and would be questioning her as soon as they returned.

She nodded and he gave her one last kiss.

It wasn’t until they re-entered the ball, him walking to the left, her to the right, that she realized her panties were still tucked away in his pocket.

<.>

For the entirety of the evening, Cassian could feel Nesta’s eyes on him. It bothered him far more than it should have. He didn’t care for her approval, didn’t even care that she did not approve of him marrying Elain.

Yet, the very thought of her sent a sensation through his body that had his heart pounding out of his chest. This woman was insufferable, a complete misery. Whenever she was around, she was all he could think about. Even when she was absent, she filled his thoughts.

It was not right, how she had begun to consume him. After watching her kill the buck that morning, his feelings had only intensified.

And they had been so close, sharing a breath. If the deer had not approached, Cassian feared he would have done something that he could not take back.

Yet, for a moment, there had been a look in Nesta’s eye that almost, almost resembled longing, resembled adoration, resembled need.

He needed some sort of distraction to help him get through the night, but neither of his brothers were anywhere to be found, nor was his betrothed. She’d slipped off nearly half an hour ago to refresh herself and hadn’t yet returned.

Glancing around the room, Cassian wondered if he could disappear for a moment himself. The ballroom was full, people dancing and drinking and, most importantly, distracted. It was likely that no one would notice him leave and he would be back within just a few minutes. Why swig champagne when he could drink whiskey?

As he was about to leave, he realized he hadn’t seen Nesta and, for once, didn’t feel her weighted gaze on him. He knew that meant this was his best chance to get out unnoticed and headed for the hallway off to the side of the ballroom. As he approached the foyer leading to the bedrooms, he heard a familiar voice and felt a familiar gaze.

Elain was speaking with a few ladies of the ton, mamas included, and Nesta stood beside her.

“Lord Nazari,” one of them called as soon as she saw him. “We were just congratulating your fiancée on your engagement. We cannot wait for the wedding.”

The smile on his face was forced, but after years of perfecting it, no one would know. He couldn’t wait either. As soon as he was married to Elain, these ridiculous thoughts of Nesta should be gone forever.

Or so he kept telling himself.

As he looked up to the woman in question, he could have sworn that she saw right through his false grin.

His eyes tore from her and settled on the mama who’d spoken. “Thank you, Lady Chamberlain, we are excited, as well.”

Elain was beaming up at him, but when he smiled down at her, he didn’t see the same intensity in her eyes that he saw in Nesta’s. He saw happiness, of course, but Elain was marrying him because it was best for her family and because he’d asked.

He remembered the scandal from last season. He had been drunk for most of the season, but he remembered the way she’d looked at the man who’d been courting her all summer.

She didn’t look at him like that.

“The ring is absolutely beautiful,” another said, holding her hand out until Elain delicately placed hers in it. They all stared at it, not a single thing that could be scrutinized. “What jeweler did you visit, I simply must stop in and see what else they have to offer.”

Cassian’s eyes were on the ring, no longer feeling his hand at the base of Elain’s spine. “It was my mother’s. No jeweler in town will have anything like it.”

“Ah,” the woman said, then went on to ramble about something that Cassian did not seem to hear, so he did not bother. He tuned out, although he kept that smile on his face just in case someone was looking, watching.

“Do you care to take a walk through the gardens, Lady Elain?” One of the young women asked. “I would love to hear your thoughts on your big day. Unless your betrothed wishes to spin you about the floor, of course.”

Elain looked up at Cassian but he shook his head. “Oh. No. Whatever Miss Elain would like.”

Elain looped her arm through the young lady’s and a group of them were off. Cassian watched them go only to look beside him and see that Nesta had not gone with.

No, she was looking at Cassian, watching him intently. “Were you trying to escape the festivities, my lord?”

“On the contrary,” he argued, turning to face her. He couldn’t help the sarcasm that leaked into his tone as he said, “I was looking for you, to see if you were enjoying yourself.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed, knowing perfectly well the thoughts that ran through his mind. “What’s not to enjoy? It is a lovely ball. I only have so many before I bid Velaris farewell. I may as well enjoy them while I can.”

Cassian’s entire being stilled. His heart stopped beating. He stopped breathing. His very soul halted in its existence.

“You’re…leaving?” His words were stilted, short. “When? Why?”

From the way her eyes flared slightly and her shoulders tensed a bit, it was clear she hadn’t been expecting his reaction. “I made a promise to my mother that I would make sure my sisters were ready for their debuts into the ton. Making sure Elain and Feyre find respectable matches is the only reason I have lingered in Velaris as long as I have.” She swallowed roughly and looked off to the open door, at the road that led out into the dark, into…wherever she wanted it to lead. “I have no doubt that Feyre will find a husband by the end of the season, once her infatuation with your brother recedes, and since you and Elain will be married soon, my promise will be fulfilled. I won’t be the poor, beautiful spinster who was too cold to find a husband. I’ll be…whoever I want to be.”

He wasn’t sure at what point he started shaking his head, but the back and forth was constant. “Where are you going? When will you leave?”

“I don’t know, my Lord, not until Feyre is at least engaged.” She couldn’t take her eyes off of him, but her gaze didn’t feel judgemental like it did before. “And I don’t know where I’ll go either. Wherever the wind takes me.”

Cassian stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to say. There was too much he wanted to say but nothing he could put into words, so he simply stared until Nesta shifted on her feet.

Then he was spinning away from her and hurling himself into the hall.

He thought he heard something behind him but he ignored it. The pounding in his ears helped with that.

Leaving.

She was leaving?

What foolishness. She couldn’t just up and leave. It was ridiculous, yet he knew that she had meant what she had said.

In hardly no time at all, she would be gone and there would be nothing he could do about it. Not that he wanted to do anything about it, at least that’s what he told himself.

Yet, he ducked into the library at the end of the hall and shut the door behind him. Unable to control his breathing, he gripped the desk with white knuckles.

He should not care if he ever were to see Nesta Archeron again. Yet, the thought of her absence left a hollowness in his chest that he could not fix.

The door opened and closed behind him.

“What is wrong with you?”

He knew she’d follow him, somehow he knew. Turning, he was surprised to see Nesta’s eyes burning and her cheeks red in…in anger. “I would’ve thought that you would be thrilled about my departure, my Lord. Elain is free to make her own decision and she has made it, even though she knows how I feel about you.”

“And how do you feel about me?” His voice was far louder than he meant for it to be, but she did not flinch from him.

The storm in her eyes raged on. “I hate you.”

He rounded the desk between them. “Do you?”

As he approached, she steeled herself, it was as if Cassian could physically see walls going up in her eyes, her heart. “Yes.”

“And why, pray tell, do you hate me?” He paused a healthy distance away. “What exactly have I done to make you hate me? Why have I earned your scorn?”

“Because…” Nesta’s chest was heaving and she closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Because you vex me!”

Cassian almost laughed, but he didn’t. Nothing in his life had ever been more serious than what was happening right now. But the fact that she found him vexing? When she infuriated him so?

“And what is it that you think you do to me?”

Nesta was still shaking her head, but those eyes had shuttered a bit. “I don’t care what I do to you.”

“Because you hate me?” He asked, voice low, stepping closer.

Her breath caught at his approach. Her eyes burned into his but they had lost their edge. Her gaze alone made his body tense, hard, and he longed to take her face into his hands and bring that longing into fruition with his mouth against hers.

“Yes,” she breathed. “I hate you.”

A lie, a complete lie, but a necessary one. He stared at her, hands flexing at his sides.

“Nesta,” he began, her name nothing more than a whisper. He was close enough now to hear how uneven her breathing was, was close enough to see her hands trembling. Yet, her eyes never wavered from his.

“Yes, my lord?” For once, his title was not a sneer on her tongue. Instead, it felt like a request; a quiet, sensual demand. Her chest was flushed, her cheeks paled.

Cassian’s tongue trailed his bottom lip and her eyes quickly darted from his to track the movement. He hadn’t realized that they had gotten so close that he could feel the heat radiating from her body, as if there was a gravitational pull between them that defied all logic and propriety.

“I am a gentleman…” he began, and he wasn’t sure if he was reminding her or himself. He thought back to Tanwyn’s words when they had last met, when she had acknowledged that he was certainly not a gentleman. Perhaps she was correct.

“And your heart is with my sister,” Nesta added, although he hardly heard her words. He was too focused on her lust-filled eyes, certain they mirrored his own.

“And my heart…” he began, his voice low, rough, his forehead nearly touching hers, so close to what he so desperately wanted, “is with your sister.”

Another damned lie.

Another necessary one.

One more move, just a slight dip of his chin, and his lips would find hers. He wondered what they tasted like.

Nesta’s eyes fluttered shut, those lashes brushing against her cheeks. “What are you…”

He had no idea where this was coming from, why he felt the need to drag his fingers over her gloved arms. He longed to feel her skin beneath his, but knew that would snap what little control he currently held. “Say you do not care for me.”

The gasp that left Nesta was nothing more than a sharp inhale, parting her lips and bringing them somehow closer together. She was shaking her head again, those eyes he so often got lost in still closed. He wanted her to open them, wanted to see the fire churning within them.

He brushed his fingers against hers, sparks igniting despite the silken fabric between them. “Tell me you feel nothing and I will walk away.”

Her eyes opened once more and there was a softness there that had Cassian’s breath ceasing. “I feel….”

He waited for her to finish but she never did. Cassian’s chin tilted, just barely, just enough that the softest of whimpers came from Nesta’s parted lips.

His fingers brushed hers again and she gasped, his breath hot against her mouth.

He was going to kiss her.

He was, he was so close, every inch of his body was on edge. He could nearly taste her, could nearly brush his tongue along hers and feel just how much longing was confined within the bounds of her exquisite form.

But he never did.

The door burst open and both of their heads snapped to the intruder.

Feyre stilled, eyes wide as she took in the scene before her, their bodies nearly touching, both of their chests heaving.

“Oh..” she hesitated, and took a step back. “My apologies.” Then she was gone, fleeing the scene before Cassian could even more.

“Feyre!” Nesta called, and panic had taken over her features. “Feyre, wait!”

She did not give Cassian another glance before running out of the room, after her sister.

____________________________________________________________

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