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murdockparker · 10 days

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Of the Same Mind

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: A mutual distaste in a certain author—should he even have the grace to be called that—leads to an unexpected meeting.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: mentions of drinking/alcohol, pregnancy, fluff, time skip

A/N: a cute lil request! made me actually read a little Byron myself to get the gist! and it wasn't that terrible I'm so sorry to disappoint

Dull.

Everything was dull. What was supposed to be the social event of the season was shortened due to poor weather—an outdoors event of sorts, it seemed, Benedict really didn’t pay his mother much attention when she explained the whole ordeal. Thus, half of the ton was crammed into Lord Whitehill’s home instead of his luscious grounds, all due to the pouring rain. Most conversation was boring, most of the ladies were whining about the rain, the men whining about their whining wives and daughters.

At least the drinks were good.

“…seriously think that fodder is worth your breath?”

Benedict’s ears perked up, focusing on a conversation that was decidedly not about the current weather. A breath of fresh air.

“I-I did not mean to insult you, miss,” a young gentleman sputtered, his face rosy red. “I only meant to indulge you in poetry of the highest regard—”

“If that was your intention, you would have chosen from a finer list of poets. Byron?” The lady nearly laughed out loud. “Byron is the bottom of the barrel, as it were, so your intention was ill-placed.”

“Byron is a well-regarded poet—”

“By who? Chamber pots?”

Benedict nearly spat out his drink. The action alone brought the attention of the arguing couple to him—both sets of eyes trained on the tall Bridgerton at once. “Oh,” he fake coughed, “it seems the drink went down the wrong way, please, forgive me.”

The man—who Benedict now recognized as Lord Whitehill’s son—scoffed. “Bridgerton. You are well versed in the arts, are you not?”

Benedict nodded. “I dabble.”

“Would you please explain to Miss (Y/L/N) that Byron is a novel poet,” Mr. Whitehill asked, “and that she should be flattered I recited poetry for her, regardless of the poet?”

Miss (Y/L/N). So that was the lady’s name.

“But that would be lying, Whitehill,” Benedict gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “And I am ever a gentleman, raised to never lie, especially to a fine lady such as Miss (Y/L/N).”

She smiled at that.

“You do not agree?”

“Oh I certainly agree with Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict said quickly, setting his glass down. “Byron is a mockery to the art—meaningless words and jaunty titles, why, I tried to read his latest and it put me right to sleep.”

“I fear I had the same reaction,” Miss (Y/L/N) said, turning to Benedict in earnest. “Right before I decided to throw it to the flames.”

They both laughed.

“Imbeciles, the both of you,” Mr. Whitehill said, pushing past the newly acquainted pair. “Keep insulting me like that and I’ll have my father throw the both of you out into the storm.”

“Mr. Whitehill,” Miss (Y/L/N) said softly, her eyes melting into puddles of apology. “I fear we were not insulting you, but rather your taste in poets. I also fear there is a stark difference in that, for if I were to insult you, I’d make a more fitting jab, more educated in that regard.”

The shorter gentleman stormed off, steam nearly pouring from his ears. Benedict laughed.

“I must say, Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict leaned down. “You have quite the sharp tongue.”

“I am known to be rather well spoken,” she beamed, standing a little straighter. “Perhaps it is my taste in literature?”

“For that, I believe we are in agreement,” Benedict said, grabbing a fresh glass from the table beside him. “May I offer the lady a beverage?”

“Only if you decide to share whatever’s in that pocket of yours,” she pointed to his chest. Benedict’s ears went pink. “Do not think I did not see you pour an added flavoring into the lemonade—it seems impolite that you would neglect to share.”

“It would be impolite,” Benedict said, carefully pulling his flask out of his coat. “I am surprised you saw that, though, given the crowded room.”

“You are a tall man, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said, taking the glass from his hand. Benedict poured a healthy amount of clear liquor into her cup before adding the rest to his own. “I would have found it hard to ignore you.”

“Your first season? I presume?”

“Technically,” she said, looking up into his blue eyes. “My family, we just moved to Mayfair. My father came into some money and relocated us here this year, my brother is set to study at Eton in the fall.”

“And you?”

“I am now expected to marry a rich and eligible bachelor,” she laughed into her glass. “Which I really have no problem doing, save for the fact that gentleman is nothing like Mr. Whitehill.”

“Mr. Whitehill is rather rich,” Benedict smirked. “Would that not placate you?”

“And listen to him dribble about Byron? Perish that thought,” she said. “When I do marry, I expect my husband to be of the same mind, a similar taste in the arts.”

“You know,” Benedict nearly whispered, “that is an admirable thought. But how will you find this man?”

She looked him up and down, quickly and all at once, returning to drink from her glass.

“I suppose I will know when I find him,” she smirked.

Benedict smiled back. “Well, please let me know when you do, I feel rather invested in your prospects.”

“You will be the first to know, I assure you,” Miss (Y/L/N) said, nodding her head. “But, if I may be so bold, if you are not currently preoccupied, would you care to further our discussion on Byron? It is hard to find someone who agrees with such a… contrasting opinion of the poet.”

“Why, Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict finished his glass, offering his arm, “I was afraid you’d never ask.”

—

The gardens on the property were lovely, so lush and full of life. She made good on her promise to keep them well maintained, only keeping the finest blooms and plants in their care. It was always the perfect place to spend time on days like today, sunny, a gentle breeze.

They had given the governess a day off, her mother had fallen ill, it was the least the Bridgertons could do for her.

“Mother!”

The lady looked up from her book, eyes meeting with her eldest daughter. Blue eyes, just like her father.

“Yes, darling?”

“Might I go inside to grab other books? Aunt Eloise recently sent some to Father and I want to read them.”

The lady gave her daughter a trying look. “Do you not think they may be above your comprehension level, my love? They were intended for your father, after all.”

“No need,” a looming voice bellowed. “I have them right here.”

She didn’t need to look up to know who it belonged to. “Benedict, I thought you were spending time in the studio this afternoon.”

“And miss spending time with my darling wife and children?” Benedict grinned, the crooked way she fell in love with. “That seems foolish on my part.”

“Father!” Their eldest exclaimed, running over to the tallest Bridgerton. “You brought the books?”

“Indeed,” Benedict nodded, handing the parcel off to his daughter. “Aunt Eloise thought we may have better use of these than her and Phillip do.”

Their daughter lit up with excitement—ever the reader, she was. It took a village to keep their library stocked with appropriate books for her age, but she was quickly out-reading her entire family’s collection. “Thank you, Father!”

“Well,” Benedict said modestly, “you must write to your Aunt Eloise and thank her, I had little to do with such a gift.”

“What about me, papa?”

Their son, only a few years younger than their daughter came bounding up past his escaping sister, clearly having been playing in the mud. “Do I have any gifts from auntie?”

(Y/N) opened her arms. “Not this time, sweetheart, but come here, let mama wipe that dirt off of your nose—”

“No!” He exclaimed, turning from his mother. “Dirt makes me ruggable—like Uncle Colin!”

“Rugged,” Benedict corrected gently. “And, no, dirt makes you dirty. You need to stop spending so much time with Colin…”

“Once baby brother is here I will,” their son nodded, putting both hands on his hips, looking down at his sitting mother.

“Oh darling,” (Y/N) said, trying to raise to her feet. Benedict quickly offered his hands, pulling her up. “Baby will not be here for a few more months.”

“Then more time with Uncle Colin!”

Benedict and (Y/N) sighed, watching their adventurous son run back to the mud. “We must write Colin, tell him of the monster he has created.”

“Our eldest is such an easygoing flower,” Benedict said, noting how she was carefully skimming through the various books on her lap. “Our son tests our patience.”

“And how do you think this one will be?” (Y/N) asked, placing his hand on her swelling stomach. She only had two or so more months until the delivery, if she had been correct on the conception. The latest Bridgerton wedding seemed to be the culprit, stolen kisses and a romantic rendezvous to the greenhouse away from the party—it was a perfect recipe for baby number three. “Calm and collected? Devilish and adventurous?”

“I pray they are just like their mother,” Benedict rubbed her belly affectionately. “And perhaps a bit more behaved than their brother… I suppose I should also write my mother an apology.”

“Whatever for?”

“I reckon my brothers and I acted much like our son,” Benedict said sheepishly. “Acting like Bridgerton boys, I am afraid.”

“As if that is the only explanation,” she giggled, leaning into his side. “But I am sure your mother would appreciate such a gesture. Perhaps you should send her a bouquet from our garden, too?”

“An excellent idea, my love,” Benedict said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “What a brilliant mind you have.”

“Father, Mother!” Their daughter called out, waving them towards her. “Aunt Eloise sent a book by an author I have never heard of before.”

“Oh?” Benedict quirked his brow, walking with his wife over to her. “And what author may that be?”

“A Lord Byron,” she said, showing the book with a deep brown cover to her parents. Benedict scooped the tome quickly from his daughter’s grasp, holding it close to his chest.

“And you shall never read such filth,” Benedict said seriously.

“Oh Benedict,” (Y/N) laughed. “Perhaps we should allow our daughter to expand her mind—come to her own conclusions on the matter? Surely Aunt Eloise meant the gift in kind.”

“Aunt Eloise clearly meant to send it as a cruel prank,” Benedict corrected.

“What is so wrong with that author, Father?”

“A shorter conversation would be what is not wrong with this author,” Benedict said, turning to call his son. The little boy ran over to his father’s side, ever eager. “Take this and bury it, preferably far away from here.” His wife could not stop her laughter, watching their son hurriedly run over to the new rose bushes, making good work at digging a deep enough hole for the book. “You,” Benedict pointed at the girl, “are forbidden to read anything written by that lowly man.”

“Oh Benedict,” (Y/N) admonished, trying hard to stop her laughter, “forbidding her from reading seems silly—”

“Are we not of the same mind on Byron?” Benedict asked. “I rather think that is how we met, is it not, dearest wife?”

She pursed her lips, fighting a smile. “We are.”

“Besides,” Benedict stood a little straighter, “the roses could use a bit more sustenance.”

She could only roll her eyes.

#Bridgerton #Benedict Bridgerton x Reader #Benedict Bridgerton #Bridgerton x Reader #bridgerton imagines #if this title has been used before i apologize!#still not sure if I'm digging the whole... photo thing with the post #but it's cute no?

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trashywritestrash · 2 months

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Short and Sweet

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Word Count: 853

Warnings: Best friend’s brother— is that a warning? This is just a short lil thing for Valentine’s Day

A/N: The poem and response in this came from Thomas Richardson’s “Gentleman’s Valentine Writer” which wasn’t actually published until 1828 but I needed ideas, okay? Also, I wrote this when Bridgerton was still the lead in the poll lol

Living beside the Bridgerton household had many advantages. Being close in age to Daphne gave you the perfect excuse to spend time with her. However, spending time with Daphne meant also spending time with the rest of her family, which allowed you to form a close bond with them all. One Bridgerton in particular being Benedict.

Benedict was a few years older than you, but within a perfectly reasonable range that made it acceptable for you to fancy him. How could you not? He was sweet and sensitive, but he had a playful side that brought joy any time you were fortunate enough to witness it. Although, you never dared to dream that Benedict might return your affections. You were the best friend of his younger sister, surely he would not think of you in that way.

Initially, you had been excited to be presented before the queen and sent out into society. But while Daphne had been deemed the season's incomparable, you had fallen into her shadow. You were happy to see your friend receive many visitors and gifts, but some days it would hurt to see a line of men outside her door while you waited in an empty sitting room.

Waking on Valentine's Day brought nothing but sorrow. It was only one month into the social season and you already felt that you were destined to become an old spinster. With no prospective husbands in sight, you would likely have to face a second season. You did not expect that you would receive any callers that day, yet you waited in your sitting room in a fine dress, as you did every other day. Your mother sat in a chair at the far end of the room, leisurely reading until something would happen.

Early into the day, your butler entered the room with a calling card in hand, "A Mister Bridgerton is here to call upon Miss Y/L/N."

"Send him in," You replied, feeling your chest constrict. It was possible that one of Daphne's brothers had come to pass along a message for her, but a gentleman visiting while you were accepting callers still brought you a shred of hope.

Moments later, you saw Benedict step through the doorway, holding something behind his back. He smiled, "I see I have gotten here before the rest."

You returned his smile, nervous, yet calmed by his presence. "I think you will find that the gentlemen are coming to your door today, not mine."

"Then they are fools and I am lucky to have you all to myself."

"What can I do for you, Benedict? I find it hard to believe you would be here as a suitor." You spoke the words in jest, but felt your throat tighten as you said them all the same.

Benedict's smile fell into confusion, "What is so hard to believe about that?"

Taken aback by the genuine confusion in his tone, you clarified, "I only mean to say that I would not have expected it."

"If that is the case, I hope that you find this to be a good surprise," For just a moment, you heard a bit of nerves in his voice as he tried to present a confident image. "Unfortunately, I cannot stay long. But I wanted to bring you these and to officially declare my affection."

Finally, Benedict moved the hand behind his back to reveal a beautiful bouquet of morning glory and myrtle. You smiled wide at the sight, "Thank you, Benedict. They're lovely."

Shortly after, Benedict had to take his leave, although he promised to come back the following day. Once he had left, you reached for a book on the language of flowers. You found that morning glories are used to represent affection, meanwhile myrtle is used to represent love and marriage. Learning that brought a blush to your cheeks, finding the meaning to be a little bold, but not unpleasant.

It was then that you noticed a small folded piece of parchment beside the flowers. When you unfolded the paper, you could see the painted design done in watercolors. A man and a woman stood beneath a tree, which was situated between a lovely cottage and a church. The image was small, but you could tell that the couple was you and Benedict. On the other side of the parchment was a simple note.

I boast not eloquence, dear Miss, Nor do I write exceedingly fine; Therefore, I bluntly ask you this-- Pray, will you be my Valentine?

As you looked down at the note, you felt your heart swell. You held it close to your chest, feeling as if you could burst from happiness at any moment. Your mother then looked up from her book. "What is that, dear?"

"It is nothing!" You responded quickly. Luckily, your mother did not push the issue further.

That night, you folded the note once more and placed it in the drawer of the nightstand beside your bed. As you attempted to fall asleep, all you could think of was that you could not wait to see Benedict again.

----------

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#nel writes #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton fanfic

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nikkisheep · 4 months

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To Be Alone With You (Part 4)

Anthony Bridgerton x female!sharma!sister!reader (soon)

mentions of Benedict Bridgerton x female!sharma!sister!reader

Warnings: cheating (Anthony is engaged to Edwina), SMUT!!!!!! oral (f), fingering, over stimulation, sexual tension, cursing, body worship, jealous Anthony, biting, angst at the end, hair pulling, breeding kink

I'M SO SORRY IT GOT TO BE SO LONG :)

Summary: Anthony finds out about your art session with Benedict and means to remind you who you belong to as you remind him who he chose to belong to.

Songs to listen to while reading: **= smut part, *=angst

**Amantes: Esme (song is in Spanish but is very soft and sets the mood)

**Take Me To Church: Hozier

**I Wanna Be Yours: Arctic Monkeys

**Shameless: Camila Cabello

**wRoNg: ZAYN

*The Great War: Taylor Swift

*Say Don't Go: Taylor Swift

Tag List: @shealuna, @m-rae23, @littlepeanut03, @aellabridgerton, @sydney-m, @faatxma, @wildthoughtnananna, @uraesthete, @themadhattersqueen, @sydney-m, @theantiquehobbit

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, COMMENT OR MESSAGE ME

You watched the Lady's maids get you ready in front of a large mirror. When it came time for you to get your hair done, your best friend, Phoebe, ushered the other maids out. Phoebe was the daughter of your mother's Lady's maid. The two of you grew to be fast friends as you grew older. Phoebe hoping for marriage and you planning to find a man worthy of her.

"If you are not careful, the others will know what you and those two Bridgertons are up to," She said as she pulled your hair off your neck, revealing the bruises from your "art" session with the second son.

"Phoebe!" You gasp. "I told you that as you are my best friend, not for you to use it against me."

"Darling, I am not using it against you nor am I blaming you. Do you know how many women would kill to be in your position?" She giggled as she put your hair in the tight bun that it needed to be in.

"I would rather not be in my position if I could help it," You said while looking down at your hands.

---

The Bridgerton house was covered in their signature baby blues. There were flowers, candles, and other decor everywhere to be seen. All the Bridgerton brothers were decked out in their fancy suits with those beautiful neck ties. Benedict's was a soft yellow and Anthony's was a dark blue. The others wore white.

Dressed in your family's dark purple color, your mother had the neck line deeper than what is normally accepted. You knew that she just wanted to help you find a man but the only man that you really wanted was one who was engaged to marry your sister.

Moving to the drink table, you grab a cup of water. You notice that nearly everyone else had chosen the lemonade. When you turned back around from the table to the ballroom, one Colin Bridgerton was making his way to you.

Giving a short bow, Colin moved to stand beside you.

"Do tell me, Miss Sharma, how have you enchanted my two idiot brothers?" He asked with a sly smirk on his face.

"Why, I do not have the slightest idea," You reply, hoping that he wouldn't pressure.

"See, I don't know if I can accept that answer, Miss Sharma," Colin said. "It seems that their eyes have not left you since you walked into the room."

With that he left your side, only for one Anthony Bridgerton to step into his place.

"Evening, Miss Sharma."

"Viscount Bridgerton." You nod.

"How have you been?"

"I've been fine, my Lord," You quip. "How has your engagement been?"

He looked at you with a flash of hurt at the sudden mention of his engagement to your sister.

"How was the art session with my brother?" He said with a jealous undertone in his voice.

"It was wonderful. I learned a lot. A lot that some men can't teach." You walked away at the end of your sentence as you moved to the dance floor with Anthony.

The way his eyes looked at you with such passion and desire at the same time nearly dizzied you as his left hand came to rest on your waist and his right holding yours. His warm skin melted through the soft white fabric of your glove and you could feel his warmth through your gown.

Your bodies moved in waves of motion as you stared into each other's eyes, mapping out every hue of color as though this will be the last chance you would see each other. After all, this will be your last chance to see Viscount Anthony Bridgerton unwed. The last chance to be with Anthony Bridgerton. Your Anthony.

"Your gown is exquisite, Miss Sharma." Anthony moves to turn you so your back is pressed against his chest, his arm holding yours across your chest. His lips near your ear so you are the only one to hear, his warm breath fans over your exposed neck and the top of your chest as it rises and falls with the sheer excitement and nervousness that came to being this close with the Viscount, your lover in the darkest nights.

"Thank you," You said. "You don't look to bad yourself, My lord. "

"Anthony," He said. "I have told you to call me Anthony."

"My lord, I have only called you that in private." You began to become flustered with the memories of your night meetings before his engagement.

"You seem to be flustered," He says as he pulls you closer as the music stops, his lips directly beside your ear. "Tell me, do you still think of me when you are with my brother?"

You pull back quickly with surprise. You go to say something, anything but you can't seem to find the words.

"It's okay, darling. My brother is a worthy lover, however, I must make you remember who you belong to." He says before squeezing your dress to walk away to greet a man by his mother.

---

You sit in your room, looking out the window at the small lake outside. The night reminds you of when you first let Anthony touch you.

His skin against yours in the cool water as he moved his lips against yours in fever as he wanted to consume your every thought and replace it with him. The way he picked you up out of the water and laid you on that dock. The way he ravaged you with hunger and lust as he picked you apart and put you back together with pleasure being his glue.

Your hands start to wander up and down your body as you remembered the ways that he touched you, making you feel immense pleasure that you had never known until that night. You shake the thoughts away from your mind as it started to thunder outside, signaling a thunderstorm was about to hit. Just as a loud crash of thunder clapped, a small thud against your window sounded so much louder in the howling wind and rain. You open the window to find Anthony Bridgerton soaked head to toe in water. His hair was stuck to his face and his clothes were stuck to his body. He waved you down and you went.

"Have you gone mad?" You whisper shout.

"Mad? No. In love with you? Yes." He smiles.

"You don't mean that, My lord."

"But I do."

"You made me believe you loved me only for you to propose to Edwina. My sister!"

"I never meant to actually fall in love with you!" He yelled, hands coming to be thrown up in the air.

"So it's my fault that you love me? Is that what you are trying to tell me?"

"No! Yes! I don't know how I fell in love with you." He stared at you as the rain continued to pour around you. "I just know why I love you. Let me show you how much I love you."

"What about Edwina?"

"What of Edwina?" He asked, confused at the even mere mention of her. As if the mention of his fiancee was left a bad taste in his mouth. Not that she wasn't a lovely girl, but because she wasn't you.

"What has happened between you two?" You tremble at the thought of the two of them doing the things that you have done together.

"What do you mean by that?" He asked. "Nothing has happened."

"Have you kissed her?"

"No."

"Have you held her body close to yours?"

"No."

"Has she been given the same pleasures that you once gave me?"

"You are the only one that I have ever wanted to be with that way in a long time. I do not care for Edwina that way. When I told you that I only feel this way about you at the lake, I meant it." He said, moving to grab your hands to pull you closer to him.

His brown eyes bored into yours as he scanned your face for any resistance. He pressed his body against yours as he bent his head down to press light kisses on your neck.

"I desire you so deeply I feel it in my bones."

"I believe that may be the cold and the rain."

-----

You lead him into the house, quietly to not wake anyone, and held his hand as he followed behind you up the stairs. As he stared at you with want, you lead him to your bedroom. He helped you run a warm bath as the two of you had been in the rain for the last hour.

You step closer to him, hands coming up to cup his jaw as you pulled him down to you level and kissed his lips. He gasped at the chill of your lips which lead you to slipping your tongue inside his warm mouth. You moaned as your hands wandered his wet body and started to slip his waistcoat off his shoulders to reach his shirt. His own hands came up to start unbuttoned his shirt before you ultimately ripped it off him.

"I quite liked that shirt," he said with a smirk.

"I'll buy you a new one," You said as you unbuttoned his pants and stripped him bare before you.

Your hands came up and started to touch his body as he kissed you, removing your wet clothes for your body. The two of you laid in the tub as the warm water surrounded you both.

Your head on his chest and his chin on the top of your head gave the two of you the feeling of closeness that you needed.

"I love you," he whispered into your hair.

"I know. I love you too."

You turned to kiss his lips and hold him close to you. Your tongues move together as if they were dancing, in secret promises of love and lust. Your hands explore each other's wet bodies as you lay in the warm water. Anthony's chest tickles your back lightly and you can't help but sigh at the thought of being like this forever.

----

Anthony dried you in the white fluffy towel and wrapped you up before grasping your face to kiss your lips once more. His kiss was slow, exploring your mouth as though it would be the last time, not knowing if there would ever be another time he could touch you like this, to taste you like this.

His arms came to pull you flush against his bare body as his hands caressed every inch of your skin, wanting to memorize the feel of your skin underneath his hands, to feel your warmth radiating from you.

He walks you back to your bed, never breaking the kiss until he pulls away long enough to gently push you back so you fell onto the mattress softly, swiftly landing on top of you, connecting your mouths once more. It felt like your air was stolen right out of your lungs and your body set aflame. Your legs spread to allow him to lay in between them as his hands ran down your sides as he kisses your thoughts and air away from you.

Anthony's scent filled your nose as you breathed him in. His touch washed any thought away as his lips ventured down to your neck, kissing and sucking lightly, making you sigh in content as you felt Anthony's tongue gently soothed over any bites that he left as he moved down your body.

Quiet whispers of "You're so beautiful" and "I love you" slipped into the night as Anthony kissed down your stomach and met your hips. Brown eyes met yours as he looked at you for permission. You nodded for him to continue and you closed your eyes as you awaited the blissful pleasure of his mouth on you but it never came.

"Words," His eyes said. "I want to hear you say it."

"Anthony, please! I need you!" You moan as you try to grind your hips into his face.

"I love you," was all he said before he held eye contact as his mouth opened and his tongue touched your pussy. His lips came to your clit as he closed his eyes at the sweet taste of you. He moaned softly into your cunt as you gripped his hair with one hand and the other, the bed sheet. Your hips rolled against his mouth as he pleasured you. You noticed that the bed was moving slightly as you opened your eyes and saw that he was staring at you as he ground his hips into the mattress to relieve himself some of the pressure that was torturing his cock.

"Oh my Lord!" You nearly shout as you clasp a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself.

"Do not bring my title into this bed," He grunted against your body.

You moaned at the sheer feeling of his fingers slipping into your hole, stretching you for the later events with his dick. He looked at your with admiration as he played your body like a violin. Anthony slipped from your hips as he moved himself to rest his face above yours.

"So beautiful."

"Anthony," You gasped into his mouth, panting to catch your breath.

"Does this feel good?"

You moan as his fingers brush your g-spot before curling there and massaging it.

"It does feel good, doesn't it?" He smirked. "So pretty. My pretty girl."

"Anthony," You keen. Your stomach tightening. "Please."

"My sweet girl, you don't have to beg." He looked down at your soaked pussy. "Cum."

Your orgasm wracked through you as Anthony continued to finger you through it. Waves of pleasure washed over you as over stimulation started to set in.

"Anthony," You whine.

"One more."

His fingers sped up as his search for another orgasm from you became desperate.

"Such a good girl," He praised. "My good girl. Doing everything that I tell you. Thinking that she can just fuck my brother but look who has her now. Look at how good you are being for me."

Your back arches as you let out a moan and Anthony clasps a hand over your mouth to silent you. You cum once more before Anthony moves in between your legs once again to line himself up with your entrance.

"Gonna fill you up so good," He groaned as he sunk into you. "Gonna see you so full of me, going to be dripping me for days."

You groan as he starts slowly moving against your walls as you clamp down on him, slowing his movements even further.

"I want to feel you," You moan as your arms wrap around his shoulders and pull his weight on you. You hand goes to his hair and you gasp when he thrusts deeply.

"Oh, Anthony."

"Yes, moan my name. Forget my brother. Forget any other man but me. I am the one making you feel this good." He groans into your neck as he starts to pick up pace.

"Only you, Anthony," You moan, back arching off the bed and your hips rising to meet his. "Only you make me feel this good."

His lips find yours and swallows your loud moans, keeping them for himself and only him. His hips move faster as he starts to get near his release. His thumb moves to your clit and starts to circle it as he kisses your neck and move down to your breasts, sucking softly.

"So beautiful," He moaned. "My pretty girl."

Your orgasm hit you like a train and you bite down where his shoulder meets his neck, earning a hiss from Anthony as he moved over you quickly, jack-hammering into you, trying to reach his end. You hands pull at his hair and his lips find yours.

His warmth spills inside you, your eyes rolling back as you feel him fill you completely. He falls on top of you, trying to catch his breath. You look at him in the soft moon light shining from your window. The rain was still coming down hard outside.

"I love you," You whisper.

He turns to look at you, smiling at your words.

"I love you too."

You smile before sliding closer to kiss his lips. His arms come around your body and pull you closer to his body so your legs tangled together.

"I wish we could be like this forever," You sigh, drawing circles on his chest with your finger.

"I know, I know." He sighed as he relaxed against you. "I wish it wasn't like the way it is."

You turn to look at him with a frown.

"When do you need to be back home before one of my sisters find us?"

"I can leave in about an hour," He said, looking into your eyes before kissing you softly.

"I can work with that," You smile before turning over to sleep against his chest.

"I love you, Miss Sharma."

----

You awoke with the other side of the bed cold. You turned over, hoping, wishing, that Anthony was still there. That he had chosen to stay, to risk being caught just so he could wake up next to you. You remember the feeling that you got when he used "Miss Sharma" rather than your name when he told you that he loved you. It was too vague for your liking. There were three "Miss Sharmas'." You sigh before getting up to start your day.

You look at his side and realize that there was a letter on your bedside table.

My Dearest, Miss Sharma

I awoke with a perplexed train of thought as I watched you blissfully sleep. I love you as deeply as the deepest parts of the oceans and even further than that. I wish there was a way for me to sleep in the same bed as you. To stay in the same home with you, to hold your love as close as I can until it was the only thing that I knew. I wish there were a way for me to undo everything that I gave done. I struggle with words compared to Benedict which on the subject of Ben, I give you my full permission to pursue him. Just because you can not find the happiness that you deserve with me, does not mean that my dear brother can not full fill that void that I have caused to be created in your soul.

I love you, Miss Sharma. How I wish I were able to say, "I love you, Mrs. Bridgerton. My viscountess." Perhaps in a different reality were I didn't propose to your sister, it would be you who I am marrying. Someone that I truly love despite that being everything I did not want when I was looking for a bride.

Yours true and with my deepest love,

A.B.

#anthony bridgerton x sharma!reader #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female!reader #bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton x reader angst #anthony bridgerton angst #bridgerton angst

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kennarose1108 · 12 days

Text

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader !CHILDHOOD ENIMES! !PART 2!

ANTHONY'S POV

Anthony's life had never been easy. His father's death and the pressure of being the man of the house so young were hard on him. But one thing was always easy...

Getting under her skin.

He loved teasing her, he loved the way she pouted, hell... He loved her.

But he knew it would never last. She hated him and she was his sister's best friend. So he buried his feelings for her and moved on with his life. The last two years it was easy since she wasn't around... He even got a fiancé... But the second he saw her... Everything came flooding back.

He was at Lady Danbury's ball when she entered. The crowd went silent and his gaze fell on what they were looking at... Her.

All the men wanted her, all the women wanted to be her.

She looked absolutely and utterly stunning. Breathtaking... Beautiful... He couldn't even name every word of how she looked in that stunning blue dress.

But then he saw the look of panic on her face and the way her body trembled... Clearly being in the spotlight was getting to her.

He was just about to go to her to save her from the torture she was going through when Lady Danbury did it before him.

His eyes never left her... While she talked and laughed with Lady Danbury... God... That smile... He wanted her, he needed her... But something snapped him back into reality. Well, more like someone.

"Anthony," Kate spoke with a smile. "Is everything alright?" She asks while wrapping her hands around his arm. He was flustered and startled at first at her sudden presence but he quickly regained composure.

"I'm fine." He murmured with a small smile. He and Kate spoke for awhile and he did his best to keep his gaze on the woman before him and not the woman across the room. But the feeling of someone staring at him caught his attention and he looked away from Kate and his eyes met yours. He felt his heart skip a beat as you two made eye contact. But quickly your gaze fell and you looked away.

But Anthony couldn't lose this chance. He looked at Kate, excused himself and explained why (not the whole truth), and walked over to her and Daphne.

He smiled widely and threw open his arms, "Sweetheart!" He called out. He chuckled softly as he saw her hiding behind his sister, Daphne. He pulls her from behind Daphne and hugs her tightly. He took in her scent, she smelled like roses...

Damn... Now every time he smelled or saw roses he was going to think of her.

She didn't hug him back, as expected, and he could hear his sister snorting behind him. Anthony pulled away and pinched her cheek like he always did, "Nice to see you again sweetheart. You look stunning. Did your mother doll you up?" He asks and she smacked his hand away.

She glared at him, "Aww. Don't pretend you didn't miss me, sweetie." He says while nudging her slightly. "Goodbye Anthony." She says before turning away. God... His name sounded so good in her mouth...

He wondered what else would be good in her mouth...

But she stopped. Her mother was coming with a creepy old man that he could tell her mother wanted to marry her off to... Yeah, there's no way he was going to let that happen.

He inched closer to her, maybe even too close for her comfort, before whispering in her ear, "Y'know... I can save you... You'll just have to accept my offer for a dance."

He heard her sigh and she turned around to him with a glare on her face, "I'm doing this to get away. Don't think you're saving me." She says while pointing at him. He chuckles, "Of course not sweetheart."

"And stop calling me that!" She says angrily and he lets out a small laugh as she takes his hand. Her hand felt so good in his, even though he couldn't feel her skin, her hand still being in his felt really good.

He pulled her along to the dance floor before shifting her off into a dance. They danced smoothly and effortlessly. It was silent for the first minute and she avoided his gaze.

"Your mother trying to sell you to that old man?" Anthony asks and she finally looks at him. "Sadly yes. But I'm not interested. I'm not interested in anyone really." She says, managing a shrug through their dancing. Before he could question her further on that she spoke again, "But I see you are. Engaged huh? I never thought I'd see the day." She says with a chuckle.

"And why's that? Thought I'd always be a bachelor for the rest of my life?" He teases, and she rolls her eyes. "No, I just never thought there would be a woman on this planet who could tolerate you long enough." He laughs a genuine laugh.

"Speaking of which, would your bride-to-be, be upset you're dancing with another woman?" She asks with a smirk, he chuckles. "No... She knows I'm hers."

That was a lie. He thought. Well, maybe not the part of Kate thinking he was hers... But in truth, his heart did not belong to Kate... It belongs to Y/N. For years, it was always hers.

"Good. I don't feel like getting into a fight tonight... Although it would make this boring evening even better." She says and the dance ends. They both stop and stare at one another, the tension palpable between the two. He saw her neck shift as she swallowed the lump in her throat before she gave him a curtsy and he gave her a bow...

"Thank you Mr Bridgerton..." She murmured while pulling herself back up and adjusting her dress. "But I can't avoid my mother any longer." She says softly and before he could say a word she brushes past him and towards her mother.

Oh... She felt it. That strange feeling. The one that he felt so many years ago that blossomed into love...

But it could never happen. Not in a million years. He knew that.

But why does his heart still yearn for her?

PART 3

#bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 spoilers #colin bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton spoilers #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x reader #reader x anthony bridgerton #y/n x anthony bridgerton #anthony x kate #kate bridgerton #kate x anthony #kanthony #edwina sharma #daphne bridgerton #lady danbury #fanfic #fanfiction

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newtonsheffield · 6 days

Note

Someone's about to get lifted onto a desk 👀👀👀

I do not doubt that for a single second tbh.

Also: this is Kate’s study! It’s too femininely decorated for it to be Anthony’s, even in his new wife guy era. And I love that for her.

I love that she has space for herself, and space to write her letters and run the household. I can also imagine her lips parting in surprise the very first time she saw the ledgers and she saw exactly how much money the Bridgertons have.

“Everything alright, Love?”

Kate let her eyes flick to Anthony, lounging in the chair across on the other side of the viscountess’s, of her desk. “Fine.”

“You look shocked.” Anthony sighed, “Let me guess you’re about to admonish me for letting my books fall into such disrepair but I would remind you why I haven’t had much time for bookmaking recently.”

Kate rolled her eyes, “It’s not… that. I suppose I just… knew you were wealthy but seeing it in person is another thing.”

“We are wealthy.” Anthony corrected lightly, “I hardly expect you to ask me for every little thing you want. That’s an awful way some men make their wives live.”

Kate rolled her eyes, “And here I thought I heard a rumour about you quizzing young ladies on a penchant for over spending.”

“People exaggerate. Or perhaps I don’t mind making you happy,”

It had seemed odd to Kate at first, the frequency with which Anthony seemed present in her study, especially as one of the other ladies had laughed when she’d mention that she and Anthony had been in there together.

“God, Herbert wouldn’t even know where to find it.”

But it seems normal now, having Anthony poke his head in. So much so that she doesn’t even need to look up to know who’s just slipped in and closed the door behind him.

“Viscountess, you work far too hard.”

Kate but back her smile at his use of her title. “Oh no, no, no. You’re supposed to be working. And I know what you calling me that means.”

Anthony looked at her innocently while he flopped down into the chair opposite her, “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. I only thought Gee, I hope my beautiful wife’s not getting bored all alone like I am.”

Kate leaned back in her chair, “So you’ve come to save me have you?”

He gestured to himself, grinning cheekily. “I’m your knight in shining armor, yes.”

“And here I thought you intended to rarely see your wife, I can’t seem to get rid of you.” Kate teased, leaning back in her chair. “Though I suppose that has its merits.”

“It does,” Anthony said eagerly, “I’d be more than happy, Viscountess, to show you just how willing I am to make your afternoon just a little bit more pleasurable.”

Kate’s breath caught, “Lock the door then.”

Anthony practically scrambled back over the chair. “Yes Ma’am.”

#kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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violetsforrosen · 10 months

Text

✧ || Diamond of the Season

Pairing / Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary / As the diamond of the season, no one could ever deny you, not even your one-eye prince ๋࣭ ⭑

Warnings & Suggestions / Fluff, a bit of kissing but nothing NSFW, The title “Diamond of the Season” inspired by Bridgerton, basically idiots in love

Delight, desire and jealousy flowed through all the lords' and ladies' eyes as they exchanged their whispers of you. Within the walls, you have heard it whether it was about your beauty, your nature, even the way you walk or the sound of your talk.

Ever since your arrival at court, young and old lords have been following you everywhere, offering to guard you through the castle as they try to impress you with their bare skills. The ladies often invite you to their gatherings, you do enjoy listening to all the gossip and you know well that when you're not there, it is you who is the topic.

You didn't mind it still, after all, their perception of you only turned you into what you have always wanted, “Diamond of the Season”, the reserved title pronounced by the Queen. In each year, her grace will do the honour presenting the season's diamond at the celebration of her wedding's anniversary to King Viserys I of House Targaryen.

You held your head high as she announced your name. This is all you have ever wanted. It takes you back to when you were just a little girl, your lady cousin was named as the season's diamond, you remember attending her grand wedding to the noble lord of Westerlands and every time you saw her afterwards, she would always dress in the most lavishing gowns and finest gold.

You smile at the thought. This title would benefit you in every single way possible. As a maiden, men across the seven kingdoms would duel to take your hands. Going as far as to offer you the most of themselves only to hear your rejection.

“What a fine jewel, Lord Wylde.” You can see him grinning, thinking he has succeeded.

“But I do not think your wives would be pleased to know that you have gifted me this.” You put down the jewel as you stared right through him. He was a much older man, the “Ironrod”, the man who had wedded four wives and sired twenty-nine children. You would never marry him, he is merely a distraction.

“My fair maiden, I would displease them a thousand times over if it meant to be in your presence.” You could not believe any words you just heard. “As a fair maiden, I have been gifted with things greater than jewels. Perhaps we could discuss your pleasure and your wives' displeasure later” You instantly stand and leave, giggling to yourself as he was lost at his words.

During noon, you have a quiet time with Princess Helaena. Sweets such as lemon cakes, apple tarts and mint tea were laid fully on the table. The second you were named the season's diamond, you were particularly following the Queen around as her lady-in-waiting. But as you were closer to her daughter's age, your role was changed to Princess Helaena's lady instead. The two of you didn't have many similarities, but there are senses of comfort growing through your friendship which only brings you two closer. “Have you found a proper man?” Helaena asked you as she drank the mint tea. “The tea would do you good, princess, it soothes and reliefs-”

“Do not turn a deaf ear to me” She interrupted you and you stared at her. “It has been stressful enough, but I promised you, I would choose a husband who will stay in court so we will always be close to each other.” You touch her hand in comfort as a gentle smile appears. “You didn't hear it from me but Ironrod tried to persuade me this morrow” You can see her pure shock and you two started giggling. “Ironrod? Lord Wylde?! Did he not have four wives already? Twenty-nine kids, I have heard” You nodded. “Three as of now, his last wife died of exhaustion.”

“I wouldn't wish to see you beside him.” You chuckled again. “Never, I already have a chosen man in mind, I promised to choose the one whose presence in court, didn't I?” As you finished your sentence, that man appeared just at the right time. “Brother” Helaena greeted him but his eye only looked at you and you grinned at him. It was only a short second, but it seemed like he understood every single thought in your mind. He didn't bother to stay after, immediately leaving to attend his duties. What a pity.

But it didn't take too long until he ran back into your arms. “Is it true? Did he try to ask for your hand?” He kissed your neck with pure lust and hunger, you laughed at his questions. “Jealousy suits you so well, my Aemond” You softly move your hands on his chest back and forth. “I did tell you that once a man who's rich enough, fine enough and brave enough asks for my hand, I will answer.” Your words anger, his grip tighten on you. “He is nothing close to that, tis I who of royalty and ancient house that could provide all your needs, it is I, who is brave enough to asks for your hand-”

“Yet, it is I who have only ever heard sweet nothing from you.” You playfully push him away. “If you truly wish to see me bare your name and your children, you would take me to the Septon and make me your wife, as simple as that.” You left him there right after. You have already made up your mind, it will always be Aemond. As his wife, you will be the lady of House Targaryen, your children will have dragon eggs placed in their cradles. Dragon riders' blood flows through their veins. You know that only he could answer to the power you have thirst for and the love you have desired.

As a fortnight passed, all the signs were finally clear. “I have named you the season's diamond myself. It is only right that you should become my daughter-in-law”, The Queen said as she held your hand. Aemond stands behind her as he stares at you. After all the little glances, soft touches and teasing whispers, it finally happened. The Diamond of the Season has become the wife of Aemond Targaryen.

masterlist for more

images' credits ๋࣭ ⭑

Spring By Eugene Bidau

An Amusing Letter by Vittorio Reggianini

Lovers, Doves By Francois Boucher

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond fluff #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction

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fantasyescapes17 · 1 year

Text

Candle (Part 1)

You have always received the best of everything life has to offer: be it education, family, fortune or happiness. Mr. Yoon Jeonghan- one of the ton's renowned villains- cannot possibly bring you happiness of any kind, never mind wedded bliss. But can you evade Jeonghan's charms? Or will you find yourself falling victim to this clever rogue?

Genre: Yoon Jeonghan x female!reader. Regency!AU (It's sort of Bridgerton-esque in the sense that I give zero attention to historical accuracy and prioritize aesthetics lmao) You are Wonwoo's sister so your last name is Jeon, but the reader has no other specific characteristics, physical or otherwise.

Word Count: 4.8k+

Part 2 Part 3

Series Masterlist [I would recommend reading the first story in this series, Patience, before this one but it's not strictly necessary.]

“It is not that I do not wish to marry,” you explained to the maid that was dealing with your hair. The fine silver comb tugged painfully on your scalp, but you had learned to ignore it through continued practice. “I do like the thought of being the lady of my own estate, and having children and a husband who loves me.”

The maid hummed as she dragged the comb through your hair. “Of course, miss.”

“But why must all the eligible bachelors of the ton be so dreadfully boring? Every conversation feels the same. If you’ve spoken to one of them, you may as well have spoken to them all,” you complained. “They constantly talk about the same subjects and offer the same compliments.”

“What would you like them to say instead, miss?” the maid asked lightly.

“Well, anything that I have not already heard a hundred times before!” you exclaimed as the maid fixed the last pin in your hair and released you. You turned to appraise yourself in the mirror carefully before pouting at your maid. “Daisy, I am not foolish enough to entertain expectations of true love. But is it too much to ask for a husband who will not drive me mad out of boredom? A husband for whom at least a small candle lights up in my heart- never mind a wild and burning flame?”

Daisy smiled. “You will be late, miss. Your family is waiting downstairs.”

“But you offer me no reassurances,” you noted with a frown.

“Do not worry yourself too much, miss. There are plenty of men in London this season that you are yet to meet. I am certain one of them will light your heart’s candle.”

You thanked her and then stood up to appraise yourself in the mirror. You had chosen one of your prettiest gowns for the first ball of the season and were pleased with the way the soft pastel colours accentuated your figure and skin. You were not the belle of the ball- you would leave titles like that to more perfect women than you- but you were certainly striking enough to never be left wanting for a dance partner or company.

God. All this effort to spend your evening listening to men offer you recycled compliments or boast about their fortunes.

"So her highness finally arrives. I thought perhaps you were waiting for the ball to end," your brother Wonwoo remarked as you walked down to the foyer of your large London home.

You paid him little mind. Wonwoo was not truly angry about the delay. He had no great love for social engagements or balls and suffered through them in the same way you did, albeit with fewer complaints.

"Beauty takes time," you replied simply.

"As does the journey to the Hessington's manor. Mother and Father are waiting for us outside."

"It would not be fashionable to arrive too early," you protested.

Wonwoo simply offered you his arm in silence and you joined your brother in stepping out of your large home and climbing into the lavish carriage that waited on the street outside. Your parents were already seated and your mother smiled when she saw you.

"Oh darling! You look quite lovely in that dress," she told you happily as the carriage slowly began to take your family to your destination. "I should not be surprised if your father has a queue of men outside his door to offer for your hand this season."

You smiled. "Thank you, mother. I am sure Father knows best."

Your father raised an eyebrow. He appeared bored. "I know nothing. You are perfectly capable of choosing your own husband. Unless you wish to marry a stable boy, you shall hear no sound from me."

Your mother swatted his arm. "Dearest! How can you say such a thing! It is of utmost importance that our dear daughter is married well and happy- and you must do everything you can to ensure this!"

Mr. Jeon chuckled. "I believe these matters require far more womanly expertise than I possess."

Your mother disregarded him and turned back to you. "Now darling, remember. We are in no hurry. This is only your first season and time and money are on our side. Unlike some of the other foolish mothers of the ton, I know that marrying well is far more important than marrying quickly."

You smiled. "Yes, mother."

"There is no need to accept any offers immediately. Do not court anyone straight away. Wait and watch and analyse. You deserve the very best."

You bit your lip and nodded. You had to admit that your mother's confidence in you made you feel better about your prospects. She was right. There was plenty of time. You were not in any rush and you would wait patiently until the right man for you appeared.

Hopefully he would.

"As for you, Wonwoo-" your mother continued, turning to your brother who had been staring out of the window absently. "Although your sister's marriage prospects occupy more of my time and attention than yours, it would be helpful if you at least indulged in a few dances and did not offend all the young ladies that crossed your path by ignoring them or pretending to be absorbed in a book."

Wonwoo flushed. He had been known to hide behind a book in order to avoid the attention of some of the more determined young ladies. Women frequently left your brother's company feeling snubbed.

"Yes, mother," he replied with a sigh.

"I want to see you up on the dance floor for at least two dances," she pressed.

"One," Wonwoo pushed back.

"Two, this is not a discussion."

Wonwoo decided against arguing with his mother and turned his attention back to the window of the carriage as it clattered noisily along the path to the ball. You chuckled- you could not wait to meet a woman who could put a genuine smile on Jeon Wonwoo's face. A difficult task indeed, but certainly not impossible.

The carriage stopped once your family arrived at the Hessington's ball. It was an incredibly grand affair. Being the first ball of the season, it would set the standard for all social events during the upcoming months. You could tell that this would be a glamorous season indeed.

You almost felt nervous.

"Isn't that your friend?" Wonwoo mumbled to you as your family entered the enormous bustling ballroom full of immaculately dressed men and women.

"Miss Jeon!"

You laughed in delight as a young woman in a bright purple dress came over to you and embraced you warmly. It had been many months since you had seen your dear friend Ella Williams. You wrote to her often but you were no great writer, and letters were not nearly enough to say all that you wished to share.

“Miss Williams! Oh, I am so delighted to see you here! How have you been?” you demanded of your friend.

Ella smiled. “I have been wonderful, as always. It is a pleasure to see you as well, Mr. Jeon!” Ella greeted your brother with a bright smile and a polite curtsey. Wonwoo acknowledged her with a small tilt of his head. Ella was no stranger to your brother’s quiet and unenthusiastic manner- so she merely giggled at him and did not take offence.

“He is upset because he is required to dance twice tonight,” you explained to Ella. “Wonwoo, you might as well ask Ella to dance with you so that half of your promise to mother is fulfilled. Then you need only find one more partner over the course of the evening.”

Ella batted her eyelashes at your brother. “I would not object to a dance with Mr. Jeon.”

You waited patiently while Wonwoo signed Ella’s dance card and then wordlessly disappeared further into the room in order to speak to some of his acquaintances. Ella beamed and turned back to you.

“Well. I shall be the target of much envy when I stand up for a dance with the elusive Mr. Jeon. Oh! But I have so much to tell you, my friend, come with me to the refreshments table and I will show you what I have prepared for us!”

You allowed Ella to take your arm and pull you towards the refreshments. You both found seats on a bench and she pulled a small black diary out of her pocket that she showed you cheerfully.

“Guess what this is?” she asked eagerly, but did not allow you time to formulate a response. “I spent the entire summer doing research and have prepared elaborate notes on every single marriage-minded bachelor that will be in attendance this season. I believe the usual clumsy method of turning up to as many social events as we can and simpering at random men only to be disappointed once we learn more about them cannot go on. We are clever women. We must employ the scientific method.”

You giggled at your friend. “The scientific method? To find a husband?”

“It is almost perfect! And it took me months to compile- I keep adding to it every time I learn more about any of them."

You looked at her book with a laugh. It really was packed full of notes. This was no small feat that Ella had achieved.

"How does this help us?" you asked, confused.

Ella sighed. "My dear friend. Every time a man introduces himself or asks you for a dance, you need only look him up in my little book to know everything about him! Well; perhaps not everything, it is still a work in progress but I am constantly adding to it!"

You looked down at her little book curiously.

"Ella… you may have created something very valuable," you admitted to her slowly. "I am sure many of the young women in the room would love to have a peek at that little book."

Ella beamed. "Yes, but I shall not share it with anyone but you."

"You really are a wonderful friend."

"Of course I am. Now- have you found any dance partners yet for the evening? I am lucky to have started the evening off strong by securing a dance with your brother- it is my turn to find you an equally excellent partner."

You smiled. "I would be very grateful."

But Ella's efforts were not necessary. As you stood, you were approached by your brother and another handsome young man with a very charming smile.

"I believe the dancing is about to begin," Wonwoo said simply as he offered his arm to Ella. He paused to look at you. "Sister, allow me to introduce you to my friend Mr. Kim Mingyu."

Mr. Kim Mingyu took your gloved hand into his own and pressed his lips to your knuckles in a suave manner.

"Miss Jeon. I have heard many wonderful things about you; would you do me the honour of joining me for the next dance?" Mingyu asked.

You smiled. "It would be my pleasure, Mr. Kim."

"Excellent. This way."

Mingyu was a very good dancer and an adequate conversationalist. He did offer you some textbook insincere compliments about your dancing skill and your dress, but since he was good friends with your brother, any lulls in the conversation were filled with stories from the time he and Wonwoo spent together at Oxford. There was something very lighthearted about his words and manner. It left you with the impression that Mr. Kim Mingyu did not take anything very seriously-including his own marriage prospects.

"Thank you very much for the dance, Mr. Kim,” you bowed to him politely as the music came to an end. Mingyu smiled and offered you his arm to lead you away from the dance floor.

“It was a pleasure, Miss Jeon. May I help you find your next partner?” he offered generously. "I know multiple young men who would be delighted to be introduced to you.”

"I would be very grateful, Mr. Kim. But I have already promised Miss Ella Williams that she may be the one to find my next partner and I could not bear to disappoint her."

Mingyu nodded. "Very well. Your brother is probably seeking a corner to hide himself in for the rest of the evening, so if you find yourself requiring a dance partner at any moment please do not hesitate to send for me."

You laughed. "Indeed. I shall summon you as soon as your services become necessary."

Mingyu left you just as Ella came over to join you on your bench.

"Well, well," your friend teased. "Mr. Kim is certainly very handsome. And he appears to be an excellent dancer."

"Will you tell me what you have written about him in your little book?" you asked.

Ella withdrew the book from the folds of her skirts and took a moment to flip the pages. "Let us see here…. K for Kim… Mingyu…. ah! Here he is!

"Goodness, the page is full!" you laughed as you saw the page crammed to the brim with notes. There was barely any space left. "Is that a list of women he is rumoured to be courting? Heavens. You shall need to prepare a summary for this man."

"I have one," she replied, her fingers pointing to two underlined words on the top right corner. Notorious rake.

You both exchanged looks and laughed.

"That sounds about right," you giggled before taking her arm. "Now hurry! You promised to find me another dance partner! If we sit on the bench for too long then we might be approached by someone particularly odious."

"Of course!"

Ella grabbed your arm and guided you across the room to a group of men who stood conversing near the balcony. One of them turned and smiled when he saw Ella.

"Ella! I did not know you would be here tonight," he greeted her fondly. He had gentle eyes and a soft smile that put you instantly at ease.

"How could I miss the first ball of the season?" Ella asked. "Joshua, you must allow me to introduce you to my dear friend Miss Jeon. I insist that you dance the next dance with her, for she is so much in demand that you may not have another chance all season! Miss Jeon, this is my cousin Viscount Joshua Hong."

Joshua greeted you warmly. Unlike Mingyu, he made no excessively charming moves to kiss your hand but his impeccable manners put you at ease.

"Of course. It would be an honour to dance with Miss Jeon," he promised you. "But first allow me to make introductions of my own. I am accompanied by my dear friends Mr. Choi Seungcheol and Mr. Yoon Jeonghan."

You curtsied politely to the two men. Mr. Choi was handsome, certainly, but you were struck immediately by how unnaturally perfect Mr. Yoon Jeonghan was. His features were sharp, angular, and he looked like a marble statue sculpted by a skilled artist. Jeonghan had an almost ethereal beauty to him.

And he turned immediately to your friend.

"Miss Williams, may I request your hand for the next dance, if you have not already promised it to another?" Jeonghan asked, as he offered her his hand.

Ella took it without hesitation. "Of course!"

It was no punishment to dance with Viscount Joshua Hong. The man was possibly the most eligible bachelor in the room considering his title, vast fortune and gentlemanly reputation so Ella had done you a great favour. Joshua made light and pleasant conversation as you danced. He was not entirely boring, but also failed to be particularly interesting. You found yourself casting glances across the room at Ella's dance partner.

When your dance with Joshua came to an end, you approached Ella and Jeonghan with the faint hope that you might be chosen as Mr. Yoon Jeonghan's next partner- only to find that the man in question had already left the area.

"What happened to Mr. Yoon?" you asked your friend casually.

"He apologised and had to leave early. Something about his sister- perhaps you know her? Miss Yoon? Fairly pretty woman who is rather well-known for strangely not receiving any offers of marriage since the last many seasons?"

It sounded familiar. "Was he a good dancer?"

"Excellent- but I was terribly nervous throughout the dance, after all, you know what everyone says about him!" Ella said with a shaky laugh.

You did not know. "What does everyone say about him-"

Your question was cut off by the appearance of your mother, who took your arm with a bright smile. “My dear! I can see that you have been quite successful with your dance partners tonight. Not only Mr Kim Mingyu but Viscount Hong as well! Everyone is quite taken with you.”

You smiled at your mother. “Thank you, mother-”

“Come along now. I have many others to introduce you to, we should take advantage of this momentum. You should come as well, Ella. A certain Mr. Lee has been asking about you and you will need someone to make the necessary introductions!”

Ella smiled and took your hand as the two of you followed your mother.

—--------------------------------------------------------------

The Hessington’s ball was, in your mother’s expert opinion, a grand success. You had danced almost every dance with an eligible young man and the general consensus among the ton was that you were a delightful young woman who would likely receive her fair share of attention and gentleman callers.

It was difficult to not want to bask in all the attention.

“Mother! May I go to the assembly rooms with Ella and Mrs. Williams this evening? I believe we have no other engagements,” you reminded her eagerly as she attended to her knitting in the drawing room. Your mother looked up at you.

“Will Mrs. Williams chaperone?”

“Of course.”

Upon receiving her permission you hurried upstairs to dress for an evening at the assembly rooms. You had heard from Ella that Viscount Hong would be in attendance. While you had no specific interest in Joshua himself, you could not deny that the Viscount was well-connected and always ready and able to make introductions with other eligible young men.

Daisy helped you into a pretty dress. Since an evening at the assembly rooms was not nearly as glamorous as a ball, you kept your attire simple but could not resist finishing off your look with a string of pearls around your neck.

“You look lovely, miss,” Daisy complimented you kindly. “The pearls suit you very well.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Daisy.”

The Williams’ carriage arrived promptly to pick you up, and you travelled to the assembly rooms with Ella and her mother. You were delighted when Mrs. Williams promptly sat down at one of the many card tables and announced her intention to play whist all evening. The older woman appeared to have no plans of following you or Ella about the room, or being an overbearing chaperone.

"I have decided to cast my net upon Mr. Xu Minghao tonight," Ella whispered to you, gesturing to a handsome young man in the corner of the room. "I shall ask Joshua to introduce me. Would you like to come?"

You tilted your head thoughtfully. "I might play some cards first. I have been looking forward to it for a while. Do you think it would be impolite for me to sit down at any of these tables?"

"I see Mrs. Patty there. She will surely welcome you at her card table; although I would be careful. I hear her gambling habit can be… excessive. And she gossips even more than she gambles."

You giggled. "I shall be fine with Mrs. Patty. She likes me. Go on and demonstrate your charms to Mr. Xu."

You were welcomed warmly at the card tables by Mrs. Patty and the other ladies, all of whom complimented your success at the Hessington's ball the previous evening while dealing you into their game. You were not a very experienced card player, but it did not signify. The bets were small at the ladies’ table. On the other hand, the table of gentlemen across from you were clearly playing for much higher stakes.

You had a clear view of the men's card table. A few familiar faces were seated there- including Mr. Kim Mingyu and Mr. Kwon Soonyoung. The occupant that was of particular interest to you, however, was Mr. Yoon Jeonghan. Jeonghan had leaned back in his seat in a relaxed and careless manner, a handsome smirk on his face as he observed his cards.

Really, he was unfairly attractive. How were you supposed to focus on your cards when a man as perfect as Yoon Jeonghan sat directly in your line of view? It was hardly surprising that you lost the first round of the game with the ladies.

Jeonghan looked up suddenly and his intense gaze met yours. You were a little flustered at having been caught staring, but the corner of his lips curved up in a hint of a smile. Jeonghan acknowledged you with a simple tilt of his head. You forced a polite smile back and quickly turned away.

When you dared to lift your eyes in his direction once more, he had already turned his attention away from you.

“Really Mr. Yoon? Will you continue to win until you bleed us all dry?” you heard Mr. Kim Mingyu demand from the other table. The other men nodded in agreement; it appeared that Mr. Yoon had won almost every hand this evening.

“You are bleeding yourself dry, Mr. Kim. Perhaps you may wish to study the rules of the game before you hand your money to me?” Jeonghan suggested lightly.

“If I play another round with you I shall be in danger of losing my estate.”

There appeared to be a general consensus among the men at table that they had lost enough money to Mr. Yoon for one evening. You watched with interest as they all left the table in search of refreshments and other entertainment. Mr. Yoon lingered at the table a few moments longer to collect his belongings.

It was a rare opening- you waited until your current round ended and took the chance to excuse yourself from the ladies table.

“Pardon me, Mrs. Patty but I think I have had my fill of cards. I will take your leave now,” you said to the older woman who dismissed you easily.

You took a deep breath. Perhaps it was an… audacious move (if not an entirely improper one) for you to approach Mr. Yoon while there was nobody else in your company. But you were quite determined to learn more about this man with the angelic features and confident gaze. You could not simply wait until Jeonghan decided to take note of you- you would bring the conversation to him.

“Mr. Yoon,” you greeted him politely.

Jeonghan turned to you with mild surprise. This was a crowded room, yes, but it was still bold of you to approach him without a female chaperone.

Although to be fair, Yoon Jeonghan had never been one to put too fine a point on the rules of propriety.

“Miss Jeon, if I am not mistaken,” he greeted calmly. He gave no indication that he found you approaching him to be improper. “We were introduced at the Hessington’s ball last evening. I heard from my stepmother that you had excellent success and danced every single dance.”

“I do not know if I was particularly successful at anything; to dance every dance at a ball is not unheard of. But to win almost every hand of cards while playing a game of chance… that is what I would consider success,” you teased him.

It was a bold attempt at flirtation- you could only wait and see what move Jeonghan would make.

Jeonghan folded his arms across his chest. You could tell that he was biting back a smile. “Perhaps my opponents were simply too drunk to remember the rules of the game,” he suggested.

“Or perhaps you have devised a way to eliminate the influence of chance on the game’s outcome entirely.”

Jeonghan could not resist a chuckle. “Miss Jeon. I must protest this line of questioning. It seems to be in danger of impinging upon my honour as a gentleman. I hope you don’t mean to accuse me of cheating at cards?”

“Res ipsa loquitor, as they say in Latin, or- the thing speaks for itself,” you continued to tease him. “Do you deny it?”

“I shall not deny it. Instead, I shall generously grant you the opportunity to withdraw this dangerous allegation you have chosen to make,” he continued, “for I am confident that you possess no evidence to support your claim. Please- have a seat. It would not do for you to remain standing while we debate my alleged crimes.”

You allowed Jeonghan to pull out a chair for you and he expertly moved behind you to push it back in before taking his own seat. You folded your hands in your lap and smiled at him. You were enjoying this conversation.

“Your words are clever Mr. Yoon, but they do not cry innocence,” you insisted.

“I am not claiming to be innocent.”

“Then you admit you are guilty?”

“I shall not answer your allegation either way,” Jeonghan replied with a chuckle. “But I am concerned for the impact your allegations shall have on your honour when you find yourself unable to justify them with sufficient evidence.”

You laughed. “So you are greatly concerned for my honour, are you, Mr. Yoon?”

“I would be concerned for the honour of any young lady in your position.”

“Then how do you suggest we resolve this? For I find it impossible to believe that you should have been able to win so many rounds of a game of chance without having found some manner of tilting the scales of luck in your favour,” you insisted.

Jeonghan leaned closer to you suddenly. His dark eyes boldly met yours and your senses were instantly overwhelmed by him. His clean scent, the sound of his soft breathing and his handsome face hovering a few inches from your own. Jeonghan’s voice (suddenly low) sent a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

“If you do not withdraw your allegation,” he whispered. “I shall have no choice but to demand satisfaction.”

Oh. This man was dangerous.

He pulled back and you felt a rush of adrenaline. Noone had ever flirted with you quite like this before- and it was, clearly and undoubtedly a delightfully dangerous flirtation, for what man would innocently lean so close and whisper such words in the presence of a lady unless he meant to be unequivocal about his nefarious intention?

It appeared you had walked into the lion’s den of your own free will.

“Satisfaction?” you asked him, trying not to reveal how flustered you were. “I hope you do not intend to challenge a lady to a duel, Mr. Yoon.”

“A duel? No, not at all. I can think of better ways for you to restore my honour.”

“I have no intention of restoring your honour,” you replied boldly.

“Perhaps I shall be able to persuade you otherwise. Tell me Miss Yoon- have you recently lost anything? Perhaps a valuable item that you carry upon your person?” Jeonghan asked in a knowing tone.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You had not carried much with you and you quickly checked that you still possessed your handkerchief and reticule. As you turned your head, however, you realised that there was a strange lightness around your neck.

Your hand flew up to your bare neck.

“My pearls!”

Jeonghan smirked. His arm moved subtly across the table and you caught a glimpse of something white and shiny clasped in his hand just before he tucked it into the breast pocket of his coat. You stared at him in shock and disbelief.

“Mr. Yoon- have you just stolen my pearls?” you demanded in a hushed tone.

Jeonghan looked pleased with himself.

“Not to worry, my lady. I have every intention of returning them to you tomorrow, at the Hongs’ ball- where you shall do me the honour of dancing the final dance of the evening with me. An act which will, I believe, be adequate recompense for the baseless accusations you have brought upon my honour.”

You looked up at him with a smile.

So it was to be a game.

“You don’t play fair, Mr. Yoon,” you remarked.

“Remind me to further discuss the merits of fairness during our dance at tomorrow’s ball,” Jeonghan suggested as he stood from his seat and reached for your hand. He pressed his lips against your knuckles- softly, tantalisingly, and perhaps lingering for half a second longer than appropriate before giving you a roguish smile. “Have a pleasant evening, Miss Jeon.”

You watched as he walked away to join his companions at the refreshment tables. Your heartbeat thumped with excitement while the adrenaline from your unbelievably shocking encounter with Mr. Yoon Jeonghan slowly ebbed.

Well, you thought to yourself. Mr. Yoon Jeonghan had certainly lit your heart’s candle.

Indeed, he seemed quite in danger of tipping it over and setting the entire bloody place on fire.

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

A/N: Thanks to everyone who showed so much love for my first fic Patience, and also thank you for reading Candle! Jeonghan was such a crucial character in Patience that it was always my intention to write a companion fic for him.

I should be able to upload the next part of Candle in a few days, if all goes well. I'm also in the process of plotting for Wonwoo, Mingyu and Hoshi, in no particular order.

Any feedback is welcome! I'm not sensitive lol.

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfiction #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen au #regency!au #yoon jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan scenarios

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heliads · 3 days

Note

Newt x reader Bridgerton AU. Reader, the diamond of the season, is the Duchess of Hastings. She wants to marry someone who likes her as a person and isn’t after her money. Newt, son of a widowed viscountess, needs to marry to save his family’s reputation because his sister Sonya was seen alone with her fiancé Lord Aris before they were engaged. The anonymous writer Lady Whistledown is Ava, a widowed modiste who has her nose in everyone’s business, and Aris is the only one who knows.

'foxes and hounds' - newt

masterlist

The start of a new social season, although intended, supposedly, to be a cause for joy, feels rather more like a fierce uprising of dread, not celebration. Across the ton, young maidens find themselves new entrees– or, entrants– to the marriage mart. This game of rings and dances, men with ambition and women with more, will end in blissful happiness or deepest discontent. And all will be witnessed by every worthy family from one corner of the country to the next.

If all goes according to plan, an eligible would-be bride will find herself engaged to a man she loves, a man in possession of a handsome fortune and a sterling reputation. If luck slips past her, she’ll settle for someone decent, or someone without any income at all. If nothing goes in her favor, her first year in society will not be her last as a single woman. She will have to repeat her attempt the next year, this time without the glimmering aura of a new arrival, and hope that something within her has changed enough to attract a proposal. Otherwise, she will sink to the bottom of the pile of dance cards, ignored, abandoned, and grown up into a spinster. All that hard work gone to waste.

You’ve heard many young women discuss the marriage mart with nothing short of absolute terror in their voices. A good opening season can seal a girl’s fate forever. Attracting the eye of a worthy man is an impossible task for all but the best of the rosebuds, or so it seems. Most of us will settle for something halfway decent– a tidy sum per annum but nothing extravagant, a man with casual disinterest but nothing harsh. Something that can be shaped into something good, or at least ignored in favor of not being alone. Such is the romance of a married life.

You, however, hope to extract a little more out of the whole affair. As the Duchess of Hastings, you have no need for money. A marriage would be nice, the final touch on the portrait of a successful lady, but you do not require the financial stability of a husband. You have plenty of money and plenty of friends. You will inherit your estate. If you look for a husband, you will look only for love.

One would think, then, that entering your first season among the eligible women of the ton would be bereft of the panic permeating through most of your friends in search of husbands. However, when you line up with the rest of the young women to be presented to the Queen at the start of the season, you find that it couldn’t be less true.

Your stomach is in knots, even as you sweep confidently through the corridor to wait outside the door. The white feather in your hair stands tall and proud. Your dress is crisp and finely stitched, the highest of fashion yet never gaudy. You attract stares wherever you go– from the other girls, envious and jealous and heartsick, from the men, longing and cutthroat and mercenary– but pretend they don’t phase you in the slightest. As duchess, you’ve had plenty of time to grow accustomed to onlookers. You won’t allow them to interfere with you on this all important day.

At last, your name is called, and you enter the throne room, your mother behind you. You keep your steps small but light, and seem to float towards your queen. When the time is right, you sink into an elegant curtsy. The moment seems to last forever, your knees bent, your hands shaking slightly, but when the queen calls you to stand, you look up to find her smiling benevolently at you.

“I believe I have found my diamond of the season,” she announces.

The room erupts in polite applause, and you do your best to smother a smile that’s entirely too giddy to be proper. As you retreat from the room, you gaze at the faces surrounding you, trying to remember which ones look genuinely happy for you and which seem to be identifying a prize pig for the slaughter. When the town gossips all gather later to share their thoughts on today’s proceedings, you’re certain that some of them will attempt to discredit you, saying that of course the queen would choose the duchess as her diamond, but you know just as well as all of them that you deserve the honor today. You were the best of everyone here, and it’s plain to see.

Among all of them, your gaze catches on a singular man, almost lost in the crowd from all the bodies packed together but no less entrancing. What strikes you the most is that his face seems kind, and his eyes sparkle with pride as they watch you go. Pride for you, for your accomplishments. As if he couldn’t be more delighted that you of all people were named the season’s diamond.

Then you’re gone from the room, and the kind man is no longer before you. Still, you puzzle over the encounter long after your carriage takes you home. You don’t believe you recognize him, but that doesn’t mean anything to sway you towards any decision. An image of the young man swims in your mind– short, dirty blond hair, an upturned mouth, dark eyes, his face almost spritely. Clever, for sure.

You know better than to mess with clever men. Clever men are the type to try and twist your mind, convince you that they only love you then attempt to make off with your money. You know full well what marriage to you will offer any would-be suitor. This season, you may be looking for affection, but every man in the room will be after your fortune. The task of finding someone who truly cares for you will be a difficult one indeed.

So, clever men or not, you’ll have to keep your heart under close guard. When the first ball of the season comes to be, you don one of your finest dresses, and firmly admonish yourself to be careful. The game of hearts is not one that you lose. Either you win, or you destroy yourself.

You time your arrival carefully, so as to make the best entrance, and your efforts are rewarded. From the moment you’re announced, all eyes turn to you. Were it not for your extensive experience with being scrutinized in the grand magnifying lens that is the ton, you’d be nervous to have that many people looking at you. Even still, you can’t pretend you don’t feel a small flutter in your stomach.

It gets easier once you sweep further into the room, once people start smiling at you again, when the conversation picks up and you’re asked for your first dance of the evening, which you accept. Your partner is a charming man named Minho– dark hair, witty eyes, an excellent sense of humor. He’s athletic and a decent dancer, and by the time the music stops, you’re back to your usual self again. You can’t stop yourself from mentally sizing up your dance partner. He seems nice, and you wouldn’t be bored around him, at least. His family owns land. Although he’s not of your precise social standing, few are, and he’s close enough to you that it would be a respectable match.

Still– still, you think to yourself, as you move away from the center of the floor once more to consider your dance card, it’s not quite enough. You want love, you want a spark, and you didn’t quite get that with Minho. There are plenty of eligible suitors here, though, and many more balls to come. You’ll have other opportunities to select a match.

A few dances later, though, your feet are beginning to feel heavy and you’re still no closer to finding someone of interest than you were at the start. A good lady of extensive training such as yourself should have no problem dancing the entire night through with a pleasant smile on her face, but you’re still human, still tired, and your charming demeanor is beginning to pinch at the seams before long.

The music for the latest dance ends, and you curtsy to your partner, praying silently that no one else will be looking to fill your dance card for the next rotation. However, when you turn around, you’re greeted with the sight of many anxious faces. Something inside you wilts, perhaps your endurance.

Before the mobs can descend upon you, however, a figure appears in front of you. You sigh in relief to see one of your closest friends, Miss Teresa Agnes. “Teresa! And here I thought I wouldn’t have a single good friend all evening.”

Teresa laughs, her dark hair shining. “I would never abandon you. Certainly not when our diamond is sparkling so spectacularly tonight.”

You smile at her. “I’m not the only one who’s sparkling, Teresa. You look lovely.”

“Thank you,” Teresa says sincerely. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to introduce someone to you. This is Viscount Newt, a good friend of mine. I met him through Thomas.”

You smile to yourself as Teresa turns to beckon someone towards you. Teresa has been harboring a not-so-secret admiration for Thomas since you were all small. This is her first season in the social circles, too, and if she doesn’t come out of it with a proposal from Thomas, you’ll think the sky has fallen. Even now, he’s watching her fondly from across the room, trying to pretend as if he isn’t pining madly while Minho teases him for it.

“Here he is at last,” Teresa says, and all of a sudden you can’t think about Thomas’ case of lovesickness for a second longer, because Teresa has brought her friend before you, and you know him. It’s the stranger from your presentation to the queen. The nice one, the clever one. The one that caught your eye, and then your imagination.

You curtsy automatically, and Newt bows. Once the two of you straighten up, you’re able to observe him more closely. You’d only gotten a fleeting glimpse earlier, but now you can drink in the sight of him, and you do. His eyes are dark, but catch the lights like stars. His mouth has a habit of twitching up at the sides, as if he’s always thinking of a joke but just barely managing to keep it at bay. When he looks at you, he really looks at you. You’ve been stared at all night by would-be suitors, but their gazes never went farther than surface level. Right now, it’s as if Newt can see through to your very soul, and most intimately of all, appreciates it.

Teresa gives you a confused look, and you realize you’ve been standing in silence for longer than is probably courteous. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say.

“I must return the sentiment,” Newt returns. “Teresa has talked about you many times. I’ve been quite eager to meet you.”

“I hope I’m worthy of what she’s told you,” you say.

Newt smiles again. “I believe you’re even better than that,” he tells you.

Teresa is looking at you with an odd smile. “I believe I’d better let the two of you get to know each other, then,” she says, and sweeps away before you can stop her.

Newt laughs. “She’s been wanting to set us up for ages. For a friendship, I mean,” he breaks in hastily. “Apparently, she thinks we have a similar sense of humor.”

“I look forward to finding that out myself,” you smile.

Newt’s eyes flash with mirth again, delighting you. Behind you, the music picks up again. Newt extends a hand towards you. “Would you mind if I shared a dance with you? Unless, of course, you’d rather sit for a while.”

“I’d love to dance,” you say quickly, and it’s true. All of a sudden, the pain in your feet is gone, as if it had never existed at all.

Newt smiles and takes your hand to lead you to the dance floor. The orchestra begins its melody, and you start your dance. You make a mental note to ask Teresa a little more about Newt later; he dances like an aristocrat, but he speaks so freely to you. It’s nothing like you’ve ever experienced in a suitor before.

Newt arches a brow as he steps through the dance. “Sizing me up, are you? It may be improper of me to ask, but I do hope I’m meeting your requirements.”

Your cheeks heat up. “I’m simply appreciating your mastery of this dance. Nothing more.”

Newt laughs easily. “Of course not. It’s not as if everyone else here is doing the same thing right now. Every dance partner is a strategy meeting. In just a matter of minutes, you’ll walk away knowing if I am a worthy wager, and I will do the same. This ball is full of hounds and foxes, my lady. We all know our parts.”

You glance at him, feeling a curious grin tugging at your lips. “And which am I? Fox or hound?”

Newt returns your proud gaze. “I suppose we’ll find out at the end of the season, won’t we?”

You laugh, feeling oddly triumphant. Newt has this way about him that you find enchanting. It’s almost breaching impropriety with how candid he is around you, but it only makes you trust him more. The dance ends far sooner than you’d like. Newt relinquishes you to the storm of suitors outside, hopefully with just as much reluctance as you.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Newt is truly the only one that stands out to you. You don’t have a chance to dance with him again, but you keep making eye contact as you dance with other partners. You can practically hear his clever words in your head, catching you in the act of evaluating the suitors in front of you. Fox or hound?

When the ball ends and you return to your carriage for the ride home, you’re blissful, practically dreamy. You’ve had enough time with Newt to dream about it until the next ball, where you’ll likely repeat the same cycle over and over again until the season ends.

However, your golden mood is shattered when your chaperone sits down across from you. Her face, by contrast, is twisted with disappointment. “Do you have any idea what sort of trouble you’re getting yourself into?” She asks once the carriage pulls away.

Still caught up in the heady dream of a merry boy who smiled the brightest when he danced with you, you don’t realize the trap descending around you until it’s too late. “What trouble?”

Your chaperone’s lips purse. “You’re meant to be dancing only with eligible gentlemen, my lady. I should hope that you’d be able to recognize the suitable candidates from the unseemly by now.”

The veil is pierced, and you’re beginning to be brought back to earth. “What are you talking about? I thought I made perfectly reasonable choices with my dance partners.”

Your chaperone shakes her head, a quick, sharp gesture. “All but one. Goodness, haven’t you heard about the trouble with that one family? I can’t believe Miss Agnes had the nerve to introduce him to you, but perhaps the fact that she’s so besotted with Lord Thomas is upsetting her mind.”

Your heart freezes in your chest. “You can’t mean to say that the Viscount is not a suitable bachelor? What else could he be?”

The other woman sighs. “You don’t know, do you? My lady, I would not interfere if I did not feel the need, but I can assure you, his motives with you are purely mercenary. That man is desperate for something to cover up the follies of his family, and you, my dear, are the perfect gilded shield.”

You feel cold. “What follies?”

“His sister, Miss Sonya, was seen alone with her fiance,” your chaperone murmurs at last. “Lord Aris. I would think you would have heard his name, although perhaps not connected it with Viscount Newt. Miss Sonya and Lord Aris were happily engaged, and by all accounts it was a fine union, but they were seen together without a chaperone past dark. Quite the scandal. The Viscount knows it and is eager to get the ton talking about anything but his sister’s misdeeds. Entering into a courtship with you would do just the trick.”

She’s right, and you know it, and you hate it. “He seemed so genuine,” you whisper, and instantly know how foolish it sounds.

Your chaperone, to her credit, is kind enough to take pity on you. “He did,” she tells you, “and you looked happy together. You would be less happy, however, when you found out the truth. I would rather you know now and stay away. Men like that are nothing but trouble.”

You nod solemnly, turning your head to watch the dark landscapes rumbling past. The sun is already beginning to rise, a hallmark of a late night out. It had been a beautiful night up until this, and now the entire evening is ruined in your mind.

“I feel for Miss Sonya,” you whisper. “She was already engaged. They were just talking.”

“She knows the rules of society, and so do you,” your chaperone reminds you. “We all have our roles to play.”

And the consequence of setting a foot outside your role is instant public mortification. Yes. What a forgiving world. You immediately plant your exhausted body in your bed when you return, hardly sparing the time to wash and dress, but the only things to bloom from your rest are troubled dreams of the boy that could have been yours. Now that you know the truth– that Newt was only trying to use you for a better reputation– every interaction with him is tainted.

You’d meant what you said in the carriage, though. You did think Newt was genuine. Hadn’t he laughed more than usual when he was with you? Hadn’t he regarded you with that fierce pride of his, as if he’d finally found a mind that was an equal to his? Hadn’t he watched you with something akin to jealousy when you danced with the other men that weren’t him?

Hadn’t you wished he would only dance with you? And don’t you wish that you could truly do what you promised yourself and marry only for love, never mind the rest? It is a simple dream to think that love is easy. Marriage is not simple, not in the ton, not in your lifetime. Every one of your days will be shaped by the whims of society, even when they take Newt away from you.

When it comes time for the next ball, you do your best to strengthen your spirits before you go. You intentionally avoid him, making sure to always have your dance card full whenever the music ends. It’s easy enough to find a crowd large enough to hide you from him, and yet you still catch glimpses of Newt from across the hall, several partners down, in a carriage many behind yours. You successfully go two balls, then three, without seeing him, but it aches like a knife in your ribs when you think about what could have been.

As it turns out, you’re not the only one wishing you were with him. At the fifth ball of the season, your attempts to distance yourself from the viscount are foiled at last. Newt tracks you down, signing his name on your dance card before you can stop him before leading you out to the dance floor.

“That’s a rather abrupt way of asking a lady to dance, don’t you think?” You ask as you curtsy.

Newt bows. “I felt it was the only way of guaranteeing that you would dance with me.”

“A lady never declines a gentleman in need of a dance,” you remind him.

The music picks up, and the two of you begin your paces. “A lady also never avoids a gentleman as thoroughly as you have at the last few balls,” Newt says. “Were it not for the fact that I know you to be as perfectly agreeable a duchess as there could ever be, I would say that it was personal.”

You can’t look him in the eyes, even with his hands on you, guiding you through the steps. “It’s not meant to work out, my lord. Us, I mean. We cannot forget the rules.”

When Newt speaks again, his voice sounds hurt. “Why not? Forgive me, my lady, but I remember what it was like that first night. You were happy. We were happy, and happy together. What changed?”

At last, you risk a glance towards him, and instantly regret it. Newt’s eyes are filled with genuine hurt. Are you wrong? Did he actually want you as more than a cover-up? “I heard about your sister,” you say as delicately as you can.

Still, Newt flinches as if you’ve hit him. “You don’t know the full story,” Newt says raggedly.

“Then tell me,” you beg him. “I would choose you if I could, but everyone seems to think that you are only interested in me to advance your station. Give me a reason to believe in you, not them.”

“I can’t say it here,” Newt whispers.

“I can’t go somewhere with you alone,” you tell him quietly. “Especially not after what happened to your sister. You must tell me now, or we will never have another chance.”

“Alright,” he says at last. “But you mustn’t breathe a word of it to anyone.”

Once you agree, Newt begins to speak in a hushed whisper hardly audible to you, let alone the other couples around you. “Sonya is deeply in love with Lord Aris, and he is in love with her. So much so to the point that he has been battling a deep rage ever since that awful gossip rag, Lady Whistledown, slightly disparaged her last season. He took it upon himself to find out Lady Whistledown’s identity, and somehow, he did. The only problem is, Lady Whistledown is not someone Sonya would consider a friend. He wanted to warn her about the dangers of being anything less than perfect around that insidious writer, and he didn’t want to waste a moment. He called on her to meet with him as soon as possible. He didn’t think they would be seen, but they were, and of course Lady Whistledown ran with it to discredit them in case they would reveal her.”

You suck in a harsh breath. “It was never anything wrong, then. He merely wanted to protect her.”

Newt nods. “Lord Aris is a good man. He never would have done something like this if he realized how it would backfire. He regrets it daily, even though all he wanted to do was keep my sister safe. The ton knows their characters, too. Neither of them would do anything unseemly. The rumors diminish by the day, and soon, it will all be over. They will be happily married.”

He sighs and looks at you again. “I tell you this to explain myself, and to clear my name. I have nothing to hide from the situation with my sister and her future husband. In fact, it is only because they directly asked me not to spread this information that I haven’t gone public with the identity of Lady Whistledown herself to spare their reputations. I have nothing to fear, my lady. Certainly nothing that would make me risk the happiness of my marriage on a good rumor. I would court you because I have never met anyone like you before, nor do I think I ever will. You are utterly entrancing in every possible way. If you do not wish to be with me in that fashion, I would understand.”

You shake your head quickly. “I do want that, my lord. I want you.”

A careful smile slips across Newt’s face. “Do you mean that?”

“I do,” you tell him. “I have wanted you since the moment I saw you at my presentation. I would have found you no matter what lies they spread.”

Newt grins. “I believe I have decided something important, my lady. About your inner nature.”

You arch a brow as he spins you. “And what is that?”

“You’re a hound,” he informs you matter-of-factly. “Sharp and bright. Brave, too. But, then again, I am a hound as well. We make quite the pair, I think.”

“I think so too,” you tell him. In the days to come, rumors will abound about the viscount and the duchess. At first, there will be surprise across the ton, but then, even the most tenacious of gossips will realize that this makes perfect sense. The most clever of men and the most ambitious of women, bound together in holy matrimony. Even the best of poets couldn’t concoct a story that beautiful.

requested by @thornyrose463, i hope you enjoy!

the maze runner tag list: @blondsauduun, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @mayfieldss, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @imwaysthelastchoice, @fadedver, @il0vebeingdelulu

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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thekatebridgerton · 3 months

Text

I know the scene won't make it to the final draft of the second to last chapter of gaslight gatekeep girlboss without a lot of editing but here's a snipet of the rough draft of the dialogue of Kate getting in Colin's face about his feelings for Penelope.

(Aka how I think RMB would have gone if Colin had looked to Kate for love advice instead of Daphne)

Kate: After all this, you still keep saying that she's just a friend?

Colin: yes she is my friend, the best of friends I want her to be happy

Kate: my brother in the force! to use the words of Sophie's favorite poet lady Camilla Cabello You say you're just friends, But friends don't know the way you taste!

Colin: how exactly did you... actually no I really don't want to know

Kate: look little globetrotting man child I am getting sick of your crap! I've got worse problems to worry about than your inability to commit, so you say you're just friends with Penelope fine, I'll find her a husband within the week! Don't think I won't

Colin *gasps in manchild*: you wouldn't

Kate: Try me !

Colin: Penelope doesn't want to get married

Kate: of course she does furthermore it's going to be way easier than getting Edwina a husband. Edy wants a marriage of love, but Penelope, she just wants to get it over with and marry any friendly gentleman who she wouldn't mind having babies with .... And that's like half the men I know

Colin: now I understand why Anthony wants to kill you half the time, you're evil incarnate. I demand you stop matchmaking my wi... friend

Kate: all I'm saying is that I've got options for Penelope if you continue to be an idiot, you know the Earl of Essex is 50 but he's not that old looking for her, she could have a baby or two and be a happy widow in 10 years

Colin: Kate stop talking, this is ridiculous, I'm going to call Anthony

Kate *ignoring him*: Then there's the Count of Savoy, his estate is a little far from England but he'd treat Penelope with respect and if she's lucky she'd only have to sleep with him 3 times a year.

Colin *visibly more enraged* : you are NOT introducing Penelope to a French rake, especially one known for having 5 Mistresses

Kate: hey don't badmouth Francois, His ex wife ran off with a Russian pirate, I think he would be happy to have a nice wife like Penelope after what Madeleine put him trough

Colin *seriously losing it* : ANTHONY BRIDGERTON COME GET YOUR WIFE BEFORE I MURDER HER

Kate: ....

Kate: .......

Kate : such an infant

#this is why Colin went to Daphne #Kate would have threatened to marry off Penelope within the week if Colin didn't get his marbles together #polin #kate sharma #colin bridgerton #jealous colin

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rubysunnday · 2 years

Text

did she have a cookie?

requested by anon: I would like to request a Bridgerton!sis imagine in which the reader drinks the tea that Benedict had mixed the powder thinking of it as ordinary tea. And Colin and Benedict try to keep her out of trouble. And she gets emotional at the end. A fluffy ending. Thank you

a/n: just like editing, i cannot make a just happy fic

summary: Don't drink the tea unless you want to have a trip of a lifetime

Summer at Aubery Hall was always enjoyable. The late nights spent outdoors, playing games until the sun had long gone - being able to gallop across the fields without stopping.

It all brought Y/N so much joy and excitement. But, naturally, her mother had to ruin it with the mention of suitors and marriage and all the grown-up things Y/N didn't want to think about.

Since she'd woken up that morning, she had been avoiding her mother. Y/N had skipped breakfast, hidden in the library, and was now up near the nursery, searching for anyone to free her from her bordem.

She could hear Colin and Benedict in the nursery and approached the door, wanting to know what they were on about.

"What are you two doing?"

Colin turned in his chair to face the nursery door. "Talking, why, what are you doing?"

"Avoiding our mother," Y/N grumbled, walking further into the nursery. "She will not stop talking about suitors and marriage and it is driving me insane."

Colin pulled out the chair to his left and Y/N sat down in it with a huff, crossing her ankles. "You look like Eloise when you do that."

"Of course I do, she is my twin," Y/N snapped. Coline raised his eyebrows and Y/N groaned. "Sorry."

"Is she truly that awful?" Benedict asked, pouring Y/N a cup of tea before leaning back in his chair.

Yes. "No. Well, yes, but I know she means well. I just want to enjoy our time here before we return to London and society and -"

"All the joys that come with it?" Colin suggested.

Y/N nodded. She sat up in her chair, leaning forward. "She does not pester you two."

"Probably because we are men," Benedict replied. "Besides, Colin is not here enough for her to pester him."

Colin smirked, bringing his tea to his lips. "That was my plan all along, dear brother."

Y/N sighed, reaching for her tea. "I understand that this is my entire future but," she sipped the tea, "would it truly be so awful if I became a spinster? I hate society anyway."

Benedict looked thoughtful for a moment. "It would be lonely, I think. Always on the outskirts of events. From what I have seen - and been told - there is not really any place for an unmarried woman in society."

"That seems like society's problem," Y/N muttered. She blew on her tea and took another sip. "Not mine." Y/N hesitated, holding her cup close. "Marriage scares me."

Colin and Benedict shared a look.

"Not like that you idiots," Y/N hissed, catching their look. "I know enough about that. I meant in the way that I have to spend the rest of my life with this one person - unless they die of course... we can always hope."

"Where are you going with this, Y/N?" Benedict asked wairly.

"What if the person I marry starts off lovely but then turns into a horrible human being?" She asked.

Colin sighed softly. "Then, we would sort something out. There is always a solution, one way or another."

Y/N drained her tea, grimacing at the aftertaste. "Urgh, Benedict, you need to work on your tea-making skills, this is disgusting."

"What are you own about?" Benedict asked, frowning. "You love my tea."

"Well, not this one. It was disgusting," Y/N said, setting the cup down and pushing it away.

Benedict looked at the cup. His eyes slowly widened as he realised that there was another cup directly next to it, still full of steaming tea. "That was my tea."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Colin, she drank the tea," Benedict said, slowly, looking at his brother.

Y/N frowned. "It is the same tea. Is it... not?"

Colin opened his mouth and then promptly closed it again. He turned to his sister. "How do you feel?"

"Fine. Brother, you are scaring me slightly."

"No, no, it is nothing to worry about," Colin replied quickly. "I think," he added quietly. "It is just that I gave Benedict this new tea I brought back from my travels and it has a certain... effect on an individual."

Y/N blinked. "Colin Bridgerton, did you just drug me?"

"No, no, no, I drugged Benedict."

"And inadvertently drugged me!" Y/N exclaimed. "Oh, my god, we have dinner with the Sharma's and Lady Danbury tonight. Colin, is there a way to reverse it?"

"Well, I assume throwing up would work, but I fear it might be too late," Colin replied, trying not to laugh.

"Colin, don't you dare laugh," Y/N snapped. "This is not funny!"

"Alright, both of you calm down," Benedict said, holding his hands out. "Y/N, you will be fine. Will keep an eye on you and stop you from making a fool of yourself."

"That does not reassure me in any way," she grumbled. "Fine. But do not tell Anthony or mama, I am embarrassed enough as it is."

"If they find out we shall simply blame Colin," Benedict told her, patting her hand sympathetically. "I blame Colin a lot, it makes my life easier."

"I am still in the room!" Colin exclaimed.

"Fine," Y/N grumbled. "But if I start going mad, please just knock me out or something."

High Y/N was not something Benedict nor Colin had been prepared for.

It had taken about twenty minutes for the drug to actually start working. At first, it had just been like she was a little tipsy. A stumble here, a giggle there. But then the tipsy turned to drunk and soon it became clear that Y/N was high as... well, a high person.

"Mother is going to kill us," Colin muttered, holding Y/N's arm tightly.

Benedict nodded. "As is Anthony," he added. "Why does this house have so many stairs?"

Y/N missed a step and both brothers lurched forward, catching her before she lost her balance entirely. Their younger sister just giggled, swaying happily between them.

"Benny, you have such pretty eyes," Y/N said, her voice unusually high-pitched. "Oh, look, that's gorgeous."

Y/N freed herself from her brothers and dashed down the final few steps, rushing over to a bronze statue. Benedict winced, fully expecting her to fall flat on her face as she jumped the last step, but Y/N kept her balance.

"Y/N, do not," Colin swooped over and took the statue from her, "touch the statue."

Y/N crossed her arms and looked grumpily at her brother. "You have gotten meaner since you came back."

Colin gaped at his sister. "Excuse you!"

"What, it's true! You are incredibly annoying!"

Y/N turned on her heel and flounced down the corridor, heading towards the dining room. Benedict took one look at his brother - who still looked incredibly offended - and snorted.

"Don't take it personally, brother," he said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Does she actually mean that?"

"Everyone means it."

Colin shot his brother a withering look. "Come on, before she breaks something."

Somehow, Benedict and Colin managed to arrange the seating so that Y/N was sat in between them, opposite Eloise and Miss Sharma - but far away from Anthony and Miss Edwina. They were both hoping it would minimise the chaos caused and mean that Anthony was none the wiser.

"Peas make me sad."

"What?" Colin asked, turning his head sharply to look at his sister. "Peas?"

Y/N nodded, gently prodding a pea with her fork. "They are such a sad vegetable. It must be quite lonely to be a pea."

Eloise stared at her twin across the table, utterly confunded. She looked at Benedict and Colin, reading their shared glance in an instant. "What did you two idiots do to her?" She whispered.

"We didn't do anything," Benedict whispered back. "She drank the wrong tea."

"Please explain," Eloise said, raising her eyebrows.

Benedict sighed. "Colin had this tea -"

"That makes you feel like you're floating on a piece of grass?" Kate cut in, keeping her voice quiet.

Colin blinked at her. "You know it?"

"I tried it once. I ended up floating on my back in a river because I thought I was flying."

Eloise turned from Kate. "You drugged my sister?"

"Our sister."

"At this moment in time she's mine," Eloise told him. "You two drugged her."

"We did not -"

"Miss Sharma, you look very beautiful tonight," Y/N said dreamily, resting her chin on her hand as she stared at Kate.

Kate pressed her lips together tightly, trying not to laugh. "Why thank you, Miss Y/N."

"I wish my brother would just admit he lo-"

Benedict leant over and clamped a hand over Y/N's mouth, drowning out the rest of her sentence. He knocked his knife off his plate and onto the floor, the noise temporarily silencing the dining room.

"Everything alright, Benedict?" Violet asked warily, glancing over at him.

"Fine, mother," Benedict replied, quickly letting go of Y/N. "I knocked my knife."

After a few more wary glances their way, everyone eventually went back to their conversations.

"Our dear sister evidently does not have a filter," Colin muttered, picking up Benedict's knife and handing it to him.

"I only hope dinner ends before she talks to Miss Edwina," Benedict replied, slapping Y/N's hand gently as she went for his potatoes. "Otherwise Anthony may murder us."

Luckily for both brothers, Y/N's dream-like state was beginning to wear off. Instead, they were faced with an overly-emotional Y/N whose body was trying to detox from a drug she'd never had before.

The rest of dinner passed uneventfully. Anthony made a speech which Y/N didn't so much as acknowledge - she was too busy staring mournfully into a candle - and then everyone excused themselves, almost all deciding to retire for the night.

"She looks so sad," Y/N said softly.

Benedict turned, seeing that his sister had stopped halfway up the stairs. "Who does?"

Y/N pointed up at a painting high up on the wall. "She looks so very sad."

Benedict looked up at Colin, who just shrugged. With a sigh, Benedict pivoted and jogged back down the stairs, standing next to his sister.

He looked up at the painting, one he hadn't necessarily realised was there before and squinted slightly. "I suppose so, yes."

"I always see her when I leave my room," Y/N continued, her voice small, "yet I never asked who she is." She looked up at her brother. "Is that what will happen to me?"

"What will?"

"I'll just be... forgotten about? No one will ask who I am when they look at my portrait?"

Benedict stumbled over his words for a moment. "I... Y/N, I don't think -"

"If you think about it, I suppose that's all we are," Y/N said quietly, her voice catching occasionally. She sat down on the steps and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her hands around her ankles. "All that is left of our father is a painting in the study."

And suddenly, the amusement of the night vanished. Benedict felt like the air had been sucked right out of him. He looked up at Colin and cursed quietly when he saw his brother had vanished.

"Y/N..." Benedict sighed, sitting down beside her. He clasped his hands together, glancing at the signet ring on his little finger. "Father is not just a painting. He is in this house, he's in all of us... he's in Anthony's infuriating pocket watch -"

"But the image of him is gone. All we have is an artist's impression that probably is not even that accurate," Y/N countered. "I know he is still here but I do not remember what he looks like. Because the painting is just that - a painting. Someone's depiction of him as Viscount Bridgerton. Not my dad."

Benedict closed his eyes. He had nothing to say to his sister because she was right - as always. Memories are fleeting and the mind can warp things in many different ways. How his sister remembered their father was possibly entirely different to how Benedict remembered him - how Anthony remembered him.

"I would like to go to bed now," Y/N said softly, lifting her head up and looking at Benedict.

"Of course."

Benedict stood up and held out a hand to Y/N, pulling her to her feet. They walked up the rest of the stairs, side by side, in silent company. Y/N only spoke once - and that was to utter a small night to Benedict as she headed to her bedroom.

Utterly stumped, Benedict exhaled slowly, putting his hands on his waist. He dropped his head, looking down at the floor.

"Where is she?"

"Well she was - oh."

"Oh?"

"Well, she was here!"

"Colin Bridgerton, I swear -"

Benedict leant over the bannisters. "What are you two doing?"

Anthony and Colin both looked up at him. Colin had evidently found Anthony in his study for his older brother was wearing nothing but his dress shirt and trousers, looking utterly exhausted with a slight hint of concern. Benedict stared at them expectantly.

"Where's Y/N?" Anthony asked, taking the stairs two at a time.

Benedict glanced at Colin. "Did you tell him -"

"Of course, he told me!" Anthony exclaimed, raising his voice only slightly, not wanting to wake the rest of the household up. "Y/N is his soft spot - of course, he buckled and told me. Where is she?"

Benedict nodded at the door behind him. "She went to bed. Anthony, I didn't say anything to bring it on -"

"No, it's fine. I've been expecting someone to have a moment about father whilst we're here - grief is unpredictable." Anthony wanted to add I would know but decided against it. "I had mine this morning."

"The grave?" Colin asked softly.

Anthony nodded tightly. "I am still incredibly pissed that you two drugged her."

"We didn't -"

"You were going to drug him," Anthony snapped, pointing at Colin and then at Benedict. "You, shush." He softened slightly, adding, "but thank you for looking after her."

Benedict gave him a tiny smile. "She's not asleep," he said, pointing at the door.

"I know, she's not."

Anthony brushed past his brother and knocked quietly on Y/N's door. He waited a few seconds before he opened it, stepping inside with gentle footsteps.

"They told you?"

His sister's voice was quiet. She was curled up on the top corner of her bed, hugging a pillow and looking out the window. Her dress was still on and she'd had a half-hearted attempt at taking her hair down. Anthony slowly walked over to her, perching himself on the edge of her bed.

"Colin has a soft spot for you."

Y/N smiled half-heartedly. She picked at the tassels on the corner of her pillow, looking out at the grounds. "I knew coming back here would be hard," she said quietly, "because it always is. I just did not expect this year to be so difficult. I suppose being high does not help."

Anthony nodded. He crossed his ankles, exhaling softly. "When we first returned here after... after the incident, it was incredibly difficult. His presence is still here - I can almost feel him watching me, sometimes."

"I went into your study earlier, looking for you," Y/N said quietly. "That's when I saw the portrait. I have seen it before - there's one back in London as well. But it just occurred to me that... it is simply a depiction of him. Of him as a viscount, not him as a father."

"I see." Anthony sighed. "That portrait looks down on me every single day of my life and I have studied it until my eyes went blurry. I sometimes look to it for advice - asking what would you do? But I know that it is not our father. It is simply Viscount Bridgerton. Our father smiled, for one."

Y/N ducked her head, smiling at that. Anthony pushed himself further back onto the bed and laid down next to her. Y/N rolled into his side, still hugging the pillow.

"I remember when Daphne first began to learn the pianoforte," Anthony continued, his hand absently tracing circles on Y/N's arm, "he used to dance around the room with you. He would lift you up and let you put your feet on top of his shoes and then you would do a waltz around the room together."

Y/N closed her eyes, a few tears escaping down onto her cheeks. "I wish I had something, so I knew what he looked like in those moments."

Anthony reached down to his waistcoat and pulled his father's watch out. He grabbed Y/N's hand and gently placed the object in her palm, folding her fingers over it.

"I carry this with me everywhere I go. It reminds me of him and it reminds me that he is still here - in the little things we all do. He had this on him every day of his life, up until he died. So, whilst it is not a painting, it is still something of him when he was our father."

Y/N rubbed her thumb along the back of it where EB was engraved. She sniffed softly, carefully dabbing under eyes. "Thank you. For this and for not getting mad at me for being high."

Anthony let out a breath of laughter, resting his chin on top of his sister's head. "Technically, you were not to blame for that."

"I thought the tea tasted weird."

He laughed, pressing a kiss to her hair. "You should get some sleep," he said, preparing to move.

Y/N grabbed his wrist. "Can you stay? If you are busy, you do not -"

"Of course, I will stay," Anthony said firmly, lying back down. Y/N smiled tiredly at him and his heart ached as he caught a glimpse of eleven-year-old Y/N, clinging on to him when he returned back after being away.

"You are the best brother," Y/N told him, reaching down and pulling her duvet up and over them both.

"Well, I am the only one who did not get you high."

"Gregory had no involvement but I am sure if he had been old enough, he would have been the instigator."

"Oh, of course, he would. You know, Greg actually shares father's love of pranks."

Y/N lifted her head, looking at Anthony. "Really?"

"Mmhm. He once put glue, in Benedict's shoes. Benedict was furious, naturally..."

Anthony proceed to tell Y/N all the stories he could of their father until her eyes could stay open no more and his voice was hoarse. He knew he was never going to be his father - but he hoped that he was close enough.

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton sister #bridgerton!sis #bridgerton sis #bridgerton x platonic!reader #platonic #bridgerton platonic #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader

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thethreeeyed-raven · 7 months

Text

first meeting

make me feel masterlist

navigation | warnings : none? | dream of the endless playlist | tags : @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom , @knight-of-flowerss , @fangsp1der-2099

“Miss Y/n!”

One of your maids entered your bedroom and had drawn the curtains. You sat up tiredly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and shielding them from the bright sun when you opened them to look at the woman.

“Yes, Prudence?” You asked her groggily.

She gave you a small smile, placing the fresh clean clothes she had folded in her arm on the chair in front of your dresser. “Your mother wants you downstairs as soon as you're ready. Your sister, the Duchess, is here for a visit.”

You sighed, already knowing what the visit was for.

“Finally! The diamond is awake!” Violet beamed with glee, taking your hands in hers and leading you to sit next to Daphne.

“Mama, I’ve just opened my eyes.”

Violet shook her head. “No my dear, you should be excited. You're the diamond of the season!”

“Unfortunately.” You whispered under your breath, causing you to receive a whack on the arm from Daphne.

“You know, I actually quite enjoyed my time as the season’s diamond, it was wonderful!” She exclaimed cheerfully.

You rolled your eyes with exasperation. “Yes, only because you got a loving husband out of it.”

“And so will you,” Daphne took your hands in hers, squeezing them with reassurance. “You just have to try.”

But I don’t want to get married…

Morpheus awoke with a light knock on the door.

If it was any other time, he wouldn’t have heard it. But he had been awake for hours. He hadn’t slept properly in a few days, only getting a couple of hours in.

“My lord?” He heard one of his most trusted maids say through the door.

“Yes, Lucienne?” He said exhaustedly.

“Your sister, Death, is here. Would you like me to tell her-”

Morpheus cut her off, suddenly wide awake now. “No. Tell her I shall be only a few moments.”

He rose from the bed, changing into a white dress shirt, and a pair of black trousers. The shirt was half buttoned because he couldn’t be bothered.

“Death.”

Death rose from her seat on the plush black couch, giving her dear brother a smile. “Dream, I have been waiting for you.”

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.” Morpheus suddenly felt guilty.

She embraced him in a tight hug before sitting back down, patting the space next to her.

“It’s been too long my dear brother, how have you been?”

Morpheus sighed, he hated having to tell people things about him. “Okay, I suppose.”

Death frowned, but shrugged it off. “So, I saw you the other night at the announcement ball. You were talking with the Viscount Bridgerton.”

“Indeed I was, though I did not notice you there. Were you lurking in the shadows?”

He smirked and Death chuckled. “Like you wish you were doing?”

They both shook their heads and the laughter ceased.

“Talking of the Bridgertons, one of their ladies has yet again been named the Diamond of the Season.” Death tilted her head. “Have you spoken to her yet? You are good friends with her brother.”

“Anthony and I are simply good acquaintances, I don’t-”

“Do friends.” Death shook her head and rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. “But perhaps you should put yourself out there, maybe try and catch Miss Bridgerton’s attention.”

“I don’t want to catch anyone's attention. I’m fine as I am, alone.”

You had decided that balls and galas were now the bane of your existence.

Anthony stood off to the side with Kate, Daphne and Simon. All of them watching as you would be bombarded with men asking for a dance, or asking if you wanted a drink.

“No thank you.” You rejected once again.

You walked up the the four with an angry look. “Could you please do something about these animals? They won’t leave me alone!”

“Well you are the seasons diamond, men are going to be throwing themselves at your feet.” Kate responded sympathetically.

“Well can they throw themselves out of the window instead?!” You whisper-shouted.

Anthony have you a pointed look, getting ready to scold you until Simon interrupted him.

“Ah look who it is! Lord Morpheus.” Simon reached in for a handshake.

Morpheus reciprocated. “Good evening gentlemen, Duchess, Viscountess, and the splendid Diamond. You haven’t happened to have seen my sister have you?”

Anthony shook his head. “We haven’t, why do you ask?”

Morpheus sighed and leaned in a bit so no one else but your little group could hear. “She’s saying I need to get myself on the market, she’s been watching me all night.”

The whole time he spoke you couldn’t stop looking at him. You watched the way his jawline move as he uttered secret words and the way his eyes shone slightly in amusement.

You swallowed nervously, hoping no one else noticed your ogling, but of course, Kate and Daphne notice everything.

“Well Miss Diamond of the Season here was just saying how she would like all of the men to throw themselves out of the window instead of at her feet.” Kate chuckled slightly.

Your cheeks reddened when Morpheus turned to look at you. And then you gave him a sheepish smile.

He huffed in amusement at the remark, flashing you a smirk. “I can’t say you’re wrong.”

Why did you like the way his voice sounded? Why was he holding eye contact so intensely with you?

“My dear guests.”

Once again, the interaction was cut short by another one of the Queen’s speeches.

“As you know, this is a ball to celebrate the Diamond of the Season.”

All eyes diverted to you for a few seconds before their attention went back to the Queen.

“So today, I have decided that the Diamond shall have a dance.”

Your eyes widened and Anthony laughed under his breath.

“I’m glad you find my suffering funny brother.” You glared at him from the corner of your eye.

“Come to the centre please, Miss Bridgerton.” The Queen beckoned you with her order and her hand.

You slowly made your way to the centre of the ballroom.

“The Diamond shall have a dance to celebrate their achievement, and they shall have their own choice of man to share this dance with.”

The Queen stood confidently with a smile, waiting impatiently for you to choose.

You looked desperately towards Anthony and your eyes frantically looked around the room.

You didn’t want to dance with any of these men, in fact you didn’t want to dance at all!

Morpheus’ eyes danced around the room, finding his sister.

Death looked at him and then nodded in your direction, clearly telling him that he should make himself known.

He simply looked away trying to ignore her, when his eyes locked with yours.

You raised your brows, silently asking him if you could dance with him.

He nodded once, letting you know that it was okay.

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and stalked towards Morpheus apprehensively.

“Might I share a dance with you my lord?”

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queenie-official · 5 months

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Chapter Four: ‘The Groom To Be’ Bridgerton Au!Anakin

part 1, 2, 3

a/n: hey guys 🤭 so as per usual the pictures used all correlate to the story so do keep that in mind while reading🥰 Also Thank you so much for 200+ followers i love you all 💋💋 Hope you enjoy this chapter loves🫶🏼

To your delight or rather relief you’ve been told that Anakin would be joining you in the castle a day before the wedding along with his mother and brother. the royal council deemed it necessary so that they could ensure everything went smoothly and the possibility of the groom not arriving on time would be one less worry. unfortunately you had received this news from Barclay right before you were about to head to sleep. so now you find yourself on your balcony staring off into the night sky unable to sleep. thoughts of what’s to come plaguing your mind, fighting the urge to pace around- a typical nervous habit of yours- when a soft voice came from behind you. “your majesty you should sleep”

“i would if i could Eleanora but my thoughts betray me” you say with a sigh, not bothering to turn around. instead you kept your gaze on the moon as the cool night breeze blew over your face. “shall i make you some tea to help calm you?” she suggested as you leaned against the railing, resting your head in your palm. “tea would be nice but i am quite alright” you answer airily.

“very well” she replies but does not leave, instead standing still in the doorway behind you. finally you turn to acknowledge her properly “shouldn’t you be sleeping?” you ask curiously, seeing her with night garments of her own on. “i find it hard to sleep when you cannot your majesty. i worry for you” she says with knitted brows, concern written all over her. you felt bad for causing her worry. “i promise i am fine. i just cannot seem to rest knowing that he will be here again in the morning, this time i properly have a chance to speak with him and yet i haven’t a clue what i should say.” you vent, walking into your room and allowing Eleanora to close the doors to the balcony behind you as you sit on your bed to speak with her. “a simple greeting is always a good start, considering you didn’t last time.”

“that’s because i hadn’t been given the chance” you said a bit defeatedly. “you could try now” simple and true but for some reason it didn’t seem so easy to you. “i find it strange how much i want to talk to him, maybe im just curious as to what his voice sounds like” you wonder out loud, fiddling with the lace curtains attached to your bed frame. “it sounds perfectly reasonable to me, you want to get to know him he is going to be your husband after all.” you sigh whilst letting yourself fall back onto your bed, laying with your legs hanging over the edge. “i can only hope he wishes to get to know me too, but if his silence is anything to answer i fear he may not.”

“perhaps he’s just shy” she suggests and the idea makes your nose wrinkle. you hadn’t known many princes to be shy, most of them had egos too high for that to be a possibility. “i suppose that is a perfectly reasonable explanation, but what good is a shy king?”

“won’t that be easier for you then your majesty?” you turn your head too look over to her, she’d sat down at the ottoman in front of your bed so that she could be closer while you voiced your thoughts to her. “how so?” you ask with a raised brow, unsure how him being shy could possibly be a good thing.

“well there won’t be much of a power struggle between the two of you” she says and the statement made you laugh. she wasn’t wrong and you weren’t laughing at what she said specifically, but you where laughing at the mere idea of a power struggle happening. “there would not be a power struggle regardless, i get enough of being told what to do by the men in the royal council. i shall not allow that in my marriage” you state firmly once your laughter dies down, a small smile on your face as you spoke.

“of course your majesty” she says in response, a similar smile mirrored onto her face. “i think i will have that cup of tea Eleanora” you say softly, sitting up and moving to sit against your pillows.“yes your majesty” she responded, happy to be of help and to see you in a lighter mood.

the sun was shining brightly in the sky as you waited rather impatiently for the carriage to arrive. the only thing stopping you from pacing in a circle was Padme on your left and Eleanora on your right, so instead you walked up and down the length of the castle hallways. they where supposed to arrive already, late by over an hour now. the idea they might not show at all has crossed over your mind multiple times now but both girls beside you where quick to shut that down each time you brought it up. of course they where right but if that is the case then what possibly could cause such a long delay.

“y/n we really need to work on some different coping skills” padme said sounding quite winded as she did. the poor girls where practically jogging to keep up with your fast pace. "yes or at the very least you ought to get a slower walking speed" Eleanora added quickly, struggling to catch her breath as well. "sorry" you say and pause your actions allowing the two girls to catch up to you. “i don’t know why i’m so worried, it would be perfectly understandable for them to arrive late. it’s not like our kingdoms are close.” you didn’t realize how quickly you rushed those sentences out of your mouth until you saw the look on Eleanora’s face. thankfully Padme seemed to understand what you said, probably used to deciphering sentences from her own children. “exactly so let’s take a deep breath and calm down, if anything this is exactly why they are coming a day early. no need to work up a sweat over this” She says softly, a gentle hand resting on your shoulder to help ground you.

“Ah your majesty there you are, the carriage has arrived” a breath of relief exited you at Barclay’s proclamation. “thank you for letting me know i’ll be down in just a moment” Barclay nods at your response and heads back down the hall probably to go greet your guests and properly invite them in. you turn back to the girls and Padme gives you a soft smile. “i’m guessing that’s my cue to leave” she says with a laugh and you give her a hug silently thanking her for always being here for you. as you pull away she gives you one more look that says you’ve got this before she leaves through the gardens again. “i’ll busy myself in the library your majesty” Eleanora adds so that you don’t have to worry about her, she gives you a smile of her own as well before heading off.

Taking a deep breath you turn to look into one of the mirror panes in the hallway, making sure you hadn’t messed up your hair. flattening your hands along your dress to smooth out wrinkles as well as rid the sweat from your palms. today you where going to make it your mission to talk to Anakin- even if he was reluctant to speak with you or even look at you. turning on your heel you walk down the hallway at a reasonable pace as you mentally prepare yourself for however the next couple interactions go.

as soon as you entered the room they where waiting for you in, you immediately greeted them with warm smiles. only something was different this time. instead of the side of a tan face you where met with the last time you where in a room with Anakin you where instead met with the beautiful pair of blue eyes you had only caught a glimpse of, the sight made your stomach swirl.

forcing yourself to tear away from his eyes as you walked up to them, you look at who you presumed was his mother. “your majesty a pleasure to meet you” you gave the queen a low bow, in terms of status she outranked you. so it only seemed right to bow properly before her.

“a pleasure to meet you as well your highness” she says with a soft smile giving you a quick bow as well. “you’ve already met my sons” she says with a gesture towards them and you nod before greeting them. “yes it’s good to see you both again” both boys give you a nod in turn but only Obi-Wan speaks “thank you for having us” you smile politely but you can’t help but wonder why Anakin still refused to speak. at least he was looking at you this time, that’s progress.

“it is still early and im sure you all are hungry, i’ll have Barclay here lead you all to the dining room” both the queen and Obi-Wan seemed pleased with that suggestion and happily nodded, the only person who didn’t give you any indication of what they where thinking was once again Anakin. it was beginning to frustrate you, why wouldn’t he speak to you. Mad or not you’d rather him talk to you and tell you off then stay in silence.

“feel free to make yourselves at home” is what you said instead of voicing your thoughts, making sure to keep up the happy facade until they all left with Barclay. you did not let this falter you though, growing more determined to get him to talk or at the very least to find out why he wouldn’t speak to begin with. maybe he had an impediment, you wouldn’t judge him for it- in fact when you where younger you had quite the difficulty saying words with the letter R and sometimes you swore it came back whenever you where extremely nervous.

pushing your thoughts aside you decided to busy yourself with some work, so off to your study you went.

it had been a few hours since you’d last seen them all and you’d finished most of the work you needed to do for the day, according to Barclay Obi-Wan went to the library to read and the queen went to the room she’d be staying in for some much needed rest after the long carriage ride. as for Anakin well he wasn’t quite sure where he’d run off too, so you had taken it upon yourself to find him. this was the perfect moment to get him to talk.

the only problem was where ever he had disappeared to had made him next to impossible to find. you’d spent the last 15 minutes searching for him before you almost gave up.

sighing as you looked outside a window is when you saw him- or at least what you could only assume was him. quickly picking up your skirt so you didn’t trip, you sped through the castle to get to the side exit closest to where you had seen him.

sure enough there he was, sitting upon a half wall and resting against a pillar with his eyes closed peacefully. you slowed your pace as you approached him, trying to seem as casual as possible. “you seem comfortable.” you watch as he peaks an eye open to look at you before he answers. “i believe you said we could make ourselves at home.” he closed his eyes again right after he finished speaking. you couldn’t help but smile brightly once you realized he actually spoke though. “ah so he speaks” you say jokingly but it definitely came off more as a revelation.

“of course i do” he said now opening both of his eyes to look and address you properly, clearly realizing you weren’t going to leave him be anytime soon. “well i’ve yet to hear you say a thing up until now” you defend yourself, feeling like what you’d said was justified. “did you need to hear me speak?” he asks and that question confuses you. of course you didn’t need to hear him speak, but why would you not want to.

“i suppose not… is there a reason you didn’t” you ask curiously. “yes” he responds, and you nod waiting for him to continue but he doesn’t. you shift slightly in your spot as the silence continues before realizing you’d have to press further if you wanted a answer out of him. “will you tell me the reason?”

“if you wish to know” you resist the urge to roll your eyes at that response, so this is how it was going to be. “if i didn’t, i wouldn’t have said anything at all” you point out the obvious. “it was a choice i made to annoy my brother” he stated simply. the bluntness of it throwing you off for a moment. “what?” he smiles slightly at the question and your reaction, was he just teasing you? “on the first carriage ride here i was given a firm lecture on how i was to say and do nothing so that everything would go smoothly.” he says and although you got a proper answer this time you couldn’t help but raise a brow in concern. “should i worry why you speaking would cause things to not go smoothly?”

“not at all” he said with another smile, he was definitely pulling your leg. “not very reassuring” he simply shrugs at your statement. “so the reason you did not speak to me was out of spite for your brother?” you ask again to reconfirm his answer. “that is what i said yes” he crossed his arms as he spoke, leaning back against the pillar again as he waited for your response. you roll your eyes and think over that fact. okay so he was a petty person, that could go either way considering you’re also quite petty.

“but why didn’t you look at me” you ask curiously, being petty and refusing to speak was one thing but not even acknowledging your existence was another. “i’ve been told my stare can be quite intense” that certainly wasn’t the answer you had expected. “i don’t understand you.” he gives you another shrug.

“you’re really casual about all of this” you opt for a change of conversation. “what do you mean?” he says whilst he shifts so that he’s sitting with his legs hanging over the wall and his body facing you. “i mean about this whole marriage situation, you don’t seem mad or even scared”

“should i be?” he asks with a tilt of his head. “you aren’t scared to marry me?” you ask incredulously. “i’m getting the feeling you want me to be”

“i’m a stranger” you point out to him, how could he not be scared of marrying a complete stranger. “are you scared of marrying me?” you blink a few times not having expected him to throw the question back at you.

“how could i not be, i don’t know you” he seems to ponder over your answer for a brief moment. “so we’re both strangers that means we have common ground” he answers with another shrug. what was going on? had you been overthinking this situation entirely, or maybe he just wasn’t as easily distraught about his entire life being changed practically overnight- neither of these seemed like the correct conclusion.

“i’m confused” he raised a brow at that. “i feel im being very straightforward” you scoff once again resisting the urge to roll your eyes at his statement “this conversation is going nowhere”

“where would you like it do go?” he asks you and you aren’t quite sure what to say to that so you shift the conversation again. “i prefer someone to speak their mind to me.” he’s nods in acknowledgment but remains silent again looking off to the side like he was thinking something over.

you look him over again in this moment of silence taking note of the clothes he was wearing- they where a little over casual for a prince especially compared to what his mother and brother had been wearing, he could of been easily mistaken as a stablehand. “you know to be a king you are to dress the part” you say boldly and watch as he looks back over to you. “i prefer comfort over luxury” he retorts. “most people would consider luxury comfort” he laughs at your response and it made your face flush slightly, unsure why he was laughing until he calmed down and spoke again. “let me ask you then, is that corset you’re wearing comfortable?” alright fair point on his end but it’s not like he had to wear a corset.

“if the people saw you they’d think i’m marrying someone of poverty. it would be a scandal” he rolled his eyes at that- you weren’t being completely serious mostly just wanting to see if you could get a reaction out of him the same way he had been doing to you, having to resist the urge to smile when it worked.

“everything leads to scandals.” you snort a laugh and you could of sworn you saw a smile form on his lips again when you did. he wasn't wrong though just about everything did lead to a scandal. “you cannot be seen in public dressed like that.” you add still wanting to tease him.

“good thing the public is not here then” you smile, he was funny. “fair enough” was all you could think to say and he chuckled “that’s all you got then?”

“for now anyways, yes” you look back over to the castle deciding you should probably speak with the other two guests as well. “i’ll let you get back to what you where doing before i got here” he nods in response and you begin to walk away only to stop a few moments later by the sound of his boots hitting the ground and jogging over to you “wait i have something for you.” you turn towards him tilting your head to the side unsure what he could possibly have to give you “i’m sorry?”

“a gift” he says and holds up a small box in his hand, holding your hand out he gently places the box into your palm. “what is this?” you tilt the box to the side trying to see if you’d hear something move around. “open it” and so you did just that, gently pulling the box open to reveal a silver ring with beautiful tiny flower details on it and a big yellow diamond on the center that glimmered beautifully in the sunlight. “my mother suggested i get you an engagement ring to make it seem like we’ve known each other longer and love each other to the public eye” you carefully pull the ring out handing him back the box and placing it on your left ring finger. holding your hand out to look at it on you, it truly was pretty.

“clever idea… i’ve never seen a yellow diamond before” you look up into his eyes not surprised to see him staring down at you, having felt him watch over your entire reaction. “they’re quite rare most places but in Tatooine they are common.”

“thank you” you smile at him, there was definitely worse people you could of been forced to marry and so far Anakin seemed like the lucky straw to pull. you could definitely work with this.

part 5

Tag List: @luvvfromme @bimbo-baggins86 @gatekeepingirlboss

ima tell you guys this now cuz i want you to pick up on the change but pay attention to how reader copes with anxiety and stress now just for future reference 🌝🌝 anyways next chapter is going to be the wedding and ball (because is it really bridgerton without a extravagant ball?) hope you huns enjoyed this chapter Xx<3 🤭

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