#Benedict Bridgerton angst

[rafeyswrd]

HER ROYAL HIGHNESS

benedict bridgerton x princess (poc) reader

prologue.

After a series of agonising years of begging her mother to be let out into society — as a commoner would, equally putting her as the diamond of the season, the queen has finally, yet hesitantly agreed. Though with a single condition;

Sponsor the upcoming season. SUCCESSFULLY.

It was proven to be a challenge when her faith was put into the hands of the eldest bridgerton, whom was stubborn beyond belief. And it was only with the help of the second eldest that the princess might accomplish her goal.

However, getting Anthony to be married seemed to be less of a struggle in comparison to the hardship soon to occur with Benedict. Whose eyes never seem to leave her own.

OVERALL WARNING. smut!! (and lots of implied sex & talk), age gap (almost 8 years), toxic family, mentions of mental health issues, classism, abuse of power, mean ish lady danbury (i had to okay), alcohol consumption, misogyny, miscommunication, slowwww burn.

GENRE. fluff, angst, smut. a slight Rapunzel retelling, set in season 2–3 with mentions of season 1.

AUTHORS NOTE. ahhh!! i’m so excited for this, i’ve had this idea since i rewatched season 2 of bridgerton and read a one shot on here about princess reader, and it has not left my mind since. it takes place in season 2 and will have snippets of season 3. please feel free to leave suggestions of what you’d like to see xx

also!! i’ll finish your requests in my inbox soon i promise, this’ll probs make me go back to wp lol

[leviathanspain]

selfish

anthony bridgerton x reader

synopsis: it’s your first morning at home in bridgerton house as the viscountess- only thing is, your husband’s selfish

you trembled under his grip, his mouth was still working hard, your orgasm coming over you in waves as you tried to escape his grip. you shivered with pleasure, thighs squeezing his head between them. “oh my-“ you cried, struggling to keep quiet.

the honeymoon was over, no longer could you scream your viscount’s name all over the room, until your throat grew raw of it. you had a bustling family under the same roof, even so, his mother.

you shuddered slowly and anthony let go of your legs. he smiled proudly as he leaned to kiss you. you melted into his kiss, grasping at his hair.

anthony bit your lip as he tossed himself next to you. you were sitting up, and still reeling from the pleasure, “i have been trying to get up and ready for the day for what feels like forever now, and you do not let me.” you looked at your husband, his smile not going away, only as he shrugged, “i want you all to myself. my siblings will just talk your ear off and i will be drowning in paperwork.” which you knew was true. anthony was the most reluctant to get back to his viscount duties.

you on the other hand, still marveled at the idea of having to run the household, but felt immense pressure to live up to the dowager bridgerton. violet was everything you admired in a mother, present and kind, wanting her children’s happiness before all else.

anthony had told you that there was no legacy to live up to, but he did not see things the way you did.

he pulled you in close, “my mother is still here. let her run the household, even if it is for a little bit longer.” he kissed your cheek, still trying to keep you in bed. you sighed, “all you want to do is stay in bed, lord bridgerton. you need to get out of this bed, and be productive with me.” the paperwork stack was to the ceiling at this point, and he could not avoid it much longer.

anthony looked at you, “we can do many things within this room that are productive.” you shrugged at him, “the thought is lost on me, what do you suggest?”

anthony grabbed your hand gently, holding it in his, “such as making an heir, as married people do.” the thought had not even occurred to you, especially so early in the morning. you looked at your husband, smiling at that thought. you blushed as anthony chuckled, “do not tell me that did not cross your mind?” he cocked his head and you shyed away, “i have been stressed all night about the viscountess duties, forgive me if it slipped my mind.” you rolled over, legs now entangled in his and you on his chest.

you kissed him, and anthony smirked, “it is a viscountess duty.”

giving up, you decided to extend the honeymoon with anthony, not yet ready to take up the full responsibility, anthony could be selfish.

[labrunereve]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝔅𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔠𝔱 𝔅𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔤𝔢𝔯𝔱𝔬𝔫 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ⋆·˚ ༘ *

💯 super great fic║⭐️ chef’s kiss

𓆤 Paint With Me by @magpiencrow

Summary: It turns out multiple stages of a relationship can be forged over art.

𓆤 It is Just Tea by @leahsficemporium ⭐️

Summary: You drink some of Benedict’s special tea and now Benedict must take care of you until the effects wear off. With such a tea in your system, you can’t help but bring up some truths you’ve been hiding and Benedict is right there to comfort you.

𓆤 Benedict Bridgerton and Marriage by @iliveiloveiwrite 💯

Summary: Daily life headcanon having Benedict Bridgerton as your husband.

𓆤 A Love Story by @notmysunnydale

Summary: Benedict finds Y/N in the library, hiding from the party occurring just outside.

𓆤 8.05 p.m. by @magicalxdaydream

Summary: Benedict is amazed when you arrive at a ball.

𓆤 365 Days of You by @promenadewithme ⭐️

Summary: It’s the reader’s birthday, and Benedict decides to give her the most romantic present of all.

𓆤 This and the Next by @iliveiloveiwrite

Summary: Benedict hasn’t painted a thing in two weeks. He’s beginning to think he won’t paint again, but a Smythe-Smith musicale and the reminder of your love has him once again reaching for his brushes.

𓆤 My Heart, My Future by @make-me-imagine 💯

Summary: Benedict prepares a splendid surprise for the reader, one that requires him taking out a special box.

𓆤 High by @thebadgerclan ⭐️

Summary: Your husband comes down from Colin’s tea…

𓆤 Muse of Mine by @murswrites

Summary: You’re his muse and therefore his favorite thing to paint.

𓆤 A Melodic Language by @writeroutoftime

Summary: After a fight, Benedict tries to connect with you once more through music.

𓆤 A Lovely Sight by @writeroutoftime ⭐️

Summary: On a sunny, spring day, Benedict can’t help but capture the lovely sight before him.

𓆤 Back to Bed by @mrsbbridgerton 💯

Summary: Your husband pulls you back to bed, straight into his chest.

𓆤 As a Kite by @saintlike78 ⭐️

Summary: A stressed artist and “travellers powder” - a quite amusing mix, but not during family dinner.

𓆤 A Bet Between Lovers by @saintlike78 ⭐️

Summary: You believe that Daphne and the duke will be engaged before the end of the season… your husband on the other hand does not - why not bet on it?

𓆤 Hands by @ijustwant2write ⭐️

Summary: Hands are every artists worst nightmare, it’s always best to have a real model for help.

𓆤 Beloved Countryside by @alcottsangel

Summary: Benedict and Y/N enjoy their family life in the countryside.

𓆤 Painter’s Muse by @libraryofloveletters ⭐️

Summary: Benedict finally found the perfect muse for his painting.

𓆤 A Fitting Distraction by @benedictscanvas

Summary: In which a game of pall-mall is afoot and you and your husband, Benedict, engage in a bit of harmless spying on your brother-in-law.

𓆤 Best Behaviour by @dragon-baron

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton is oblivious when it comes up to his own feelings.

𓆤 Lullaby by @fanaticalfantasist 💯

Summary: Benedict spends the day with his children while reader hangs out with the ladies.

𓆤 Helen of Troy by @sometimesiwritesstuff ⭐️

Summary: Y/N has habit of scaring possible suitors away but maybe Benedict could be one that stays.

𓆤 An Evening in the Clouds by @justdaydreamsandimagines

Summary: Benedict falls in love at first sight with the reader.

𓆤 And Now I See Daylight by @wonderlandprose ⭐️

Summary: Benedict seemed to completely change his view on love after meeting the reader.

𓆤 A Secret Skill by @fanaticalfantasist 💯

Summary: Reader’s frustrated on Benedict, but that led to some shocking revelations about her skill on a particular sport.

𓆤 Word on the Street is… by @writers-hes 💯

Summary: Word on the street is that after years of seclusion from The Ton, you were back and a certain Bridgerton had his eyes on you.

𓆤 Midnight Dances by @gryffindors-weasley ⭐️

Summary: Upon your first week settling into your estate as a newlywed couple, you share a moment alone.

𓆤 Late Nights, Early Mornings by @gryffindors-weasley

Summary: When you can’t sleep, Benedict will always be there.

𓆤 She’s a Lady by @anthonysharmaa 💯

Summary: Y/N isn’t considered a proper ‘lady’ by members of the ton yet one Benedict Bridgerton would disagree with them all. Even if she did swoon into his arms.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @starryeyedstories

Summary: Family and friends constantly point out how compatible you are with Benedict Bridgerton.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @starryeyedstories 💯

Summary: Benedict as a papa. Imagine how fluffy it would be!

𓆤 A Tale of Two Proposals by @starryeyedstories 💯

Summary: After a few months of courting, Benedict has a question for you.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @starryeyedstories ⭐️

Summary: When Benedict feels like everything’s going wrong with his art, maybe all he needs is a kiss from the reader.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @starryeyedstories ⭐️

Summary: Accidentally bumping noses with Benedict when you’re about to kiss.

𓆤 Young Love by @bennybr1dge

Summary: You and Benedict have loved each other from a very early age. Having grown up around each other. However, both of you are silly and don’t say anything to one another for years.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @iliveiloveiwrite

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton and the shift from friends to lovers.

𓆤 Start Again by @iliveiloveiwrite

Summary: Benedict never knew he could be jealous of his brother, until it comes to you.

𓆤 Deception by @heloisedaphnebrightmore ⭐️

Summary: Violet’s constant search for a wife for her second eldest son has become too much for Benedict. The only escape he sees is to ask you to pretend to be courting each other. But how long will it work for with your feelings eating you up from the inside.

𓆤 Wrong Conclusion by @regencyslxt

Summary: Imagine reconnecting with Benedict after a less than easy split.

𓆤 Behind the Bushes by @shelby-love

Summary: After an evenful nightly escapade in which you and Benedict were the main characters, you find yourself letting him in on your deepest passion. Confused with feelings you never thought you would experience, all it takes for them to set loose is a simple drawing. But the fear of them being one-sided was ever present too.

𓆤 Forgive Me by @benedictscanvas

Summary: In which you think Benedict doesn’t like the idea of you marrying but really he doesn’t like the idea of you marrying anyone else.

𓆤 I Wonder What It’s Like to Be Loved by You by @iliveiloveiwrite ⭐️

Summary: You’ve loved him for as long as you can remember. Is this the season where he finally realises?

𓆤 My Whole World by @wonderlandprose ⭐️

Summary: Benedict rushes home after he got the letter that his son is ill.

𓆤 Fainted by @alcottsangel 💯

Summary: Y/N faints at a ball at Aubrey Hall, leaving Benedict to fear loosing the love of his life.

𓆤 Jealousy, Jealousy by @scandalous-chaos ⭐️

Summary: Lady Whistledown’s newest drama was her theory about how Y/N and Anthony were dating, and a certain Bridgerton brother starts to get pulled into a rabbit hole of investigation. Mostly to cover up how he was jealous.

𓆤 Faithfulness and Inhibitions by @writers-hes ⭐️

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton showed you the world that he kept hidden and feelings of worry ensue.

𓆤 Fear by @fact-fictionx ⭐️

Summary: Benedict and the reader has always been close, but he couldn’t get the courage to tell her how he felt about her… until it’s finally time for her to find a husband.

𓆤 Foolish by @make-me-imagine ⭐️

Summary: The reader is Benedict’s best friend and is in love with him. When her cousin comes to London and Benedict starts courting her, the reader was left heartbroken.

𓆤 Untold Truths by @itsmercurial 💯

Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged that there is a perfectly curated image that men and women of the 1800s display to attract suitable matches. One would think that the highly honorable Bridgertons do not fall prey or become predators to this dishonesty… A visit to a certain modiste proves otherwise.

𓆤 Ties That Cut by @writers-hes ⭐️

Summary: The Bridgertons are great friends of your family and you find yourself particularly close to the artist. While your ties with Benedict Bridgerton has proven to be one of the things you and Benedict treasure the most, your fear of the unknown has only resulted to more pain and pining. As you traverse through adulthood, you found yourself growing together and then, growing apart.

[eufezco]

THE MUSE

Benedict needs to practice female form. Naked female form. And who better to help him than his lifelong friend?

Benedict x fem!reader (smut with plot, friends to lovers) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!)

Benedict didn't know how to ask you.

You had been friends for a long time, your families were practically one. Always so united, your mamas took walks every afternoon, gossiping about the ton and your fathers had been friends since childhood. You and Benedict were bound to meet.

You and he grew up together. You were friends with his siblings, you had held sleepovers with his sisters and won cricket matches against his brothers. Lady Violet Bridgerton loved you like a daughter and your mother loved Benedict like a son.

But your friendship with him had always been special.

When you were twelve, you ran away together to camp on the riverbank, just because Benedict wanted to draw the moon reflecting in the water at night. The following year, despite the scolding you received for your river adventure, you and Benedict sneaked onto private land just to pluck a few petals from the summer sunflowers to get him the perfect shade of yellow.

You and Benedict were very close. Of course, there had always been rumors about what kind of relationship you two had and that Lady Whistledown had only added more fuel to the fire writing about you two in her pamphlets. You and him never cared about that, and neither your families but it was true that you two have had to face some uncomfortable conversations with them about it.

That's why Benedict didn't know how to ask you. You had a lot of trust in each other, you had always supported his artistic vocation but perhaps this was too much.

—Oh, thank God you've come. I am in need of a model —. It was the first thing Benedict said to you when you entered his studio. The maid closed the door behind you, leaving you alone with him. Thank goodness the Bridgertons' service was very discreet, if anyone found out that you and him were alone in a room it would cause quite a scandal.

—Good evening to you too, Benedict.

—My apologies. Good evening —. He leaned to kiss your cheek.— I need a model —. He let you know one more time.

—How have you been? Very stressed from what I can tell —. You tried to have a normal conversation with him before you paid attention to what he required.

—Indeed.

You sighed. —Well, what is it? I thought we were going for a walk.

He nodded. —We can go outside later. But I need to get this done by tomorrow and I feel like I'm losing my mind.

—And...?

—I need practice female form.

You slowly nodded. You were aware that Benedict had been recently attending this art academy, you were happy that he was finally able to pursue his passion and you couldn't deny that within the characteristic desperation of the artists, he looked very attractive. Benedict's hair was a mess, his white shirt was half-open, his sleeves were rolled up. He would never have allowed himself be seen in society like that and you were grateful because otherwise he would have all the girls after him.

—And you want me to...?

—Pose for me.

You weren't quite sure how to do it but it seemed easy and fun. All the times he had drawn you, he had done it when you were distracted, reading, having tea with his sisters... The pencil moved effortlessly across the paper when he saw you laughing with Daphne or playing with the cards that Colin had brought back from his trip to Spain. He was already too embarrassed to admit each time he drew you and Anthony teased him by saying that if he didn't propose to you, he would show you his drawings, and Benedict's heart skipped a beat because he knew that his older brother was not known for being a joker.

Benedict still didn't know how he was going to ask you, maybe it was better to just let it out.

—And what shall I do? Just stand here? Like this? —You laughed and made a dramatic pose like the ones you saw in the paintings in the gallery you visited together.

—I need you to ...

Benedict swallowed nervously. He looked down at your dress and then directly into your eyes. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to finish. You also looked at your dress to see if there was something wrong with it.

—Benedict I don't think I understand what you are trying to say—

—I need to practice naked female form.

Benedict immediately noticed your horrified face. He wanted to go back seconds ago when he hadn't even asked but if it wasn't you, who would it be? —I will not draw your face. No one will know it is you. It will be purely professional, I just need a few minutes.

You bit the inside of your cheeks and decided to trust him when he said that it would be for professional purposes only. The unfinished nude sketches that made your cheeks burn when you saw them as you entered his studio showed you that Benedict found no inspiration in the bodies of the academy models. After a nervous swallowing, you nodded and Benedict's face lit up. He hugged you but you didn't have time to hug him back because he quickly went to prepare the canvas.

—Is the door locked? —You asked him as you shed the little jacket that covered your shoulders along with your gloves. Benedict rushed off to lock it and before he returned to his position behind the canvas. You called his name and gulped, your hands failing in their attempts to unzip your own dress. —May I please get some help?

—Oh, yes, of course. My apologies.

Benedict stood behind you, his fingers brushing the skin on your back as he began to slowly unzip it until the dress slid down your body and fell at your feet. Benedict felt like he had to look away, as if in a few seconds you would not be completely exposed to his eyes. He offered you his hand to help you get up on a small pedestal that he had in his studio. Once you got rid of your underwear, you felt vulnerable but not as vulnerable as when Benedict ran his eyes over your body from his position and with the paintbrush already in his hand.

He let out all the air he had in his lungs, he couldn't take his eyes off you. Benedict could not deny that he had imagined it on many occasions, but reality far surpassed his imagination.

—What... What should I do, Benedict? —You hugged yourself.

—Put your arms down and stand like that. You look perfect, darling.

Your cheeks burned after that. You did as he said. His brow was slightly furrowed in concentration as his eyes went from the canvas to you and back to the canvas. Benedict asked you to turn around and he squeezed his eyes tightly after seeing your bare ass. Purely professional, this was purely professional, he had to remind himself.

Benedict grabbed a wooden chair and walked over to you. Your heart skipped a beat once he was so close to your naked body and he felt the exact same. He placed the chair next to you and invited you to sit on it. He nodded slowly when you did, focusing on the new position of your body. Benedict went back behind the canvas and made a few sketches.

He cleared his throat. —Would it be possible if you... Could you spread your legs?

Your cheeks grew hot and you squeezed your thighs together.

The knot you had in your stomach got tighter and you felt your chest rise and fall slowly thanks to your deep breathing. You straightened your back in the chair and you did as Benedict asked. You felt the air of the room caressing you in that warm and wet area and he held his breath, his chest puffing out as your legs slowly opened for him.

—You are beautiful, darling. Do not be ashamed —. Every new inch he discovered of your body made you look more perfect in his eyes. It was as nice to see you as it was to paint you.

Your cheeks grew even hotter but this time it wasn't just your cheeks, your whole body was in flames starting with the area between your legs that was so exposed to his eyes.

—Could we try another position?

You nodded, relieved, you were sure it was painfully obvious the way you had gotten wet and you just hoped he was busy enough to not notice.

He dropped the paintbrush and got up from the stool on which he was sitting. Benedict felt the knot in his stomach grow tighter with each step he took closer to your naked body. You moved in the chair out of nervousness. Benedict leaned slightly over you. —May I? —He asked before touching your leg. His voice made you shiver, he was so close, you felt his hand brush against the skin of your thigh. You nodded and looked up at him while he repositioned your leg. Benedict's eyes meet yours, so helpless, his lifelong friend, was that innocence in your eyes, or was that...?

Lust.

Your hand grabbed the back of Benedict's head and pressed his lips against yours. His eyes widened in surprise but immediately after, his hands went to cup your cheeks as he fell to his knees in front of you. You opened your legs so he could place himself between them and be closer to you. The shameless hands of your friend traveled down your neck until they reached your breasts. You moaned against his mouth once he gave them a gentle squeeze, the soft palm of his hand brushing against your nipples.

Benedict left a trail of soft kisses from your cheeks to your collarbones and your breasts. He took one in his mouth as his hand played with the other, his tongue moving in circles around your nipple and sucking on it at the same time. Your breathing quickened and your lips parted to let out soft moans when Benedict's teeth brushed your sensitive nipple.

He let go with a pop sound and watched you gasp for air. Benedict placed his hands on the inside of your thighs and caressed your skin there before he slowly pushed them to open even further. His hands prepared you for him, his eyes asked for your permission. You nodded and Benedict flashed you a smile, that was all he needed. He peppered your thighs with kisses, taking small bites and kissing your sore skin afterwards. Your breathing deepened as his mouth got closer to where you needed him the most. He was so close he could smell you and oh Lord, his dick got hard as a rock at that moment.

You took a sharp breath when he licked from your entrance to your clit and savored your juices in his mouth. The image was completely sinful, his blue eyes were locked on you while his lips sucked on your bundle of nerves, his hands forced your legs to stay open for him. Your head was thrown back, your mouth was open in a perfect "O" form, your fingers digging into his scalp. Once he noticed the desperation in the way your hips rolled against his mouth, two of his fingers entered you easily. You stifled a loud moan, throwing a hand over your mouth.

Benedict hummed, sending vibrations to your clit.

—Talk to me. How does this feel? —He required.

—So good. It feels... —You bit down your lower lip, his fingers sank deeper. —It feels like heaven.

He was satisfied with your answer.

Benedict fucked you with his fingers until you had to grab his wrist to get him to stop, it was too much. Your legs closed around his head but his lips were still attached to your clit and he didn't stop until he heard how your moans turned into whines and cries, not until he noticed how your back arched off the chair and your chest rose and fell uncontrolled thanks to your panting. Benedict didn't stop, not until he felt how your pussy was clenching so hard that almost pushed his fingers out of you and he heard you moan his name one last time as your grip on his hair tightened.

He gave you all the time you needed to catch your breath, kissing your legs and intertwining his fingers with yours while you came down from your high. Benedict's blue eyes were locked on you making every effort to later recall every single part of you.

—How are you feeling, darling? —Benedict stood on his feet and held your hands so that you would stand up as well. Before you could answer his question, you both realized how your legs were shaking and laughed. At the same time, you felt Benedict's grip on your hands grow stronger to keep you from falling.

Benedict leaned in and kissed your lips in the sweetest possible way. The tickling sensation in your body that you felt when you were naked in front of him had turned into a different kind of tickling, now focused on your stomach. It was so familiar, you had felt it so many times when you looked at him but now, with his lips on yours and his hands treating you with so much affection and care, it was different.

You could confirm that it was not only lust but also love.

You hummed against his lips. —Wait, did you finish your drawing?

Benedict shook his head. —But, please, do not worry about that. I will help you get dressed —. You frowned confused and he gave a quick kiss to your lips so, as he had told you, you would not worry. —I can finish later. There's no way I'm forgetting your body, my dear.

[ailoda]

updated: 26.12.24

݁₊ ⊹ angst

Thin Ice (❤✧): when the lake at Aubrey Hall freezes over, it seems perfect for a day of ice skating...which it is, until the ice begins to crack. (@starryeyedstories)

Mr. Bridgerton and the Baker (❤✧): covered in flour. It is how she usually spent her days, working hard at her family’s bakery. She just hadn’t expected to have met him in such a state. (@murdockparker)

new! (Be)longing (❤❅): mutual rescue, mutual jealousy, longing and belonging. (@fayes-fics)

new! Safe (❤❅✧): Benedict comforts you after someone tries to compromise you. (@fayes-fics) (warning: brief non-consensual embrace/touching)

new! The Ultimate Deception (❅✧): you are a well known artist who paints under a pseudonym. What happens when Lady Whistledown comes to know of your identity? How will your relationship with Benedict evolve? (@maximoff-pan)

new! With Child (❅✧): he was so absorbed by his own created misery; he hadn’t actually thought about what you could be thinking. How hard was it for you to congratulate all of your friends on their pregnancy, to watch over all of his nieces and nephews? It was all within easy reach and never really yours. (@leascorner)

new! If There Is No You (❅✧): after many years of loving and having each other, you and benedict had a beautiful family and a perfect little life together until you fell ill one day and it all threatened to end. while you lied on your bed all day and night, fearing that you might leave your husband and children alone, benedict died a little each second that approached him further to losing you. (@paracosmic-murdock)

[igotanidea]

Judgement: Benedict Bridgerton x actress!reader

Requested by @jaysgirlx <3

***

She wasn’t the most beautiful.

Or the most talented.

And definitely not born in the best family.

Nonetheless, neither of us, no matter how much willpower we are endowed with, has the possibility of choosing the environment we are born into. That is solely up to fate.

What we can choose, however, is how we adapt to the circumstances, how we behave, who we become and how we cope with the opinions that are – more often than not – negative and critical.

Especially when a woman, regardless of standards of an ossified, prejudiced society decides to make a living by being an actress. For Y/N Y/L/N no work was dishonorable. For the ladies of the ton, such profession was almost equal with being a lady of easy virtue. For the men – well- the behavior of some of them was below any norms of decency.

Funny how the point of view depends on the point of sitting.

***

She was late again.

For the third time this week and it was barely Wednesday. Not a good scorecard she kept and it definitely got under the skin of the theater owner. Y/N could not quite comprehend why the gentleman was so irritated since from the moment she stepped foot in that sanctuary of art she has been doing every single thing needed. Not only acting, but also cleaning the floor if required, repairing the costumes, helping with the dialogues. Very versatile all things considered.

Desperate for a job and survival? No, not entirely, maybe a little.

Enamored and passionate by the employ that gave her a bread and a questionable opinion. Yes, absolutely.

Rushing through the busy London streets, miraculously avoiding respectable matrons and their equally respectable lord consorts was not the best of the ideas of reducing, even to a small extent, the extent of her delay.

Y/N did not pay much attention while crossing the street either, obviously missing the speeding carriage and the moment she looked to the right, finding herself mere inches from the hooves of spooked horses, her entire life flashed in front of her eyes.

She let out a embarrassingly high cry of shock and freeze on the spot, mentally preparing herself of leaving the globe and letting her spirit fly away to some better world just like Julia Capulet did after her beloved Romeo—

“Watch out!” a man’s voice, a firm yet gentle grip of hand on her waist and a second later she was safely back on the pavement, sustaining no permanent injuries, save for rapid breathing and slightly flushed cheeks. “Are you all right, my lady?”

“I am not a lady.” She retorted automatically shaking her head and slowly raising her gaze to give thanks to her lifesaver “Mr. Bridgerton!” the second son of the late viscount was definitely not the person she expected to see and it made her take a step back immediately.

Almost ending up under another carriage if it wasn’t for Benedict Bridgerton’s reflexes and a bright, teasing smile.

“You don't learn from your mistakes, my lady” he teased “am I this repulsive to make you step away upon noticing my face? Is this how women behave this day?”

“Forgive me my Lord, I was blinded by all your glory” she almost rolled her eyes, saying the words before biting her own tongue. “oh…” the gasps that came out of her mouth a moment later only caused Benedict to laugh wholeheartedly.

“Not the usual reaction I get from a woman.”

“I can tell, my lord. I am sure ladies do swoon at the sight of you. And now that Viscount Bridgerton had tied the marriage knot you sure are looking for a wife so –” she sopped in the middle of the sentence realizing she was babbling again.

“Oh so you are a woman after all. Gossiping.” Benedict smirked.

“I beg your pardon!”

“Do I know you from somewhere?” he tilted his head examining her face trying to assess the possibility of them meeting before.

“No, my lord. I do not believe we have met.”

“May I have your name then, my lady?”

“Not a lady, my lord. And you should not preoccupy the place in your head with remembering my name.” she bowed, lacking skills a bit and – suddenly remembering that she was late – rushed to the theater.

Benedict Bridgerton.

Of course they have met before, but why would she remind him of the circumstances of the event happening so many weeks ago?

He was a student in the art academy, lately enhancing his skills in the portrait area, polishing the subject of anatomy. Both male and female, with the latter obviously much more involving in many hands-on way and that was not a secret. Those models were beautiful and fragile after all and being confronted with the harsh reality of XIX century London they had nothing more to offer than their bodies. Y/N almost ended up the same, but her talent for acting changed everything.

Regardless, her older brother was earning some additional funds by assisting the students, providing canvas, brushes, paints, wine, measures of various kinds. Whatever the domineering might wish for. And one day she was visiting him, entering the classroom without the knowledge that the lesson was still in progress.

And so she ended up in the middle of the room full of men with a naked model on the platform, under the barrage of astonished glances.

“Oh look, we got another one to help us study today!” one of the men cried out and the entire room started laughing. “You ought to wait for your turn, sweetheart. Do not fret though, we’ll take proper care of you.”

She blushed like a peony, her hands trembling a little.

“I was eagerly awaiting the moment when the Academy will provide us with a full shaped, average of beauty woman and here we are! My prayers have been answered, gentlemen!”

She blushed even more at the clear invective threw her way. Men could really behave like animals in their own company. Zero decency, respect for others or moderation. And the worst part was that all the ton knew about this open secret and gave their universal consent to that. Men were supposed to have their flings before marriage even if that meant a lot of improper things.

Her half-furious, half-hurt eyes scanned the room, taking in all the men gathered their and their attire, not paying much attention to either before landing on that one person who actually looked like having at least a little self-reflection.

Benedict Bridgerton.

Frozen with the brush in his hand and slightly unbuttoned shirt, torn between joining the common laugh on her expense and putting an end to this merciless, ongoing teasing. Before he could do a thing however she put an end to his misery and left the room with the solemn resolution to never interact with any of those debauched animals.

Judging Benedict as quickly and easily as all the society judged her.

***

“Quickly! We’re almost starting and you cannot seem to be on time even once!”

“I am—”

“do not interrupt me girl, put on the costume and get on the stage! I swear one of those days you will make me do the thing I will regret!”

***

That woman spurred some memories in Benedict’s mind even if couldn’t fully put all the pieces of the picture together. At least not until Eloise playfully smacked his side.

“What?”

“Do you know who you just saved?”

“That girl back there?” he massaged the sore place giving his sister a reproachful look “no idea. Should I know her?”

“That’s Y/N Y/L/N!”

“Uh… okay?”

“She’s an actress!”

“Um…”

“She’s a self-made, independent woman not looking for marriage and free of societal expectations!”

“You better not let out mother find out that a woman with no title is your role model.”

“Oh I’d be more than happy to let her know that. I believe that the amount of injustice put on women-“

“I do realize the amount of your thoughts in the subject.”

“Since when are you judgmental?” Eloise scoffed

“I am not!”

“Fine then Come see her performance with me.”

***

Y/N was almost pushed on the stage, without having any time to gather her thoughts or to revise her role, forced to improvise by putting on a bright fake smile and subjecting the audience to a minute or two of suspension, before realizing what she was supposed to play that day.

Clearing her throat and fixing her costume she stepped into the light, joining the rest of the cast on the stage and started giving her lines.

Any other time she would be focused solely on the scene and words coming out her mouth making sure each of them were perfectly accentuated and spoke just the right way.

So what was this inexplicable instinct that made her scan the audience?

Spotting him.

With his eyes fixed on her, showing something that could not be mistaken for anything else but sheer admiration.

And she did not like it at all.

to be continued? ;)

[skyrigel]

Hi! I love all of your writing, could please do Benedict and best friend reader at a ball and he over hears some girls bullying reader and goes OFF and reader runs off and he thinks he’s embarrassed her but when he finds her she explains she found it super hot and then some smut please! 💖

You are in love 1 || B.B

Part 2 of " you are in love"

Pairing: Benedict bridgerton x best friend! Reader, + Polin

Warning: fem! reader, no description of reader, friendly flirting and teasing, mutual pinning, use of inappropriate words, reader has a step sister. Fluff and angst, part 1 of you are in love. Part : 2 will be smut

Rigel's note 🪩: Thank you for requesting, and the compliment<3333 *smooches* I hope you don't mind me doing it in two parts :) the title is taken from Taylor Swift's song " you are in love", it popped as soon as I read best friend reader, hope it's not as bad as it's in my head, sending love back, also part 2 soon.

" Perks of being a woman, you don't have to dance with Eloise bridgerton." You remarked when it was the fifth time Eloise stepped on lord White's toe.

Benedict snorted on his lemonade as he looked at you sideways, his iconic lop sided grin plastered to his smug face.

" I was her dance partner, " Benedict fake sniffed, wiping the fake tear, ", that too, before she started lessons."

You winced at the idea of Eloise before her lesson and gave Benedict a pat on his back for being ever the sacrifice.

" I thought that's why you danced wierd " you told him, smiling when he looked at you scandalously.

" Excuse me ?! " He narrowed his eyes, " you take that back ! " He slammed the glass down with force.

" Will not, you dance like...like a snowman ! " You beamed, slamming your fan down and glaring back, nose to nose, eye to eye.

" That never stopped you from dancing with me." He said smugly and retreated to his space with a satisfied look in his eyes when your jaw slacked slightly.

" You don't dance like a snowman with me." you told him in a small voice and that's when it hit you how gracefully he twirled you around when he was practically running away from other beautiful young ladies.

Benedict smiled, his eyes twinkling at you as he raised his brow, like in a question.

" And why would you think that ? " His mouth twisted and you didn't know what to say.

" Perhaps because I dance well...? " You tried and despite it being not the answer he expected, he laughed all the same.

" You dance like a ... a Kangaroo." Benedict thought hard and a muscle in his jaw twitched, he smiled proudly when he got the right word to annoy you.

" What's a kangaroo ? " You asked, you had heard it somewhere but it was easier to ask him than think hard.

" It's like..." Benedict motioned with his hands something like a vase," it's a cute animal." He finally said when nothing more could be made out from his gestures.

"Oh." You nodded and then it hit you, " Did you just call me an ANIMAL ?! " You snarled at him and he shaked his head with a chuckle.

" I called you cute too." He squabbled.

" Kangaroo's aren't cute ! " You jabbed at him and he chuckled, grabbing your wrist firmly, a spark so bright jolted inside you and you felt your face grow hot.

" Then I don't dance like a snowman—" you sticked your tongue out at him and he was lost in words, just looking, you saw the opportunity and yanked your hand away from his grip. He relented like a gentleman.

" You are always like..like running away and leaning off while dancing and it's so so snowman like." You argued and Benedict's eyes twinkled like moon.

" Have you seen a snowman waltzing ? " Benedict asked and you shaked your head, while clutching at your chest, you couldn't help the giggling.

" Yes if we are talking about a tall, handsome and smug snowman."

" You think I am handsome ? " Benedict ducked his head closer to your face and you felt your breath hitching in your throat, like air was punched out of your chest.

You rolled your eyes when it became too apparent that no word would come out of your traitorous throat and you couldn't help but gaze back at him, he looked back just the same, all fire and blaze.

" You didn't answer my question." He said slowly, each word carefully and it squeezed your heart how close his face was, how beautiful those eyes were, and that nose, and those cheeks, those lines when he smiled, he oftened and it was so warm and gorgeous, how you never noticed how captivating he was, every atom of his body was tied with an invisible thread with yours, a golden one. And you would be damned to think of that mouth, your lips parted at the ethereal site and Benedict smiled at that.

" No." You just said it, eager to say anything and break this moment, it was swirling you around in a storm.

" No ? " He questioned, frowning and he was handsome at that too, you were so doomed.

" You are silly like handsome, like some lord Byron poetry." you murmured softly, safe guarding the hammering heart in your chest and blinking at the sudden burn from his gaze on you, drinking you in, his brow knitted in funny way, a mock annoyance crossed his face.

" Lord Byron ?! Really, " he dropped back to his seat and you finally took a breath, then he covered his face like a damsel in distress and when he glanced sideways at you, he was smiling his brightest, oh, you just realised how goofy and precious and mesmerizing his smile was, you wished to stop time and paint it under your lids so everytime you close your eyes, you could meet him there, in your secret gardens and then a death like that would be sweeter.

" What ? " You exasperated when he refused to look away, even when your nose wrinkled and face basked in it's warmth, he wouldn't let go of you, taking each and every detail in like he was wishing to stop time too and paint you. He could, he was an artist.

" You called me poetry..." His mouth quirked up in a delightful grin, like it explained all the merry and you groaned, looking away as you huffed the tingling in your body that wouldn't go, your eyes landed on a very eventful moment.

" Is that our Colin ? " You raised your brow at Benedict who sat up straighter and turned his gaze to the other side of the hall.

" Why is he eye murdering lord Debling ? " You asked him, he winked and pulled your chair closer, not caring if any mama saw or perhaps lady whistledown herself.

" Penelope is dancing with lord Debling, and well she's laughing at something too, oh—" Benedict whispered in the shell of your ear and you barely nodded, Colin looked like he had enough, he was making his way through the crowd towards Pen.

" Forty shillings if he punches lord Debling." You piped up, Benedict shaked his head.

" You are gonna lose cupcake, he's gonna take Miss Featherington's hand and—" you gasped when Colin stopped abruptly, said something urgently and took Penelope's wrist between his hand, Benedict cocked his head to his side and winked smugly.

" And ? " You drawled and it amused Benedict beyond limits, like he has been waiting for it.

" Birds and bees." He said in a code like hushed whisper, you smacked the back of his head.

" I don't have a mother, you know." You told Benedict and he touched his upper lip with the tip of his pink tongue, he nodded along knowingly.

" Well, someone's gotta teach you."

" Mm.. you are my best friend." You would look anywhere but at him but your eye's were locked in his, he was being brave then so can you. One step, not much.

" I can not tell you birds and bee." Benedict said sincerely.

" Colin helped Pen ! " You said, nose flaring as he worried his jaw but didn't say anything.

" He told her how kids are made, something like going to a farm and then...well he kissed her but that's not the point." You blurted in a whisper, he listened intently.

" He kissed her already ? "

" Well a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell but a lady can, but that's not the point! " You pouted, his resistance crumbled but then again, bloody bridgerton.

" That's not my place cupcake." He was breathing hard, his mouth would open and snap close again, taking back all the things left unsaid.

" Well then—" you hated how choked your voice got, you tried, didn't you, it's not like you left it on god's cue, this was the biggest hint you could have given him and if he didn't got this, then only bricks might work.

Give him one more, a small voice said in your head, it was yours, but stronger and braver than you.

" —then you can tell me about love."

Benedict laughed on that, like it was the funniest thing you had said.

" You know what? I take it back, I am gonna ask someone—" you smoothed your skirt and began to get up when he pulled you down.

" Sorry, I didn't mean that, sorry, don't go leaving me stranded." He pleaded.

You looked at him hard, looking for any sign of humour and you found none, he was glittering when he clapped his tongue and opened his mouth, his soft tongue resting like a tired cat.

" Love," he began," is like music."

" Like music." You repeated, struggling with the fit laughter that shook your shoulders.

Benedict glanced at you offended but when he spoke next, it was how the poets said, with longing and desire, like bleeding for your beloved and when no blood was left then it was ink and parchment.

" You can hear it in the silence." He said, you remembered those afternoons when no word was said between you and your bestfriend and yet nothing was hidden and left unsaid.

" You can feel it on your way home." He said, penetrating his gaze in you eyes and he remembered damn well that night after he rescued you from the lake when you almost drowned, the terror of losing you, the spark of holding you closer than ever.

" You can see it with the light's out, it's so bright and golden." Everything is more beautiful with you Benedict, you told him one Sunny afternoon, basking under a tree while he read you poetry, Better than Byron.

" Loving that one person will make you love yourself, with them, you are enough." He was whispering now, chest heaving as his hand trembled and unknowingly yours found his under the table, locked eye's and joined hands and sacred whispered chants. It was enough.

" You aren't too much, or too little, or loud or boring, you don't have to be interesting or witty or anything, being youself with them is enough." I like myself with you, he had told you when you were sixteen.

" That's love, being safe with them is love, being their home is love, to be able to leave all shades behind and be naked in just body and soul and not being afraid, not being embarassed is love."

" Benedict..." Your voice was soft and sweet and it took him a moment to realise he was crying, when you gently wiped it's proof with your handkerchief.

" I...I will be back in a moment—" he stumbled out, still smiling a small smile and oh god what you have done, you have ruined him as well your self and nothing will ever be the same.

" Yes...." You said, because he was waiting for your approval, he nodded back when he got it and disappeared amongst the crowd as you watched him leave.

Love was indeed like music, the one you liked, it could be light as bee buzzing and sharp as thunder roaring in clouds, it could be slow and rhythmic and soft like water flowing, it could be the sound of his laughter and the way he drew his breath, it could be how he whined and joked and played and teased, for you, love was the music and muse of Benedict bridgerton and yes, you were very much doomed.

" What a pleasant site, a spinster smiling on her own, have you planned some scandalous plan of yours to bag some noble man ? " Claire wheezed in a duckling like laughter, shared with Asha Patil and Gissele Turner.

You refused to say anything, it only further added spice to their boring marital lives, with their husbands out and wombs empty.

" Would you look at her ? She's giving us that attitude, no wonder she's still unmarried ! " Scowled Asha, with her frizzy hair and crooked nose, her eyes coated in loathing of most tainted kind.

" She might had gotten the ring if she wasn't being Mr. Bridgerton's bitch." Gissele whispered it down to you and anger shot up through your veins and your eyes snapped to her, it didn't matter if she was your elder sister and the rage that blinded you was so fierce that you didn't feel when two big tears rolled down your cheek.

" Don't cry now, you can always be his mistress atleast." They all laughed, loud and big and white teeth flashing, with their fake diamond rings rubbing in your eyes but it was too blur, you saw nothing, you heard nothing, everything was drowning around you.

" Speaking of mistresses, Lord Hasting has bought a bigger estate for his mistress than your home in east London and I wouldn't blame him lady Hasting."

You can hear it in the silence.

It was your love's voice, it was your Benedict speaking and you lifted your mascara stained lashed eyes at him.

If you had known him less than you couldn't have known of the terrible anger that was shaking him, that smile was no ordinary, it was feral and stray, wanting to tear anyone who dared to come near, he was burning in anger that was beyond words.

Claire sizzled at that remark, turning her hand to her palm side and only moments ago she was flashing her ring and now, she was hiding it.

" Don't ruin your reputation by showing ungratefuls such as her your pity Mr. Bridgerton." It would've hurt less, were it Claire or Asha, but it was your own half sister, be it half blood but blood all the same.

" Lady Turner, i have no wish to speak to you, you have hurt my best friend beyond words, you had taken her affections for granted so if someone's ungrateful then it's sorely you, you don't deserve a sister like her, she's too good for all of us." He was carefully placing the word and his anger slipped between, his teeth grinded and breath hitched, you stared, just at him and him, everything was getting dimmer but you knew in that moment, you would know him in darkness.

you can feel it with the light's out.

He had done many things for you, Benedict stole Anthony's horse to take you out on a midnight ride, he nicked Colin's sword and taught you fencing, bought ribbons of your favourite pastel silk, saved your favourite sweets, and so many and so more, but this was something you couldn't have done yourself if you wanted, he had done it, he had stood up for you and it was the most gleaming moment of your life, he wasn't playing hero, he wasn't being mean, he was protecting your with your honour and Benedict, the gentleman who wouldn't hurt a fly, he was going to dagger them down with words alone.

He was speaking and speaking and they were all quiet, their eyes low and nose bowed down, he was speaking and speaking, words clear with pure affection and respect and then your felt it.

The warmness aroused in your womanhood and an inaudible gasp parted through your lips as you felt the slicky wet feeling caress your inner thigh and the sensation was so electrifying that you had to close your eyes in order to take a breath and even then, you could feel his words, soft and praising, " ......if you were half good as a woman she is....." He was breathless and he wasn't stopping and something inside you wanted to cup his face and tell him, don't Stop, never stop.

And then his eyes looked for you, he found your gaze and held it and you felt the shame, you couldn't do this to him, this burning desire would take you both down in flames and what it would be to become one, only in ashes, it was scaring you.

And before you could think of say anything, you were already on your feet, stumbling through the crowd with your gown kissing the floor behind you.

You didn't know where you were going but far, away and this feeling wouldn't let go, you knew well but you wanted air, the warmness that was spreading was maddening and the hunger was tugging under your skin.

He was calling out your name, you hated yourself but you needed to run, this love would ruin you, what if Benedict hated you if you told him how you felt, how you thought about him, would he call you a whore along with Gissele, would it hurt more ?

More than anything.

His voice turned to pleading as crowd thickened and you were getting out of his sight. You wouldn't look back, because if you did then you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from doing something very stupid.

You were out of the gates, descending down the stairs as one heel slipped out but you didn't care, you were on a run.

Johnny was already motioning the horses as you frantically climbed in, you could see Colin chasing down Penelope's carriage in a distance as you opened the window to inhale heavy gulps of air.

Would Benedict Chase you down too ? Would he come and look for you ? And if he did, what would you tell him ?

You are my best friend.

Part 2

[purelyfiction]

In this Life

Benedict Bridgerton x (F) Reader

Word Count: 3,033 Words

Summary: When the news of your startling engagement hits the press writings of Lady Whistledown, you find yourself in what was the worst attempt at an arranged marriage by your uncle. This leaves you preparing for a wedding you weren’t aware was occurring, three days prior to the event and a very unhappy Benedict.

Author’s Note: I’m just about writing everything these days aren’t I? I’m just genuinely in love with this distinguished gentleman - please keep season 2 spoilers out of the comments as I am waiting to watch it with my family. Thanks! 4/13/2022 Edit: since i’ve begun writing more of benedict, I will be using one (1) surname per story - unless there are continuations from the first part. 

Content Warning: None? 

There’d been a great deal of resentment in the house of Castleton’s. With the Lord having made arrangements for your hand in marriage. The last month that you’d spent pramenauding with Mr. Bridgerton, painting and generally enjoying each other’s company had been ruined. You’d grown beyond close in the course of the month, but with the social season coming to a close and Daphne’s own wedding, Benedict had been rather worried about a second wedding in the same season. So, he’d been waiting to propose. Then your uncle announced to the household you were to be wed that Saturday to a Sir Kaufmann, an arrangement he’d prepared months ago without any input from your mother or yourself. 

In light of the events, you’d tried to find an escape. You’d once found that in painting, but now it only reminded you of Benedict. Instead you try the pianoforte. Fingers press to the keys but they’re slow, your mind drifting. Eyes find the summer lilacs outside your window, drifting in the breeze, free to move about as they wish. If only you shared the same fate. Your mother steps into the room, taking a seat on one of the few sitting chairs. “Dear, we have an appointment at the modiste this afternoon...” Your hand comes into a fist onto the keys, an awful sound leaving the instrument. Turning, you look at her, tears beginning to well.

“Mama, I do not wish to marry that man. I do not even know him! Am I meant to spend the rest of my life with him? To raise children with a man I do not know?” The woman in front of you taps the chaise next to her, inviting you to sit next to her. Quickly, you do so, her arms wrapping around you. 

“My dear, had I known he was in search of a suitor, this would have gone far smoother. However, from what I hear, Sir Kaufmann is a wonderful man, a wonderful home and staff. You’ll do just fine, my darling. In time you will grow familiar. And perhaps one day you may see a sort of beauty in his company.” You pull from her, standing up. 

“I won’t marry that man. I simply will not.” Starting out the door, tears still flooding your features, you call on a carriage. 

You spend the remaining hours of light in the nearby park, stepping along the path you’d spent hours on with Benedict. He’d move in tandem with you, speaking about his favorite works he’s gotten to witness come through Somerset House. How he wished to have his own there one day. You voiced similar dreams, wishing and hoping to have a studio of your own one day. That your spouse would accommodate your hobby. The brunette man had made it clear that if you shared a future that you’d have a space for your work, and everything else you could possibly want for. 

The conversation was filled with laughter as the two of you looked onwards at the other potential couples in the lawns with their precarious mamas and less than concerned papas. Some were fairing better than others, with groups of young men and women lingering, watching and waiting for their season to come. 

You’d shared afternoons over tea and discussing anything you could - just to be in each other’s presence. Since the announcement of your sudden engagement, you’d not spoken to the second eldest Bridgerton. Many invitations had been extended, and you hoped plenty for one of the many staff members of Castleton House to inform you of a caller for you. One that did not have a distinguishing title in front of it. 

Your heart ached for his presence. 

Meanwhile at the Bridgerton House, while preparations for the upcoming wedding of the season were being arranged, a rather agitated Benedict sat in the drawing room sketchbook in his lap, charcoal in one hand, dirty fingers tapping on the page in thought. Eloise comes bounding into the room, looking over what seems to be an empty page. “Perhaps if you actually drew something you would not look so pained and sorrowful.” She taunts, in hopes to lift his mood from the depths it had plummeted itself into. 

When the family had read of the news in the recently published Whistledown, they couldn’t believe it. From what they’d heard from their family member, the two of you were destined for one another. Two love matches in one season. Violet had been the one to sit Benedict down to speak to him about it. Eloise watched when the doors to the drawing room flew open and Benedict marched out of the house, steam all but shooting out his ears. 

Anthony had to stop him from posing a duel to the man, reminding him that it was likely you hadn’t even known - let alone had a choice. 

Returning to the drawing room, Benedict avoids looking at his sister as she sits down, looking at the page in hopes that something, anything, would come to mind. The only thing he could think of was the drawing he’d planned to give the jeweler. For your ring to be made. He finally forms words to speak to his sister. “Perhaps if you weren’t so nosey there’d not be something to look upon.” He reminds, and she frowns. 

“Brother, you must remember that it could have been anyone who chose to propose to her. Do not let yourself be so glum about the circumstance.” She’s trying to offer any comfort she might have, well knowing that it was unlikely it would be successful. Benedict shuts the book on the table in front of him, standing abruptly and moving to the door. 

“It could have been me.”

The morning of the wedding opens with your blinds, and you curse the sun. Part of you had longed for some rebuttal, some word, some fight, from the man. Every part of you thought that it had been a love match between you. So if that were the case, then where had he been? 

Despite that, you’d dressed and readied yourself to meet your groom. Your husband. He’d not arrived to London until the night prior and you’d spent most of the night on your maid’s lap. You’d not wanted to bother your poor mother, who was just as upset as you were about the entire affair. Part of her had been relieved that it had been handled. But with your mother being widowed so suddenly after your birth, she’d not had any more children. No brothers to direct your future, aside from your own mother’s. 

The carriage ride to the chapel was quiet, the air heavy with a tinge of sorrow. You did not dare cry, as to not ruin your rouge. If there were any positives to this day, your wedding gown was just as you’d imagined it. Such intricate beading and lacing, the embroidery was divine. Despite the short timeline, the modiste had done a phenomenal job with such little time. You had been playing with one of the beads on the dress, fingers twirling it around the string it was attached to on the dress. It probably shouldn’t be moving, however, that was not the fault of Madame Delacroix as it were yourself. The habit of fidgeting with the white pearlescent fixture had developed itself early on in the morning. It was the small bit of respite you had for the fit of emotions within you. 

Constant movement comes to a slow halt as you arrive at your destination. You lift your head to look at your mother. “Mama.” It’s the softest bit of a cry. Her gloved hand lifts to grip your chin. 

“I love you, my dear. You are by far the greatest gift I have been blessed with in this life. I am so beyond proud of you. There are great things in your future.” The tears in your eyes are blinked back as you pull her to your embrace. You do not wish to let go. Letting go means that you would no longer be a Castleton.

Eventually, you do, despite your great hesitance. Climbing from the carriage with assistance from the driver whom you’d known all these years, he pairs it with a smile and a compliment to you. A gracious smile before you stand upon the chapel doors. You can hear the organ practically rattle the building before you are even in the church. A deep breath before the doors open. 

Each step seems to ring through the chapel with a deafening sound. The man at the end of the aisle looks upon you with a grin. He looks kind enough. However, there is a great deal of age between the two of you. In fact, he appears to be similar in age to your dear father if he were still with you and your mama. Despite that, you find yourself at the altar, ready to step into your role. As that was all this was going to be. A role in a play you never auditioned for.

The priest is speaking, introducing the two of you, yet your mind is wandering. It instead is thinking of the man who is not in front of you. It is of the evening after a ball, the halls of an empty mansion, the two of you tipsily laughing and lingering in each other’s presence. Leaning a little too closely. Fingers floating in the air at your sides, just barely in reach of the others, but not daring to touch. “You truly are the most charming of the Bridgerton men, are you not?” You’d spoken in teasing manner. 

“Perhaps I am. But I suppose one must be incredibly charming in order to win the affections of such a gem as yourself.” He’d slowed to stop in that hall, letting you look to him. Benedict then took your hand, looking you in the eye. “If not for my sister’s upcoming nuptials, there would be no reason for my havering behavior. I am a fool for not acting upon my intentions, however, do not mistake my lack of questioning as uncertainty, Miss Castleton. As I said: my intentions are simply that, a thing intended, and I intend to marry you one day.” A kiss upon clothed hand to seal the promise.

Now, those gloved hands rest in the pair of a stranger. The startling comparison leaves you misty eyed, the man in front of you grips your hand softly. “Are you alright?” His voice whispers, making you look to him. You blink your tears back as the priest is reciting the words. “If there is any reason that this man and this woman are not to be wed on this day, I beg of you, please make your presence known, and your reasons for objection clear.” It is eerily quiet that follows his words. Your head shoots to the door. You wait. You pray and you wait. 

“Upon these eyes-” 

The chapel doors are thrown open with such a force that they hit the walls they rest on. In the doorway, backlit by the early afternoon light, a heavily panting man stands with papers in hand. “This couple may not be wed.” 

Your heart sings. He steps into the church, the wedding guests looking as he takes heavy near stomps in the harrowed building. A voice is shouting at you in your mind to wipe the grin from your face but how can you? 

Benedict stands, huffing mere centimetres from you, papers in a death grip as he stares down the priest. “This marriage cannot go on. These papers were forged.” A gasp ascends over the crowd, the priests eyebrows furrow. 

“On what grounds?” The cloaked man reaches out for the papers, which the Bridgerton man hands over with a bit of pride in his stoicness. 

“The priest that approved this license is no longer registered with the Church at all. He was dismissed three months ago, therefore, any papers that were signed during his active service are null and void by the Church.” The murmurs start on your future husband’s side and soon morph to your family’s side. You can hear your mother scolding your uncle for not updating the papers, but you can tell that they are not in earnest. Benedict then breaks your hand from your fiancee’s grip. “This woman shan’t and won’t be marrying this man.” As the priest looks at the papers, the groom starts to question him over and over. The cloaked man stands tall and silences what was the groom. 

“It appears as though this gentleman’s objections are founded in truth. There shall not be a ceremony conducted today.” The groom sits in astonishment, only before marching to your uncle, but that is the last of your concerns. 

“Mr Bridgerton, how have you managed this?” It’s half spoken, half laughed in relief as he pulls you to his embrace. You can feel the way his heart is racing out of his chest, you fear his grip on you may be near fatal. Benedict pulls away, hands cupping your face.

“I am not a man who breaks his word, Miss Castleton. Nor am I a coward. I will fight for what I desire, and whom I desire.” 

His forehead rests on yours, and you take his wrist, a deep breath coming into your lungs and leaving with ease. It is the easiest breath you’ve taken all morning. When you open your eyes, you’re met with his own. The two of you break out into smile before Benedict is taking your hand and guiding you from the church. In the street, he stalls at the foot of his horse, helping you up before finding his own place upon the steed. 

You lurch into a steady pace, arms tight around his torso, both of you laughing. Reaching up, you pull the white fabric from your hair, letting it fly in the dust behind you, followed by many pins that kept your hair. With the wind ripping through the fabric of your dress, the bright afternoon sun shining on your skin, you watch as the ton seems to disappear but not out of sight as you slow. “Might you think we have escaped such a dreadful situation?” He questions before the horse stops completely, Benedict climbing off, reaching up to help you down, strong hands on your hips as he pulls you down. As he does, he pulls you into a spin, your feet kicking up in the air as your arms wrap around his neck, the two of you grinning ear to ear. 

“Oh the most dreadful of affairs.” You retort happily, your voice nearly singing. As he sets you down, you recognize the tree above you as the weeping willow you’d met under after the incident with Daphne and her former fiancee. He’d needed an escape, a confidante, a friend. Benedict now guides you to the grass below you, laying back and letting your head rest on his chest. A warm and soothing setting juxtaposed to the ill and virulent atmosphere of the chapel. 

“I certainly intend on our wedding being far less...arduous.” He offers, making you roll so the two of you are stomach to stomach, his hand coming up to rest on the small of your back. He starts playing with the fabric of your gown as he looks over you, studying each detail, each spot, each wrinkle, every hair upon the most gorgeous face he’s seen. 

“Is that so?” You challenge with a grin, fingers reaching up to play with his hair. “Mayhaps I have had enough of these endeavors for the time being?” 

“Oh, that is rather fair, my wonderful. You must be exhausted with the tension and anguish you’ve been through.” A kaleidoscope of butterflies flits through your stomach at the pet name, grin pairing it in due time. 

“I must know, how ever did you determine the vows would not be legitimate?” The question had been haunting you the entire ride over, but his laughter fills the air. “Benedict?” His hand runs up and down your back reassuringly. His head rolling as he laughs before turning to gaze upon you. 

“May I leave it at my rather studious sister Eloise, who had some interesting points?” 

“No you may not.” You pointedly stick a finger to his chest. 

“Fine. Then let us say that...Lord Bridgerton has the best interests of his family in mind, and that Father Solon’s sudden dismissal from the Church this morning and the two do not overlap in any manner.” Your jaw slacks, a gasp leaving you. 

“Benedict! What did you do?” 

“I did nothing! Anthony on the other hand-” He breaks out laughing, making you laugh and shake your head. 

“Oh dear.” A sigh as you rest your head on his chest again. The two of you dwell under the looming arbor above you, watching as it sways against the bluest of skies. It is a few moments before Benedict speaks again. 

“Might I indulge you in my thoughts?” He questions, your hand rolls in patterns against his side. 

“There need not ask, Mr Bridgerton.” You hum in response. He shifts from his position, resting his upper body on his forearms, looking down at you. Subsequently, you look up to him. 

“I wish that all of our days together look something similar to this. Lounging in vacuous afternoons, the day at our disposal, harmonious in waning sunlight with my love at my side.” A hand comes up to your chin. “I wish for our family to remain in celestial bliss for the remainder of our short time on this Earth.” Your breath seems to slip from your lungs. “I wish for you to be my wife, Miss Castleton.” Tearfully, you move with glee, arms around him and pulling you both into a topple in the tall grass, laughter leaving you. When you steady yourselves, Benedict hoists himself above you, forearms keeping him propped in the air as to not crush you. 

“My dear Benedict Bridgeton, I beam with delight at your thoughts. There is nothing more that I wish for in this life.”

-------

Did you enjoy this? Consider buying me a coffee!

[sarahisslytherin]

𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐌 || 𝐁.𝐁. (PART III)

summary: you’ve been receiving love letters from a secret admirer and you’re desperate to reveal his identity. contains: benedict being fucking adorable, fluff n' angst! a/n: third part of this multi-chapter fic. PART I, PART II

You hung your coat up on the rack, your cheeks flushed and your chest heaving. You made your way into the parlor, lifting a hand to dab the sheen of sweat on your forehead. Your mother and father’s muffled voices could be heard from one of the rooms, but you had no time to eavesdrop.

You scurried up the stairs to your bedroom, anxious to read your letter, to hold it close as if holding your admirer’s hand. He (whoever he was) was your comfort, a safe place. You swung the bedroom door open and rushed to your bureau, your eyes widening in disbelief. It was gone. You searched through the drawers, beneath your pillow, in the pockets of your coats, but it was nowhere to be found. But it wasn't until you heard your mother's displeased call for you downstairs that your heart sank entirely.

You fled down the stairs to meet her. There she stood, fire in her eyes and your letter crumpled in her fist. “Tell me, what is the meaning of this?” she demanded.

“I, I-”

“I tire of begging that you see suitors, that you find a suitable gentleman to marry. But no! You’d much rather waste your youth away on meaningless words scribbled across a parchment!” she cried. “Well, I’ll have you know that this nonsense will go on no longer!”

“Mama, please!” you begged, tears now streaming down your crimson cheeks.

“I won’t hear it, young lady! You will forget about this mystery man who delivers only false promises and pretty prose. You will go to the Bridgerton ball tomorrow night and you will dance with whichever gentleman will have you!” she yelled, and with that, she tore the letter in half before letting it fall to the floor. It was as if you had felt the tear straight down the middle of your heart, and you sank to your knees by the foot of the staircase.

After a moment, you both caught your breaths. Your mother placed a shaky hand upon your head and spoke with a more empathetic tone now. “I only wish the best for you, you must know that. You deserve a good man, something real and tangible that will give you peace of mind and a worriless life.” You nodded. You understood, but you couldn’t bear the thought of a life without love. It pained you so to envision one for yourself. “Breathe, child.” she cooed.

Your father’s voice boomed from the far end of the hall, calling for your mother. She gave the crown of your head a chaste kiss and ran off to your father. You were still on the floor, a creamy white pristine as your future if you could find someone to court you tomorrow night. Pristine and so incredibly dull.

You wiped the remainders of your tears away, your cheeks sticky from where they had poured like two waterfalls. How would you go on without your letters? Without the breathing, living proof that true love did exist. But your mother was right. It wasn’t proof. It was an illusion, a trick of the light; pretty prose and nothing more. You knew this, yet you couldn’t help collecting the two large scraps of parchment by you on the floor. You held them up, pieced them together.

My Dearest, 

I wish I could find the words to express just how much I wish to be with you. I wish mine to be the last face you see before bed and the first you see in the morning when you arise. When I see you, a fire burns deep within me. A desire to reach out, stroke your cheek, to scream “‘Tis I who sends you these letters! ‘Tis I the fool who does not dare approach you!” Well, I’m done with that. Truly, I am. This is my last letter to you. I will not torment you any longer. I will be there, at the Bridgerton Ball. I will find you and reveal myself. If my feelings are unrequited, worry not, darling. One word from you and I shall leave you be. But, if the opposite is true, I would be the happiest man alive. Until then, my love.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @holdthegirrrl @i-padfootblack-things @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @enchantedbytomandhenry @dd122004dd

[nghtwngs]

teach me the rest

description; unable to withhold your feelings any longer, you confess your more than friendly and familial affections for the second-born bridgerton.

genre; fluff, slight angst, friends to lovers, mutual pining, love confession

pairing; benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

word count; 0.8k

warnings; implied masturbation (non-explicit), slight corruption kink, suggestive themes, overly dramatic period drama love confession

a/n; please don’t come for me if there are inaccuracies—i have seen one (1) full episode of bridgerton (i know) but i have read like 50 benedict fics so there’s that? but as an sea, i WILL be imagining myself in sophie’s place when their season comes out so more content on the way in the near future?

“Benedict Bridgerton, if you do not wish to marry me right this second, I will wait until the next minute, day, week, month, season, year… I will wait for every desert to flood, for every ocean to lose colour. I will wait until the earth destroys itself again and again because there is no amount of time in which I could no longer love you. I beg of you, take me as I am yours, but do not take me if you are not mine. Spare me the embarrassment of my confessions.”

You feel as though you cannot breathe each time you avoid his gaze, but once yours return to his, you inhale more oxygen than you could ever dream of. Benedict looks just as breathless as you are, and you can only hope that that means he too feels what you so unceremoniously conveyed.

But unfortunately, you’ve turned him speechless, so you continue speaking in fear of his rejection of your affections—“I realize my father, although ever the artist and drinker of the elixir of life, would prefer Anthony’s hand over yours—you may recall my frankly naïve crush on your older brother—“

You both wince at that.

“—he is no longer the one I foolishly love, and my father would not argue against someone he treats as his own son, one whose passions for painting are one and the same. Please, Benedict, for the love of God, shut me up like you’ve always wanted. I fear I am incapable of not embarrassing myself.”

Benedict, on the other hand, believes he has just taken his first good breath since you first began your declarations. “Is that your wish, darling? To be shut up by me? Because I am afraid it is not mine. I would listen to you waxing poetic about me every second I continue to have ears. And I do believe I will not lose them anytime soon. Even if I lost one—hopefully not my left one, so I may continue to stand right by your side—I will hang onto your every word, as your pretty lips haunt my dreams, waking or sleeping. I did not before desire marriage because I had yet to understand what it does to souls—I thought Anthony would never marry, and yet, here we are. I worried for him after father died, but now, I know that love can melt even the coldest of hearts. Teach me, my heart, each and every way I can love you, for I am now nothing but your student.

“Teach me the art of love—“

In an odd turn of events, you initiate the kiss, the first since the many you shared before either of you quite knew the weight of them, or love. You had once seen Anthony in the Bridgertons’ backyard many, many years ago, lips locked with a girl whose identity you never found out. Thankfully, you think now, you did not stay for very long, or else you might’ve tried to sway young, sweet Benedict into an experiment beyond either of your comprehensions.

After your first kisses as children, he soon learned of the passions people could have for one another and of the cost it could have to your dignity. So, regretfully, dear Benedict would never again know the touch of your lips until now.

“Do not,” you begin breathlessly, achingly, “think for a moment, you have not learned every way in which to please me.”

“If I am out of line, I do sincerely apologize and will let you slap me if only you could forgive me—but I have not yet learned every way to please you. Should we marry, I will learn each sound you’re capable of making, every taste of you, every touch you will learn to take from me. I will offer all of life’s greatest pleasures and indulgences, and I know of no one in this universe more deserving of them.”

You believe that he is the only person who could make you feel better than you dare to yourself, alone in the silence of your bedchambers, masking your pleasure through a trained, quiet mouth.

“I have only known touch through the stories I indulge myself in…” Embarrassed, you continue, “And through my own hand.”

The sound your beloved makes should be quite shameful to the ears of any maiden like yourself, but you can’t but hope to hear it over and over.

“You know, then, only a fraction of what a person can feel.”

“Teach me the rest, so that I may be fulfilled?”

Benedict groans loudly, suppressing it with the palm of his hand. You both pray no one is awake at this hour. You’re oblivious to the double entendre you voiced in your yearning, which for some reason, grows his aching need for you.

He so earnestly murmurs your name. “I will marry you, only if you will marry me.”

“I believe that is how it works,” you tease him.

“But you had such little choice since we were children, so I want you to have this one.” He then admits lowly, “And I wish to hear it from you again.”

“I will marry you, Benedict.”

[fayes-fics]

Second Son

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: The second son is, for once, the first choice...

Warnings: none really... mild angst, family dynamics, love at first sight.

Word Count: 2.9k

Authors Note: Request fill for anon here, about Benedict being the second choice for everything.... until his love turns up. Thanks for this request; I hope this is angsty enough for you anon. Im not sure about it tbh. Sorry that it's taken more than three months to get to it on my WIP list. Unbetaed. Enjoy <3

Benedict Bridgerton was born into privilege and can have few complaints. Except perhaps that he is always second. The spare. The just-in-case option. Being a familial insurance policy lends one more freedom than the burden of being the titled first son, perhaps, but it also feels like your whole existence, in some respects, can seem like a contingency plan.

____

His stomach swoops with excitement as the arrow pierces the target dead on the bullseye. And on his first ever archery lesson, just after his twelfth birthday.

He turns around to see if anyone is there to witness his triumph, but it goes unmarked. All his young siblings gathered around Anthony, patting him on the back for his achievements in doing the same moments before. Being a good shot is an essential skill for the next Viscount indeed. The fact that he has been receiving instruction for months already and this is Benedict’s first lesson hurts a little.

But he doesn't bother to bring attention to his arguably more impressive feat. It seems pointless now. Wordlessly he shrugs and walks towards the target, plucking out his arrow and starting again. Perhaps next time, they will notice.

____

“Is that the new Viscount Bridgerton?” Benedict hears a young girl murmur as he sweeps into the first societal event of the season, the spring following his father's death. 

“Oh no, my dear, sadly not; I believe that is one of the brothers,” her mother replies, acting as if he has no sense of hearing, even trying to ignore it as he is, surveying the crowd.

“Such a shame,” the young girl huffs, “he is so very handsome.”

“Yes, dear, but sadly not titled. We can do better,” her mother chides, moving them along out of earshot.

He will never get over how cutthroat the Ton can be, a part of his tender seventeen-year-old heart sinking. Not that he had a potential interest in that girl, more the principle that he will somehow be rendered as an also-ran, at best a consolation prize, for the rest of his life.

What is most galling, perhaps, is that, when his mother needs their presence the most on a night like tonight, the new VIscount is nowhere to be seen. Has not even bothered to show his face, running off to some spurious gambling den and brothel, spending the night indulging himself rather than facing society. 

So here Benedict is, stepping up to play the dutiful son that his elder brother should be. Being the support their mother so desperately needs at her first event as a widow, her arm looped heavily through his, her whole bodyweight seeming to use him as her literal pillar of support. As he escorts her around the room, he is filled with admiration at her brave face. He can see the overwhelming sadness in her eyes every time the word dowager is invoked, and his heart cracks a little at the loneliness he can feel emanating from his mother’s very soul. 

“Tis a shame the Viscount did not deign the first event of the season worthy of his patronage,” she states pointedly as she sips champagne.

“I am sure he has very good reasons for his absence,” Benedict replies soothingly, covering for his errant brother, attempting to shield their mother from the truth of his philandering ways. Benedict knows it is Anthony’s way of dealing with the responsibility of the title of Viscount being thrust upon him so young. But sometimes, just sometimes, Benedict wishes he could escape his grief in such a manner, Anthony taking his turn attending a stuffy ball and playing guardian to a grieving woman. Their burdens may be different, but the wish to escape them is often not, Benedict realises.

____

She catches his eye at a garden party at Aubrey Hall. She is a pretty young lady, maybe eighteen to his twenty-three, with bright eyes and a sweet, happy face. She makes his palms slightly sweaty. He watches her from a distance, uncertain how to approach or what to say, feeling a little tongue-tied, even. 

Just then, Anthony materialises at his shoulder.

“Who is that pretty young thing?” Anthony asks, tracing Benedict’s line of sight.

“Miss Bradstreet,” he replies, watching as she turns to face the sun, closing her eyes, basking in its warmth. The light captures her cheekbones perfectly, and he itches to have his sketchbook and capture her likeness. He would very much like to get to know her better.

“Let's go provide a warm welcome,” Anthony smirks, clapping a hand on Benedict’s shoulder and practically dragging him across the lawn.

Benedict reluctantly follows, a flutter of excitement as her eyes land upon them as they approach. 

“Miss Bradstreet,” Anthony swaggers. “Viscount Bridgerton at your service; I am so very pleased to be your host today,” he bows.

Benedict's stomach plunges as he watches her practically melt into the lawn right there, virtually swooning at Anthony’s feet.

“Oh, and this is my brother, Benedict,” Anthony adds, almost as an afterthought. 

She flicks her head to the side briefly to politely acknowledge Benedict before returning to Anthony. All of her undivided adoring attention on him as he regales the story of his latest hunting triumphs upon her insistence. Benedict heaves a sigh and watches as yet another young lady he likes chooses his brother over him. He is almost used to it now, but it doesn't stop the sting every time.

____

Your world grinds to a halt as you see him. He is descending the stairs with what you assume is the rest of his family. He is very much in the middle of a tight circle, walking behind what appears to be his mother and perhaps older brother. Quite the most beautiful man you have ever seen, your heart pounding in your ears, your throat suddenly dry despite the lemonade in your hand. You assume they must be the hosts, seeing as they are the very last to enter the ballroom here at Bridgerton House, and there is no announcement of their name.

“Who is that?” you whisper, leaning towards your elder sister. She has been out among society for a year and knows the Ton better than you.

“That is the Bridgerton family, of course,” she replies. “Illustrious in the extreme. Our hosts for this evening. The Viscount there is the most eligible bachelor of every season… and every season, he has resisted a match. So I wouldn't bother if I were you,” she sniffs.

“Which is the Viscount?” you check, your eyes unable to leave the beautiful man with a cravat tied in the most unconventional fashion.

“The one with his arm looped with their mother, the dowager Viscountess, naturally,” your sister rolls her eyes as if patently obvious.

“And what of the others?” you inquire keenly, realising the man you admire cannot be the one your sister is referring to. “Do you know their names?”

“I do not,” she admits, “such things are not really important when one is looking for a titled husband,” she points out airily. 

You nod, knowing the responsibility your sister must carry as firstborn to find a suitable match that can provide for your widowed mother and, indeed, perhaps yourself and your younger sister should neither of you be able to find a husband. You don’t envy her position one little bit. 

You are, however, desperate to get closer to the most beautiful man you have ever seen. And so you spend your evening working towards them, in as polite of a fashion as you can, your stomach in knots of excitement to know him.

“Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, it is an honour and a pleasure to meet you,” you curtsy, heart pounding as he now stands a few feet away, unable to look at him so close by.

“Hello, my dear and you are?” she asks politely.

“Miss y/n y/l/n, it is my very first season; I am so honoured to be here,” you explain. “I must provide the apologies of my mother, Mrs y/l/n, who could not attend tonight due to a cold, but she is so very thankful for the invitation.”

“Oh, of course,” the viscountess smiles. “I am so sorry to hear of her illness; please pass on my best regards… Anthony!” she turns to her side to grab the attention of a man. The viscount’s head whips around from where he is in discussion with another. “Come meet Miss y/l/n,” she needles pointedly. “Miss y/l/n, this is the Viscount Anthony Brdgerton, and he is so pleased not only to make your acquaintance but also for your presence here tonight,” she welcomes on his behalf, and you do not miss the subtle nudge in the ribs she gives him.

Then his regard is drawn to you. He is handsome certainly, and you appreciate his polite but absent-minded greeting. His attentions are obviously elsewhere, but then you cannot fault him as yours are the same. Your gaze strays over his shoulder to the man who first captures your attention. And your breath is stolen by how his hazy blue eyes stare intently at you.

____

Benedict is twenty-six years old when he is struck by lightning. Not literally. But that is the sensation that runs through his body when he first lays eyes on you—politely introducing yourself to his mother and thanking her for your invitation to this ball. 

He thought he knew what attraction was until this point. He thought he knew the depths to which one could fall in love in an instant. He was an utter fool. He looks at you, and at once, everything is so quiet and loud all at once. He is desperate to know you in a way he has never felt. To grab your hand, take you somewhere, and ask you a million questions to get to know your soul. He also wants to kiss you so much that his lips tingle. And inside, his lungs want to scream as his mother does the natural thing and introduces the beautiful, polite young lady to her most eligible son… Anthony. 

Then his heart jolts as your eyes stray from Anthony and meets his, your pupils dilating in a way that makes his lungs too small to inhale air. It is the first and only time a young woman has had Anthony’s full attention and has looked away from it. And to him, no less. The tidal flood of chemicals in his system makes it feel like he is vibrating in his very shoes.

____

You try your best to be polite and look at Anthony as he speaks, but your sight is drawn to this other man like a moth to a flame. From appearance, the second son, as you are the second daughter. A flare of understanding and sympathy in your chest as to how that is. You want to grab his hand and run away with him.

“My lord,” you find your voice and snap your eyes back to the Viscount, “would you do me the honour of introducing me to the rest of your wonderful family?” your ask, almost timid.

He looks temporarily taken aback, as if mystified why anyone in the Ton would care about the status of anyone beyond his mother and himself. You smile at him expectantly and do not miss, from the corner of your eye, how the beautiful man’s face is awash with surprise at your request.

“Oh, most certainly,” Anthony seems to snap out of his temporary stupor and turns to introduce his siblings in attendance. A tall, baby-faced young man stands to attention as Anthony moves from left to right. “This is Colin; he has just returned from his travels in Greece,” you nod and smile politely, knowing nothing of the subject. “And this is my sister, Eloise; it is her first season, and she is not in the slightest bit happy about that,” he adds dryly, and you can't help but giggle and feel a kinship with the spirited young lady who returns your wry smile. “My eldest sister, the Duchess of Hastings, who is visiting us,”

You curtsy and bow your head. “It is an honour, your Grace,” you add, and she smiles sweetly at you, her arm looped in her mother's.

“Obviously, you have met my mother,” he continues, and suddenly he is the last in the line. You feel your palms clench, sweaty in anticipation of learning his name “... and this is my brother, Benedict; he hopes to be an artist.”

You are finally brave enough to meet his eyes again. He is so achingly beautiful that the rest of his family, indeed the whole ballroom, melt away from your view—he is all you can see.

“Oh, I adore art,” you stutter, mesmerised, offering your hand to him, the first and only person in the family you do so to. Unseen by you, your gaze only on one man, Anthony’s mouth drops open in surprise.

Nothing can prepare you for when Benedict’s gloved hand gently touches yours, him bowing to kiss the back of your hand. You catch a woody citrus scent that makes your mouth water as he does so. And then you feel the warmth of his lips through your glove, and you are utterly undone.

“Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles quietly, the sound making your insides melt even more; it's deep and resonant and makes every inch of your body tingle.

“Please call me y/n,” you murmur, moving closer, knowing how scandalous that might be, but seemingly unable to stop yourself. He has a hypnotic hold over you that you don't want to fight.

“Only if you shall call me Benedict,” he breathes, and it takes Anthony clearing his throat to make you spring apart, suddenly remembering where you are.

____

His lips touch the silk of your glove, and he is gone. 

Already planning a future, his mind supplying images of you at his cottage out in the country, the lady of the house. Tending to the herb garden, reading happily curled up in front of the fire in the drawing room, fearlessly plucking a bow as you stand in front of joint archery targets gently teasing him for losing to a girl, and finally, the image that truly knocks the wind out of him, you naked under him, desperately moaning his name as you move together, entwined in ecstasy.

He hears your sharp inhale, and his heart skips at the idea you feel it too. That you are the first woman ever that sees him and not Anthony. Really sees him. Not as the second son. Not as a consolation prize. 

And when your body seems to sway towards him, he is already mentally asking his mother for a betrothal ring from her grandmother, which she said she is keeping just for him.

____

“Benedict,” his name feels wonderful in your mouth, like a gift from the heavens. “Please, may we take a turn around the gardens?” you implore, the boldest you have ever been in your whole life. 

“It would be my very greatest pleasure,” he responds.

And you know with absolute certainty you have met your husband, the father of your children, your very future. 

____

“It is not as if this is my show….” he sighs.

“You should not do that, darling,” you say affectionately, ruffling his hair as you move to fix his cravat; it definitely needs to be more jaunty, in your opinion.

“Do what?” he breathes, his wedding ring catching the light as he places his hands gently over yours and stills your motions.

“Think of yourself as second,” you argue, running your hand over his cheek. “This gallery opening may feature others' work too, but you are the star of the exhibit,” you reassure, tilting his forehead down so it rests upon yours.

There it is again. That look that always floors you. Even now, a year later. Like you are the most wondrous creature, and he can scarcely believe you are his.

“Never forget, you will always be first to me,” you utter fiercely, watching his eyes soften with devotion. “And not just me….” you guide his sizeable warm hand onto the swell of your belly, “to us. We love you so much, Benedict,” your tone is ardent, wanting him to believe he deserves this recognition, that he should believe in himself the way that you do.

“I love you, too,” he responds quietly, reverentially. “So very much. Both of you are my whole world,” his voice choked with emotion, and you throw your arms around him and squeeze hard, wanting to telegraph just how much he is the very centre of your universe.

An hour later, you clutch your hands over your chest as you watch him being brought onto the raised stage and introduced to the crowd as they applaud him and his work rapturously, awaiting to hear him talk of his art. As he does so, you stroke your belly unseen under your cloak, beaming with pride for your wonderful husband.

____

He sees your face in the crowd, and as ever, it calms him, especially at this landmark moment. So as he finishes the speech that he has rehearsed for days now, he decides to do something perhaps unconventional but something he seems unable to resist.

“Lastly, before I allow you back to your champagne,” he jests, finally at ease with the attention and recognition. “I want to thank my life’s inspiration, the very reason I stand before you today. My wonderful wife. Thank you, my love, for being the light of my life; for always making this second son your first choice. You will always, always be my first choice. I love you.” 

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep

[leviathanspain]

your porcelain doll

anthony bridgerton x reader, colin bridgerton x reader

synopsis: you needed him to see you

a/n: just go with it 😭😭 it was late and i was high

you had been everything anthony had wanted in a wife. educated and from a high society family, hips perfect for bearing children, he could not have asked for more.

yet anthony neglected you, his wife, his viscountess. he would prefer the promiscuous girls from the opera and brothels, than you, his darling, porcelain doll wife.

when he felt the rare urge to dote on you, perhaps the guilt that had made its monthly appearance, anthony would call you his doll, admiring how perfect you have been in this marriage.

“sweet,” his voice was husky as he brushed back the flutters of your hair. he had surprised you by coming to bed at the same time as you. captured between his arms as your dress began to slip down your body, you smiled weakly. you could smell her perfume on his neck, and you felt nauseous. you had walked away, feeling the burn of his touch on your skin.

in your dreams, anthony bridgerton was the noble viscount that you had been promised. completely and utterly enamored with you, making love to you, worshipping you endlessly.

but when you woke up, finding the space next to you, cold and empty, you knew it was a never ending nightmare. one where the viscount would never love you.

you had been married to the viscount for nearly a year and you had yet to meet his second younger brother, colin bridgerton. you had only heard of the man through anecdotes and stories shared by the bridgerton family.

you loved to be around the bridgerton family, especially the dowager viscountess, violet. when in her and his family’s presence, anthony treated you like a wife, as if he loved you.

but as anthony grew busier, and you were pushed aside more and more, your time with the bridgertons had been cut in half.

only when you received a letter addressed to the viscount and viscountess, a rare instance, from colin bridgerton, you knew that once again the bridgerton family would reunite.

you knew that daphne and her children would be present, and as much as you loved them all, her children served as your constant reminder that you continue to fail in the one thing that he asked for.

your entrance was welcomed warmly, daphne standing to greet you, and violet offering you the seat beside her. you felt overwhelmed with their love, and you felt starved of any affection or attention. anthony had hardly said two words to you since presenting his brother’s letter.

as the rest of the bridgertons filed in, you let your eyes wander and try to find the mysterious bridgerton.

you knew it was him, he had been sitting by the piano, lips moving quietly as a finger traced the page. you had heard from eloise and her friend penelope that colin loved to sing, and had a rather good voice. the piano was something that daphne excelled in the most, but you could assume the musical talent ran in the family.

violet had called over her traveler son, “you must meet your brother’s wife!” his wife, your identity seemed to disappear the moment you became the viscountess, that even the dowager failed to notice.

your heart pounded in your chest as the strapping man walked towards you. from what you knew, he was closer to your age than anthony was, and had seemingly gotten stronger overseas.

being gone long, colin did not forget his manners. a bow and a kiss to your hand that nearly left you weeping, colin introduced himself and welcomed you into his family.

his eyes strayed and you felt flushed. colin bridgerton had not been the boy that the family told stories of, he had not been the young boy caught in a vicious scandal, at least not as he was now.

you had walked into the drawing room to search for your missing brooch. dinner was finishing up and you had excused yourself early to do your searching. you had pushed the doors open and found colin bridgerton, who had earlier excused himself for breather, sitting with his feet up on the table.

you stepped back, “i apologize, mr. bridgerton-“ you pulled away and colin shook his head, “please, stay. and call me colin, you are family.” he looked at you in a way that felt-

you sat down, finding some solace in the understanding that there was nothing wrong with a woman sharing a conversation with her husband’s brother. a recently traveled man with many stories to tell.

as colin neared close to you, eyes shining brightly as he went on and on about his travels, you could not stop yourself as you kissed him. a deep kiss that you felt immediate shame for, pulling away until he pulled you back in, his teeth nipping at your lips.

colin had known how anthony treated you, his brother still sent letters whenever he could, and none of them ever had anything to say about you, even when asked. colin could have pushed you away, knowing that it was the right thing to do. but your kiss had been nothing like colin had imagined. better, and it had left with such a rage towards his brother.

anthony could have counted on his fingers how many instances you had embarrassed him. your early excusal had sent him into a quiet rage, leaving early had not been approved by him, and now as he went searching for you to take you to bed, anthony could not find you.

he had heard soft chatter coming from the drawing room. anthony pushed the doors open as soon as he heard the rare sound of your laugh. he found his brother next to you, tangled in a kiss with your hands meshed against his body.

you turned at the sight of the door creaking and you felt immediate shame. the idea of adultery had never crossed your mind, but now as you had committed the act, nonetheless with his own brother, you remembered why you did it in the first place.

his voice broke as the words came out, emotion filled with rage, a quiet rage that floated off of him, “y/n- what is this?”

you felt sick, eyes muddled with tears as you shook your head, “this marriage is rotten, bitter,” you felt your mouth suddenly dry, “it had consumed me inside and out, not even my womb bears the bastard sons you’ve given your many whores, and i hope i never do.”

there, staring at the furious face of his brother, colin could now see the true nature of your relationship. there was an intensity in anthony’s eyes that made colin fear the worst. he stepped in front of you, eyes blazing at his own brother, “you do not realize your mistake, colin.” anthony seethed, thoughts rushing through his head.

you looked at your husband, regret filling a pit in your stomach. you would not return to your bed, where you feigned ignorance when he would not come to bed. “anthony, go.” you whispered, you were shaking, and for the first time, it was as if anthony had seen you, you were more than his porcelain doll, to be seen and not heard, to be beautiful and innocent.

the viscount was speechless and he exited the room, a heaviness lingered in the air as your mind rushed to your very few options. colin had seemed to sense your distress, perhaps your shivering like a leaf that tipped him off, “y/n, we will take care of you.” there was reassurance that you hadn’t expected- and you remained in awe of colin bridgerton.

[redheadspark]

May I request "I'm so so sorry, you don't deserve that," with Benedict bridgerton please 💗

A/N - Thanks for the request, anon!

Joy

Summary - Benedict knows how to bring you joy

Warnings - Mostly angst with a hint of fluff in the end

Benedict opened the door into your personal study just at the very moment you held your head in your hands, a singular piece of paper on the desk in your mother's writing and some tears were evident on the paper.  He panicked, closing the door right behind him as he walked into the study.

“Darling?” He asked, making his way over to your side as you were attempting to hide your tears from him.  But it was no use, some of the tears were stashing the letter now as Benedict reached for your clammy hand.  You laced your fingers together, Benedict coaxing you to look at him and see his eyes that were filled with worry and the worst thoughts.

“My mother,” You simply stated, Benedict’s eyes moving from you to the tear-stained paper.  He took the letter with his spare hand, scanning the letter rapidly with his eyes as you were attempting to wipe the tears away.  From what he was reading and digesting in the letter, it all was negative feedback at your mother’s usual tactics in trying to make you feel bad for being a Bridgerton wife.  Benedict was already on thin ice with her because of his family name, your mother was far too traditional for her daughter to be courted by a family that had a so-called “reputation” among the elite and upper class.  

Yet you never cared, you are simply in love with Benedict and his love for art and life.  You two fell for each other hard and fast, courting for several months before you broke the engagement to your mother.  She was shocked, thinking of it as another scandal in the making, and was instantly against it.  No matter how many times you told her Benedict was a good man, giving her proof of a suitable living situation and his contributions to art and the community, she only focused on his last name and the scandals of the past.

Even a year later she still spoke ill towards you and your new family, which made it worse for you.

Benedict could only sigh as he placed the letter to the side and reached over to embrace you in his arms.  The last thing he wanted to do was upset you more since he could say plenty of ill things to his mother-in-law.  You placed boundaries with her when you and Benedict were married, knowing that it was the best way to both be happy and to have a relationship with her.  But of course, your mother never minded the jabs every now and then, to which Benedict’s dislike for her was growing by the day.  Yet you never let those words deter you from your love for him, making Benedict all the more proud to be your husband.  

“I can’t believe she disinvited us to her home for Christmas,” You mumbled into his shirt, Benedict told you a bit tighter as you were clinging onto him for support, “I thought she was turning a corner with us and how she feels about us.”

“As did I, Darling,” Benedict hummed in agreement as he pressed a kiss in your hair, “But your mother is set in her ways, which is no excuse for how she treats her own kin,”

“I thought it would be better for her since my father died,” You said in a whisper, “He loved you.  I wish he was here to speak reason with her,”

Benedict pushed the hair out of your eyes as he made you look up at him.  Your prestige bright eyes that he loved and adored were pouring into his as he gave you a somber look.

“I’m so so sorry, you don’t deserve that,” He calmly said to you as he pressed his forehead against yours, “You know that you have my family who adores you.  My sisters are obsessed with you, and my brothers always tell me I’m a lucky man to have you.  Especially Anthony, he tells me daily until he’s blue in the face,”

You cracked a grin, Benedict chuckling at the sight of you finally smiling.

“I know it hurts, what your mother is doing to you.  But you still have a family, with my own mother, and my siblings.  And of course with me. I’m your family, okay?”  He asked, you sighed and nodded your head as he kissed you softly.  Every time your mother shot you down and made you feel small, Benedict built you up and made you strong.  Fresh flowers in your vase by your bedside, new paintings and sketches that he was inspired by as a gift to you on your birthday or anniversary, and simply giving you the love and affection that he knew you craved.

“Now If I know my mother, she would be over the moon to host the pair of us for Christmas, along with the rest of the family,” Benedict said to you as he helped you out of the chair and wrapped an arm around you, “It’s already been decided actually: Anthony and Kate will be there along with Daphne and Simon.”

“Sounds lovely, Benedict,” You said with a giggle, feeling him peck you with kisses all over your face as you were giggling and trying to duck away from him.  A chorus of laughter was heard from your study, changing the mood from somber and sadness to lightness and joy.  

Benedict would do that every day just to bring a smile to your face. 

The End

[eufezco]

I saw your Bridgerton requests were open !

Can I do one for Benedict they’re courting but suddenly he starts spending more time with Tilly so reader starts to distance herself from him and starts to spend more time with Colin and Benedict gets jealous and pulls her away from Colin maybe they’re dancing or something. And pulls her to another room and apologizes and maybe smut occurs or something as a part of his apology ?

If not that’s ok I thought I’d ask!

YOU BELONG WITH ME

—Are you leaving with Colin? —Benedict asked you in disbelief.

You had been talking with Anthony and Kate about your intentions to join Colin on his next trip and it seemed that the older Bridgerton brother had wasted no time in letting Benedict know.

Now you were in a room of the Queen's palace, alone with Benedict and the piano in the center of it. He had practically begged you to give him a few minutes of your time, had interrupted your dance with Colin, and led you by the hand into that room. You and Benedict were the match of the season so the Queen had managed to distract the other guests while you sneaked out of the ball.

—How is it that you care?

—He is my brother.

You raised your eyebrows, hoping for some further explanation.

—You cannot leave with him —Benedict stated.

You shook your head, keeping eye contact with him. His blue eyes looked back at you and you just wished he could see the anger growing on your face.

—Where have you been these past days, Benedict?

He immediately knew what you were talking about.

It was true that he had not been visiting you during calling hours, he had not asked you out for walks, he had not picked flowers from the garden of Aubrey Hall to bring them to you while he had tea with your mama. He hadn't even bothered to put his name on your card tonight to secure a dance with you.

—I have been visiting a friend —He answered you.

—Since when are you friends with Tilley Arnold?

Benedict huffed a laugh. —Why is it that you care so much?

—Because you were courting me! —If it hadn't been for the loud music in the ballroom you would have sworn that the rest of the guests would have heard you. —A couple of days with Tilley Arnold have been enough for you to forget about me?

—I do not know, perhaps you can tell me since you are the one leaving with my brother to another country —Benedict said ironically.

You shook your head and rolled your eyes. On another occasion, you would have appreciated Benedict's lack of seriousness but right in that moment you were angry and you just wanted to get out of that room. You turned your back on Benedict to leave but on your way to the door, he grabbed your hand and made your body turn to him. Your face showed disappointment and anger and he knew he couldn't let you go like that.

—I apologize if I have ever caused you to doubt how I feel for you.

You took a deep breath through your nose. You were still angry but his words definitely made you feel better.

—My feelings for you have not changed —. He continued saying. Benedict began to walk slowly and you took a few steps backwards trying to escape from him until you bumped your back against the door. That didn't stop him from moving towards you. —And I don't think Tilley or anyone else can possibly change the way you make me feel.

Benedict's eyes moved from yours to your lips and you knew what he was about to do.

—Do not kiss me, Benedict, not now.

He slowly nodded, one of his hands pinched your chin so you would look at him. He gave you enough time so that if you really didn't want him to kiss you, you could push him away. —I am going to kiss you.

—Do not —You mumbled, but your eyes fixed on his lips betrayed the words that came out of your mouth and Benedict pressed his lips against yours. His hands went to cup both of your cheeks and you melted under his touch. How could you be angry with him if he kissed you with such sweetness?

Benedict's hands traveled down your body looking for your ass. He gave you a gentle squeeze and with his grip there, he started to roll up your dress to your hips, exposing your legs and making it easier for you to wrap them around his body.

Your hands were around his neck, helping him to hold your weight and also to deepen the kiss as much as possible. He guided you to the piano, his lips moving with yours and his eyes closed enjoying the kiss, so distracted by the feeling that when he sat you down on the instrument, the lid was up and your ass pressed down almost all the keys. You both jumped off each other, scared, but right after you bursted out laughing.

While you laughed and shook your heads, you got up and pushed Benedict off his shoulders, making him sit on the instrument stool. You rolled your dress up so the fabric wouldn't get in the way once you sat with a leg on each side of his body. Your cleavage was just a few centimeters away from his face and he didn't even try to make eye contact with you when your breasts, so enhanced by the corset, were practically in his face.

—My eyes are up here.

—I do know that—. Benedict said while his hands unbuttoned your dress and undid the laces of your corset.

Your body relaxed once it was freed from the uncomfortable undergarment and Benedict's lips were quick to attack your breasts. You took a deep breath and bit your lower lip, Benedict hummed while his lips left a wet trail of kisses across your breasts. Your hands moved down his body until they reached his crotch, he hissed when your fingers traced the line of his hard cock on his pants. You were quick to unbutton them and he helped you pull down his underwear just enough to free his cock.

His blue eyes were finally on yours, focusing on every little expression on your face. His lips were parted as you pulled your underwear to one side and lined him up against your entrance. You looked into his eyes and your lips half opened as his own which allowed you to share a moan when you gently lowered yourself.

Benedict kissed you again while his hands moved to hold your hips and help you move. One of your hands went to the back of his head and tugged his hair at the root. Benedict groaned but his dick jumped inside you.

—Tell me you're mine. Only mine, Benedict. Tell me I'm the only one.

You pressed your foreheads together while your hand kept a firm grip on his hair.

—I'm yours. Only yours —He said with a moan. His eyes closed shut, your body didn't stop moving up and down his cock, and his hands held you tighter. Benedict tried to catch your lips but you tugged harder on his hair and stopped him. You shook your head, that was not enough, you wanted to hear more. —You're my only one. No other woman shall have me the way you have me —He whined.

That was much better. —Good boy.

You allowed him to press his desperate lips against yours. You also allowed Benedict to set the pace, his hips fucking into you, thrusting from below to match your movements. You moaned in each other's mouths. The music was playing loudly in the ballroom but still, you swore that someone could hear your muffled scream when Benedict sunk balls deep inside you.

He kept fucking you as if he wanted everyone to notice what you two had been doing, alone, locked in some room in the Queen's palace. It was outrageous and Benedict loved it. He fucked you as if, when you finished and walked out of that room, he wanted everyone in the ton to know that his cum was dripping down your legs.

He kept fucking you as if he wanted everyone to notice what you two had been doing, alone, locked in a random room in the Queen's palace. It was outrageous and Benedict loved it. He fucked you as if, when you finished and walked out of that room, he wanted everyone in the ton to know that his cum was dripping down your legs. And by the wrinkles of the delicate fabric of your beautiful dress, they would know that it was going to be very difficult to see Benedict around Tilley Arnold anymore, and by the way Benedict wouldn't leave your side during the rest of the ball, they would know that you had no love interest in Colin Bridgerton.

Benedict would make sure that neither you nor anyone else in society would doubt how he felt about you and would assure that by putting a ring on your finger the next morning.

He came with a deep groan coming straight from his chest. You hid your face in the crook of his neck while your legs shook and you felt dizzy from all the panting. Benedict kissed your exposed shoulder as he gave you enough time to catch your breath. He caressed your back and ran his fingers over the marks left on your skin by the tight corset.

You fixed your position on his lap, sitting with your back straight. Benedict was still inside you, not allowing his cum to come out and go to waste.

—You must know that my wishes to join Colin on his trip to Greece have not changed.

Benedict huffed a laugh and kissed your lips. You smiled as well.

—Then I shall join you two. What would people think if you went alone with him? —By the way he asked it you knew that he meant no harm, instead, the tone in his voice was quite sarcastic.

—Since when Benedict Bridgerton cares about what other people may think?

—Since they would be talking about my wife.

[skyrigel]

Obsessed with you 11

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Benedict bridgerton x afab! reader

Synopsis: Ton's most eligible bachelor makes a move, oh dear ! An offer by the gentleman.

Warning: no description of reader, reader's last name is Rose for convenience ( used only twice ) internal conflict, mutual pinning but it's secret on reader's part, Benedict being an absolute tease, touchy Benedict, fluff and humour, reader's mother has some issues, resentment feelings for love, alcoholism ( blink and you miss it ) please read it !! ( No Polin, kathony in this chapter)

Dearest gentle readers,

This author believes desire to be a spectrum, and while longing, passion, lust and love are often known, i would ask, ' have you ever seen obsession ? ' it is rather very tempting.

It is not I, but the moon that basked in the sky last night who whispered, and i simply convey. There's been an offer made by the gentleman. Tempting, is it not ?

The next morning...

" How was your evening ? "

You coughed, grasping your throat as Mrs. Turner immediately patted your back, helping you with water.

Your mother's gaze was usually unfocused and clouded but even so, it was terrifying enough when she narrowed them at you.

" Fine." You said, feeling your chest burn, " It was very pleasant."

" That's amazing dearest." She turned back to her plate, untouched as it was, she hardly ate sometimes, you looked away, blinking.

" Ma'am, shall we expect any caller ? " Mrs. Turner asked your mother, but the question was solely directed to you.

" Indeed." Mama drank, her third glass of wine," she's very good girl." She added, raising her empty glass, her eyes stinging with moisteness.

" She is." Mrs. Turner smiled, you dropped your gaze back to your breakfast, staring hard. Oh god, what have you done ?

While waiting for a caller...

If Mrs. Turner noticed your panic, she said nothing and darkest part of you wondered if she was enjoying it actually.

" Your mother will be so disappointed if you have no caller today." Mary sighed, you winced internally, feeling sudden urge to just run and run until everything inside you crumbled and withered away.

" C'mon ! " Mary moaned, nudging you on your arm, "you're scaring me like that, say something."

" I don't know." You turned to her, pulling a straight face " suggest something lady Mariam." Mary groaned, you giggled, remembering how your sister used to, in every pain, in every nightmare.

Gissele joked all the times, her sharp wits and biting humour was something you always looked up at, you always wanted to be her because nothing touched her, she never cried, never baffled, her laughter still echoed sometimes in your head. But when night came and so did fear and darkness, on one such you tip tooed to her room, frozen at the soft sobs that were muffled by the pillow.

The jokes weren't funny anymore.

" Oh i wish—" whatever Mary wished was drowned by Mrs. Turner who entered the room with a undignified frown directed to you both , her eyes sharpening with unspoken disdain. Mary sat up straighter, abandoning her usual hunching and slouching.

" You have a caller miss." Mrs. Turner annouced, " Mr. Benedict bridgerton." She said, her mouth bitter with loathing.

You half registered her resentment before a shrilly strangled noise escaped your throat, mind swirling with last night memories that you were still not accepting to be true, you told Mary everything except the offer from the gentleman, or perhaps it wasn't a offer at all. A demand.

" Oh no." Mary gasped, you weren't sure if you had nodded or said anything but Mrs. Turner left, her mouth clasped close, brow knitted.

" What should I do ? " You bited your lip, panic settling, you remembered too well how bolting Benedict made you feel, the feel of his lips pressed against your skin. It was too endearing, a feeling that was too close to flying, soaring high but also to falling, down and down till there's nothing holding you but gravity, Benedict made you skip your heartbeats then become it's very muse.

" Be yourself. Didn't you say that to me ? "

Mary deadpanned, sensing your dread, she tried again,

" We can still run away, the window's open—" Mary stood upright, turning towards the fireplace when Benedict came. He was holding flowers, almost all kinds, his eyes twinkled as he raked his gaze upon you, smiling.

" Good morning, miss Rose." He bowed, at first to you, handling your flowers and you were gone the moment his fingers brushed against you, but it was then you realised there were two bouquets.

" Lady Mariam Turner." Benedict's smile grew wicked, you were sure to heard Mary mumbling something very blasphemous before she turned around, her face red.

" A very good morning, Mr. Bridgerton." She bowed, her eyes shut. You were paralyzed, feeling your skin still buzzing.

" C'mon, don't stand too much ladies, you might get tired." He purred, clapping his hand as he sat down next to you the couch, Mary and you shared a look before you sat back, she followed on the other one.

" Why did you come ? " You said, feeling your throat getting rigid, considering how Mary sighed, it was the worst possible thing to say to your caller, it didn't matter.

" Well, I was going to meet you mother and ask for your hand in marriage today but since she's sick and confined to her chambers, I shall do it tomorrow." You gaped at him, no matter how much you convinced yourself that it was just a dream, in no hell it could be now, his sincere eyes were most dazzling and despite the smirk that lit up his whole face, there was no ounce of humour.

" That's.." you shaked your head, don't think about his mouth, stop, stop, stop—

" Very kind." Mary was equally baffled, but you knew what a tease she would be to you later, if only you survived now.

" Thankyou lady Turner." Benedict smiled to her, bowing again, his teeths showing and Mary's ear blazed and she looked away, chortling under her breath.

" I am sorry about yesterday." You weren't sure how you could offended him but it didn't matter, you would be doomed if anyone knew of the lunacy you pulled last night.

Benedict deepened his gaze but said nothing, he slowly descended to your collarbone and heat crept up your spine. You shifted back, baffled at the tightening in your guts.

" I shall leave you to talking." Mary stood up, motioning towards the shelves and shelves of books.

" You don't read." You hissed at her, she sticked out her tongue tip and was gone, sparing few glances in between.

" I like her." Benedict said, you noticed that he was much closer. It surely wasn't a trick of your mind.

" Why are you doing this ? " You asked him, because you would be damned if it were another of his flirtings, another way to entertain himself. A frown crossed his jolly face and it didn't look like it belonged there.

" Forgive me if I had not made that clear." He said, his eyes softened when he looked at you, " I want to marry you." Oh.

No, no, you told yourself, didn't what Mrs. Turner said, he liked them of class, he has no honour when it comes to corrupt young ladies—

" You don't even know me." You said, voice small and frail.

" As much as I know you, you are kind, gentle and affectionate. Your beauty however is yet another muse of mine, i tried so hard, to trap you in canvas and colours but I couldn't do any justice, for you were simply ethereal in your own orbit. " He said, " but I would like to know all of you, every layer, every facade...you are the most extraordinary person i have ever met."

You wouldn't believe him, no matter how bright his eyes shine and how true every word feels, no, you wouldn't make the mistake Gissele made. Words, stupid words.

" We danced, only one time."

" It was enough." He reached out and kept his hand over yours, it was then your realised how badly your hands were trembling.

You didn't pull away, you knew how you would break down if you had to. You held onto him, not that you trusted him, no.

" Listen love, " love, He said it so softly, you were so doomed, " The moment our eyes locked I knew you had bewitched me, everything inside me longed for you...and..I knew it's silly but I thought i would die if I didn't see you again and when I did, I knew there was no life worth living it it's not with you."

" Those are just words." You looked away, instead focusing your eyes on Mary on the other end of the room, pretending to read a book, it was upside down.

" Yes, they are." He agreed, " so that's why I am here to make them actions, I fancy you so much that it sometimes scares—"

" Then don't, love shouldn't be scary." You remembered all those letters in Gissele's room, talking about love this, love that, ending with love you's, but what then ?

Benedict chuckled, like you weren't bashing him. he squeezed your hand gently. His fingers sliding through the dips of your knuckles, like moulded for each other. Stop.

" Love's not scary, it can be when you think about losing them, I was last night when I thought you wouldn't show up. That I would never see you again...no, I was terrified."

" You knew." You turned to him, he was practically hopping as he caught your gaze, every desire crawling out to you, screaming your name.

" I did." He confirmed, you raised your brow in question, " I would recognise you anywhere." He said simply and just like that you believed him.

You felt your face warming, heat shooting up in flames, Benedict seemed amused as his other hand, the one not making stars on your wrist came to caress your cheek. His lips parted when he felt your warmness, then he smiled, a knowing one.

" What if I nothing that you have assumed me to be ? " You weren't sure why you asked him that, perhaps it was the last letter you burnt before your elder sister could read it.

...Gis, this is not what we agreed on, this is not you, not the Gissele i knew. Please stop claiming it to be mine, we didn't even go that further, stop spreading these sour rumours that could filth my name...

" I adore all of you, every bit and every mole, i don't think there's any choice for me, it's just... there's no proof but you just know...I knew it, it's you, miss Rose. It was always going to be you."

You nodded, not sure if you could speak anything, feeling your heart thud louder and louder with each word that he spoke, every curve of his mouth and you could slowly feel time stoping.

That was the moment Mrs. Turner took to came, you yanked your hand back but Benedict wasn't much interested and his whine was quite visible.

" Mr. Bridgerton, Would you like lemon cakes, our cook is quite famous for it ? " Benedict looked at the refreshments that was left untouched except the biscuit that Mary nicked while on her way to 'reading' books upside down.

" As much I am very fond of it, i would have to say no. Me and miss Rose fancied a walk around the gardens."

Mrs. Turner looked accusingly at you and you shrugged, Benedict ignored all of that.

" Pleasant weather, is it not ? "

Mrs. Turner perched her lips, smiling that was mere curtsy. Oh god, what are you Benedict bridgerton ? Why are you so obsessed with me ?

By the secret gardens, with Mr. Bridgerton...

" Lady Mariam, alright ? " Benedict turned back to Mary who walked few steps behind you and him.

" Yes my Mr. Bridgerton." She said, slowing even more, she wasn't even trying to be good chaperone. Benedict praised her for it.

" That's my hand." You grasped your skirt before Benedict could hold it, for god sake, people were watching.

" Oops." Benedict apologised, not being sorry at all, his smile widening. You kept your eyes ahead.

" So would you say yes when I will propose ? " Benedict asked this, indirectly for the third time since the walk, he was rather good with words, he was also good at painting as much as you had heard and— stop, stop, stop.

" Haven't you already proposed ? " You stopped, he did too, cocking his head sideways.

" Yes indeed I have and I meant it." He admitted, " I was talking about the one where I am on my knees."

You weren't going to think about that, absolutely not, in no scandalous way. His thighs would look very erotic. Shit.

"No."

" You're lying." He scoffed. Yes you were, not that securing a proposal this season was your absolute ultimatum. Your mother wasn't cruel, she never was, but she was very paranoid and it was more crueler sometimes.

But marrying Benedict wouldn't be your escape or security, because you knew you would love him, whatever that was and if you could hate yourself for it then so it be.

The fate and destiny Benedict said, the way he just knew and who were you lying to ?

Didn't you touched him and got so electrified that you knew nothing would ever be same again, say it, go on. Lie, lie again but swear it if you didn't lock eyes with him and wished to just get lost and never be found. Wasn't it the night of the masquerade ball when you were truly alive for the first time in so long, giggling and free, dancing with your hands tied. Go on, lie.

" You wish." Benedict laughed on that, rich and beautiful and enough to make you hide your face as it went crimson.

" Lady—" he bagan to turn, you grabbed his elbow, jerking him to you, very unladylike.

" Stop teasing her." You leaned towards him and while you were in no position to talk about flustering but damn, Benedict was knocked out of his breath. You smiled, it was truly inevitable not to.

" I like to."

" Mean."

" That's very unladylike to insult your husband to be." Benedict said, recovering, all his smugness on full display. You let go of his arm, bending to take a pebble.

" Husband ? " You tossed a pebble off the lake, hoping to blame the rosiness that bloomed your cheeks on the sun.

" Yes wifey ? " Benedict ducked his head, like a puppy with stars in his eyes. He was so beautiful, why did he have to be like this ?

" Don't call me that." Please, very much call me that, it makes me blush, please, please.

" Then what should I call you ? " Benedict asked, before you could answer him, his arm grasped your waist, pulling you to him in a sudden moment. Wish you could say you immediately pulled away but that would be a lie. You melted in his embrace, eyes shut, a soft rhythmic music, it was his heart beats, you listened.

" Pebble." Benedict whispered down in your ear, you nodded once, pulling away hesitantly. He wasn't sure but let go of your elbow at last, his cheeks pink with blood.

" Should I call you Mrs.Bridgerton ? "

" Aren't there going to be three Mrs. Bridgertons ? "

Benedict bumped your nose on that, laughing while you frowned. He ought to stop touching you before you do something awfully stupid.

.... you're not stupid Gissele...

" Well ofcourse, yes. I see you're stalking me." Benedict winked, you eye rolled, something inside you shivering, a knot in your stomach loosening.

" Everyone knows that."

" Hmmph." Benedict hummed, " but you ought to know more wifey."

" Ofcourse Husband." You tried and was rewarded with Benedict missing a step, he smiled, a lopsided grin, recovering soon he turned to you.

" I wished to make you a wedding gift."

You knew he didn't even made a formal proposal to your mother but even so every word felt truer than life, for once you let go of what would happen, if he would break your heart then so be it, if you die bleeding then let it be that way, but you want to be alive, for once, just be alive.

" That's very kind of you."

Benedict tucked a strand of hair behind your hair, smiling his brightest smile.

You looked back at Mary who grinned back with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

" Obsessed." She mouthed, you shaked your head, smiling to yourself, very well.

Rigel's note 🪩 : I hope it was good, I am bit struck in life :( also can anyone make a banner, please ? I mean i would do it myself but I am so so slumped up right now and lack skills too <3 also thank-you for leaving cute cute asks and replies and messages!!! I am so thankful to write for wonderful dearest readers like you, love you <3

Join taglist to be updated :)

Taglist ( <333 ) : @imgondeletedis @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @mayusenpai666 @toeoffrog @alyyaana @rebeccawinters

[i-hate-accidents]

I feel like Benedict would be so frazzled when his love is in labor. He would insist on being in the room with his wife

the author took immense liberties with this idea. she hopes you enjoy it nevertheless and offers her thanks for sharing it with them~

the author would also like to name that, whilst a she/her femme, the sort of reader who the author wrote with in mind would likely not resonate with being called 'wife.' she would likely prefer 'partner' or a more gender inclusive term. <3

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i hate accidents: a drabble

femme!reader x benedict bridgerton, femme!reader & the bridgerton family, femme!reader & penelope featherington

summary:  the adventures of a working class femme who befriends a fellow writer, a boisterous family, and a bewitching second eldest son

sections:  I. the beginning / II. the between / III. the ball

y/n:  bipoc, she/her, afab, nonbinary femme, queer, working class, of immigrant parents

content warnings:  pregnancy (no birthing/labor)

word count:  891

tagged: @mikariell95 @omgsuperstarg @flyestvenustrap @nowheredreamer @jimblejamblewritings

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“you are thinking of something.”

you smile; your husband knows you too well.  you continue to rub at your protruding stomach. 

“our child can kill a scottish king,” you respond.

benedict laughs through his nose, his ocean eyes crinkling in the adorable way that they always do whenever he is truly delighted. 

“if you hadn’t said 'scottish,' i might have needed to turn you in for treason.  why do you say that, love?”

you struggle out of your lounge, swatting at your kindly husband’s offer to assist you, and waddle over to your shelves of books.  you drag your forefinger across the spines until you emit an ‘aha!’ and pull the book.  flipping towards the end, you find the pressed wisteria you used to mark the verse and read,

“‘for none of woman born shall harm macbeth,’” you look up from the words to benedict as you beam with pride.  “see?  the premiere attribute for assassinating a fictitious monarch, and here our child has it because of me.”

your husband returns your beam as he approaches you and leans in to plant a soft kiss on your temple.  shifting himself to be behind you, he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his hands on the low of your stomach.  you lean into the comfort of his embrace.

“and how shall we support our child with their nefarious intentions?” benedict inquires.

you hum.

“both their parents are quite proficient in fencing.  perhaps it is a trait that they shall inherit?”

“that seems certain.  their parents are also quite good at sneaking about; that ought to be of use to them for their plot.”

you snort.

“i think you are too generous, love.  there is a certain eldest brother who has vehemently disproved time and time again that we are, in fact, quite terrible at sneaking about.”

benedict nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, causing you to giggle.  you can feel his smile against your quickened pulse.  it is silly; how he is your husband— how he is the father of your child to-be!  and yet, he still makes you feel this way.  he still makes these damned butterflies flutter within you.

“more incentive to keep practicing, no?”  you feel benedict’s smile broaden into a grin.  “for our child, of course.”

stupid benedict.

you shake your head with all the affection in your heart.

“for our child.”

a small silence falls amongst you.  you should allow yourself this comfort.  you should allow yourself this peace.  but—

“do you think i can do it?” 

you had meant to say it as plainly as you could, but the tears that threaten to fall from your eyes choked your words into a whisper.  benedict releases himself from the embrace, one hand still on your stomach, as he shifts to face you.

“do what, my love?”

the crack in the softness of his voice and the gentle circles you feel on your stomach from his touch make you close your eyes.

“birth our child.  raise them.  what if it is too much?  what if i hurt them?  what if i—” you flutter your eyes open to the tear-blurry sight of disquiet in ocean eyes, “what if i am not the parent they deserve?”

he says your name, and that is enough to allow your tears to fall.  you start to look down, feeling the weight of your shame settle within you, but benedict does not let you.  he gently cups your face, lifts it, and kisses wherever tears roll down your cheeks.  benedict murmurs ‘i love you’ with each kiss until he whispers,

“i am fearful too.”

you pull your face away from his and see how his throat bobs, as it always does right before he wishes to say something more firmly.

“i am fearful that i will fail them.  i am fearful that i will not be even an inkling of a father to our child as my father was to me,” benedict heaves a sigh, and you see how he wills himself not to let his tears fall.  “but,” his throat bobs again, “then i remind myself that our child has you, y/n.”

you place a hand on his cheek and softly rub your thumb against his skin.

“you can cry too, benedict,” you manage.

he huffs out a laugh as he allows a tear to fall.  you gently press your lips against his cheek to capture it.

“yes, but i am not the one carrying our child.”

you look down at your stomach and then up at your husband.  you offer a small smile.

“i suppose it is your fault that i am in such a state.”

that makes benedict laugh fully. 

stupid butterflies. 

he tries to look down and away, suddenly shy by the very silly observation you have made, but you do not let him.  you shift your head and capture him with a kiss between his chin and his cheek, gently pushing his face up and murmuring ‘i love you’ into his skin.

perhaps your and benedict’s fear shall never go away.  perhaps you two shall never be the perfect parents you wish to be for your child.  but your child was created out of real, true love.  a love that protects, that laughs, that nurtures, that comforts, that heals.  and perhaps, that is enough.

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