#Lucky Ladies of London

[overflowingshelf]

ARC Review: The Lady He Lost by Faye Delacour

The Lady He Lost Faye Delacour Publisher: sourcebooks Casablanca Publication Date: April 2, 2024 Series or Standalone: Lucky Ladies of London #1 Links: Amazon – Barnes & Noble – Goodreads – StoryGraph Rating: MY REVIEW CW: Kidnapping; toxic relationship (not main couple); death of parents (off-page) I first fell in love with The Lady He Lost because of its stunning cover! And I’m so glad…

[jula483]

Macbeth, November 11th ✨

[mylyy]

"Such a lonely feeling, being hopelessly in love"

The luckiest Lady in London by Sherry Thomas

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

young ladies shouldn’t waltz with vampires

a/n: happy halloween!!! here's the fic you guys voted on and shaped a few weeks ago

polls for this fic: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

summary: “so, here’s the thing,” his ocean eyes then flickered in the same manner Steve’s had, mystically bending your mind to his will, “you’re gonna come with us, be ours to play with for the night. You can go home when the sun comes up, but without remembering the time we shared…” 

warnings: vampire!bucky barnes x innocent!reader x vampire!steve rogers, smut, dark content, dubcon/noncon, historical au (1840s), mind control/vampire compulsion, blood, biting, age gap, ball, dancing, polyamory, threesome, first kiss, kissing, loss of virginity, somno, cockwarming, dirty talk, size kink, pain kink, pussyjob, overstimulation, penetrative sex, anal, double penetration, unprotected sex

word count: 3511

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“I have to admit, out of every rose here, you’re the most breathtaking.” 

Glancing up from the table before you, cluttered with crystal glasses brimming with refreshments, your eyes flickered to the man now standing beside you, his own piercing blue stare firmly directed at you and no one else in the buzzing ballroom. 

Your stunned lips parted slightly before the gentleman boldly spoke up again, “how come I’ve never seen you before?” 

Feeling your breath hitch, you managed to babble, “oh, it’s probably because this is my first time at a proper ball. I haven’t really previously been allowed to come stay at my family’s London estate and–, I’m sorry…” you swiftly stopped yourself, sensing the heat that had ridden in your cheeks, “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this…”

“Well, lucky us that you got let out of your cage and the rest of us finally get to gaze upon your beauty,” he flashed you a dazzling smile before his eyes flickered to someone behind you, “if you’ll excuse me, I see someone I recognise, but would you perhaps grant me the pleasure of a dance a little later?” 

Averting your gaze, a smile tugged at your lips as you uttered, “you’d have to ask my brother.” 

“But I’m asking you,” he dipped down to catch your vision, “would you care to dance with me?” 

Blinking back at him, you couldn’t help but let out the truth.

“Y-yes.” 

As a smile swiftly tilted his lips, the gentleman then bowed slightly before you as he plucked up your gloved hand and pressed his lips to the back of it before disappearing into the merry crowd. 

Feeling slightly dizzy, you finally snatched up the drink you’d originally wandered to this corner of the chamber to fetch. 

Though as you granted yourself a small sip, fingers suddenly grasped your arm and yanked you deeper into a corner. 

“Sister!” you blinked up into your brother’s eyes as he’d evidently spotted you from across the ballroom and, judging by his tone, not approved of what he’d seen, “what in the world do you think you’re doing?”

Ripping your arm free, you furrowed your brows, “what are you talking about? I was just getting some punch.”

“No,” he hissed at a hushed volume, “why were you talking to him?”

A confused scoff then bubbled out past your lips, “I’ve talked to plenty of men at this party, with and without you at my side, so why is he any different?”

“Because, sister,” he leaned down a bit further, “he’s not a man. He’s one of them,” his eyes scanned your own before he spelled it out, “a vampire.” 

Though you’d never previously encountered one yourself, you still weren’t so naive to not be aware of the known influential status such creatures of the night had in the society you lived in. Them being in attendance at a fine ball was nothing compared to the other privileges they had achieved over the centuries. 

“Really?” you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder, though didn’t spot the bloodsucker again. 

“God,” your brother groaned quietly, “I know mother and papa have kept you rather sheltered compared to myself, but trust me, you have to stay away from them. They’re monsters, killing is in their nature,” with a hand on your cheek, he guided your gaze back to his, “promise me you won’t speak to one ever again.”

Blinking back at him, you then uttered sincerely, “I promise.”

“Good,” a visible weight then faded from his shoulders as he let go of you and straightened back up to his full height. 

As you stayed on the outskirts of the party, one of your fingers curved to trace the lines of the fine glass still clutched in your grasp. 

Soon your eyes flickered up from the liquid remaining in the goblet and landed on the other guests. Elegant crinoline gowns swooshed and swayed to the music emanating from the small string quartet in the corner, acting as a heartbeat for the lords and ladies of London as they danced the night away. 

“Well, as I live and breathe,” a voice then found not only your brother’s ears, but yours as well. 

Twisting slightly, you watched as a wide grin swiftly stretched your brother’s lips, “Thomas!” he spread his arms out for the redheaded man nearly within his reach. 

As they pulled each other into a tight hug, your brother’s friend chimed in his ear, “how you doing, old chap?” before withdrawing from the embrace, though still kept one palm fast on your sibling’s shoulder. 

“Not bad, not bad–, oh, Tommy,” your brother then suddenly glanced back at you, “this is my little sister,” gesturing betwixt you both, “sister, this is Thomas, we went to boarding school together.”

Extending a hand, you smiled politely, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he shook your palm before casting his gaze back upon your chaperone, “would you mind if I stole your brother for a moment?”

“Uhm,” you glanced to your sibling before uttering, “no, of course not. Go, have fun, catch up.”

And before the pair slipped away, your brother leaned down to whisper in your ear, “be good till I get back,” to which you offered him a nod in return right before they both vanished from your sight and left you alone at the edge of the dance floor. 

Though as you slowly began to wander along the perimeter, your gaze once again affixed upon the sea of swaying pairs in the centre of the ballroom, your gentle stride then abruptly halted as a bulky figure shifted to pass you, though as the stranger attempted to, the two of you collided and the remainder of the drink in your hand splashed across his jacket.

You both froze as you slowly peeled your wide eyes up from the stain of your drink, that lightly dripped from his clothing, and instead flickered up to find the stare of the aristocrat you’d accidentally bumped into. 

“Oh god…” your heartbeat swiftly hammered in your ears, deafening out the elegant music that filled the chamber, “sir, I am so sorry, I-I wasn’t looking at where I was going and–”

“It’s alright,” he hastily put an end to your blubbering as he eyed the soaked patch, “it’ll dry,” he uttered, running a broad palm down over the wetness. Though as his gaze flickered back up to find yours, a slight smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he then said, “well, spilling your drink on me, the least you can do is offer me your name so that I know who to warn about to the people who actually are precious about their attire.”

“Lady Y/n Y/l/n,” you averted your gaze as your knees bent in a gentle curtsy, “delighted to make your acquaintance, even under the circumstances–, again, I am so incredibly sorry…”

“You’re a lady but with such lack of grace? Well, now I understand why you aren’t on the floor dancing with someone,” he jested in a teasing tone. 

The heat that had already crept up in your cheeks fiercely worsened, “I am a great dancer, I’ll have you know!”

“Oh really?” a smile dazzled his features, “I think I’ll have to see that to believe it,” he spoke as the current song came to an end and he extended a hand out to you, “shall we?”

For a moment, you let your glance flicker about the chamber in search of your brother, though when you couldn’t spot him, you found your own palm thinking for itself and gliding into the man’s standing tall before you. 

Once he’d led you out onto the floor, the palm he slid across your waist, and used to guide you a smidge closer to his own frame, caused a shy gasp to slip past your lips long before your feet began to shift below your poofy plum coloured gown. 

“Well, I guess you weren’t lying after all,” you soon heard him note after you’d danced for a minute, your movements having been nothing short of perfection since the very first step. 

Blinking up at the blonde man holding onto you tight, you finally asked, “what is your name, sir?”

“Lord Steven Rogers,” the title rolled off his tongue as his own gaze kept yours captive, “at your service, my lady.”

“Are you from here? You don’t sound it,” you commented on his accent, “but are you?”

“That’s a good question,” a slight tilt found his head, “London is one of my favourite places and I have spent many of my years here, but it’s not where I’m from, no.”

“So, you’ve travelled a lot?” you asked as he spun you an arm’s length away from himself. 

“You could say that…” he smirked as he twirled you back into his hold, “are you?”

“Am I what?” you found yourself slightly dizzy, though not from the dancing. 

“From London?”

“Well, my family does have a place here, but I haven’t spent much of my time in the city. At least not yet, I’m hoping I can begin to now that I’m grown, though to be quite frank, I have no idea where to start.”

“I could be your guide,” his offer caught you off guard, “it might have been a few years since I last called this city my home, but I still know it like the back of my hand.”

Mouth shyly agape, you simply blinked back at him a second before uttering, “perhaps if my brother came along as a chaperone.”

“I thought you said you were grown,” the tone he used to deliver his teasing seeped directly into your bones and made you thankful of his firm grip on you as the pair of you continued to sway to the music, “a girl asks for permission and can’t be trusted on her own, but a woman however, takes exactly what she desires and doesn’t let anyone or anything stand in her way…” his smouldering stare then briefly dipped before you heard him murmur, “so, what are you? A little girl or a woman?”

“I–…” you blinked back at him, struggling to navigate the exhilaratingly foreign situation you found yourself in. However, before you could stammer any further, the song came to a close and the surrounding couples parted ways. 

Though before you could take even one step back, his hand kept you close a moment longer as he dipped down for his breath to tickle the shell of your ear. 

“Meet me in the garden,” he whispered, causing even more goosebumps to erupt across your skin, “then you can give me your answer...” 

The cool night air kissed your cheeks as your glance flickered away from the candlelit terrace you’d abandoned only moments prior in order to stand beside the bushy mouth of the dark hedge maze further down the expanse of the estate’s garden. Faint music still found your ears as it echoed out the open windows of the grand manor where the ball still boomed. 

Then suddenly, as you were lost in your thoughts of disbelief at what you were doing, just before you could talk yourself into returning to the party, you felt your hand be grabbed before your eyes fluttered up to find the lord you’d been awaiting, his arrival haven been so sudden that it nearly caused you to jump straight out of your skin. 

Without a single word, Steve began to drag you into the maze, far away from any prying eyes and where the darkness could swallow you both whole.

“Where are you taking me–,” you attempted to ask, though as the man then abruptly stopped, what he did next stunned you to your very core. 

Pulling you close, closer than you’d ever been to any man before, he then pressed his lips to your own, sufficiently shutting you up before you could elaborate your question any further. 

The kiss was abrupt, fevered and entirely your first, leaving you dazed and reeling to catch up to the reality, to the dream you were finally expecting.

When Steve finally felt you relax into him, his feet began to shuffle and shift you back till your spine was pressed up against the denseness of the hedge behind you. 

But just as a shy whimper from you vibrated against his tongue and your fingers drifted up to whisper around his silky necktie, the snapping of a twig suddenly found your ears and caused you to jump away from your dance partner. 

Casting your glance over Steve’s broad shoulder, you spotted as the dark-haired gentleman, that your brother had so fiercely warmed you about, slithered out from the embrace of the shadows. 

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” the man smirked, folding his arms across his wide chest as he continued to stare. 

Eyes wide, you then began to stammer, “Steve,” lightly patting your partner’s arm as he hadn’t yet shifted to protect you with an air of understanding, “h-he’s a–” 

“A vampire?” the aristocratic creature raised an eyebrow, “how about you take another look at the lord that just had his tongue down your throat.” 

Your panicked glare then fluttered back to Steve in front of you, however, before you could manage to push him away, his hands flew up to either side of your face and he dipped down to stare into your eyes with an intense you’d never witnessed before, somehow locking you up in his gaze as he then compelled you, “don’t scream,” and under the moonlight, you swore you saw his pupils briefly dilate as his wish slithered into your soul, “stay calm.” 

Continuing to cup your cheeks, Steve then kissed you once again. Even though his previous words had turned you completely docile in his hold, the sensation of his lips as they soon pecked away from your own, on a determined journey down over your jaw, caused you to melt away that much further.

The neckline of your deep purple gown was so wide that it exposed not only your shoulders, but also crept down scandalously low on your chest. 

Your eyes fluttered shut once more as his kisses tickled in their path down your neck, the sensation shooting straight down between your thighs. However, as soon as Steve’s lips were devouring the tender spot where the base of your throat blossomed into your shoulder, a sharp pain suddenly caused your eyes to snap back open as the vampire had sunk his teeth into you. 

You winced slightly as blood began to trickle free, your gaze locked with the other man’s as he took a step forward and closed the gap. Standing directly behind Steve, his hand then raised up to stroke your hair.

“So, here’s the thing,” his ocean eyes then flickered in the same manner Steve’s had, mystically bending your mind to his will, “you’re gonna come with us, be ours to play with for the night. You can go home when the sun comes up, but without remembering the time we shared…” 

Though you’d barely gotten to sleep an hour, you began to stir as the vampire sprawled out in front of your slumbering form kissed down your neck and swiftly sank his fangs into your shoulder. 

Wincing awake and still weak from the blood the two lords had already drained you off, your hiss soon faded into a mumble, “Buck…”

Tilting his chin back a bit, Bucky lapped up the crimson that trickled down from the bite before he whispered, “shh, you can just stay asleep…” and you noticed his hardness straining against you below the covers, “it’s okay, I don’t mind…”

You couldn’t fathom how the vampire still wasn’t satiated after everything that had happened that night, things a lady such as yourself had never dared to even imagine possible. Even now, you were still slotted in between the two naked men under the canopy of a bed in the grand estate they’d taken you to, your virgin blood still staining the sheets, or the little of it that they hadn’t lapped up for themselves to savour. 

Though the restless one before you had stirred you for another taste, Steve was still sleeping like a rock. He was laying directly behind you, his burly chest still pressed up against your spine as earlier, when he’d impulsively tried to stretch out your ass, made the decision to do something about that impossible tightness and have that little hole warm his intimidating girth while he slumbered. It made it difficult, to say the least, for rest to come to you as the sensation of his fat cock plugging you up was nearly too much for you to bear. 

“Oh, what is it?” Bucky chuckled lowly at the wince you let out as he began to nudge his dick against your puffy pussy, “are you sore?” he asked in a mocking tone, grinning wider as you nodded hazily in response, “but you like it, don’t you?” he torturously tapped the weight of his length against the creamy mess between your thighs, the sensation causing both your holes to throb and clench, making Steve’s cock still embedded deep within you seem that much more enormous, “you like it when it hurts, when the sting of pain mixes with pleasure…” he then caught your eye and compelled you, “tell me that you like it.”

“I like it,” you hear the desperate word flow out your lungs, “please don’t stop, please keep hurting me, keep biting me, drink every drop of my blood, use me however you wish, it all feels so good–, ah!” the pleas he’d made you utter were then cut off by a rippling moan as his bulbous tip suddenly caught your entrance and greedily slid back into your warmth. 

The fierce rhythm Bucky swiftly found rocked you so roughly that the movements didn’t just split your poor pussy open as he bucked up into you, but it also caused your frame to shift back against Steve and sink you down that much further on his cock, letting his heavy sack nuzzle tightly against your slick skin. 

As your whimpers filled the room and mingled with Bucky’s own grunts of pleasure, you felt the girth in your ass twitch and rapidly grow painfully hard before the arm the slumbering bloodsucker had slumped around your waist tightened as he stirred with a low rumble directly in your ear. 

“Mmm… having a little midnight snack, are we?” Steve groggily hummed from behind you as he nuzzled his nose into your tousled hair, “you know she’ll pass out soon if we keep drinking like this.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Bucky then slid his palm down the length of your arm, plucking up your hand till his lips ghosted against it. However, just as you let yourself hope that he’d just plant a peck upon your palm, his teeth instead pierced the flesh, right below your thumb. Although, the vampire did show some restraint as he only offered you a little nip before ripping your hand away from his mouth and holding it out for his partner to grasp, “here, you look parched,” blood already began to pool like a little puddle in your palm from how it slowly oozes out of the wound. 

Accepting the delicacy, Steve first dragged his silky tongue over the bite, before he let his fangs sink into you with a deep groan, the taste of you only making him harder. As he began to drink from your palm, his hips greedily began to rock, making you tremble between the two lords of the night from the dizzying manner they both now fucked you. 

As your moans filled the night air, Bucky’s fingers found your face in a caress before he leaned in to snuff out your sounds and let you taste the tangy iron of yourself on his tongue. Soon, his kisses began to dance down over the column of your neck, till his face was buried in your heaving tits, leaving a blossoming trail of hickeys to mark his path as he moved down to capture your nipple between his lips.  

“I know we usually only keep our dinner till the morning comes,” Bucky muttered as he nipped at your boobs, only pausing to briefly glance over your shoulder at the man behind you, “but there’s something different about this one, don’t you agree, Steve?” 

“She’s fucking delicious…” you heard him purr in your ear, “maybe you could be more than just a quick bite to eat…” both of their cocks continued to rock in harmony, filling your holes up to more than the brim, “maybe you can be our girl…” 

Sucking in a shaky breath, you tilted your head to catch both of their eyes, “for how long?” 

Keeping his neck tilted, Bucky blinked up at you and uttered, “…forever,” before he buried his teeth into the soft peak of your tit.

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female reader

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

{Masterlist}

{Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter One - Mr Bridgerton

♡♡♡

A day late. No matter. At least you would be in London for the season, though you wouldn't be able to debut properly, much like the other ladies of the season.

It mattered not to you. You would rather keep to yourself than be shown off to the Queen in a satin gown, announcing to the ton you were eligible.

If you were to find a husband, it would be on your own terms. You swore by that. You would play the game much like all the others, but without shouting about it and making a statement.

Yes, you intended to marry. Perhaps not this year, but soon enough. It had been something you had thought about a great deal over the winter. Still, you'll see what the ton has to offer this year.

Though you were not there, you had received word that a Miss Daphne Bridgerton had been called a diamond of the first water by Last Whistledown in her gossip column.

Everyone was talking about it.

Bridgerton was a name you had heard but not quite familiar with on any personal terms. They were known for being beautiful. Handsome sons and beautiful daughters. Dowager Violet Bridgerton was very proud of her children, even when they vexed her sometimes.

But that was all you knew. It did not surprise you that her daughter would have the eyes of the ton on her. She would find herself a wonderful match, surely.

You sit at your vanity table and watch the reflection of your dear mother in the mirror as she enters the room. She saunters in and places your gown delicately on the bed. She then turns so elegantly toward you and smiles, coming to stand beside you. Her hand settles on your shoulder.

"You will look beautiful, dear."

You only smile softly and look at your reflection. You have no intention of standing out at all. You would go in, make yourself acquainted, and perhaps dance with a few friendly faces.

Within the hour, you were dressed and decorated with pretty jewels and accessories. Your mother owned a fine collection of jewellery, some of the few things she still had from the old house. Since the passing of your father, your belongings had shrunk as you moved around the country.

"Thank you, Mama." You touch the necklace with your gloved fingers gently, admiring the way it glittered in the light.

Before you knew it, you were on your way to the ball. Lady Danbury, a well-known figure in the ton, was hosting. Apparently, it was going to be quite the night. Your mother was most excited to see you dance tonight.

That is, should anyone take a liking to dancing with you.

The ballroom was well lit and full of colourful gowns and sparkly necks. Fans fluttered softly, barely brushing the chins of the beautiful ladies present. Gentleman circled the room looking for a partner to either dance or converse with.

You mother gave your arm a squeeze as she smiled, looking around the room.

"You shall find a man in this room, I am certain of it."

"Mother..." You sigh. You knew you weren't getting any younger, but you still had time to find someone for yourself. You did not want to feel the pressure of society weighing down on you because you were looking for someone suitable.

Love matches were rare, and you doubted you would ever be so lucky to have such a connection with someone. Your mother had not been in love with your father when they married, nor up until his death.

Love was rare indeed.

You scan the room, watching people dance, other converse, some take a turn around the room. There was much activity. All debutantes were here looking for a match.

"That young gentleman over there, I believe that's Colin Bridgerton. Mrs Brooks told me of that family in quite some detail." Your mother says. "Handsome, is he not?"

You hum softly as you continue looking about the room. A young woman in a bright yellow gown seems to be watching Colin Bridgerton with interest.

People star to turn toward the entrance. You move your head in the same direction to find three beautiful people entering the room.

"Ah, that there is Anthony Bridgerton, the eldest of eight. On his arm, I believe that is Daphne Bridgerton, and that's their mother, Violet Bridgerton." Your mother harpers on.

There is no denying the beauty that family holds. Each one is utterly perfect. They all look so like, yet differ in the most wonderful ways. You wonder what it would be like to have so many siblings, or any at all, for that matter.

"Isn't she beautiful?"

"Yes," you agree. Daphne was quite the sight. "She shall have no issue finding a husband, I am certain."

Your mother squeezes your arm. "Nor shall you."

You find it less likely than Daphne, but you will humour your mother for her own sake.

One such young man approaches Daphne, but after a short conversation with her brother, he scampers. You wonder what was said to leave a man looking so dejected. Surely she hadn't rejected him so easily. You begin to wonder if Daphne will have any ease at all.

You watch Anthony escort his sister around the room and decide you might do the same. No one was particularly paying you any mind anyway. You free yourself from your mother's hold and begins to drifting away from her side. She watches you go, sighing softly.

You stroll slowly along the sidelines, eyes fluttering from one couple to the next. A large group was already dancing. Everyone looked so dignified and elegant.

Not a single person was sparing you a glance. You almost expected as much. It was hard to stand out in a room full of such lovely people. You continued to watch other dance as you strolled.

With Daphne in Anthony's care, Violet Bridgerton felt she needed to take this chance to push one of her other sons in the direction of some of the fine ladies.

Colin was already out dancing.

Benedict was in her line of sight.

With a smile on her face, she began to approach her second eldest son. Benedict had been talking to Lady Danbury. However, when he caught sight of his mother coming over, he panicked. He bid a quick and barely audible farewell and hurried off into the crowds.

Violet came to stop beside Lady Danbury, knowing full well she wasn't going to chase her son down. The two ladies chuckled softly.

Not knowing his mother had decided to just let him go, Benedict fled further into the room. He was determined to put space between himself and his mother. He was so busy checking behind him, be wasn't paying attention to anyone in front of him.

It happened quite suddenly.

Benedict collided with someone. He moved so quickly, grabbing onto the other person and spinning them around to slow down his momentum and prevent them from falling over. He looked down and found himself looking into a pretty pair of eyes.

"I am sorry." You say, looking up at him. It clicks instantly that he's a Bridgerton. He looks like his brothers.

"No, no. Allow me to apologise. I wasn't looking," he says.

Benedict takes a moment to realise his hands are settled on your upper arms. He drops them instantly and takes a step back. No one seemed to take much notice, but he spotted a couple of people turning his way. People always notice his family.

You look at him silently for a moment. You feel awkward, not knowing what else to say.

"Well, good night," you curtsy and try to walk away, but he stops you rather quickly.

"Wait."

You turn back to him.

"Dance with me?" He asks suddenly. He can see his mother amongst the other faces in the crowd. She's looking for him, he is certain of it.

"Oh, um. Very well." You're caught off guard by his sudden invitation.

You take his hand and allow him to guide you to where the others are dancing. You get into position and begin. Benedict doesn't say anything for a while. He is keeping his gaze locked on the crowd. You break the silence between you by giving him your name. Benedict snaps out of his daze and looks at you.

"Oh, right. Yes. I'm Benedict. Bridgerton. Benedict Bridgerton." He gives a little smile.

"I've seen your other siblings here tonight."

"Yes. My sister is debuting." His eyes flicker back up to the crowd. Violet has spotted him she looks ecstatic. Benedict wonders if that's better or worse.

"She's breathtaking."

He looks at you again. "Yes. I suppose she is."

You get the idea that he isn't much in the mood for talking, and you keep quiet for the rest of the dance. When the music comes to a close, you curtsy, and he bows. The next piece begins to play.

"Well, thank you," you say softly.

Benedict snaps back into focus and looks at you. He takes your dance card and writes his name on it before excusing himself. You watch him go and sigh. You look at the card and see his neat penmanship.

"Benedict Bridgerton. Who would have thought." You mutter to yourself.

You leave the floor.

Your mother comes over quickly and snakes her arm around yours again. She looks delighted.

"You danced with a Bridgerton! That will certainly gain some attention for you." She sounded far too happy for your liking.

"Yes, I suppose it might."

As she begins to yap on in your ear, you turn in time to see Anthony and Daphne speaking to their mother. After a moment, they leave the ball altogether.

You wished you could do the same.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 -

[d4yl1ghts]

After I read unfair i thought you could make a “second part” as to where reader takes Anthony to her old house to show him where she lived and what she used to do throughout her days 

unfair (2)

anthony bridgerton x wife, fem!reader

summary: you take anthony to the house you grew up in and he sees how those who aren’t so wealthy live

part 1

-

Specks of yellow and gold breached into you and your husband’s shared bedroom as you slowly awoke from your slumber. Anthony felt you moving and brought you closer to him, snuggling into you. “Stay.”, he spoke with his morning voice, you always loved that voice. He sounded much deeper than usual. “I have to visit my mother, Tony.”, you replied, attempting to ignore the feeling of his rough hands around your waist. “I do not want you to leave me.”, he responded. You rolled you eyes with amusement. “Fine, you can come with me then.”

The eldest Bridgerton then hastily removed the sheets from his naked body and started to pick out his clothes for the day. You stared at him for a second before picking out yours too. “Do you like what you see?”, he questioned teasingly with a smirk on his face. “Of course, my Lord.”, you answered with a hint of cheek in your tone. “We must get ready, my love. You can look forward to that later.”, he winked.

The both of you had finally gotten changed and had begun the ride in your carriage. You gazed at Anthony’s perfect face, sensing his nerves. He has met your mother before of course, but he has never gone to your old house and he has heard many things about it due to your background. You were from a poorer family so he didn’t know what to expect. You gently grabbed his calloused hands gaining his attention. “What is wrong, my love?”, you cautiously asked. “I do not know if I even want to see this place you grew up in if it is so bad.”, he answered with pity in his voice. “It is not as bad as you may think. I managed to live there and look at where I am now.”

“Yes, I must be overthinking it.”, he added, placing a chaste kiss against your temple.

After an hour in your carriage you had reached the edge of London. The carriage halted suddenly. “We are here.”, you stated. Anthony, ever the gentleman, ran out of the carriage and took your hand, placed his lips on it, and guided you out of the vehicle. “You do not even know where you are going.”, you giggled slightly at Anthony’s charming nature.

You knocked on the door three times before your mother answered. “Oh, hello, dearest.”, she replied cheerfully. Anthony peeked his head in and saw how small the house was. There was a tiny kitchen with barely enough space for all the appliances and there was no maids anywhere to be seen. He could see a bit of the upstairs and make out that there were only two rooms up there. “After you.”, he said gently as your mother opened the door wider to allow you both in.

“So, are there any maids here, Lady Y/L/N?”, he hesitantly enquired, he had already assumed the answer. “Ah, no, my Lord.”, the older woman responded. “We do the work ourselves here.”, she added. “Oh.”, he awkwardly rocked on his heels. “Come on, my love.”, you grabbed his hand and guided him into the living room that had one sofa. It also looked slightly dusty. That was probably because there were no maids, he thought.

After an hour of talking and catching up with tea, you and Anthony started the journey back to your manor. “My love, you look a bit out of it.”, you stated as you took in his widened eyes that were staring out the window of the carriage. “Dear, I’m fine.”, he said. He paused, then added: “How did you grow up there?”

“It was alright, I had shelter and was provided food and water.”, you answered. “Well, I love you so much and I’m so proud of you.”, he tenderly replied. You stared at the man in awe of how you had gotten so lucky before you kissed him with such passion that he was left speechless. Let’s just say that you didn’t make it back on time and you got your treat earlier than you expected.

[sarahisslytherin]

𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐌 || 𝐁.𝐁.

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: first part of this multi-chapter fic.

It was a day like any other. You woke to the humming of the maid, the hum-drum of life about the house. You rubbed sleep from your eyes as you reluctantly got out of bed. You selected your gown for the day after scouring through your wardrobe of various shades of pastel. You bid good morning to the servants as you made your way downstairs and joined your family for breakfast. There your mother urgently reminded you (as if you had forgotten from one day to the next) the importance that you find yourself a suitor, someone of good rank.

But you barely had any mind to pay her; for it was elsewhere, with another. You cut your breakfast short, unable to bear any more talk of suitors and marriage and a life without love. You were buttoning your coat when an angel descended the staircase. Well, it wasn’t truly an angel; only your lady’s maid, but the letter she held in her hand couldn’t have been any more sacred to you. She passed it to you and your eyes met hers, the looks you exchanged almost like those of two best friends trading gossip, or in this case, your own little secret.

You slipped the sealed envelope into your coat pocket before finally stepping out the door and down the front steps. Outside, London was alive and full of the colors of spring. Though you could’ve walked the streets for hours on end, you opted to head straight to the park and sat down on the nearest bench. You sifted through your pocket, pulling the envelope out. You couldn’t help noting that it smelled of lavender and cinnamon as you gently broke the seal. There, the words you had been waiting anxiously to read.

Dearest,

I dreamt of you last night. I dreamt of those eyes so deep I was tempted to swim in them. Of that laugh so melodious I was tempted to turn it into a symphony. Of the lips so sweet I was tempted to kiss them. Alas, I know not if I shall ever reveal myself to you. I know you must be dying to figure me out. But you must understand I couldn’t bear to be rejected by you. You drive me mad! When I am awake, you occupy my every thought, and when I sleep you visit me in dreams! I am a tormented man, but oh, how smitten I am with my torment! I clutch it to my chest and carry it with me wherever I go. How could I not? When it was you who gave it to me. Such a state of delirium is the one you have driven me to, simply by existing. Anyway, all this to say that I love you and always will. Write to me, my love. I’ll be waiting.

You pressed the piece of paper to your heart, beating faster than ever. You folded the letter back and let it fall into your pocket once more before starting for the Bridgerton house. It took every fiber in you to go on with this written affair for months on end without uttering a word to your good friend Daphne. But you felt it was something too precious, too fragile to speak of; like a creature as easily spooked as it is beautiful. 

This was what you repeated to yourself in your mind when you arrived at the Bridgertons’, and Daphne swore you had a glow about you only people in love wear. 

“Come now, who is it?” she teased as she delicately sipped her tea. “You must tell me!” 

You shook your head with a playful roll of your eyes. “There truly is nothing to tell, Daph. You must believe me.”

“Nonsense!” she poked on. “I wish to know the lucky gentleman who has you so obviously smitten.” It was then that the others entered the parlor. Anthony, with Kate on his arm, and Colin and Benedict following suit. “Fill us in on today’s gossip, sister.” jested Benedict as he lounged on the nearest chaise with his usual happy-go-lucky air. How handsome he looked today, his jet black hair shiny as ever, his grey eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“There’s nothing to share, you busybody.” Daphne scolded him lightly. “Mind your own affairs.” At this, Benedict shot you a cheeky look, one you couldn’t help but return. You wondered if your secret admirer was as handsome as he was, as sweet and boyish.

“Oh!” Daphne exclaimed suddenly. “I forgot to tell you! We are holding a ball this weekend! Isn’t that exciting?” You felt yourself light up at the news. Exciting indeed. Many things can happen at a ball, dances shared and souls intertwined, and perhaps a certain identity revealed.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @holdthegirrrl

[atlabeth]

can i request a bridgerton au fic with nikolai? (i was reading not so simple earlier and was thinking about nikolai and now i can’t get the idea out of my head lol) maybe the reader isn’t the diamond of the season, so she has no idea why nikolai (A PRINCE!!) wants to court her

sweet relief

pairing: nikolai lantsov x fem!reader (bridgerton au!!!)

summary: you meet a striking stranger at your first ball, only to discover he is not a stranger at all.

a/n: thank you so much for requesting this man it was so much fun to write i got carried away!!! i hate nikolai and his charming self so much

wc: 3k

warning(s): none that i can think of ??

Nikolai is bored. 

In truth, he does not fully know why he is here. Vasily has already been declared as the catch of the season, and the heir to the throne is much more valuable than the second son. But he is back in London after years spent traveling—not in search of a wife, he might add, to the chagrin of his mother—and he supposes that is cause for some interest. 

In the most basic sense of the word, Nikolai is also a prince, though he hardly has claim to the title. Not with the rumors of his true parentage floating about. 

If he was lucky, he figured he’d find some fun around Mayfair. If he was unlucky, he will be forced to deal with swarms of eager debutantes and even more eager mamas. 

And at this ball, Nikolai has realized that he is unlucky. 

He’s already had to fight off a horde of eligible ladies and their mothers, and explain ten times over that he is not here to participate in the season, he is just here to visit family. He doesn’t think they’ve heard a single word he’s said. They only see the lack of a ring on his finger. 

It is why he has found himself in some corner of the ball, a glass of champagne—that he wished was brandy—held loosely in his hand as he tuned out the idle musings of the men he’d somehow ended up around. His eyes dart around the ballroom, looking for anything even remotely interesting to get him through this night. 

He catches a glimpse of a pair walking through the doors, a mother and a daughter that he recognizes as a debutante from earlier in the day, but before he is granted the chance for further inquisition, his thoughts are interrupted. 

“Your Highness,” someone says, and his attention is drawn from his glass to not just one, but three pairs of mothers and mares, surely trying to vye for his hand. “It is an honor to meet you.” 

“I was unaware of my popularity,” Nikolai says wryly, looking at each of the women in turn. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“The pleasure is all ours,” another mother says brightly, and he sees her nudge her daughter. “If I may introduce my daughter, Miss Eleanor Woodbridge?” 

Nikolai bows his head in greeting, and she curtsies. When Miss Woodbridge speaks, her head is still bowed. “It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness.” 

“So I’ve already heard,” he remarks.

Her cheeks flush bright red as she stands back up, and the next mother begins to introduce her daughter, and then the next—a Miss Evelyn Frances and a Miss Anna Huntsbury. 

Nikolai ends up in a dance with Miss Huntsbury at the nudging of her mother, and though it is perfectly pleasant, he can’t fully enjoy it with all of the eyes on him.

It is not as if he doesn’t enjoy attention. He is perfectly fine with being the center of attention, with being adored by women, with dancing and balls and all sorts of revelry. 

But this— especially after his travels to other countries, away from good society and the expectations of nobles— is so unbelievably predictable. All of these mothers attempting to find their daughter a husband, only interested in Nikolai because of a title he likely won’t earn. He doubts a single one cares of the man behind the Lantsov brand. 

But a second prince is better than no prince at all, and thus the moment he is off the dance floor, he is once again swarmed by women. 

He allows an inward sigh as he plasters on a smile. 

It is going to be a very long night. 

-

You are inexplicably nervous. 

You’ve just debuted and you are already in attendance of a ball. God, why must they hold the season’s first ball the night of all the debuts? You haven’t even had the afternoon to soak everything in—to truly absorb the fact that you must search for a husband—as your mother and lady’s maid spent every moment ensuring you were the image of perfection for tonight. 

In your mother’s opinion, they succeeded. But you already feel as if you are suffocating in your gown.

You are not the diamond, but in truth, you are thankful for it. There is already a huge weight on your shoulders to make a match—you could not imagine having the queen’s eye on you the entire time. You wished luck to Miss Jasmine, both that she could avoid horrendous suitors and the queen’s ire. 

Your mother says your name softly as you cross the threshold into the ballroom, immediately overtaken by the dancing and the musicians and glittering jewels. “Are you alright?” 

You shake your head rapidly. “No, Mother, I do not think I am alright. I am at my first ball of the season and I believe I may pass out.” 

She breathes a loose laugh as she shakes her head as well. “You’ve nothing to be nervous about. You will shine just as you always have, my love. I’ve no doubt that a suitor will see that.”

“That is what I am afraid of,” you huff. “I’ve equal fear both of finding a husband and not finding one. How is one meant to dread both of their options?” 

“You’ve nothing to be nervous about, and nothing to be afraid of,” she repeats, “and certainly nothing to dread. I’m sure by the end of the night, you will have suitors lining up for a chance at your affections.” 

You truly doubt that, but you do not voice anymore of your concerns. Your mother has already done you a favor working through so many of them with you—the least you can do is smile prettily and dance a time or two. 

And you do. More than you imagined—your mother sends you away to fetch glasses of lemonade after a few minutes of idle chatter, and after you’ve poured the first glass you are approached by your first suitor. 

Lord Kenneth Barham, son of the Earl Pritchard. You’ve no idea what a man of title is doing around you, but he is agreeable and kind throughout your first dance. Had you the ability, you would have stayed by his side for the rest of the night only so you could avoid the rest of your expected debutante duties. 

But you do not, and so after a respectful if not slightly boring conversation between the two of you and your mother, he parts ways with the promise to call on you. You are not granted reprieve, to your mother’s delight, and it is not until a near full hour of dancing that you are able to get away. 

You slip away while your mother is busy discussing things with the Baron Ashford and his son, and you have never been so thankful for the outdoors when the cool air hits your skin. 

You let out a long, deep breath as you attempt to calm yourself. Things are going well, much better than you expected—you are already expecting five gentlemen to call on you by the morrow, three of which are titled. 

But you are not even halfway through the ball, and you are already exhausted. Your feet ache and you’ve grown weary of the weight of jewelry on your head and wrists and neck. You’ve truly no idea how you are meant to make it through the entirety of the season, if it is like this. 

“I apologize, my lady. I was unaware there was another out here.” 

You turn around and hold back a sigh. Even in your attempts to be alone, men still find you. 

“I do not have a claim to these gardens,” you say wryly. “You are free to roam.” 

He chuckles as he nods, and he takes another few steps towards you. “I wish not to roam—just to take after you and wrestle out a moment for myself in this schedule.” 

“Then you have picked a wonderful spot,” you say with a nod. “I will give you time to enjoy it on your own.” 

You start on your way, but he steps in your way. “There is no need, my lady. I already rather enjoy your company.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “You have been in it for but a moment.” 

“And what a lovely moment it has been,” he says. 

Normally, irritation would have won over by now. You should not be out here with a man unchaperoned, and you truly just want to be alone for a moment—you’ve a myriad of reasons to stick to your bearings and leave. 

But you have to admit, he is agreeable. His blonde hair is artfully styled, he’s dressed rather finely, and his hazel eyes seem to twinkle as he looks at you with a smile.

“...Alright,” you say, and you decide to stay in place for now. “Have you a name, good sir?”

“You can call me Lord Sturmhond,” he says. 

You raise an eyebrow. “I apologize, my lord. I’ve not yet heard of you.” 

“That just means I am all the more able to make a good impression,” he says, his smile only growing. “Which is rather imperative with a lady such as yourself.” 

You feel your cheeks grow warm, and you bite back a smile of your own. “You are quite the charmer. It could be quite scandalous for us to be found alone.” 

“You needn’t worry,” Lord Sturmhond says. “I doubt anyone will leave the ballroom. They are all too focused on the visiting princes.” 

Your eyes widen. “There are princes here?” 

“The Lantsovs,” he nods, and this time his eyebrows rise. “Had you not heard?” 

“...My mother may have told me, but it would not come as a shock if I neglected to listen,” you say sheepishly. You let out a deep sigh as you wring your gloved hands together. “I should be all the more thankful to be out here with you, then. The only thing to come of my meeting a prince would be disaster.” 

“Oh, I surely doubt it,” Lord Sturmhond says. “I enjoy your presence, and I enjoy your conversation. I believe the princes would feel the same.” 

“You flatter me, my lord, but I am in doubt.” Your gaze drifts off to the sky as you take a moment to appreciate the stars. “Truthfully, I am out here because I am overwhelmed. I’ve spent the hour dancing and in conversation with various men, and already I have had to venture out here for reprieve.” 

“All of this takes practice,” he says. “It is an unreasonable expectation for debutantes to be thrust into the season and perform perfectly. None of this is a light matter, and yet it is treated as one.” 

You sigh. “I just cannot imagine doing this for so many more months. It is going to be a very long season.” 

Lord Sturmhond chuckles. “I have thought the exact same thing tonight, my lady.” 

You find yourself smiling, freer and more genuine than anything you’d mustered earlier in the night. The other men you’d met were fortunately kind, but you just felt… different out here, with him. 

There were no eyes on you, meaning you did not need to act the pinnacle of propriety. That must have been the difference—not the man himself. 

In the distance, you can hear the changing melody of the strings, signaling the start of a new dance. Your eyes fall to your dance card, and as you read the last few names, you remember you still owe three more dances. You bite back a very unladylike curse. 

“I apologize, my lord,” you say, hurrying through a curtsy as you begin to back your way towards the ball. “I really must be going. My mother will have my head should I stay out here any longer.” 

“I understand.” Lord Sturmhond catches up to you in a few quick strides and he takes your hand, stopping you in your tracks. Your breath catches as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand, and your heart hammers in your chest even with the barrier of your glove. 

“It was a pleasure to meet you, my lady.” His hazel eyes are nothing less than enchanting as they focus entirely on you, and had you any less sense, you could easily find yourself talking away the hours of the night with him. “Have confidence. I am sure this night will go your way should you wish it.” 

“It was a pleasure to meet you as well, my lord,” you say. “I hope it is not too forward of me to wish on our meeting again.” 

“Do not worry,” he says. “We will.” 

You open your mouth to ask him how he can be so sure, but the strings grow louder and you huff a sigh. In lieu of another goodbye, you nod and grin at the lord before you rush back indoors. 

Your mother doesn’t berate you when you appear by her side again, so you were not gone for too long. You get through your next three dances, and your last suitor is just leaving when your mother jabs you in the side. 

“Darling, the queen is coming our way,” she whispers. “And she has the Lantsov princes with her.” 

You nearly collapse just at that combination of words, but you hold fast—quite literally, as your hold tightens on your mother’s arm. You are thankful to the Lord Sturmhond for alerting you to the presence of princes tonight, for your shock would be exponential without it. 

“Why are they coming our way?” you ask. 

“They have been making the rounds together,” she says. “Straighten your back.” 

You do, and then you nearly collapse yet again when your eyes meet those of one prince. 

Those gorgeous hazel eyes stare back at yours—you know yours are as wide as dinner plates, despite your attempts to hold back—and he gives you that same damned smile, bowing his head ever so slightly as if to acknowledge your meeting. 

You met the prince. 

You told the prince of all your worries. 

You were kissed on the hand by the prince. 

You only hear your mother saying your name when she nudges your shoulder, snapping you out of your reverie. You blink and look at her, then to the queen.

“Your Majesty,” you rush out, ducking into your best bow, “Your Highnesses. It is an honor to make your acquaintance.”  

The queen greets you and your mother with your surname, and though all your attention is on her, you can still feel the prince looking at you. 

“Have you met my sons, Vasily and Nikolai?” she asks. 

Vasily bows politely, respectful but reserved. “A pleasure, my lady.” 

You curtsy in return, and your Lord Sturmhond steps forward. You are thankful, at least, to put a name to the lying face. 

“It is a pleasure to meet such a beauty,” Nikolai says. He takes your hand and bows down to press a kiss to it, and your skin burns from his touch just as it did out in the gardens. He does not let go when he straightens, instead looking to your mother. “I do not wish to end our meeting prematurely, but I would love to have this dance.” 

“Of course!” your mother exclaims. “It would be her honor, Your Highness.” 

Nikolai nods and smiles, looking back to you for your permission. You nod as well through your haze, and he leads you out to the dance floor. It takes a moment for you to fully come back into yourself, and it only occurs once he has laid his hands in the correct position. His feather light touch is like lightning. 

“I did tell you we would meet again,” Prince Nikolai says, that sure smile on his lips yet again. Had it not been for your years of dance lessons, your weakened knees would not be enough to carry you through this waltz. “Did I not?” 

“...You did,” you say. “But you did not tell me you were a prince.” 

“I find it invites unnecessary pressure,” he says. “Did you not enjoy our time together?” 

“...I did,” you say again, unsure of your words. 

“And I am proven right in your manner,” the prince says. “You spoke so easily in the gardens, and now you seem to be putting thought into each syllable.” 

“You— you are a prince,” you repeat, your still-lingering shock making you speak plainer than you intend. “Of course I am putting thought into my words.” 

“You needn’t worry around me,” Nikolai says. “I am just another man in London.” 

“You are a prince.” 

“As we have established,” he nods, and when you let out a light huff he grins. “You have a lovely smile.” 

“As do you,” you say, and you shake your head. “I cannot believe you allowed me to make a fool of myself out there.” 

Nikolai frowns. “However did you make yourself a fool?” 

“You allowed me to ramble!” you exclaim. “I told you of my worries, of being overwhelmed, of all my thoughts—” 

“And what is the problem with that?” he asks. 

“It is unseemly to complain to a prince,” you insist. 

“We see our meeting quite differently, then,” he says. “For I left it with a most favorable image of you, and a wish to see you again.” He cocks his head. “Did you not leave with the same?” 

“...I did,” you say after a moment. 

Your conversation stalls for a moment as you part from each other, following the steps of the dance, before joining back again. His hand is sure in yours, startling but welcome warmth. 

“Then I do not see the issue,” the prince says. 

“You have made this night all the longer,” you intone. “Your attention makes me something of a target among the ladies of the ton.” 

“Do not worry,” he says, that irritatingly pretty smile aimed at you yet again. “I believe we can get through it together.” 

“Together?” you ask. 

“You wished to meet again,” Nikolai says. “I plan to grant that wish several times over.” 

“...I would like that,” you admit, feeling your cheeks heat under his gaze.

“And just to think,” he says, amused, “you said your meeting with a prince would be a disaster.” 

[michwritesstuff]

Enchanting to Meet You (Bridgerton: Benedict Bridgerton)

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

summary: In your debut social season in London, you can’t help but be absolutely enchanted by a certain gentleman. You wouldn’t be lucky enough to find a true love match after one ball…right?

notes/warnings: no warnings, just all fluff! does this song not scream dancing with benedict for the first time! stolen glances and witty remarks! like hello?

word count: 1.3k

The carriage was moving impossibly slow.

Trees passing by at a snail’s pace as you watched the light of your aunt’s estate grow closer in the distance.

The desire to run to your bedroom and bathe in the excitement of the night intensifying as each moment passed.

“A lovely opening ball, was it not y/n?”

You snapped your head from leaning on the window to where your mother and aunt sat across from you.

“Yes, quite lovely indeed,” you remarked.

You had grown up coming to your aunt’s estate in the summers.

As a child, you remembered begging your mother to take you to London for the social season as your older sisters were being presented to society.

You wondered if your sisters ever had a night as magical as you did tonight.

And it was all because of him.

Benedict Bridgerton.

You liked the name Benedict; you had never met another one before.

The blood rushed to your cheeks, so scarlet, at the memory of dancing the night away with him.

“Oh y/n, you are looking quite ill. You have had such a busy night; it would do you well to get a good night’s sleep and think on the many gentlemen who will call on you tomorrow.”

You could not help but lay awake that night, the moonlight shining through the curtains, as you thought about the entire night. Replaying it in its entirety, from start to finish.

The conversation was effortless, no lulls or awkward pauses you experienced with others.

What would you do if he had not called upon you the next day?

Would you be forced to entertain the other prospects in hope of waiting and biding time for his affection.

Was there someone else in the picture?

Why had you not thought to ask his intentions?

Was the chemistry enough to guide you through this season?

Your endless thoughts were torture.

Finally dozing off, the moonlight soon disappeared as the darkness of the night sky was replaced by the bright and glistening rays of the sun.

A subtle knock came from the other side of the door, your lady maid calling out.

“Miss Y/N, we must start getting you ready.”

With one final powdering of your nose, you made your way towards the parlor room.

As you walked in you spotted Benedict sitting on the settee near the large portrait of your family.

He stood up immediately once he noticed your presence.

As your eyes met the memories of the night before came flooding back.

******

You stood with your mother and aunt at the edge of the dance floor, running your hands down your dress, doing your best to smooth out the ruffles from where you sat.

“Miss y/l/n, what a pleasure to have you join us this season.”

“Thank you, Lady Danbury,” you smiled politely.

“Let us hope that she is as lucky as her sisters in finding a great companion,” your mother said.

You nodded your head as you took in the scene around you.

Girls and their mamas circling like vultures, while still maintaining the perfect amount of poise to be considered elegant and respectful.

It was much more overwhelming than you were anticipating.

 The magic of what you imagined as a little girl was slowly fading the more you felt the pressure of finding a husband by the end of the season.

If forcing laughter and faking smiles is what it took to get through the night, then so be it.

You had evaded a few gentlemen by writing down the name of poets on your dance card, smiling shyly as you quickly waved the ‘full’ dance card as a polite dismissal.

It was a pity really, you loved to dance.

The small talk and inquiring about your pianoforte on the other hand was quite detestable.

You had just gotten done pity laughing at Lord Hardy’s ‘humble’ comment about his many properties, when above his shoulder your eyes met a couple of cool blue ones across the room.

Your insincerity dropped, curiosity taking over as you excused yourself from Lord Hardy.

The man had done the same with whatever company had previously occupied him, gently patting the man in front of him as he maneuvered his way towards you.

As he approached you bowed your head slightly.

“Miss--?”

“Y/N”

“Miss Y/N, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“I suppose we have not. I have just come to London for the season.”

“Ah, the marriage mart? Believer of love, are we?”

“Are you not?” you challenged back.

“In an artists’ sense, yes. Not in the way that I must bow, and you curtsy while we skate around each for months to appease our families What is it truly to admire a woman? To look at her and feel inspiration? To delight in her beauty, so much so that all your defenses crumble, that you would willingly take on any pain, any burden for her.”

You were shocked by his seemingly earnest words. Perhaps the shallow nature of society was not present in everyone.

“Well, we seem to have that in common Mr.—”

“Bridgerton, but you may call me Benedict.”

“Mr. Benedict Bridgerton, the artist or a poet?” you teased.

“This doesn’t really seem like the company you would choose to surround yourself with,” you remarked.

“Quite true Miss Y/N. I fear I am rather trapped among the duties of my family to attend tonight’s ball. You see, my sister Eloise is in her debut season as well.”

You followed his gaze to where a young lady stood next to an older woman. From afar their relationship was quite clear, a mama instructing her daughter on all the dos and don’ts of the night.

“Might you join me in a dance Miss Y/N?”

You looked down to your dance card, the spots filled with fake names.

Benedict grabbed your wrist, bringing the cards towards him for a closer examination.

He laughed as he looked at the names written, scratching out the last two to write his own.

“I do hope Lord Keats and Lord Wordsworth don’t mind me taking their spots.”

“They’ll live, I hear they have greater things to attend to.”

“Greater than you miss? I have high doubts.”

You took Benedict’s hand as the music began to play.

Your hand felt so right in his, as natural as breathing.

You could not help the fluttering in your heart as he whisked you across the dance floor.

This moment, this is the moment you imagined as a young girl.

The playful conversation, perfectly countering his quick remarks. Is this what it was like to meet someone at your level?

Your insincerity and vacancy from earlier replaced by a fulfilling excitement.

“It seems highly improper to have danced continuously with you Benedict.”

“I suppose it is a bit suggestive, do you regret it?” he asked seriously.

You thought for a long second before you looked at him properly.

“No, I do not regret it. Your company is quite refreshing and enjoyable.”

“Coming from someone with your elegance, I take that as the highest compliment.”

You had spent the rest of the evening walking around with your mother and aunt, engaging in superficial conversations, your eyes constantly peeled for a certain Bridgerton.

Your stolen glances and playful smirks across the ballroom went seemingly unnoticed by most.

However, after a brief encounter with Benedict at the drinks table, you felt the wandering eyes of a young lady wearing a lovely yellow dress.

You smiled sweetly at her before returning to your mother’s side.

******

“Miss Y/N, I hope it is not a surprise for me to have called on you so early this morning?”

“On the contrary, I would have been quite disappointed if you had not.”

“Would you care to join me for a promenade?”

“I would be delighted Mr. Bridgerton.”

check out the rest of my work ⤑ here!

[bosbas]

Chapter 13: it's never too late to come back to my side

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 3.2k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, mutual pining, some swearing

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: ahhhh we're getting close to the end i'm so emotional i love them so dearly

August 15, 1814 - It has come to this author's attention that Mr Benedict Bridgerton will be in attendance at Aubrey Hall this year in time for his family's country house party. This comes after almost two months away in the countryside. Will Mr Bridgerton be shocked to find out that his best friend and his older brother have been courting while he was away? Or has he been kept up to date on the ton's happenings, perhaps by this very column? The lucky guests at Aubrey Hall will find out for themselves in a few days, and the remaining members of the ton in London will surely find out through Lady Whistledown's society papers in the coming week.

"Benedict it's been three days. You have to come downstairs at some point," groaned Hyacinth. She was tired of watching her older brother mope around aimlessly, refusing to participate in any Bridgerton-Beaumont activities.

Knowing bits and pieces of what had happened between you and Benedict, Hyacinth was inclined to leave him to rot in his room forever, completely unsympathetic to his low mood. However, she couldn't help but notice your eyes searching every room you entered, looking for your best friend, only to visibly slump your shoulders when you realized that Benedict had once again failed to show up. So, after three days of watching your disappointment grow exponentially, Hyacinth had taken matters into her own hands. Except for the fact that Benedict was not particularly enthusiastic about Hyacinth's efforts, lying on his bed with a half-open book on his abdomen as he rolled his eyes at his sister.

"Go away. I'm not going to play Pall Mall, just leave me alone," he responded, laying an arm over his eyes.

Hyacinth scoffed in response. "I'm not here to ask if you want to play Pall Mall, brother. If I were, you wouldn't have a choice. Not that you have much choice now, anyway."

Then, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him as hard as her eleven-year-old strength allowed, she tried to make him see sense. "Y/N is even more miserable than you are because you won't even come down for dinner. I don't care that you're the one who upset her in the first place, she wants to see you!"

Seeing Benedict move his arm away from his eyes and give her a questioning look, Hyacinth sighed, exasperated. "Yes, I know about that. Which is how I know you're making it worse by staying cooped up in your room while she's downstairs with no one to talk to."

"She can just talk to Anthony," shot back Benedict, knowing it was a weak argument even before the words came out of his mouth.

Hyacinth did all she could to hold back from screaming at her brother, who was being exceedingly petulant. "You are such an idiot that it's hard to imagine how you lead a semi-normal life," she settled for saying, knowing she would get a lecture if she used any stronger language.

Benedict rolled his eyes, but his gaze shot over to his bedroom door when he heard hushed voices just outside whispering fiercely.

"Yes?" he snapped, loud enough that the voices ceased talking. The door creaked open and a very sheepish-looking Theo and Bastian popped their heads in, stumbling into the room unceremoniously.

After slapping Bastian on the shoulder, only a tad aggressively, Theo cleared his throat. "Ah, excuse our entrance."

"We're here to talk to you about Y/N, obviously, but it seems Hyacinth has beat us to it," finished Bastian, scratching the back of his head.

Benedict grumbled some expletives that were most definitely not appropriate for Hyacinth's ears at the prospect of two of your brothers, and the most athletic ones at that, giving him grief for the way things had played out between the two of you. He was already nursing a piercing heartache and the insurmountable guilt of having ruined his chances at being with you by an ill-timed attempt at a kiss, and he most certainly did not need half of your siblings making him feel worse about it. Having Hyacinth in your corner, and therefore against him, was difficult enough.

"Well, go on then," Ben relented, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible so he could go back to wallowing in his sorrows. Perhaps his intense heartbreak would lead to some magnificent inspiration for his next piece, and he could find comfort in the fact that his art would be massively successful, even if he couldn't have you. A poor consolation prize, but a consolation prize nonetheless.

Bastian looked at Hyacinth pensively, assessing how crude he was going to be with such a young girl present to hear what he was saying. He knew she had probably heard it all before, given that she grew up with four older brothers nearby, but Bastian was hesitant to be the direct cause of any colorful language the youngest Bridgerton might employ. Deciding the benefits of being as direct as possible outweighed the possible lecture he would receive, Bastian spoke quickly, "We just think you're being a fucking idiot."

"Sebastian!" exclaimed Theo, hitting him on the shoulder again and ignoring that Hyacinth was currently dissolving into a fit of giggles. "What he means to say is that we think you're being rather foolish. Though the strength of Bastian's words do communicate how we feel about this, foul as they were."

"Why, thank you. I was sick with worry wondering what your opinion on my relationship with my best friend was," retorted Benedict, not able to help his sarcastic tone even though he knew your brothers were not the best people to provoke right at this minute.

"Don't forget your best friend is our younger sister, so I do imagine we're allowed an opinion," replied Bastian, wanting to keep Benedict in place.

Theo, the more level-headed of the twins, looked at Ben with what could have been construed as a look of sympathy if it weren't also laced with unimaginable anger. "We're quite serious, Benedict. We know what happened a few days ago in your studio. Why can't you just talk to her?"

Benedict sat up and put his head in his hands, rather sick of having everyone know his business. "How on earth does everyone know what happened?"

Theo and Bastian exchanged a glance, unsure whether they should reveal their source. But Hyacinth saved them from an explanation. Quite matter-of-factly, she explained, "Eloise overheard your argument pretty much in its entirety. And, of course, she told everyone. Though I'm sure the twins have heard some bits and pieces from Y/N herself, and perhaps Anthony, too."

Seeing Benedict look from Hyacinth to Bastian to Theo in disbelief, loathing that it was nearly impossible to keep a secret from his family, Bastian commented, "Perhaps if Francesca had been the one to overhear we wouldn't have known so much. But all the better for us that Eloise, quite inexplicably, knows absolutely everything about everyone."

Shaking his head, Benedict accepted the current predicament he was in. "Right, then. I'll have to remember to thank Eloise for allowing me to have this wonderful conversation the next time I see her. Regardless, this makes it easier to tell you that I can't 'just talk to her,' Theo. I can't act like nothing happened."

Bastian immediately rolled his eyes upon hearing Benedict's excuse. "It's truly a wonder your friendship with her has lasted so long. Of course she wants to hear from you! She always wants to hear from you. Even when she's upset with you."

"It's all she ever talks about, usually. How long until she can see you and talk to you about whatever trivial matter she wishes to spend hours talking about," added Theo, hoping to remind Benedict that you needed him. Twenty years of being best friends meant that you needed Ben even when the two of you were fighting. Especially when you were fighting, actually, since Benedict was the only person who knew how to properly console you when you were upset.

"They're not trivial matters," said Benedict defensively. He loved hearing you talk on and on about whatever plot hole was plaguing you, and he found it rather interesting, too, but now was not the time to get into that particular point. "Anyway, that doesn't resolve the issue. It doesn't matter if I talk to her or not, she still doesn't love me back. And I have been doing a splendid job so far of trying to get over her before she marries my brother, so if you could very kindly allow me to continue to do so, I would greatly appreciate it," he finished curtly.

Hyacinth scoffed, in disbelief at her brother's blindness. "She doesn't 'not love you back,' you big baby! I'm eleven years old, I shouldn't be the one telling you to grow up!"

"Hyacinth, stop it. That's unusually cruel, even for you," protested Benedict, feeling an almost physical pain at the impossible possibility that you might love him back after what happened in his studio. He had considered the possibility incessantly in his mind the past few days, of course. But to hear someone else say it, to hear the words spoken so clearly by someone else rather than hearing it in his internal monologue or seeing it written down in his sloppy handwriting in letters he had never sent, was enough to make him feel nauseous.

Up until fairly recently, his love for you had been quite manageable. Even unnoticeable, at least to him, for the first few years. However, now he was quite pointedly aware that every time his heartbeat faltered it was undoubtedly due to you, whether you had laughed in a particularly adorable way or worn a gown that made your figure look quite irresistible. And he had lost any chance he had with you because he was too overcome by his desire to be by your side in a more-than-friendly way and had had awful timing in attempting to kiss you. So, yes, Hyacinth was being quite cruel in his eyes. Even if the cruelty was warranted, seeing how you looked as distraught as he felt.

"I do believe Hyacinth is right," Theo spoke, causing the youngest Bridgerton to beam, radiant, beside him, contrasting Ben's positively ghastly expression. "Y/N has loved you for years. It's been painfully obvious to the rest of us, but apparently, you're too thick to notice."

Bastian piped in to agree with his brother. "Precisely. So we're spelling it out for you. She does love you back, you just decided to confess your love for her at an inopportune moment. If Eloise's memory serves her correctly," which earned him a snicker from Hyacinth, "Y/N never said she didn't love you back."

Theo nodded, "She just said nothing had been resolved. Which it hadn't. So resolve it."

As if trying to romance the woman Ben had been helplessly and irrevocably in love with for the better part of a decade was as easy as taking a stroll, Bastian shrugged and added, "It's simple, really."

Benedict swallowed thickly, hearing a loud ringing in his ears. He found he couldn't focus his eyesight on anything, vision growing blurry as his eyes aimlessly scanned the room. He had taken your abrupt exit from his studio as a complete rejection, a sign that he had ruined any chance of moving beyond the boundaries of the friendship you two had built so lovingly. But apparently, the rejection had not been because you did not love him back, but rather because Benedict had behaved quite like an ass.

The absolute bliss he should have felt was overshadowed by a tightness in his chest that he could easily attribute to fear. There was so much more to lose now. He was scared out of his wits that he'd mess up again and lose you in any way that mattered, friendship and all.

"But what if it's too far gone? What if I don't fix it?" asked Ben, voicing his fears shakily.

Bastian laughed dryly and Benedict felt it more than he would a physical blow. "That's not really an option, is it? That's our sister you're talking about."

Theo growled lowly, not opposed to resorting to violence when the matter concerned the possible heartbreak of his younger sister. "Fix it or we fix you."

And the two walked out, Hyacinth skipping happily in front of them, without acknowledging the garbled groan that came from Ben's throat. He would have to make it count, then. One last chance to make you his. To make a reality the only way he could truly be happy. But it wasn't an impossible task. He knew you better than you knew yourself, after all.

---

You were making your way upstairs to your bedroom after another torturous dinner without Ben when Anthony touched your arm and asked if he could walk you back. It took less than five seconds for you to burst into tears and nod sorrowfully as he led you out of the sitting room where the rest of your families had migrated and were now settling into cozy conversation. Thankfully, no one else noticed, or at least didn't think to call you out on your sudden burst of emotion.

"It's going to be alright, one way or another," Anthony whispered as he led you down the hallway. And though he felt it was appropriate given the circumstance, he refrained from calling you darling or really any other pet name, knowing Benedict was usually the only one to refer to you as such, and thus it might cause you more undue stress.

"I know," you responded tearfully. "I just miss him."

You hiccuped and leaned your head onto Anthony's shoulder. As much as you enjoyed Anthony's company, you secretly wished that it was Benedict's strong shoulder you were feeling. But it didn't do to dwell on such matters now.

"Well, he did tell you he loved you," offered Anthony as the two of you climbed the stairs. "I think you're crazy to not immediately go after him." Perhaps he had been too worried about the fact that Benedict was an idiot to realize that you, too, were an idiot when it came to matters pertaining to your best friend and your very obvious love for him.

You shook your head decidedly. "He did tell me that, yes, but look at what's happened now," you said, flailing your arms in frustration. "He's ignored me for three days. You can't just say you're in love with someone and then not speak with them for three days!"

Anthony laughed softly when you sniffed sulkily, but you kept speaking. "It's too easy for Ben to swoop in after I've done so much work to get over him and found someone I want to marry," you gave the man beside you a pointed stare. "I don't just want to be with him when it's convenient for him. I need Benedict to actually want me and to prove that he wants me. Which he is doing a very poor job of at the minute because I haven't seen him since he confessed he was in love with me," you finished with a huff.

But Anthony was saved from having to respond, as Alex was waiting for you by your bedroom door, hands behind his back.

"Ah, Y/N. Just the person I wanted to see. Do you fancy a chat?"

Seeing that you didn't have much of a choice, you nodded and thanked Anthony, sending him on his way as you turned to face your older brother. "Very well," you relented.

The two of you went inside your bedroom and Alex, ever the unwavering presence in your life, closed the door firmly and crossed his arms as he stared at you. You were a tad nervous, not quite sure of what he was going to say. Ever since you had started courting Anthony, he had steered clear of the two of you, not exactly disapproving of the courtship, but not particularly supportive of it either. Needless to say, you were fairly surprised that he was being so direct with you now, asking to talk to you and staring you down in your room.

"Y/N," he started. "I mean this will all the love that I have in my heart for you, which is quite a lot, but you are being so, so stupid. It's almost painful to watch."

You were completely taken aback. "Excuse me?" you sputtered, not quite believing that your brother would speak to you like this. Although it was nice to hear him speak to you in any way at all, since you knew he had probably been holding back from saying this every time you spoke with him for the duration of your courtship with Anthony.

With a determined look on his face, a slightly furrowed brow, and downturned lips, Alexander pressed on. "You are so obviously in love with Benedict," and before you could protest, he continued speaking. "And he is so obviously in love with you, that I just don't understand the problem. He told you he was in love with you, from what Eloise has said, so I don't particularly see an issue now."

A flicker of confusion passed over your face. "He– What? What are you getting at?" you asked, knowing there was something else that Alex wanted to say.

It was imperative to him that you grasped what he was saying instead of focusing on how he said it. So he sighed a tad impatiently but spoke steadily enough that you wouldn't be put off by his tone of voice. "At the beginning of the season, I wasn't absolutely bricking it over my little sister debuting in society because I didn't think I would have to worry about you actually courting anyone. I just assumed that you and Ben would end up married, much like the rest of our families. In fact, I assumed you would be married already. It's mid-August now, and I thought you would have at the very latest married in June. Again, I mean this with a lot of love, but you're being a massive idiot. Every single person in our family can see that you're in love. So go be with the man you love!"

You were stunned. Alex had never made any indication that he thought that you and Ben would marry. But then again, perhaps you and Benedict loving each other came so naturally that he didn't need to.

Nevertheless, you shook your head adamantly. "I don't care what you thought, or what the rest of the family thought, or even what I thought! Benedict left me when I needed him, and Anthony was there for me–"

"So, you're marrying Anthony, then? You've decided you still want to be with him after all this?" asked Alex, on the brink of losing his seemingly endless temper.

"I don't know! Maybe? I haven't entirely decided, yet," you argued. "But it's either that or no marriage since Benedict hasn't exactly provided an alternative solution, and I would rather die than marry a man of the ton."

"But do you love Anthony?" asked your brother, voice clear as it cut through your rambling.

"Does it matter?"

"To you, it does," he responded firmly, but not unkindly.

And he was right. To you, it did matter. Perhaps not to Anthony, and perhaps not to Alexander, either. But to you, it did. Or it had, at least. And shouldn't it still matter? Even if you hadn't had the most linear season, and you hadn't found exactly what you were looking for. Shouldn't you still hope for love? And shouldn't you still fight for it, despite your best friend's terrible timing?

—

previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

Tag List (lmk if you want to be added!):

@bellahadidnt16 @like-gabriel-and-castiel @riverraingrayworld @5sos-calm @elissanatok @titanicnerd-blog @noonenuts @moonwayne @lilasblogg @mmontgomeryb @fulltacoparadise @joyfullymulti @sopanngon @fanfiction-she-wrote @aureolinb @ambitionspassionscoffee @bbubbllejisoo @marvelspogue @avengersgirllorianna @loliakeoghan23 @cierrajhill

[thorin-is-a-cuddler]

Benedict Bridgerton x pregnant wife!reader

A/N: I have received the following prompt: “Benedict Bridgerton with wife pregnant!reader. If any of Bridgerton's siblings had any problems, she was the first one they came to ask for advice even the oldest. All this attention was making Ben jealous as he was having less time with her. She told him that he would have to share her for the rest of his life before letting him know age was pregnant. You decide how it goes. Thanks!! :))” And I have tried to write it. It must be my first reader!insert romance story and it was so much fun. I hope you like what I have made of it. (~ 4650 words)

Benedict was grinning like a cheshire cat and you found it increasingly hard to refrain from tackling him to the ground to pepper his face with kisses. Expertly you were decorating his chestnut hair with flowers from the Bridgerton country home garden, the large rose bushes on either side of the alley leading up to the house shielding you from the sun. You were sitting in front of him cross-legged, the flowers gathered up in your lap. Benedict was facing you, his long legs stretched out in a way that his shins touched your hips. His hands were propped up in the grass behind his back and the sun was painting shimmering golden flecks on his head when the wind rustled through the leaves of the bushes.

Your husband looked deliciously delighted and nothing made you happier than seeing him that way. After one year of marital bliss, you’d decided to go to the country side with the rest of the Bridgerton family to spend the days in their presence and to enjoy the fresh air outside of London. A week before departing you had realized with heart-wrenching joy that your cycle was interrupted – you hadn’t bled when the time was due and had the very strong suspicion that a small version of yourself and Benedict was growing inside your belly. As nature sometimes tended to have its cruel way with humans, you had not yet mentioned it to your husband, fearing that the regular bleeding would merely commence one or two weeks late. But since your arrival, nothing had changed. The sheets remained unstained and your suspicion  transformed itself into something of a certainty. You tended to wake in the night and almost instinctively moved your hands to your belly, greeting the tiny human sprout with the warmth radiating from your palms. “Hello,” you’d started to whisper, “I hope it’s not too dark in there. Don’t worry, you are not alone.”

Now, as your husband was enjoying your melodic humming and the sweet smell of the flowers that caressed his hair, you felt inside of you a bubbling wish to lean forward and whisper the good news into his ear. The good news you’d barely managed to fully apprehend on your own. It was scary to reveal such a tender, fragile and unpredictable thing as a pregnancy. There was too much that could still go wrong, too much that still stood between you and the day of birth. Yet, looking at Benedict all calm and relaxed made you wish to comment on how you hoped your child’s eyes would be like his or how you could imagine him holding the small bundle to his chest, a little nose peeking out from white cloth.

You leaned over, closer towards him and moved your hand to the side of his face. His half-closed lids blinked open and his smile deepened when his gaze landed on your tender face.

“Am I positively in bloom now?”

You snickered and carefully brushed your fingertips over the petals behind his ear, making Benedict shiver ever so slightly. “Any young lady would envy you for such an exquisite coiffure!”

Narrowing his eyes, Benedict snarled at you, shaking his head and sending a few petals flying off onto the grass. “You’re lucky I had four younger sisters with a similar taste for dressing me up or I would have long taken off over the meadows!”

Biting your bottom lip to keep from grinning too widely, you got on your knees in one swift motion to wrap your arms around your husband’s shoulders, bringing you faces closer together. “You wouldn’t even have taken off if I had brought a pair of scissors with me to experiment on your hair!”

He chuckled gently and moved an arm over the small of your back to pull you even closer. “It can’t possibly be a good thing that you are correct about this!”

His lips found yours and you melted into the kiss as if the sun had suddenly gotten strong enough to evaporate you. Smoothly you moved your chest over his torso, your hands following the outlines of his shoulders. He hummed into your mouth, his voice vibrating through your skin as your fingers found his face, where your thumbs started caressing the slightest hint of a stubble.

“Benedict,” you sighed, your smile mirrored on his lips, “I have something to-“

“(Y/N)!!” A shrill voice shouted from the front steps of the big country house. You were so surprised, you almost choked, your forehead knocking against your husband’s. Benedict grabbed your elbows to keep you from falling over, one eye closed against the pain of head-to-head contact.

“Oww,” he groaned, looking over his shoulder with faint annoyance. Hyacinth’ voice was easily discernible and lately, she’d managed to interrupt quite a few of your… get togethers.

“(Y/N), are you in the garden?!”  

Raising one hand to your forehead, you couldn’t keep from letting out a breathless laugh. “Ten minutes of peace were quite the luxury, I daresay.”

Benedict let out a sigh, but pulled the corners of his lips up in a little smile, when he saw the humour in your eyes. “Sooner or later, I am going to grab her and lock her in the closet!”

Comfortingly, you patted his chest, before moving your hand to his hair to straighten one crooked daisy. “She’d probably find that rather amusing.”

“Are you sure? She is so very … fourteen now!” Benedict said, an overly accentuated speck of fear concerning teenage-girlhood glinting in his eyes. “When the day comes that we have a fourteen year old daughter, you must help me make sure I never become the object of her wrath!”

Holding your breath, you turned to look at him in awe. Did he know? Had he already figured it out all by himself that you were pregnant? But no, his eyes merely showed signs of good-tempered amusement. He had not yet a clue, which made his comment all the more valuable to you. “I love you,” you stated with feeling and crashed your lips to his in such a surprising manner, that he almost fell over, which laced your kiss with his sweetest chuckles. Moving your face away, you hesitated for a second, gazing in his shining blue eyes, unsure whether you should tell him immediately.

“Are you alright?” He asked, his eyes twitching curiously. You bit down on your lip, enchanted by the way he could almost read your mind. The good news about possible upcoming parenthood would have to wait though. You wanted to tell him, when it was only the two of you.

“Perfectly so,” you therefore exclaimed, before bringing your hands to his chest to push him over for good. Quickly you rose to your feet to answer to Hyacinth’ incessant shouting, laughing at Benedict’s attempts to grab for your heels in retaliation.

“I am here!!” You sang, taking your skirts in your hands to take a few running steps in her direction. She did the same, meeting you halfway and wrapping her arms around your middle, asking to be coddled, while she was going on and on about how she needed your help with this one French book she was reading. You walked back to the house with her, a smile on your features and your arms around her smaller body, as you indulged in the fantasy of her being your daughter and of you being the mother she’d asked for counsel. You looked over your shoulder and saw that Benedict was watching you two. You couldn’t help but wonder whether he was imagining the exact same thing as you.

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

After two hours of translations and musings about the difficult French language, Benedict came barging into the study, looking at Hyacinth with a quarrelsome expression.

“Sister,” he growled in a rather menacing tone, “are you kidnapping my wife?”

Holding both your hands on the pages of the big book, you tilted your head in his direction with a meaningful grin. “Oh, you!”

But Hyacinth wasn’t the youngest Bridgerton for nothing. Defiantly she stood up from her chair and walked towards him in the middle of the room. “How dare you!! You didn’t even knock!!”

Benedict almost flinched, when she drilled an authoritative finger into his chest. With seven older siblings, there really wasn’t much that seemed to scare her. He opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately interrupted.

“I am in the midst of a very important lesson and I am fairly certain you still remember how to breathe without (Y/N)!! So!! Fare thee well!!”

It was incredibly hard for you not to burst into a small laughing fit with Benedict looking positively puzzled and his youngest sister intonating every single word as if there was an exclamation mark behind it. Yet, you managed to hide your smile behind your hand as you feigned a cough, which, judging by the way your husband looked at you, Benedict easily identified as an act. He narrowed his eyes and looked from you back to his sister who was still planted before him with a vigour unlike her size and age.

“Very well.” He eventually said; but it wasn’t without a lightness at the end of his phrase – one that was giving him away. Not only to you who had only known him for a short time compared to Hyacinth who had grown up with him. She gasped out “NO!” and wanted to take a step back, but Benedict had already grabbed her and thrown her over his shoulder.

“BENEDICT!!” She screeched, still sounding very childlike, despite wishing to appear much more adult at her tender age. “LET ME DOWN!!”

You looked on with a smile, chuckling at the way Benedict was trying to avoid kicking feet from hitting him in the face. “Do you really think you intimidate me, sister?”

Hyacinth’ squeals mixed with hysterical giggles, when Benedict managed to pin down the swinging legs and started tickling the backs of her knees and calves, her fists drumming against his back. “Dohohoohn’t!!” She giggled, all vigour gone from her sweet voice that sounded much more like the one of a child again.

“Will you release (Y/N) and continue your ‘very important lesson’ some other time?” He asked teasingly, a wide grin appearing on his features when Hyacinth’ mirthful sounds started resonating through the study.

“I WILL I WILL!!” She conceded hastily, her hands trying to grab the fabric of his waistcoat. “Don’t tickle!!”

With an approving noise, Benedict stilled his hands and bent over to plant his sister back on the floor. Groaning from the effort, he shook out his arms when he’d finally managed it. “You are getting too tall for this, aren’t you?” The seriousness in his voice combined with the way he cocked his head to the side in wonder had you throw your head back with a laugh.

Hyacinth put her hands on her hips and looked up at her brother with a pout. “I do definitely hope so!!” She sneered, before planting a fist in the crook of his stomach and quickly making her way to the door. A small smile was grazing her features, when she turned around again in the doorframe, directing her question to you. “We will continue our lessons, tomorrow, yes?”

“Of course, Hyacinth! We will make time for it!” You responded with a smile of your own, closing the book about French history and getting up from your chair to join your husband who was over-dramatically enacting an on-the-brink-of-death scene in the middle of the room, coughing and wrapping his arms around his middle.

“Internal bleeding! Internal bleeding!” He repeated hoarsely, making it impossible for Hyacinth not to break out into a laugh. “You’re so annoying!” She giggled, quickly bustling away, when he took a menacing step in her direction.

When the door fell close behind her, he dropped the act immediately and turned towards you with a sigh of relief. “Finally!”

You made a very undignified noise, when his hands grabbed for the fabric of your dress and pulled you towards him, your bodies colliding in an inelegant way, full of hunger and devotion. Giggling, you turned your head to the side, when his lips found your neck, kisses and nibbles sending ticklish jolts into your hairline. “Stop it! What are you doing?”

“It appears, I am overcome,” he mumbled into your skin, taking a deep breath from the sensitive skin under your ear, “by a very strong need to spend some… quality time alone with you!”

“Quality time?” Moving your hands up his back, you allowed him to lead you backwards into the study, your steps mirroring his own until you reached the table with the big French history book. Your eyelids fluttered shut at the warm touch of his lips to your cheeks.

“Mhhh,” he agreed, his nose circling your own and his lips grazing your mouth as he spoke, “the rare, special occasion is one I am very ambitious for!”

Smoothly, Benedict’s hands moved under your behind to lift you ever so slightly and place you on the table, the book shifting backwards, giving room to you. You moved your hands from his back to his cheeks, your hands cupping the face in front of you and holding it steady for the kiss you planted on its lips. Benedict smiled peacefully, his blue eyes sinking into yours. “I love my family dearly, dearly, dearly… but I need to have these moments with you alone, truly alone!”

The heart within your chest contracted for one beat, sending a slightly painful sting through your body. It was only a short moment, only one small hint of fear, but it sufficed to make you realize that you were scared Benedict might not actually be as thrilled as you were about the child blossoming in your belly. What if it was too early? What if Benedict still required, perhaps even hoped for some time without a family? What if he would be overwhelmed by a family that grew and grew and never seemed to allow you two any more time alone? You gulped and suddenly moved your hands back to his shoulders, holding on tightly.

Benedict seemed to notice that something was off, moving his head away from the side of your face to look you in the eyes. His gaze was soft and sweet and you wanted to drown in it, wanted to get lost in it as he moved his hands all over your body. But for now there was no more movement aside from his nose brushing against yours, a movement equal to a question.

“Are you alright?”

You realized you’d been holding your breath and took a deep one, before pushing your face into his as affectionately as you could. “I just want you,” you whispered, meaning it in every way possible, from head to toes, from now on to the end of your days, from his soul to his heart to every memory you’d make together. You wanted him. And every single part of him that grew through you. You could only hope that it would be the same way for him. “I want you so badly,” you continued, your voice almost hoarse from raw emotion which made his eyes flicker with a suddenly burning fire. Devotion radiated from his kiss adjoined to something that went deeper, something that was inexplicable and yet so strangely clear.

“You have me!” He growled into your neck, breathing your scent another time and kissing the vein running up your skin with an urgence. “You will have me! Entirely!”

You smiled against his cheek and moved your lips to his mouth to steal a kiss from its corner. That made him smile your favourite smile and suddenly you were lifted off of the table and carried towards the door. Moving your arms around his neck, you held on to him, running your eyes up and down his face to not miss a single sign of his happiness. You didn’t have to ask where he’d take you, knowing full well that he would tug you into the sheets of his bed, caressing your skin with his own and joining your bodies to become one. You wanted to be as close to him as possible, and afterwards you would tell him, afterwards you would try to find the right words and hope for a reaction that wouldn’t scare you. Right now, he was right, it would be just the two of you.

He opened the door… and ran into Anthony.

“Anthony!” He exclaimed in surprise, not yet considering to drop you which you found at the same time embarrassing and sweet. Trying to turn around in his embrace, you looked at Anthony over your shoulder, greeting him with a quite awkward “Hello!”

“Where have you two been, I was looking all over for you… wait, don’t answer that!” He waved his hand around in front of his chest, the corners of his lips twitching ever so slightly. “Though I do have to say, I’d like to know if the study should be er… cleaned!”

“Brother!!” Benedict groaned, his head dropping on your shoulder, the warmth from his reddened cheeks burning your skin.

Chuckling, you patted Benedict’s shoulder to signal you’d like to be let down. The muscles in his arms clenched from unwillingness, but he did indulge you and let you slide to a standing position.

You decided not to answer the last comment and simply tilted your head to the side expectantly, your unashamed smile making Anthony’s own grow. “What was it you needed from us?”

“Not I,” Anthony responded, his amusement at his brother’s unmistakable frustration quite obvious. “But our dear mother. She needs your opinions for the upcoming summer ball. Apparently Daphne and Kate would like you to join in on the preparations.”

Benedict groaned loudly. You tried not to send him a sympathetic glance and merely nodded at Anthony’s request, asking in return where you could find the other ladies.

“Don’t worry, brother!” Anthony consoled your husband, when you took his hand in a silent goodbye. “I’ll make sure no one bothers you after dinner. I know how hard it can be to find… some time alone.”

Benedict actually felt compelled to smile at his brother in gratitude, before sending you one more longing gaze. “I can’t wait.”

Then Anthony wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him in one direction and the preparations for the ball pulled you in the other. During the time it took to walk to the ladies of the house, you couldn’t stop worrying about what Benedict’s reaction would be once you told him of the pregnancy after dinner.

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

Being at the table with the entire family always put Benedict into good spirits, no matter how much he’d longed for a moment alone with you throughout the day. He made faces at Daphne, poked Eloise into the side until she almost choked on a piece of bread, laughed at Colin’s jokes and exchanged warm glances with his mother. You were having lovely conversations with Kate and spoke some more to Hyacinth about her French. Everyone at the table tried to outdo Colin and his funny remarks, but no one quite was as good at it as he was and he seemed to be taking great pride in it.

Seeing Benedict interact with his family reassured you in a way you had not entirely realized you’d needed. Yes, you were both in great need of being close to each other in private. Yes, you were both enjoying it immensely, when no one interrupted your time together. But being at the table with everyone, conversing, joking, teasing and simply enjoying each other’s company was something Benedict would never have to ‘suffer’ through. Time spent with his family was time well spent and you could see in his face that he was more than content. e

It took away so much of the fear you’d felt throughout the day, the fear that he might not be happy about the news that you were with child. This was his world and he would be, you were very certain, delighted to have such a world of his own.

Kate and Anthony were the first to leave the table – in the dim candle light you couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked like he was waggling his eyebrows at you – and after a while, you, Benedict, Daphne and Simon all decided to do the same, bidding your adieus from the family for the day and retiring to your chambers.

Benedict was in high spirits which was most likely due to the lovely evening and the prospect of finally being alone with you without fear of interruption. You suppressed a squeal, when he decided to chase you up the stairs, scooping you into his arms at the far end of the hallway that followed and banging open the door to your shared room with his shoulder. You giggled uncontrollably, when he kicked the door closed with his foot and practically ran towards the bed to throw you on the covers.

“I am going to jump out of the window if anyone dares interrupt us here and now!” He hissed humorously, taking off his waistcoat as quickly as he could and starting to work on his breeches.

Laughing cheerfully, you moved your hands in his direction, demanding him to get into the bed this instant. “Must you seriously be standing over there while getting undressed?”

“Where are my manners?” He gasped out in fake shock and all but dove into the sheets next to you, grabbing your waist and pulling you underneath him, drawing more silly laughter out from you when he pushed his face into the silk covering your belly. “Taking off clothes is almost as intrusive as my siblings! We will simply ignore them!!”

It was hard to speak through your laughter, but somehow you managed to grab a hold of his head and pulled it up towards you. “Ben, please, I must breathe! I must breathe!”

Grinning widely, he pushed his face against yours. “You should have to quit laughing for that first!”

It took a moment, but you did manage to calm your breathing, your arms wrapped around your husband who had his head propped up on one hand and was looking at you with a lazy smile. “Better?”

That almost made you burst out laughing again, but you managed to control yourself and instead grabbed him by the shoulders and changed positions, ending up on top of him. He huffed out in surprise, but his smile was big enough to light up the room, when he grabbed your thighs on either side of his hips.

“I feel deliciously trapped!”

“I have something to tell you!” You mused, searching for his hands with your own to interlock your fingers. Apparently you were in need of holding on to him while telling him what would come next. The pressure of his palms against your own quieted your mind and helped you focus on the matter at hand.

“Something you have to pin me down for?” He joked, his eyes widening with amusement. For you, his question brought back a small amount of dread and your smile fell ever so slightly.

“I… I hope not!” With hesitation you looked away, running your thumbs over his hands to calm yourself, while you were in search of what exactly to say. It would appear easy enough, declaring that one was pregnant, but, in truth, uttering the words was quite powerful and made the reality of the phrase stand out quite drastically.

“What is it?” Benedict asked, sitting up slightly and observing with a portion of concern the way you were biting the inside of your cheek. “(Y/N), is everything alright?”

You moved your eyes up, locking your gaze with his and taking a deep breath. It was all there, in his eyes: the love, the devotion, the care. He would be delighted. Yes, there was no other way…

“Ben, I know that sometimes it feels like we do not have a lot of time to ourselves.” He snorted in response to your words, underlining them with his reaction.

“The time I get to spend alone with you is a most cherished treasure.” You continued and slightly bucked your hips against his, making him chuckle softly. “Now, it is simply so…” You gulped and looked from left to right, before deciding to bring both of his hands to your belly. “It is so that… I am almost one hundred percent sure that I am…”

“YOU’RE PREGNANT!!!” Benedict shouted over your poor attempts of uttering the words you found so hard to actually say out loud and before you had a chance to asses the situation, you were pushed on your back, with your head by the foot of the bed and your husband fussing over you. His big hands were moving from your cheek to your belly to his head and back to your belly, all while he made noises of the purest and most natural delight you’d ever seen in a man.

“You’re pregnant!! You’re pregnant!!” He kept on repeating, his joy reverberating through every single nerve end on his body and conjoining with your own. All the insecurities of the day fell off your shoulders and the light weight that remained made your eyes water.

“Oh, my love,” you almost sobbed out, “I am so happy to see you react this way!”

“How could I not?” Benedict laughed with joy, cupping your face and kissing you and kissing you some more, small wet drops falling on your cheeks, when his emotions got the better of him. “We will be parents!” He choked out, before kissing you again and moving his hands to your belly again. “You are having a baby!” He uttered with teary eyes, sinking down on the level of your middle to place a thousand kisses on your gown. “A baby!!” He repeated again, before laughing incredulously.

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him up and towards you. You needed to have him close as you buried your face in his shoulder and allowed tears of your own to run down your cheeks. “I love you!” You whispered with all your affection. “I love you and I love you and I love you!!”

More of Benedict’s tears fell on your face, when he moved himself up slightly, the salty traces mingling with your own. “My love,” he hummed softly, “you were worried, weren’t you? You were worried, it would make me fear for our alone time! Oh, (Y/N), I don’t fear that! I don’t fear a single thing when it comes to us!”

He buried his face in your neck to breathe you in, before looking at your belly again – it would become a recurrent thing in the following nine months, as your belly grew, he would look and look and look with all the adoration he was capable of. “I am beyond happy!”

“As am I!” You placed your hand over his own on your belly, as you were starting to realize the truth of this situation together, as you started to talk about names and traits, as you started to exchange assumptions and plans. It was exactly the way you’d hoped it would be.

A new chapter in your life began.

[hayleythesugarbowl]

hey I love ur fics, can you maybe do like a Trevor evarts headcanon? Or a Spencer Agnew fic that takes place at the Shourtney reception.

Marry Me || Spencer Agnew x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: after seeing shayne and courtney tie the knot, you are worried that you’ll never find a love like theirs. that’s when you start to see your best friend spencer in a new light

word count: 2.4k

warnings: none

a/n: ok first of all i know everyone and their pet rat uses this pic but i couldn’t help it this photo of spencer does things to me 🫠 second of all, i loved both of these ideas and so i had to write them both!! trevor hcs to come stay tuned 🤭 i took some inspiration from that one friends ep in london for this iykyk so thanks mondler. enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    “Spencer, if you were a guy you’d marry me, right?” 

     “First of all, ouch.” Spencer clutched his chest. “And second of all, what?”

     “I mean, is there something un-marryable about me?” You asked, taking a sip of your drink. 

     You didn’t know what was bringing on all of the sudden thoughts about being married—or not being married.

     Well, that was a lie. You did know.

     You had just watched two of your best friends get married earlier that day. Shayne and Courtney were perfect for each other. You were so happy for them and you loved being happy for them.

     But now, as you leaned against the bar at the reception, you couldn’t help but worry that this would never happen for you.

     You’d had lousy, short-lived relationship after lousy, short-lived relationship. Up until you met your last partner, who you’d dated for a year and a half. 

     It was the first long-term relationship you’d had—with someone you thought you could end up marrying.

        That didn’t turn out exactly how you thought it would. You’d broken up last month. 

    You’d always thought the fact that you’d end up with someone for life was a given. It just happened. It had to. But now you weren’t so sure. 

     “I don’t think so,” Spencer looked you up and down, his voice bringing you out of your thoughts. “People settle all the time.”

    You whacked Spencer on the arm. “Very funny. But when I end up as an old cat lady living in your basement, it won’t be.”

     You and Spencer had been best friends for as long as you could remember. It was him who’d gotten you your job at Smosh and introduced you to all the people you were surrounded by now. 

     “There are worse fates. Cats are dope and I’ll always run the ac.” 

     “Spencer,” you whined. “I’m serious.”

     “Yes, (Y/n), I’m sure someone out there would love to marry you,” he said. “Now can I go now? I heard there’s a La Croix tower inside.”

     “I wish,” Shayne said, walking by and overhearing. “Courtney ixnayed that idea a while ago.”

     “Not until I get my wenching hour!” Courtney stated, catching up and stopping to kiss her husband. 

     “Congratulations guys,” you called as they kept walking, mingling with more people.

     You wanted that. Not the La Croixs or whatever Court was talking about, but a relationship like theirs. 

     A best friend who knows everything about you and who would do anything for you. Someone who you spend all of your time with, not knowing how you feel about them until you do. And then getting to know them as a partner and becoming intimate with them in a new way.

     Getting to love them in a new way.

     You groaned, turning to Spencer. “Do me a favor? If we’re both single when we’re 40, let’s get married.”

     “Woah, what makes you think I’m going to be single when I’m 40?”

     You raised an eyebrow. 

     “Yeah ok fine, I’ll marry you,” he agreed.

     You sighed and Spencer took a step closer to you, putting his arm around your shoulder. 

     “Hey, you’re going to find someone,” he said sincerely, “You’re kind and funny and beautiful. Lots of people would be lucky to have you.”

     “You’re just saying that,” you waved him off.

     “I’m dead serious,” he said, turning so he could look you in the eyes. “You’re one of the best people I know. Any guy who doesn’t love you immediately is on something.”

     You looked into his eyes as he comforted you. He looked like he really believed all of the things he was saying to you.

     This suddenly felt…different. As Spencer pulled you in for a hug, wrapping his arms around you, you couldn’t help but…

     No. This was Spencer. He was being a good friend, this was normal. Why now should you be…

     But you couldn’t keep the thought from creeping into the back of your mind. Spencer…

     You may have had a tiny crush on Spencer when you had first met. Who wouldn’t, you had thought. He was funny and cool and had killer tattoos. But once you’d become friends, all of that attraction had turned into friendship and you hadn’t thought of him that way since.

     Until now…

     You pulled away from Spencer’s embrace slowly. 

     “You’re going to get married, ok? You’re a catch. And if not, then I’ll be happy to marry you at 40. I’ll start picking out my tux tomorrow.”

     You smiled, thinking how sweet Spencer was being. 

     “Now, let’s talk about how many cats you’re going to have in my basement, because I max out at eleven.”

     And just like that the spell was broken. This was Spencer, your best friend. Who was always teasing you and making you laugh and definitely wasn’t someone you were romantically interested in.

     Right?

     “And if I had my heart set on twelve?” You asked him, carrying on the joke.

     “I guess I could make an exception,” he shrugged. “But only because I love you.”

     Your heart leapt and you tried to tell it to shut up. You and Spencer had told each other you loved each other several times. So why now did it just encourage your thoughts.

     Just then someone a few yards away called Spencer over.

     “Hey, I’ll catch up with you later,” he told you. “Try not to marry a stranger while I’m gone.”

     And then he left you to your musings. You didn’t like Spencer, not like that. 

     You blamed it on the wanting a relationship like Shayne and Courtney. And you had just been worried that you were never going to find anyone, and Spencer had comforted you. 

     Maybe you just felt grateful, that was all. Grateful that your best friend was there to cheer you up.

      But you couldn’t picture Spencer calling you beautiful and then wrapping his arms around you without feeling all warm and fuzzy inside.

     You imagined actually marrying Spencer. You had said it mostly as a joke and partly so you could have a backup in case you really were alone forever. 

     But now, the more you thought about it, the thought of being married to Spencer, sharing everything and being together for the rest of your lives, didn’t seem like just a backup. 

     Oh god. Maybe you did have feelings for Spencer. Maybe you always had. You tried to think back on your relationship, looking for signs. 

     You’d always felt close to him. Closer than you were with anybody else. Maybe it had always been him and you just hadn’t seen it in a while.  

     You began walking, desperate to be away from your thoughts and needing the distraction of moving. 

     You looked up just in time to realize you’d almost run into Amanda and Angela.

     “Hey guys,” you said, “Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

     “Been there!” Angela leaned in for a high five and you looked down at the drink in your hand.

     “Oh no, it’s not—I’m not drunk,” you said. “I just have a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

     “Ooh, wedding tea!” Amanda exclaimed. “Spill.”

     You sighed. What was the harm in telling them. “You ever suddenly realize you might have feelings for your best friend even though you’ve never thought of them like that before?”

     “Isn’t that why we’re all here?” Angela gestured around her at the wedding festivities.  

     “That is pretty Shourtney coded,” Amanda nodded her head, before whispering to Angela, “Did I use that right?”

     Angela patted her on the shoulder.

     “I’m not talking about Shayne and Courtney,” you said.

     “Then never,” Angela said

     “All the time,” Amanda said at the same time, thinking. “Wait who do you—Spencer?”

     Angela hit her in the arm.

    “I mean, Spencer?” She said much quieter that time.

     “Maybe,” you whispered, not being able to stop the smile spreading on your face. 

     “Since when?” Angela asked you.

     “Like ten minutes ago?” You answered. “But in a way maybe I’ve always known? I was telling him all this stuff about how I was worried I’d never get married and that I was going to end up alone and he was so sweet and reassuring and now I can’t get the thought of him out of my head and…” you groaned, trailing off. “And now I don’t know.” 

     Angela and Amanda shared a look. “We have to,” Angela said.

     “Angela, we promised,” Amanda chided, shaking her head.

     “But c’mon,” she gestured at you. “We have to say something.”

     “Ok guys? I can still hear you,” you told them. 

     “Right, sorry.” Angela said. “It’s just—”

     “Spencerhasacrushonyou,” Amanda spit out.

     “Dude!” Angela threw her arms up. 

     “Sorry,” Amanda bit her lip.

     “You knew I wanted to say it,” Angela mumbled. “But I get it, not the time.”

     “Back up,” you got out, “What?”

     “Spencer really likes you, (Y/n),” Angela said. “We’ve known for a while now. In fact, I’m pretty sure everyone at the office except you has known for a while now.”

     What? You couldn’t believe your ears. What they were saying didn’t make sense. There was no way Spencer, your best friend, had had feelings for you this whole time.

     “No,” you said, taking a step back. “You guys are crazy.”

     “Yes,” Angela agreed. “But not about this.”

     “Ask him yourself,” Amanda said.

     “Yeah, and you know, just don’t mention that we were the ones who told you,” Angela shrugged.

     Were you really going to do this?

     You took a deep breath. What would you even say?

     Hey, a little birdie told me that you have a crush on me and I, as of very recently, have feelings for you, let’s see where this goes?

     “Hey, Angela,” Amanda suddenly stated  loudly. “Look, it’s that guy!”

    She pointed in the opposite direction and Angela’s eyes brightened. “Oh, I love that guy!”

     You turned around, seeing that Spencer was approaching you. 

     “Thanks guys,” you muttered sarcastically.

     They both hurried away and Angela winked at you as they passed. You rolled your eyes.

     Spencer came up behind you. “Damn, you don’t take a shower for like one day...”    

     You laughed. “No, they just had to run. Saw some guy, apparently.”

     “(Y/n), what’s up?” Spencer looked at you. “You kinda look like you had some of that punch inside.”

     He made a face.

     “You have feelings for me?” you blurted out.

     Arguably, you could’ve handled that better. You didn’t even mean to say it, but upon seeing Spencer it had just kinda slipped out. 

     Spencer’s expression turned into one of shock. He fumbled for words. “I, um—I don’t—who told you?”

     Is what he finally settled on.

     “Because if it was Angela, I swear—”

     “It doesn’t matter,” you told him. “What matters is, is it true?”

     Spencer sighed. “Wow, um, I definitely didn’t mean for you to find out this way—or at all, for that matter—but yeah. The eleven cats are out of the bag. I guess I have feelings for you.”

     “For how long?” You mumbled, still in disbelief even though he had just confirmed it. This night was a roller coaster of emotions.

     “For as long as I can remember,” Spencer rubbed the back of his neck. “Since the moment I met you.”

      You let out a breath. You didn’t know what to say.

     “But its no big deal!” He hurried out. “I’ve gone years of being your friend without you ever knowing. I’ve gotten kind of good at it. Since you obviously don’t feel the same way, can we just pretend this never happened and go back to the way things were?”

     “No,” you said slowly. “No, I can’t do that.”

     “Yeah, well, I guess this does sort of ruin our friendship, huh?” He deflated, looking at the ground. “I completely understand if you don’t feel comfortable with—”

     And that was all he got out before you kissed him. 

     He looked surprised for almost two seconds before he wrapped his arms around you slowly and kissed you back.

     He was hesitant at first, as if he wanted to make sure that you wanted this as much as he did. 

     But as you let your lips give him encouragement, he kissed you harder, more intensely.

     He kissed you like he had been waiting years for this moment.

     “Wow,” you breathed, pulling away gently. “That was…different.”

     “Yeah we don’t usually do that,” Spencer agreed and he sounded as breathless as you felt. 

    You both started laughing. 

     “But I’d like to keep doing it,” Spencer added.

     “Yeah,” you smiled at him, “yeah, me too. I guess I owe it to you, you have been obsessed with me for years.”

     “Obsess is a strong word!” Spencer held up his hands in defense. “I prefer unrequited pining.”

     “It might not have been entirely unrequited the whole time,” you confessed, grabbing Spencer’s hand. 

     You heard someone—or, multiple someones—cheering and you turned to find Shayne and Courtney looking in your direction. 

     “Finally!” Courtney shouted, laughing with the small crowd that had gathered around them, witnessing what just happened 

     “Time for all of us to cash in on our office bets,” Shayne said. “Who had 2024?”

     “I sure didn’t,” Amanda said, a few feet away from the bride and groom. “That was not on my 2024 bingo card.”

     She turned to Angela, who didn’t even look her way as she said, “Yeah, you used it right. 

     You laughed, looking at Spencer before turning back to everyone else. “Sorry, this is your wedding and here we are making out!”

     “The more the merrier!” Courtney called.

     “Wait a second, you’re not about to propose though are you?” Spencer asked.   “Because we still have a while before 40.”

     You giggled. “You totally just spoiled it! I didn’t even get to pull out my ‘marry me’ sign.”

     But he was right. You had time. To see where this went, to explore this new relationship. You couldn’t wait.

     You’d known Spencer as a friend, your best friend. And now you’d get to know him as a partner.

     “Bold of you to assume I would say yes,” Spencer answered.

     “You would’ve said yes,” you teased, nudging his shoulder.

     “Not if I beat you to it.” 

     Spencer got down on one knee, grabbing your hand.

     “(Y/n) (Y/l/n), will you make me the happiest man at this reception—barring Shayne—and go out with me?”

     You laughed at the fake proposal. “Yes, Spencer. I will go out with you.”

     He stood up, kissing you softly. 

    “I’ll be expecting another one of those in 10 years,” you said. 

     “I’ll be counting down the days,” Spencer smiled. 

     Amanda walked passed you then, shaking her head as she thought aloud. 

     “First kisses,” she muttered. “Never gets old.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ ahh i hope you guys enjoyed this!! like i said, trevor hcs coming soon. watch out for another spencer fic in the works!! 🎀🍒

[astonmartinii]

lewis x accountant!reader if that's ok, pretty please 😋

get the bag | lewis hamilton social media au

pairing: lewis hamilton x accountant!reader

sometimes the perfect pair is a millionaire f1 driver and a top accountant.

lewishamilton

liked by georgerussell63, yourusername and 1,123,878 others

tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton: holiday lovin 🌊

view all 118,459 comments

user89 alert alert lewis is cuffed wtf is going on

georgerussell63 ahh y/n has finally gotten the esteemed instagram post

yourusername had me rotting in the basement

lewishamilton i just made our relationship public and the first thing you say is i have you locked in the basement ???

yourusername oops ... love you 🫶

user48 the end of the slag era ... i need a moment

yourusername added to their story

[caption: working lady needs enough caffeine to fuel a rocket]

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, pierregasly and 10,673 others

tagged: lewishamilton

yourusername: weekends are for racing (and winning) ;)

view all 923 comments

user77 okay i've come to the conclusion that she slays

lewishamilton much easier with a lucky charm in the garage

yourusername pretty sure you were a seven time world champ before i met you but yeah i'll take the credit for this one xx

user12 i'm so glad he has someone who celebrates him as much as he should be

user65 literally thank the lord

f1wagupdates

liked by 1,078 others

tagged: yourusername, lewishamilton

f1wagsupdates: this is y/n y/ln, lewis hamilton's new girlfriend. not much is known about her except that she's an accountant at a big firm in london, she's reportedly been with lewis for five months and the pair met in a cafe in south kensington.

view all 101 comments

user47 oh god smart and pretty? leave some for the rest of us

user21 call me crazy but i'm ready to defend this relationship with my life

user66 real question is whether roscoe likes her or not

roscoelovescoco i loves y/n very muchs

user90 LMAOOOO

mercedesamgf1

liked by lewishamilton, georgerussell63 and 554,003 others

tagged: yourusername, roscoelovescoco

mercedesamgf1: two lovely guests in the garage this weekend! @redbullracing maybe you could get some advice from y/n, make sure no more catering budget mishaps 😉

view all 71,093 comments

user89 LMAO THEY WENT THERE

yourusername i'm not quite sure they have the budget for my expertise

redbullracing way harsh y/n

user71 i love y/n this just confirms it

lewishamilton my two favourite people

lewishamilton

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 1,302,776 others

tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton: spending time with princess

view all 201,788 comments

yourusername love you bub xx

lewishamilton love you more

user57 god. i need this in my life

georgerussell63 so when is this double date carmen and i have been promised?

yourusername next weekend work?

yourusername

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton and 13,567 others

tagged: lewishamilton

yourusername: happy birthday baby!! you've been the best thing to ever happen to me and i'm so grateful i get to live this life with you xx

view all 2,078 comments

lewishamilton i love you too, thank you for always being there for me

yourusername always

user57 gonna stargaze on the train tracks tonight

roscoelovescoco happy birthdays dad !!

user90 i love them so much

note: hope you enjoyed!! it's a bit shorter than i wanted it to be but i hope you enjoyed xx

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

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

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Sixteen - Entanglement

♡♡♡

When you wake up in the morning, you spend a good few moments simply smiling up at your ceiling. The memories of last night come rushing back to you.

You feel giddy.

When the concert had finally ended, Lord Hardy escorted you out to your carriage. He plucked a rose from a nearby potted rose bush and gave it to you. He also had not let you depart without placing a kiss upon your gloved hand.

Your mother had been ecstatic on the way home.

The end of the season was drawing in. It seemed you had managed to secure a match after all. Perhaps you would write to him once he returned to the country.

Your mother and yourself would be staying in London.

Your maid came to wake you, and before you knew it, you were up and ready to face the day. You met your mother for breakfast. All she did was gush about the concert and how proud of you she was.

You couldn't stop smiling.

As you tuck into your breakfast, the butler comes in and declares you have received a gift. You glance at your mother and then back at him as a maid comes in carrying a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

"From Lord Hardy, ma'am."

You grin and look at your mother as she squeals with glee.

Things are looking up for you.

♡♡♡

"Then where did you meet her?" Elosie asks her brother as she follows him through the house.

She was, of course, referring to Genevieve.

"About town," he responds.

"At her shop?"

"Should you not be off somewhere, getting ready to attend your very first ball?" Benedict asks her, hoping to cease her questioning.

Eloise groans.

Hyacinth looks up at Anthony and asks if she may join in on the fun this summer at Aubrey Hall. She is asking about their usual game of Pall Mall.

Anthony snaps out of his thoughts and agrees that she may, as long as she does not touch his lucky mallet.

Eloise sits down with Benedict, continuing to question him.

She had thought her brother had been interested in you, but it seemed she was wrong. Which made his friendship with the tailor even more intriguing to her.

"What other places might Madame Delacroix frequent besides her shop?"

There was also the thought that Eloise suspected the tailor to be Lady Whistledown.

"Many places, Eloise, for her many interests." Benedict responds, sketching in his book. He had still been working on his art since he last saw you.

"You mean her many secrets. You should be careful, Benedict. Madame Delacroix may not be who you think she is," Eloise says. "And consorting with her, well, there may be consequences."

Benedict shushes her quietly, hoping the others didn't hear that.

"I would have expected this from anyone but you," he says. "You think just because Madame Delacroix has a paid occupation, or because she does not reside with the bounds of Grosvenor Square, she's different. Is that it? That she is somehow less deserving of my attention because she is not whom polite society deems appropriate?"

"That is not what I'm saying at all." Eloise clarifies.

"Then what are you saying?"

Eloise sighs and looks at her brother. "You are right. I should prepare for our sister's ball."

"Perhaps you should."

Eloise stands to leave but is stopped by the entrance of Violet entering the room.

"Aunt Winnie jas sent word. Francesca will be arriving home tomorrow," Violet smiles.

"How exciting!" Hyacinth beams.

"Perhaps she can tell us of time spent far from London," Colin comments.

"Fran has missed so much," Gregory points out.

"Mm. Indeed." Violet nods. "It certainly has been an eventful season, what with Daphne and the duke, and then Anthony and..."

Anthony lifts his head.

"Yes, well, never mind." Violet stops herself from going further. She leaves the room.

Benedict sighs as he sketches in his book.

♡♡♡

Eloise knocks on the door of the modiste urgently. Madame Delacroix opens the door, dressed in her robe. Her shop wasn't even open today.

"Miss Eloise, you should come back another day when the shop is open."

"I had hoped you would make an exception for me," Eloise chuckles. "I need a dress for my sister's ball."

"You already have a dress for your sister's ball."

"I need another one. A young lady can never have too many dresses." Eloise forces out another chuckle.

She is let in.

"Oh! Perhaps this one." Eloise goes over to a bright yellow gown. "It would make me look quite in fashion in the eyes of the Featheringtons, I rather think. Unfortunate young ladies. They are still quite stung from Lady Whistledown's recent exposé."

Benedict lurks on the stairs, listening to his sister talk. Did she know he had come here?

"I wish the author would write something flattering about them!" Eloise continues.

"Perhaps she will."

"What makes you say that?" Eloise asks.

"Because she knows what is good for her business, and angering loyal customers is not good."

"No... No, it is not." Eloise agrees. "Whether those loyal customers be Featheringtons or Bridgertons, even... Lady Whistledown might wish to examine what she writes about both."

"Indeed."

"I have heard people say that men, such as my brother, if you will, can withstand rumour and gossip, but... I am not always so sure."

"I know why you are here, Miss Eloise. You are very smart, and you care very much about the people in your life, as you should. But you must know I have no intention of compromising anyone."

"That is good." Eloise says. "Because the queen is enraged. So whoever Whistledown is should be careful. I would hate her to be silenced before she has a chance to change her ways and make things right."

"I believe Whistledown is smart enough to take care of herself," Genevieve states.

"Yes. She certainly is." Eloise smiles. "Charming chatting with you, Madame Delacroix."

Eloise leaves.

"Lock the door." Benedict says, looking at her once his sister has left the shop.

♡♡♡

Lord Hardy had come to visit you. You hadn't stopped smiling the entire time he was at the house. Conversation was engaging and thrilling. You were eager to know more about him, and he about you.

Your mother watched you both talk feeling like everything was coming together.

When Lord Hardy requested you join him, your mother had no qualms against him taking you out for the afternoon. You chuckled as you prepared to go out with him.

A boxing match.

You are reminded of the one Anthony brought you to. The thrilling fight you saw. Not exactly a place for a lady, but you were not about to argue.

"Is this alright?" Hardy asks you.

"Yes. I must confess I find it quite thrilling. Though mother may lose her mind if she finds out."

"As far as your mother knows, we are promanading through the park."

You chuckle as you take your seat next to him, keeping your arm hooked around his. You were looking forward to this.

"It is considered a gentleman's sport, but why remain proper when we can have a little fun?" Hardy grins.

You chuckle.

"Lord Hardy, I think I rather like the way you think."

"Thinking is a dangerous activity, but one I am quite happy to encourage. You must also call me Thomas. I insist."

You smile. "Very well, Thomas."

The Bridgerton brothers enter the arena hall. You spot them immediately. They enter in reverse order. Colin, Benedict, Anthony. Each with a top hat upon their heads.

They don't seem to notice you. You're sat quite far up. Your eyes follow Benedict for a moment. He looks well.

Distance seems to have come between you recently. You've seen him a lot less, and he always seems rather busy.

With the end of the season around the corner, you don't expect you'll be seeing much of him at all. Violet had mentioned Aubrey Hall, their family estate. She had said you were welcome to visit them up there.

You hadn't decided if you wanted to go. Perhaps not. Not if Thomas was going to have all your attentions.

Who knows, maybe you'll be a married woman next time you saw them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, take your seats. The match is about to begin!"

Thomas smiles at you as you smile back.

The fight starts. You and Thomas cheer along with the crowd as you watch bother fighters. Will the man you want to win. Thomas had placed a bet on him. You had told him that you had seen Will fight before.

Will gets a hit in and you cheer.

Thomas chuckles.

Across the ring, Benedict has spotted you. He sees you sitting there with that man on your arm. He turns his eyes quickly back to the fight.

Why should he care that you're here?

Why should he care who you came with?

You cheer again as Will gets another hit in. And another. And another.

But then it switches up.

The Beast hits back. Again and again and again.

You find yourself standing from your seat. Thomas doing the same beside you. You call for Will to hit him back.

He falls to the floor.

The bell rings.

You cling to Thomas's arm as you watch half the room explode into cheer. You watch Mondrich lay there. It was like he chose to stop fighting. You wondered why.

"Come on, get up!"

He did not. He just accepted defeat.

After the fight, you took Hardy's arm, and he guided you down to the entrance. When you reached the doors, you bumped into the Bridgerton brothers, well, two of them. It was Colin who saw you first and spoke your name with a smile.

Benedict turned to look at you. Colin tipped his hat to your companion. "Lord Hardy."

"Mr. Bridgerton." Thomas nodded back.

"Lord Hardy," Benedict greeted, though he seemed less enthusiastic about it. He then turned to you.

"Shame about Mondrich," you say.

"Yes, quite. Unexpected." Colin comments.

"Is he alright, do you know?" You ask.

"I believe so."

"Shall we go?" Thomas asks you. You look at him and nod. You bid farewell to the brothers and walk away with Hardy.

Benedict follows you with his eyes.

Colin nudges his brother, and Benedict turns his eyes away. He gives Colin a smile and walks on.

♡♡♡

"I am confident I could last a few rounds in a boxing ring."

Daphne had invited you to the Bridgerton house where her family was gathering. Her sister Francesca had returned from Bath, and they were all getting together. The duchess extended the invitation to you, which was nice.

You hadn't seen much of them the last couple of weeks. You accepted.

You chuckled at Anthont words about boxing. He seemed fit enough but did not quite strike you as a boxer. You supposed it was because you can only see him as the Viscount.

"Well, that is certainly a match I would like to see." Benedict responds.

He had been rather quiet with you since you arrived at the house.

You look up and see Daphne and Simon jad arrived. You smile at them both and get up to greet Daphne. She takes your hand with a smile.

"It's good to see you," you say.

"Yes. We haven't had the chance to talk much," she replies.

Francesca then comes over to greet Daphne and her husband. Then Hyacinth, too. You chuckle at the excitement in the room.

Hyacinth steals Simon away for a bit.

"Show me what you have been learning, sister." Daphne requests, wanting Fran to play the piano for her. You join the two ladies at the piano.

Eloise is eating chocolate alone on the sofa. Well, she's alone until Benedict sits down with her.

"I do not share food." Eloise scolds him.

"You are not to do what you did the other morning ever again," he scolds her back. "Do you understand, Eloise?" He asks her.

"You mean visiting my new acquaintance?" She grins.

"She is not your acquaintance."

"I was wrong about her. She is wonderful. You have nothing to worry about."

"I was worried about anything."

"Not worried about what?" Anthony asked, coming over and sitting on Eloise's otherwise. He held his hand to Eloise. She stared at it and then gave him a chocolate.

"Uh, I... I have a friendship with Genevieve Delacroix," Benedict confesses. "The... modiste."

Anthony stares at his brother.

Silence hangs over Eloise's head.

Then Anthony answers. "Good for you, brother. You deserve contentment. We all do."

Benedict and Eloise both look at Anthony with surprise and confusion.

"If the lady contributes to that, then I'm happy for you." Anthony leaves.

"Whatever is in those candies?" Benedict asks. He takes one for himself and stands to join the rest of the family.

"Your pianoforte is quite impressive," Daphne comments. Francesca smiles at her. You agree with Daphne.

"Join me, brother," Fran requests, looking at her third eldest brother.

"Yes, Colin, why not a song?" Violet smiles.

"If I must," he agrees, coming to the piano.

Francesca plays the piano as Colin sings. It's an upbeat song. Gregory and Hyacinth spin and dance while Anthony claps. You laugh softly as you watch.

The song comes to an end, and you applaud Colin for his wonderful singing.

Hyacinth returns to the duke's side to question him about his horses. Violet scolds her lightly, but Simon answers all her questions.

You smile at the sight.

Benedict is slouching in a chair nearby, and you go over to him.

"Hello."

He looks up. "Hello."

You look at him sheepishly for a moment before speaking again. "Are you well?"

"Quite well."

You sigh softly as you look down at your hands. "I've missed you."

Benedict looks at you with gentle surprise. "You have?"

You nod. "Mmhm."

He sits up a little straighter. "You appear to have been busy." He comments.

"Yes." You know to who he refers to.

"Does he make you happy?" He asks.

You nod.

Benedict lets that sit for a fresh short seconds and then inhales softly as he reaches over and settles a hand over yours. "Then I am pleased for you."

You smile at him.

"Thank you."

He removes his hand and sits back in his chair again. You at least feel like some of the air between you has cleared. Yet, he still seems a little guarded.

You say no more and enjoy the rest of the afternoon.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

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

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

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd

@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @captainlunaxmen - @winchestersimpalababy - @acupnoodle

@ms-fandomgirl - @fablesrose - @anyaisinyourcloset - @meowzerzstuff - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @crazymar15

@cosmixstar - @bree3parchen - @berrnuu - @charmainemaclendon - @pinkpantheris - @krismdavis

@biancamde - @ifgslsofbsodbf - @kniselle - @berarenado - @grassclippers - @bwormie - @avengersgirllorianna

[princess-yuna]

My Dearest: Part 1

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,838

Summary: You've been apart from Colin for months due to his tour after his brother's marriage to Viscountess Kate Bridgerton. One letter stood out to you the most, putting you in for a loop until you see him again.

Content: No use of y/n, reader's last name is Bennett for fic purposes but feel free to imagine another surname that's suitable for you, pining, friends turned lovers and a lot of fluff. Reader has a younger sister and an older brother.

Next

My Dearest, If only you had accompanied me on my travels. I know that you would love Spain. It is rich in culture that we read in your father's journals. Everything that he had written is nothing short of the truth, and you must see it for yourself one day. Maybe next time you will join me on my travels because everything I have seen has opened my eyes more than a journal ever could. I am counting the days when I can see you again so I can tell you more. Until then, our written words will suffice. Sincerely Yours, Colin Bridgerton

It had been two months since you received the letter, and you couldn't put words to paper in response. There had been constant correspondence between you and Colin since he had left on his travels, but none of those letters were prefaced with "my dearest". The words made you believe he made a mistake because your name wasn't written on the letter like it always had been. Yet the envelope had your name in his neat handwriting, so there couldn't have been in an error.

Why would he address you as so in his letter?

The relationship you had with Colin was mere of like a sibling type relationship. You've known the Bridgerton family since you were a child considering their estate was one over from yours in London. Your parents have been long time friends, so it was natural that their children were friends as well.

You made your debut with the eldest daughter Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton. Daphne was your best friend, and ever since she married the Duke of Hastings, she had been preoccupied with marriage and children. You were always happy for her, but saddened when she left the Bridgerton estate. While she was the diamond, you were also busy finding suitors of your own that season.

There were suitors that called on you that had a lot to offer, and Lord Brixton was the most promising out of them all. Unfortunately, the proposal never came. You never understood why, but you were not devastated unlike your mother was. Lady Whistledown, of course, wrote about your failure of finding a husband, but you never thought of it as a negative thing. Perhaps Eloise had an influence on you.

However, now, you read over the handwritten words of Colin Bridgerton before you drifted to sleep ever since you received it. A longing in your heart brewed that you were of unaware of before for the man you used to think of as a brother. He had almost begged you to come because you stated that finding a husband was something that you didn't long for, but you would have had to decline. It wouldn't have been appropriate to go on a worldly adventure with a man you weren't married , or related, to. That would've certainly disgraced your family if word got around.

Now with the start of a new season, it was your sister's turn to debut. You couldn't be distracted by one handwritten note as you focused preparing your sister to be presented to the queen. She looked absolutely stunning as she stood in the room with Francesca Bridgerton, and it would be lucky if either of them were crowned diamond of the season.

Your mother had shooed you to go stand with your brother as every debutant was presented one by one. Eloise had waved you over as she spotted you walk in, and you immediately linked arms with her as she whispered something in your ear that made you both giggle.

A presence made your gaze lift, and then you felt your cheeks go warm. Colin Bridgerton, your dearest friend, made his way to stand by you two. Eloise had said something witty to him and he responded with a witty comment of her own before she looked at you.

"Colin just arrived this morning," she mentioned before her gaze went back to the room.

Your gaze met with Colin's, no words exchanged as you looked at each other. It was like no one else was in the room as your gaze focused on him as you took in his appearance. Traveling had done him well. Before you could say something, his sister's name was called and your gaze adverted to watch her walk in. A breath that you didn't realize you held in was slowly released.

Once your sister was presented, you turned to Eloise and excused yourself before you glanced to Colin and gave him a faint smile. Before he could say anything, you left to meet with your sister and mother to go with them to the garden while your brother stood back to catch up with Colin.

You didn't realize that Colin's gaze was watching you as you walked away without a word to him.

You also didn't know that he desperately wanted to reach out and stop you from walking away.

Your brother questioned you when you returned home after the garden party since you made yourself scarce and stood by your sister the whole time. Colin had been eager to speak to you, but you darted away at any time he came close. You watched as he went to different groups of women to hide the fact that he had been chasing you. Your brother had noticed from afar as he stood accompanied his wife around the garden but he had said nothing then. The excuse you had was that you were tending to your sister because you wanted her season to go well. He knew better than to push the topic, so he left you alone.

You caught yourself reading the letter again that night.

Lady Danbury's ball had been highly anticipated, especially that Queen Charlotte did not name her diamond yet. All of the debutants had to make another good impression and be in the queen's favor. Your sister remained hopeful, but her only wish was to find love in the room filled with suitors. You smiled as the bachelors approached and whisked her away to dance, which made you stand on the sidelines until you made eye contact with no other than Colin Bridgerton.

There was a panic that went through you as he made his way towards you, and you felt the need to get some fresh air. You escaped out the doors as quickly as you could until you heard your name being called out. Even when you thought you were fast, his steps were faster. You were halted when he had reached out to gently grasp your wrist, forcing you to come to a stop.

Your heart raced and you shut your eyes for a brief moment before you found the courage to turn to face him.

"I've been trying to talk to you but you keep evading me," he stated, slowly releasing the hold he had on your wrist. "Are you avoiding me?"

Yes.

"No, of course not, Colin. I've been distracted by my sister's debut is all," you responded as you looked him in the eyes. It wasn't exactly a lie. "I'm sure you understand with two sisters being in society," you added shortly.

"Oh, yes, of course," he agreed and nodded his head. Though he didn't bare the responsibility when it was Anthony who did. All he knew was to stay out of the way, but he understood why you were so distracted. "I have missed you dearly," he then said.

That word was close to what he had called you in that letter. My dearest. They echoed in your mind as you looked at him, taking him in again to note his appearance in detail. "I have missed you as well," you spoke honestly after some pause. A show of relief crossed his features when you said it in return.

"Why did our letters stop?" He suddenly asked, almost rushed like he couldn't stop his mouth from speaking once he thought of the question. He grimaced because he saw the look on your face. Wide eyed and shocked. "I apologize for being forward, but I need to know," he spoke and cleared his throat as he teetered on his feet uncomfortably. "Was I too bold in that last letter I wrote you? That's the only thing I can think of that made you stop writing," he rambled.

It had been intentional. The questions that you had in the past two months were answered. Colin Bridgerton meant to call you his dearest. That alone made your heart race more as you stared into his eyes. The blue eyes that reminded you of the ocean. Beautiful but a storm could brew in them at any time.

You could see something in his eyes that you have never seen before. The uncertainty. The eagerness to know what made you stop corresponding with him on his travels. There was that boy you saw who was scared to lose whatever it was between you because of how he noted his letter.

"Well, it certainly caught me off guard," you admitted.

A soft chuckle left his lips, his gaze adverted from yours for a moment. "I do not regret what I wrote," he stated, his gaze return to yours. There was a softness in his eyes that made you drawn to him. You didn't realize that he had stepped closer to you, but he was close enough to where people would whisper if they saw you in this position. "I meant it when I said I was counting down the days until we saw each other again," he spoke in a whisper that only you could hear, "There is more I do want to tell you."

You were then at a loss for words as you watched him lean closer, but before you could say anything he immediately stepped back when someone called your name. The trance you were in was broken as your mother approached with your sister.

"Ah, there you are! Your sister wants to retire for the evening," your mother stated and then she smiled at Colin, "Oh, it's very nice to see you, Mister Bridgerton. Looking as dashing as ever."

"Thank you, Lady Bennett, it's nice to see you as well. I suppose I should see what my siblings are up to," he said to your mother, his charm shone through. He gave a nod to your sister and then looked at you again. "Good night then," he said, nodding his head to you.

"Good night," you said and returned the gesture.

His smile was warm before he headed back to go find his family. You watched him go then looked to your mother and sister, joining them to wait for the carriage to retrieve you.

You were thankful that your sister and mother couldn't hear your heartbeat, and you were more thankful that they didn't notice if you were blushing but you felt the warmness of your cheeks.

Colin Bridgerton now consumed your every thought as your sister gushed about the fun she just had.

A/N: There you have it! I took it in my own hands to write a Colin fic and I'm pretty proud of it. Everything was just kinda thrown together, but I love where my mind took it. This may be a 4 part series depending on where my mind takes me. I hope you like this as much as I liked writing it. <3

Please follow @yunawrites and turn on notifications for that blog if you're interested to get notified on when I post. :)

[cherrycola27]

A Favor Among Friends

Masterlist Next Part

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption, historical inaccuracies. Regency era men and ideals. Eventual Smut. RegencyEra!AU Banner Credit @thedroneranger

...........................................

Part 1: The First Ball of the Season

Dearest Reader,

I am sure you, just like I am, are buzzing about the upcoming social season. This year's marriage mart is filled with the cream of the crop and overflowing with perfectly beautiful ladies and perfectly handsome gentlemen.

This narrator is excited to see what matches are made this year.

But before the first ball of the season, I hope you all place your bets as to which ladies will find success and which will be left broken hearted.

All eyes this year, seem to be on the house of Lord and Lady Beaumont. At the ripe age of six-and-twenty, their daughter, Miss Y/N Beaumont, enters her fourth social season without a husband. With het older sister being the Dutchess of Miramar, and her older brother set to inherent the family title, one can only wonder why Miss Beaumont has yet to secure a match, and what her family plans to do if she fails again this season.

However, it seems there will be some excitement that many young ladies, and their mamas can look foward too.

After an extended period away in the Americas, this narrator is thrilled to report that the Viscount Bradley Bradshaw has returned to London in hopes to take a wife this season. The only question is, who will be the lucky lady that will catch his eye?

...........................................

"Isn't it wonderful to be back in London?" Your mother chirped from the carriage. "Yes, quite wonderful." You responded, not taking your eyes away from the passing landscape. You sighed.

You dreaded being back in London. You already knew that people would be whispering about you in hushed corners. Girls would giggle and cover their smirks as you walked by, a buzz about that fact that you were old, and still unwed.

It's not that you didn't want to marry. You just didn't want to make the wrong choice. You wanted someone who was kind and valued you as more than a body to carry a child. You wanted someone who liked your wit and charm and appreciated the many talents you had.

"Darling." Your mother called, snapping you out of your trance.

"Hmm?" You hummed back as you turned to face her and your father.

"I asked if you enjoyed your time in Miramar with your sister and the Duke?" Your mother repeated. "Yes, Mama, it was absolutely splendid. William, Micheal, and Violet have grown so much since you've seen them last." You beamed as you talked about your niece and nephews.

You had spent several months helping your sister tend to them while she looked for a governess. It had truly been a splendid time, and you wished you had been able to say forever. But, your parents insisted you come home.

"Wonderful." Your mother smiled before her expression turned more serious. "Y/N, there is something your father and I must discuss with you."

"What?" You asked her. "We know that you have had some difficulties securing a match. It is very noble for you to hold out for love, but sometimes, one must forego love and find a sensible match." Your mother began.

"What do you mean?" You say. "What I mean is—" she sighs. "Your sister is a Dutchess. Your brother will inherit the estate, and you— you will have nothing. And I know Eddie would never let you go without, but darling, your father and I want to know you will be taken care of once we are gone." She tells you.

"Eddie and Clarissa would make sure I'm taken care of. So would Marianne and George." You say.

"We know they would." Your father speaks up finally. "But it is not their job. That is the job of a husband. Which is why your mother and I have decided that if you do not secure a match by the end of the season, we will find one for you." He states.

"What?" You shriek. "An arranged marriage? I will not agree to it." You huff. "You don't have a choice. We love you, but we will not let you tarnish the family name by becoming a spinster!" Your father declares.

You open your mouth to respond, but he shoots you a look that lets you know his mind is made up and that this conversation is over. You sulk into your carriage seat and refuse to look at either of your parents for the remainder of the ride.

............

Your first few days back in London are a flurry of trips to the market, the jeweler, and the modiste. Your mother insists that a new wardrobe will help in your quest to sequester a husband. You're fitted with beautiful drapes of satin and silk and lace for what seems like hours until your mother deems you finished. She does allow you to pick the colors of your garments at least, and so, for the first ball of the season, you choose a deep shade of burgundy. You've always been fond of the color. Even though some would say it's melancholy, you think it's just right. The thought of a dress in that color gives you the tinest bit of hope as you prepare for the season.

..........

Viscount Bradley Bradshaw was not thrilled to be back in London. He would much rather be in the countryside, but he had ignored his estate for too long, and it was now to the point that he could no longer manage on his own. He needed a wife. Someone else to share the burden with.

He didn't need, nor really want, a love match. But he did want someone smart, sensible, kind, and willing to bear his heirs. He wanted someone he could have a conversation with, and that could, at the very least, be his friend.

He'd heard much about the ladies that were available this season, and there seemed to be several promising options. He just hoped he could find someone quickly, have a short courtship, an even shorter engagement, and be married before the meddling mamas sicked their daughters on him.

He ran his hands over his face in the back of his carriage. There were so many things he needed go do this week before the first ball of the season.

He needed to collect a few payments, pay the staffs wages, and head to the tailor. Many of his suits were now too tight in the shoulders. The months he'd spent traveling and made him broader and more muscular than he once was. He couldn't risk being on the dance floor with a potential wife and have his seams bust.

He glanced outside his carriage and saw the parade of ladies and their mothers walking around and gossiping.

"One season, Bradley, you can do this for one season." He whispered to himself before grabbing his journal and writing.

...............

The first ball at the home of Lord and Lady Whittmore came faster than you imagined. It seemed you'd just unpacked your trunk when your ladies' maids came in to help you dress and prepare for the evening.

They tied your corsets and stays, fastened each tiny button, styled your hair into an elegant half up, half down hairstyle, and helped you adorn yourself with a few simple jewels that your mother insisted on.

Standing back from your mirror, you looked every bit the part of an eligible bachelorette. Your deep red dress accentuated your features. The sparkling stones sewn onto it caught the light beautifully.

Your silk gloves elongated your arms, and the garnet necklace and earrings you wore matched your dress perfectly.

Your father smiled warmly, and your mother gasped when you descended the stairs to the foyer where they were waiting for you along with your brother and his wife.

"Y/N! You look most marvelous. Surely you will be the crown jewel of the ball!" Your sister-in-law, Clarissa, gushed as she hugged you.

"Thank you, Clarissa." You smiled at her warmly before your mother ushered everyone out to the carriages. You rode with Eddie and Clarissa to the Whittmore estate, thankful to have a reprieve from your parents talking your ear off about how important it was for you to find a match, and this ball would be your best chance.

The Whittmore estate was lovely when you arrived. Candles lit up the great rooms, lively string music played. There was delicious food and drinks at every corner. Lady Whittmore handed you your dance card, which you quickly secured around your wrist.

Your brother insisted on taking you on a turn about the room, which meant you stopped to talk to several noblemen and had several ask to place their name on your card.

You can't remember half of those you danced with. Just that they would step on your feet or only talk about themselves. Anytime they asked you a question, it was about how many children you wanted and if you knew how to run a house. They didn't care that you were well read, knew three languages, or that you could play the harp. Heirs, and lots of them. That's all they cared about.

After a quatrain with some Lord old enough to be your father, you stepped away from the dance floor in hopes of taking a break and catching your breath. You grabbed a glass of champagne and tried to find a quiet place to sit and have a moment to yourself. Unfortunately, fate had other plans. A large body collided with yours, causing you to trip and spill your drink, and there's all over yourself.

"Oh my goodness! This dress is new!" You shrieked as you frantically tried to dry it with your hankerchief.

"My apologies, Miss. I wasn't watching where I was going." The person who crashed into you said.

"Of course you weren't. You Lords waltz around here with your noses so high in the air that you forget to look down and pay attention." You shot back at them.

There was a moment of silence where you realized that you probably shouldn't have said that. Especially if you wanted to find a husband.

"I'm sor—" you began as you looked up. But once you saw who it was, your words died in your throat.

"Bradley Bradshaw?" You breathed not, not quite believing it was him standing before you. "Ducky? Ducky Beaumont? Is that you?" He asked with a smile.

"No one calls me Ducky anymore, not even Edmond." You say. "Well then, what do they call you?" Bradley asked you.

"Mine name, or Miss Beaumont." You reply. "Miss Beaumont?" Bradley asks you.

"Yes. I am still Miss Beaumont, even though this is my fourth season." You sigh. "Well— I have a had time believing that you of all people struggle with finding a match, Ducky." Bradley smiles at you.

You're just about to correct him again when he suddenly grabs your hand and sweeps you out onto the floor for a waltz. "What was that all about, Lord Bradshaw?" You ask him using his formal title.

"Well, Ducky. There is a young lady who has been pestering me all evening, and I needed to get away from her." Bradley said as he directed your attention to a girl who looked rather annoyed with you.

"Ah, I see." You chuckle. "So, Ducky, tell me, how have you gone four seasons without a husband?" Bradley asks you as the two of you dance.

"It is Miss Beaumont, Lord Bradshaw. We are no longer children, and I am no longer chasing you and my brother around the countryside while our mothers play cards." You say to him. "But, I have simply not been able to find someone who appreciates me and is kind. Everyone only cares about how many children I want and what my dowery is. Not once today have I been asked if I read or if I know another language or if I can play an instrument!" You huff. Bradley chuckles.

"Well, do you read?" He asks you before giving you a spin. "Yes, I read all kinds of books." You reply. "Do you know any other languages?" He asks with a chuckle. "I know three! I speak Spanish, French, and Italian!" You exclaim. "And what about musical instruments? Can you play any?" He smiles at you. "I am most accomplished with the harp." You smile back at him.

"Well, you are very well rounded, Miss Beaumont, certainly interesting." Bradley tells you.

"And you are the only person in this room who knows that. Which is probably why I am on my way to be an old maid at the age of six-and-twenty." You sigh.

"That is not old. I am not much older than that myself. I went to school with your brother, and we are both barely two-and-thirty." Bradley says as the song ends.

"Well, I appreciate the thought. Thank you for the dance, Lord Bradshaw." You say as you curtsey to him.

"No, thank you, Ducky." He smiles and winks at you before bowing and walking away.

You had butterflies in your belly for the rest of the evening. If you were being truthful with yourself, you'd always had feelings for Bradley. Ever since you were a girl, you were captivated by your brother's best friend, always chasing the two of them around your estate, which earned you the nickname he so foundly called you.

You can remember the exact moment you realized your feelings for Bradley weren't platonic. It was when you were fourteen, and he and your brother had come home from their second year at university. The tall, lanky boy you'd spent summers with had filled out into a broad, brawny man.

And even though he was older, Bradley was always kind to you. Which is why it crushed you that he went away the same year you made your debut. You'd always hoped that maybe—just maybe—he would court you.

Maybe that's why you'd never tried too hard to find a suitor because deep down, you were holding out for Bradley. And now, that he's back, you hope that this might be the year that you find a husband.

..............

The next day, you were giddy as calling hours approached. You prayed that if anyone came, it would be Bradley.

When a valet came and said there was a caller for you, you practically leaped from your seat on the sofa, only to be met with disappointment that it was Lord Artenson. He was followed by Lord Phillips, Lord Martin, and Lord Herrington, who was determined to have you as his third wife.

You sighed and resigned yourself to reading a book once Lord Herrington finally left. Calling hours were almost over, and you were silently disappointed that Bradley had not come. But really, it was foolish of you to think that he would. You were his best friend's little sister, practically his own little sister. You were his Ducky, and he would never think of you as anything more.

You were just about to head upstairs to your room and your parents to their own when a valet came in the drawing room.

"Excuse me Lord and Lady Beaumont, it seems there is another visitor here for Miss Beaumont." He spoke.

"Really?" Your father asked. "Who is it?"

"The Viscount Bradshaw."

Tagging those who might be interested: @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @desert-fern @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @na-ta-sh-aa @katieshook02 @beyondthesefourwalls @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @horseshoegirl @djs8891 @roosters-girl @rosiahills22 @dempy @callsign-magnolia @alchemxx @gretagerwigsmuse @mshistorylover @bradshawsbaby @seitmai @kmc1989 @bcarolinablr @waywardhunter95 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @whatislovevavy @inkandarsenic @jiminie-08 @dingochef @laracrofted @skipchat @princess76179 @schoollover @cheyrenee @angelbabyyy99 @bobfloydsbabe @sunlightmurdock @sebsxphia @atarmychick007 @queenlmno @sweetwhispersofchaos @mamaskillerqueen @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @withahappyrefrain