#Simon Hastings x Reader

[blakeswritingimagines]

Who fell first and who fell harder

Anthony: He fell first and harder

Benedict: You fell first but he fell harder

Colin: He fell first but you fell harder

Daphne: She fell first and harder

Eloise: You fell first and harder

Penelope: She fell first and harder

Simon: You fell first but he fell harder

[targaryenluvs]

Infatuation

pairing: simon basset x fem!reader

warnings: darkish simon? a kiss, young reader (16ish!!) pushy and possessive simon, implied fem!reader and poc!reader, not proof read

notes: idk what to do so i just rambled 😭 this is just a two parter i think. and the storyline is a bit scrambled :) WHAT THE HELL IDK WHY I GOT SO MUCH ENERGY TO WRITE THIS BUT HERES ALL THE PARTS IN ONE DAY!!!! hope you enjoyed <3

PART I

Lady Whistledown: Dearest reader, the time has come to place our bets for the upcoming social season. Consider the household of the Baron Featherington. Three misses foisted upon the marriage market like sorrowful sows by their tasteless, tactless, mama.

Far better odds might exist in the household of the widowed Viscountess Bridgerton. A shockingly prolific family, noted for its bounty of perfectly handsome sons and perfectly beautiful daughters.

Or perhaps in the loving household of the Marquess of Anderton, Lord and Lady Y/L/N? With their two eldest sons, known not only for their intelligent selves and gorgeous faces, but for their stunningly bright younger sister, who is not just a pretty face.

Not only are the two families extremely close, but practically family, how very perfect, indeed!

It is only the queen's eye that matters today. A glimmer of displeasure, and a young lady's value plummets to unthinkable depths.

It has been said that, “Of all bitches dead or alive, a scribbling woman is the most canine." If that should be true, then this author would like to show you her teeth.

My name is Lady Whistledown.

You do not know me, and rest assured, you never shall. But be forewarned, dear reader, I certainly know you.

how on earth had you not yet read this?

one of the things you’d looked forward to besides meeting everyone had been the scandal sheets and you’d missed out on receiving one yesterday.

“this woman seems quite powerful. you know how easily words can ruin someone’s image. it’s interesting to see a lone woman hold so much sway in just her writing. i truly do wonder who she is. any guesses?” you asked pen, daphne and el as the three of you waited for your mothers and pens sisters to catch up as you made your way to the park.

eloise smiled, “it has to be a widow! no married woman would have time for this, she’d have an estate to care for and children pulling on her every day. a widow with her own home and responsibilities. perhaps lady danbury?”

you had to giggle at the guess, knowing whistledown herself was right with you. you’d managed to meet penelope at least, so that was one person of your list. lady danbury would be next with her ball tonight, and perhaps simon as well.

“what’s so funny? i haven’t heard a guess from you!” eloise groaned as you smiled, “i have no guesses besides, pen?” penelope’s head shot up straight away from the ground, “what?” “i was going to ask if you had any.” you could see her cheeks flushing, and her breathing quicken at the idea of being caught out.

and as you all walked together through the park, you’d mistakenly enthralled yourself in conversations, going so far as to walk with your back facing others. walking backwards as to face the girls.

“look out!”

before you’d fallen you were caught, by simon.

“i, i am so sorry. i was not looking-” simon smiled, “well that’s obvious no?” he joked as he lifted you up. you straightened your dress out and smiled, “of course. forgive me your grace.” you curtsied, in the presence of the person you’d been most excited to meet, you’d forgotten all about your friends behind.

as they all met him you couldn’t even take your eyes off of him, and neither could he for you. and once lady featherington came around she wasted no time to throw her eldest daughters upon him. the misery in his eyes hurt your soul so you took it upon yourself to rectify the situation.

“your grace!” simon turned towards you, as did everyone else. “yes, lady y/n?” you smiled, “would you like to accompany me, to promenade?” simon tilted his head, pondering your question.

he couldn’t help but be taken aback, usually many girls weren’t so forward. and god were you beautiful. rather than dealing with annoying girls who wanted a title the second they saw him, he could walk with someone he actually found interesting.

“i- would love to.” he smiled as he took a step back, allowing you to walk with him. you could hear the chatter from the girls behind you as well as your mother and violet.

you’d spent so long together, walked for so long your feet ached afterwards. and you didn’t miss the longing stares from other men around, and the women for him.

and even if it had taken so much energy of yours to keep walking, you wouldn’t have given up the chance. everything he said, you replied to. every joke sent laughter rippling through you and you could not help but feel content. he was, even better then the show. and as you got to know him you felt unbelievably happy.

and so did he.

he went home with all his thoughts containing you. he found himself smiling at every memory of his time with you that day. your smiles, your laughter, your beauty, you. and he had no clue why. he’d never been this taken with someone and he found himself struggling with why.

over the season you found yourself taken with him, your family allowed you to attend balls and do as you wish but you were under no obligation to dance or do anything you did not wish to.

yet you found yourself undeniably enthusiastic every time you realised you were going to a ball because you’d see simon. you’d dance, you’d laugh and everything else because he always gave you something to look forwards to, as did you for him, he was truly an amazing friend.

and he was completely besotted with you.

much to not only anthony’s surprise but danbury as well.

and simon was so intent upon being with you.

as much as you liked him you could not help but love how you were. your family was amazing and so happy. you had amazing friends within daphne, penelope and eloise. marriage seemed so far away in your mind and your life was sweet and favourable.

lady trowbridge’s ball was, scandalous, to say the least. you couldn’t believe your eyes when you walked in, half naked dancers spinning around, and quite uptempo music for a woman in mourning.

“lady y/n, may i-” lord wellington was promptly cut off in his endeavour to dance with you by the person you’d been looking for.

“y/n?” simon called out as he made his way to you. “simon! there you are, i was wondering where you’d gone off to.” you smiled at your bestfriend as he made his way to you, nodding in acknowledgement to his friend lord wellington. you thought they were friends at least.

and so did simon, until he saw him coming after you for a dance.

“come along now.” he smiled as you also nodded at the lord, “it was nice to see you my lord.” you curtsied as simon dragged you away.

“oh my god, i thought he would never leave! he tries to dance with me every single ball yet he doesn’t take notice of my indifference towards him!” you snorted as simon laughed louder, “i did not know such an unbecoming sound could originate from such a lovely women!” you scoffed, “that is no way to talk to your best friend!” you fake cried as you wiped literal tears from your eyes, the paintings in-front taking your eye.

simons breath hitched, best friend? best friend?

is that what you thought of him as? he thought the world of you, over the time he’s gotten to know you, he held you in the highest esteem. you were everything to him and he was a mere friend for you. no, he would not have it. who else loved you as he did? wanted you as he did?

“best friend?” simon questioned as your laughter died down at his seriousness, “what?” you giggled as you tried to compose yourself. “you named me your best friend. am i nothing more to you? just a friend? you see me as an acquaintance, as a brother?”

“no i do not see you as a brother, my dear simon.” you smiled, “you are amazing. every day i wake and think of seeing you, for the time i have known you, you have been nothing short of my favourite person. i look forward to seeing you, speaking with you and dancing. arguing over who’s literature is better, who’s right and who’s wrong. i have never known someone’s company besides daphnes to never annoy me. i love you, i do but-”

“but nothing. we love each other, that is all that matters. y/n not a day goes by where i do not wish to be in your presence, to see your gorgeous face. to hear you say my name, to feel you hit me when i say something utterly scandalous. i cannot and will not imagine myself spending my life with no other women but you. you are my other half, you are the air i breathe and the only person whom i’ve ever loved as much as i do. there are not enough words to describe my love for you y/n/n. it is you who i wish to wake up with everyday, it is you who i wish to be with, you who i would start a family with. your laughter that shall echo through my halls for as long as we live. i cannot and will not fathom the idea of you not being here for me, you are made for me.” simons grip encircled your wrists as he pulled you close, his face drawing near as he met your lips.

you never imagined yourself here with simon especially. he’d been nothing short of amazing in your time here, your best friend. but here you were, kissing him.

kissing him?!

you immediately detached from him as you retained your senses and drew your hands to cover your face in shock. “i’m so- so sorry. i do not know what that was your grace.” you rambled as your heart quickened, had someone seen? how could you be so stupid!?

his eyes furrowed at your words, your grace? what was with the formalities, you were to be wed, to be together. and here you were reverting to old habits. “my love there is no need to use such proper titles.”

your head whipped up the second he stopped speaking, “simon do not say such things! endearing terms as such are for, married couples. we are not.” you whispered as you made your way towards the party, but not before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him as you collided with his chest.

he couldn’t let you go, everything, his head and his heart were screeching at him to ‘hold on tight’, to not let you go. so he did what he thought best,

lie.

“someone saw us.”

your eyes widened to the heavens as your breathing quickened again, “no. no they didn’t- they didn’t.” you shook your head as he placed his hand on your cheek to have you look at him. your eyes began to water and he felt himself tense, he hated it. he hated the idea of you being upset, but he was so close to having what he wanted so he continued.

“my dear y/n, i will treat you better then anyone ever could, deep down you know you are better off with me then any other. i love you, we will be together.” simon explained as you buried your head in his chest, you were so young, you hadn’t even properly debuted and now you were to be wed. how did you let this happen?

but a little voice piped up in your head, ‘it’s simon, your simon. the one who is always there for you. marrying him will give you a life of happiness and peace. marrying your best friend is the best thing you could ask for. you loved him when you didn’t know him truly, and now you do. be happy.’

and you wanted to be, simon was so good to you.

but you knew you weren’t ready. with marriage people would expect a child, a family. and your real life, the one back home? what would happen? would you ever go back? or would marrying him cement you in this world, forever.

“shh, you’ll be okay. i’m here, right here my love. you are my love, my heart, my infatuation.”

and you didn’t know it but you were right, the second you allowed him into your life, you were never going to go back home.

[arrowenchantress]

Simon: Y/n, I want to give you some advice.

Y/n: ….right okay?

Simon: If a door ever says ‘push’ you pull, it’s not directions, it’s a challenge.

[d4yl1ghts]

new desires

simon basset x bridgerton, fem!reader

summary: you’re at your mother’s manor for dinner when you notice simon licking his spoon and you get some new thoughts

warnings: cunnilingus, praise kink, expeditionist kink, semi-public sex, fingering, p in v, orgasm, unprotected sex, nudity, breeding kink (maybe), dom!simon, sub!reader

A/N- this is kind of cringe but it’s fine!!!

-

You glanced at the entrance of your childhood home as your carriage pulled to a stop. Simon hastily rose from his seat and gently took your hand as he guided you down the steps. Amidst the buildings around you, the manor blended in as most buildings were large and housed families. However, the manor had a larger garden than most, which is what made it bolder than the others. Simon had a soft hold on your hand as you both entered. “Hello, dearest.”, your mother said cheerfully as she hugged you. “Hello, mother.”, you hugged her back.

She reached over to shake Simon’s hand. “Hello, your grace.”, she stated. He chuckled. “Violet, I have said many times, just call me Simon.”, he responded amusedly. “Alright, Simon.”, she replied. As you and Simon walked into the kitchen, you were suddenly surrounded by Francesca, Gregory and Hyacinth. “Aww, hello.”, you said as you ruffled Gregory’s hair. They all hugged you as Simon watched the interaction from the side. He smiled at you gently as you made eye contact with him once you had pulled away.

Your four other siblings made their way over to you now. Simon made his way to his seat to allow you some privacy and to catch up with your family. “Hello, Y/N, how are you, I haven’t seen you in such a long time?”, Anthony lead the conversation. “I’m doing well, it has been wonderful to have some time to ourselves but I’ve missed you all so much.”, you replied earnestly. “We have all missed you too.”, Daphne added. “Yeah, Anthony has gotten especially annoying ever since you’ve been gone.”, Benedict responded teasingly as he glanced at Anthony. Anthony gave him a death stare in an almost threatening manner.

“Eloise, have you read any new books whilst I’ve been gone?”, you questioned as you had noticed she had yet to speak. “Oh yes, of course. There was one about a man who rose back from the dead to be with his true love.”, she started. For roughly five minutes she was naming and describing the books she had read. “Everyone sit down.”, Violet ordered.

You made your way beside Simon and his lips curved upwards at the sight of you. “Did you have a nice catch up, dear?”, he asked tenderly. “Yes, Eloise was informing me of all the books she has read and Benedict was telling me how annoying Anthony had gotten since I had left.”, you answered. Simon chuckled slightly.

The maids placed down many plates of food so there was a choice for everyone. You all began gathering your food onto your plates. After your main courses, you were quite full but Simon was not. For dessert, the maids served chocolate mousse. As Simon ate it, you couldn’t help but stare. His tongue washed over the spoon with expertise and you could only let your imagination create another situation that his tongue would do that in. Simon seemed to notice you drooling over him. He smirked like he could read your mind.

He even had the nerve to slowly move his hand up to your inner thigh below your ball gown. You could feel a wetness forming quickly. You clenched your thighs together to ease the pressure and to get him away from where you needed him. You couldn’t do this here. He still continued to go up, until he reached your wetness. He began by gently rubbing it, teasing you. You bit your cheeks to hide your moans.

You gazed around the table, checking if anyone had realised that you were in the process of the Duke’s hand curling into your pussy. Your mother seemed to be already watching you intently. You offered her a quick smile before your attention was redirected to Simon plunging his fingers into your wetness. You turned to glare at Simon as you desperately held in your moan. Anthony, who was beside you, gave you a weird look once he noticed your expression and your mother was still watching you strangely.

After a few more minutes of everything finishing their desserts, you were finally able to leave the table and the teasing Simon was putting you through. “Simon and I are going to head upstairs for a bit.”, you waved everyone off as you dragged the Duke upstairs. “I can’t believe you just did that, my mother definitely knew something was going on as did Anthony.”, you muttered aggressively. He only chuckled in response. “You secretly enjoyed it.”, he simply stated. You had no response to that. You couldn’t accept it or deny it.

You only stared at him. “Are you going to finish what you have started or not?”, you asked with an annoyed expression on your face. He got down on his knees. “What are you doing?”, you questioned innocently. “I saw how you were looking at me whilst I licked that spoon.”, he reminded you. You said nothing. He helped you remove your ball gown and undergarments. He began lightly pushing his fingers in and out of your pussy to get slicken you up.

Abruptly, he gently placed his tongue in your slit and ran it up and down it. You moaned at loudly at the new feeling of pleasure. “Good girl.”, he praised you. That only made you more soaked. He started lapping his tongue against your folds, making you cry out slightly. You could feel your high coming. He sped up the pace of his tongue and as you came, he swallowed all of you.

“That was so good, your grace.”, you panted out. “Why have we never tried that before?”, you asked. “I didn’t whether you would want to try or if you’d be opposed to it.”, he stated honestly. He then attached his lips to your neck and bit down gently. You lightly moaned out: “Simon…”

You could feel his hardness against your body and you stared at him as you grabbed his shirt, silently asking him to take it off. He did as you said and threw it off quickly. He kissed you passionately before removing his pants and garments. You pulled him closer to you so you could feel his bulge and he could feel your wetness against his body.

He slowly aligned himself with your entrance and gently pushed his length in. You moaned as you felt his cock inside you. Once you had adjusted to his size, he began to thrust at a faster rate. You and he both moaned. “Well done, my love.” You felt yourself tighten and his cock twitch inside you. You felt yourself come undone as you felt his shoot slide deep into your pussy. “Gosh.”, you panted. You sounded like a dog. He stared at you in admiration as he softly huffed.

It was the next day and you had slept in for obvious reasons. You made your way down for breakfast and noticed Benedict pointing at you and giggling. “Hmm?”, you mumbled. Simon hastily got up towards you and whispered: “It seems that after last night, I left a few marks on you, dear.”, Simon confessed guiltily.

You headed towards the closest bathroom and noticed the massive bruise on your neck from where Simon bit it. “Simon!”, you whisper-yelled. “Sorry.”, he said as he smirked at you. “Do you have a scarf or something?”, you questioned.

You walked back into the dining room with a red scarf around your neck and everyone offers you perplexed looks except the ones who had worked out what had happened, they silently laughed at you.

[teecupangel]

call of duty x assassin’s creed au where everything is the same but simon riley and shaun hastings are cousins and constantly diss each other. Simon thinks Shaun is a weird wimp (tried to convince him bigfoot was real) and Shaun thinks Simon is a edgy emo manchild (Shaun thinks hes cool as fuck)

I’m kinda imagining that they both don’t know each other’s actual ‘job’.

For Ghost, his taskforce was a need to know basis. Shaun actually believes he gets sent to different bases to waste taxpayer’s money (not that Shaun himself pays any tax in the first place). Of course, it helps that Lt Simon Riley does have records being inputted in the main databases on regular basis. It’s a common setup done to keep specialized taskforces’ members hard to pinpoint or find. If one doesn’t know what signs to look for, they wouldn’t question the validity of those reports (ex: ‘clocking in’ times are always the same range of 5 minutes early to 5 minutes late, there is not a single time where it deviates from that range)

For Shaun, Erudito does most of the hard work by publishing articles in Shaun’s name. Shaun wrote all those articles but he’s the type to write lots of articles in concerning amount of time then going back to his Assassin duties. As far as Ghost knows, he’s a weird conspiracy nut with noodle arms and legs because he stays cooped in his room all day.

It would be funny if Shaun learns of Ghost’s actual job first because TF104 got entangled with the latest amazing race between the Brotherhood and Order against some kind of POE. They were in the vicinity of the final clash for another mission and Shaun recognized Ghost’s emo voice.

Ghost realized something is wrong because he recognized the voice of the hacker that helped them (you scratch my back, I scratch yours kind of way)

It was Shaunny-boy’s girlfriend/roommate.

[becasworldsstuff]

Can i please request a romantic Simon Basset x OC/reader fic? Simon being completely in love with her since they were young, but since his father told him to go away, they separated. They met again.

-> Pairings: Simon basset x reader

-> warnings: none

Simon basset and miss l/n had always been friends, thing caused by her bubbly nature that could outshine the sun even in an August day. She was the only one with whom he could talk without stuttering, he felt at ease and nothing could really make him sad if she was near him. Her presence as a reminder that not all in life was sad and angry at him, that not everyone was disappointed in him, on the contrary she never made him feel bad about himself.

When the old duke of Hastings sent his son away due to the problems he was causing to his own mental health, the two were separated, nothing in means of letters or visits between the two for years if not the memories captured together and the burning sensations in the part of their body that the other touched, or the single pink flower dried out inside Skmon's favorite book that she gifted him as a reminder of the beauty hidden behind fragilness. Both the young hearts were left shattered thinking they would never see each other ever again.

But in his drawer were piled up letters written in his best calligraphy and on the best paper money could buy, for his best friend and little piece of heaven, who had been his own safe place in the mess his childhood had been.

It was her who motivated him enough to return to his old house when the man died, and he found her on the steps of his big place, with glimmering eyes and the brightest smile that ever existed. He stopped in front of her with his mouth that had gone dry, she had grown into the most exquisite young lady he had ever seen or imagined to lay eyes on, his eyes widened and his hands were begging for something to grasp onto to not loose balance while she watched him, she took one step forward and his heart skipped a beat. Even if he only realized now he could pinpoint her as the only woman in his life to which he could ever truly love, but he stayed silent, catching up with her like old times, not stuttering like when they were just little kids playing in the garden not caring about duties.

The days passed and the season started, now miss l/n obviously came from a very wealthy family and her kindness and beauty were known upon the society, but this was her first season, and her older brother and father refused to give away such a perfect girl to anyone so, when they catched up with the Duke longing stares they decided to talk to him, a man of honor, well bred, wealthy. Simon never in his life thought that he deserved for his dreams to become reality but he knew he was a duke and her best solution to this world of strange couples, so he was the one to go talk to her father, asking him her hand in marriage and bowing down on one knee with watering eyes as he proclaimed his love to her:

" never had I ever experienced such strong emotions nor strange feelings, my stomach flutters and my troath goes dry as if I was denying myself with water for you, you make my heart stop and the dream of seeing you walk down the aisle to me has been my favorite image for my life. So please accept my undying love for you because I cannot breathe if I'm not near you, neither I can eat or drink or sleep away from you, you are my sun and my moon and every single star in the sky, my whole body was created to match yours and my core only exists to love you and adore you, you make me burn like I was in a fire that cannot die. So please do me the honor and let me make you the duchess of Hastings "

Her response was awaited from the ball room that had just seen him pacing in front of the doors before barging in and stopping the dance that was occurring at the time, she held her breath and nodded slowly while forcing herself to blink as I'd to make herself realize that that moment was true.

[laurenluvss]

please hear me out on prince friedrich 🤭💕

[thesexydancingcrepe]

I BURN FOR YOU 🔥

How Crepe feels towards Wukong

Me crossing Bridgerton quote with a jttw au together because I can

Reference:

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Pleasing The Duke {6}*

Duke of Hastings/Rege Jean Page x OFC Jemilla “Jemi” Remmington

Warning: Plot, Regency Historical Piece, Angst, SLOW BURN, 

Words: 5.3k

Summary: After your four weeks on the marriage mart and the tumultuous way your and the duke’s budding friendship that turned into a faux courtship, then a real crisis that could have tarnished your name forever, you are now married to the duke. Only this is no traditional marriage. The duke has professed to never fall in love, never get married, and never sire an heir, a matter you know nothing of. Furious that his wanton, lustful desires have gotten him to forego one of those vows, he is determined not to break the other two. That would usually be an easy feat. Only with you, it might be more challenging to keep those vows, seeing as no matter what, you are the only thing on his mind.

Note: Inspired by Rege Jean Page’s portrayal of Simon Bassett. This fic will not have any other characters from the series, except Lady Danbury, mainly the portrayal version of her by the incredible Adjoa Andoh and maybe Queen Charlotte portrayed by Golda Rosheuvel. This series will focus on The Duke and an OFC female character and will be a sultry and erotic historical romance. Anyone under 18 is advised not to read.

***Glossary of terms at the end of the chapter for period-specific words/items for greater comprehension.

***Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Julia Quinn’s characters, nor the Characters established by Bridgerton.

I own the rights to the original characters created in this story.

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘  

As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 

           Chapter Six: A Gentle Hand

Cold air raced up your spine, but a warmth was settled in your gut. The combination sent a shiver through your body. Moaning, you moved closer to the solid frame you felt against you. The warmth you found there was searing—comforting. Again, you moaned and tried to get closer. You wanted to be so close that the warmth was all your own. You draped a leg over the solid frame and settled falling back into a slumber. However, it was not restful. Your mind was plagued with visions of a storm. Raging winds wracked your person sending you this and that way. Thick, cold mud clung to you, almost pulling you deeper into the earth.

 When your visions calmed, you were met with hypnotizing eyes, full lips, and strong hands. Those hands touched you so possessively, so urgently. The face that came with those features was Simon’s. You could not make much out, but his words came to you in disorganized speech that was difficult to comprehend. When you thought you could make something out, the images changed. His lips remained and they were pressed to yours.

 Slowly, your eyes batted open. It took several moments for your vision to clear and steady. Once it did, you recognized your bedchambers. All was silent, only the soft crackle and pop of a fire could be heard. Early mornings were usually your favorite time of day. Everything was quiet, but you knew that everyone was on the move preparing for the start of the day. You liked to laze around in your bed listening to the birds chirp and watch the sunshine dance across your bed.

 You could hear the sounds of the chirping birds but though the sun brightly beamed through the windowpanes, it did not dance across the bed. Instead, you took notice of something else in your bed—or someone. You trailed your eyes up from the midsection of a body up, up, up until the bare chest of a man peeked from under the bed sheets—a very well-defined bare chest. Your breath caught then your throat tightened. Bringing your eyes higher, you found Simon’s glued on you. He did not move or speak, matter of fact, he seemed to be staring through you rather than at you.

 It took only a few seconds to realize he hadn’t realized you were awake. You glanced around again trying to understand what in the world had happened. On the floor beside the bed, you saw discarded clothes and your imagination went into hyperactivity. Again, you glanced up into Simon’s eyes. They were bloodshot with dark circles around them. He looked downright exhausted. Had he not slept?

 Just then, you recalled the storm and it slowly dawned on you that it had not been a dream, but a memory. Were you ill? Simon sucked in a breath then his body tensed.

 “Jamilla,” he breathed reaching over to you to press his hand to your forehead.

 The touch felt foreign but familiar. An image of him doing the same before filled your mind. Had he done it before? Simon continued to assess you with concerned eyes.

 “Someone come forth! Quickly!”

 You caught his eyes and noticed they looked tear filled. Simon avoided your eyes looking every which way. He tucked you tightly, so you now shared deep resemblance to a log in a lake. The doors opened and in came Mrs. Butler with your maids.

 “My lady,” Leesil began on a shriek. “Thank heavens we all were so worried.”

 Worried, you thought. Had things really been that bad? It was after all, just rain. You’d been caught in plenty of rainstorms. You looked to Simon again, but he still avoided your eyes.

 “My lord, the doctor has come,” Bridget announced as a tall man dressed in plain clothes entered the room.

 “Good. Come doctor, see to my wife.”

 With those words, Simon slipped from the bed whilst grabbing a discarded blanket that rested at the foot of the bed. He used the material to wrap himself from the waist down which told you he was very much nude while he was lying beside you. Oh my, you thought. While the doctor slinked to the side of the bed to tend to you, your eyes roamed Simon’s frame for a few moments taking in every inch of skin that was on display for you. Before long, Simon sprang into motion, excusing himself from the room entirely on some hushed whisper. What in the world was the matter with him?

 ~~~~~

 -Simon-

Blast it!

 The anger he felt was leagues past mere anger. He was fuming. This was all his fault. After hearing a detailed account of the events leading up to your disappearance, he’d learned just how at fault he truly was. If only he’d been more attentive, more accommodating rather than avoiding you. If only he’d been warmer perhaps there wouldn’t have been quite so many misunderstandings. Your words from your drunken delirium in the rain came back to him.

 “Th—they must all la—laugh at—at—m-me seeing you ca—cann—cannot stand to b—be near m—me.”

 Taking the steps two at a time he dashed down them needing to feel the cold morning air whipping against his flesh.

 “Do you not. You have said such in every way since I stepped beside you in that church. You have said such in every move you make, every word you speak no matter how nondescript. In every breath you breathe you wish me gone.”

 His chest hurt from the rapid beating of his heart and no matter what he did to hold the air in his lungs it never worked. He ended up feeling as if he hadn’t gotten any at all. Seeing the door across the stone lobby, he sped his steps.

 “You already hate me so this should be a blessing for you. Wifeless, free to resume your rakish ways.”

 Once the ornate metal doorknobs were tightly clasped in his hands, he yanked them open thrusting himself out into the elements. As soon as he stepped out, the crisp morning air slapped him in the face like a welcomed awakening to the new day. Taking gulp after gulp of the air he forced it into his lungs hoping that chased away the panic surging through his body.

 It did not take long to realize this would not be enough.

 “Horse! F----F--Fe--Fetch—my hor--horse!”

 “Yes, my lord.”

 He did not know who’d said it, he could hardly focus on breathing let alone whose voice he’d heard. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on the tips of the doctor from his childhood. He had not had a bout of hysteria since he was one and six, He thought he was long past this stage especially having faced his father regarding his abandonment. Apparently not, he thought.

 Before long, a footman approached with his horse, Zeus. Not waiting for the horse to stop he took quick steps and leapt up swinging himself onto his trusted steed.

 With the reins in hand he shouted, “Hiyah!”

 Zeus took off into the open greenery much like a fast-traveling lightning bolt as it split the sky before rainfall. The breeze was now whipping around him sending his banyan flapping behind him. Lightly he flicked Zeus’ reins prompting him to go faster. For as far as he could see it was open land—his land and he had not one worry.

 “Then why have you abandoned me? You hate me so much you would rather not eat with me, not sleep beside me, nor see my face. Just admit it.”

 He clenched his jaw thinking of that word. Abandoned. He wanted to throw himself off the horse. Never in his plans had he wanted to ever make someone feel the way he’d felt his entire life. Discarded, neglected, repulsed, abandoned. You felt abandoned by him because of his actions.

 “Hiyah!”

Turning Zeus toward the dense tree grove, he steered him through the dangerous low hanging branches and broken wood. He only had seconds to make the right decision to keep his head firmly attached to his shoulders and it was what he enjoyed. He had learned long ago that he was somewhat of an adventure seeker. It was evident in his travels to exotic and distant lands and even his interest in boxing, fencing, archery, hunting and a few others. Many of his friends suspected he had a death wish and liked to see which sport would claim his life. Perhaps they were right.

 Giving Zeus a heel to the abdomen, he signaled him to jump over the coming fallen branches. Seconds later he had to duck to avoid his cause of death being beheading by wood. No matter the speed he was going or the danger he was thrusting himself into he still was not going fast enough to outrun your voice or the pain he saw in your eyes.

 He could not believe you did not know. It was in this moment as he ducked and from doom and leapt into the air from danger that he realized just how innocent you were. He had never entrained an innocent, never bothered, or dared to even attempt to. He knew he was far to damaged to be trusted to not twist and morph another to mirror himself. Horror filled his heart, but it was not from the shattered tree trunk that was in his path fiving him no way to avoid it.

 As Zeus’ impulses took hold skidding himself to a stop, he went flying through the air, over the broken wood and flat on his back several feet away. The collision knocked the wind right out of him making him see spots and fog. By the time his vision cleared he was leaned against the tree taking steady breaths.

 “Blazing Devils!”

 Flinging his head back he groaned as it collided with the tree which sent another torrent of curses from his lips. He deserved the pain; he deserved the agony he was in right now. Your face came to mind as did the memory of your body pressed against his all through the night. The ache coursing through him died down and was replaced with the fire of his desire for you. Gods help him he desired you more than he had ever desired any other woman. It baffled him beyond measure.

 Sitting there he slowly went over every detail of the night before, every feeling, every fear and came to terms with them. He was at fault in this situation, and he had to rectify it. He knew his mother would be ashamed of him and how he’s behaved around you. He also knew his father would probably be proud seeing his own coldness and aloofness in him. Perhaps he would finally accept him then.

 “Sod it all,” he mumbled.

 “You must conquer the past Simon, either you conquer it or it will make a fool of you in your present and all the days of your future.”

 Lady Danbury’s words never went too far from his mind. He had heard them echo all through his childhood at the most inconvenient of times. It was as if she knew way back then the struggles he would continue to have well into adulthood. Turning his head upward he caught sight of the sun that was now beaming down on him through the branches of the trees he was surrounded by.

 With the intense glare, more of Lady Danbury’s words flitted to his mind. These words she had uttered on the day you had wed.

 “She hath a kind and quaint heart, tread carefully and be gentle with her. Do not snuff her light out, let it in.”

 She was the closest to a mother he’d had, and he loved her dearly. She had often teased him asking how he could love her but swear to never love anyone. She understood the difference but enjoyed teasing him by pointing out he was capable of the emotion. He still needed proof and if the last few weeks were to be it, only one thing was clear, he was more capable of destruction than love. Something deep inside wished of him to be proven wrong. It was a wish he had never allowed to see the light of day. It lived in the darkest alcoves of his heart.

 After returning to the estate, he had a better hold of his emotions and thoughts. The guilt still wracked him, but it was easier to hold it at bay. As he jumped off his horse, his steward informed him of the doctor waiting in the drawing room to discuss your health. With haste he found the man in the midst of a cup of tea admiring the roses.

 “My lord.”

 “Please, no need for formalities doctor. Thank you for coming with such haste.”

 “Tis a pleasure to serve the Duke and Duchess of Hastings.”

 “Please continue your tea,” he said as he sat across from the man and allowed him to take another sip of tea.

 “To your liking?”

 “Very much, my lord.”

 “Good. How is she?”

 The doctor cleared his throat then set his cup and saucer down before he began.

 “The duchess’ breathing is quite labored, quite too labored if you ask me. I am inclined to believe she has some pulmonary infliction, and a minor draft. She has coughing bouts which is slight worrisome for me. If this is left untreated it could lead to more serious conditions.”

 “Will she recover?”

 “I believe she will. my advice is to keep her warm, ensure she gets plenty of rest, I have written the recipe for an herbal tincture that I wish to be made into tea for her to drink three times a day for sennight. Sun will also do her good. With this there is no reason the duchess will not recover.”

 The relief he felt must have been evident. The doctor smiled.

 “Tis refreshing to see a man who loves his wife so.”

 He nodded but did not reply. “I assure I will bring the duchess back to good health.”

 “Happy to hear it, my lord!”

 After allowing the doctor to finish his cup of tea he relayed the orders to the house instructing them on the proper way to care for Jamilla. Once that was squared away, he retired to his chambers to clean himself up from his impromptu ride.

 ~~~~~

 -Jamilla-

“My lady.”

 Snapping your head to the right you found Brigit and Leesil both standing there with concerned looks on their faces.

 “Y—Yes,” you rasped before clearing your throat ignoring the tightness in your chest.

 “Do you feel well? You gave us quite a fright,” Bridget added.

 “I am sorry to have worried you. But surly it was not that bad.”

 Leesil’s eyes widened even further. “Ma’am, it was a horror. You were unconscious, shivering cold one moment, hotter than a flame the next, your lips were quite blue. Mrs. Butler was certain the estate would have claimed another Duchess of Hastings.”

 Your curiosity piqued then. “An—,” A cough wracked your body that quickly escalated into a bout lasting longer than you liked. Both Bridget and Leesil approached you attempting to sooth and assist you any way they could. When the coughing finally passed you took the glass of water that Leesil held out for you.

 “Goodness.”

 You fanned your face and hoped that the burn in your chest would subside sooner rather than later. When it finally dwindled to a slight ache, you looked at Leesil needing to know more.

 “What do you mean the estate would have claimed another?”

 Leesil looked to Bridget hesitantly before she looked back to you. “Leesil please,” you urged.

 “Do you not know of the history of this estate or the Hastings’?”

 “I have heard the basics. The Duke and Duchess married and eventually had a child, but the duchess passed away.”

 “The previous Duchess did expire—shortly after she delivered the duke, in this estate in a room that has been blocked off for decades.”

 You’d heard that his mother passed on, but you did not know it was during childbirth.

 “She passed on alone, save for Lady Danbury,” Leesil finished.

 Your eyes widened. “Alone? Why? What of the Duke? Where was he?”

 Leesil’s face twisted into a scowl of disgust. “Flaunting his long awaited, newborn son to anyone with eyes. He cared not for the wellbeing of the Duchess. Quite shameful! Me mum loved the Duchess and has never forgiven the man for how her last moments went.”

 Your heart broke hearing the accounts of the past. The late duke sounded like a heartless man. Part of you wondered if that was who Simon aspired to be. Was the way he treated you the way his father had treated his mother? Suddenly a flash of a memory came to mind. It was a memory of Simon treating you completely different than he had for the last several days.

 “Is something the matter?”

 “Was—Was I alone while I was ill?”

 Again, Leesil and Bridget glanced at each other before they turned back to you.

 “No ma’am. The duke accompanied you,” Bridget informed.

 “All night,” Leesil added.

 Your eyes widened again as another image came to mind. Simon’s arms were wrapped around your body pulling you against his very much nude one.

 “The entire night?”

 “Yes, my lady,” they answered in unison.

 You squinted your eyes trying to press the edges of your mind to give you more memories. The more they came the more you did not understand. None of what you imagined made sense because none of it revealed more than flashes. Hands on your body, chest pressed to yours, your face buried in a neck, lips, fabric, and heat, plenty of heat.

 “I would say the duke must possess healing powers to have revived you within one night,” Leesil teased making Bridget giggle.

 Before you could reply, the door opened and in walked Simon like a ray of sunshine on a gloomy morning. Your eyes could not help but follow him as he walked in and around the four-post bed to you. Everything and everyone else faded.

 “Bridget, Leesil I will take it from here.”

 “Yes, my lord,” they replied in unison reminding you that they were there in the first place.

 Once the door closed behind them, you looked back to Simon who was now seated on the side of the bed he’d gotten out earlier in the morning. His eyes were on you as he was trying to read every hidden emotion or thought behind your eyes.

 “Are you well?”

 “Yes,” you whispered.

 Simon pressed the back of his hand to your forehead then hummed. “You are not as hot as you were in the night. That is a bit of good news. I have brought your breakfast and medicine. Would you be interested in eating?”

 Slowly you nodded. Simon began uncovering the dishes and bowls on the trey that was now on the bed. As he revealed the food your hunger awoke reminding you that you had not eaten since the previous day.

 “What shall we begin with? Perhaps a spot of tea?”

 Again, you nodded. As you moved for the teacup, Simon beat you to it and lifted the porcelain to your lips. You hesitated for a moment but took a sip from the cup and rejoiced inside as the fruit and floral notes hit your senses.

 “I found it a delightful surprise hearing you add rose and mulberries to your tea.”

 “It gives it sweetness and turns it--.”

 “Delicate,” Simon finished.

 Your eyes lingered for a few moments before he lowered the cup back to the trey. A soft scoff escaped him, “It suits you.”

 Bit by bit Simon raised fork and spoonfuls of food to your lips, taking care to not give you too much at once and to keep your face clean. You were practically beside yourself seeing this side of him. It was so unlike anything you’d seen from him before. Surly when you’d first met you’d made up your mind of him labeling him as a rake, then it slowly transitioned into him being a libertine. There is where it remained no matter how quickly you found yourself becoming mesmerized by his charm and alluring maleness. He was so unlike any other man you’d met before, so delectably unique. The more you learned of him, the more traits he begrudgingly revealed of himself you found him bearable and quite tortured. Along the way you got it into your mind that perhaps all he needed was a true friend, or someone to heal whatever tortured him so. Was it silly? Perhaps.

 Over the last weeks, his distance, aloofness, and complete avoidance of you of course changed your perspective of him entirely. You had begun to see how silly you were during those weeks of the season where you paraded around with him in hopes of steering prospective suitors away from the both of you. It was clear he was suffering from the ghosts he carried with him, and no one could save any man from that torment, he himself would have to best them.

 Here he was though, sitting across from you taking care of you with such gentleness it made your heart ache. His actions were not hurried, they were the opposite, it seemed as if he wished this moment to stretch on for as long as possible. Even the way he spoke telling you news from the residents of the acreage, well wishes for your health and the distinction between what the residents did for the land was different.

 His tone was softer, there seemed to be a calm melody to his words that relaxed you. It had been weeks since you felt this at ease with him. It was an ease that you did not worry what he was thinking of you or if he disliked you. In this moment you could read him clearly. He was behaving like a man who actually cared about his wife. You would be lying if you said having him there didn’t make you happier.

 Once breakfast and your medicine were finished you rang the bell for your maids, wishing for a bath.

 “Open water is forbidden while recovering.”

 You sighed at Simon’s words dropping your shoulders in disappointment. You’d gained an affinity to regular bathing. There was something peaceful of sitting in scented warm water and being left alone with your thoughts and the sunlight.

 “Yes, my lord, my lady?”

 “Worry not, Mrs. Butler,” you informed.

 “Mrs. Bulter, please begin preparations for the duchess’ evening medicine.”

 “Yes, my lord.”

 “Also, warm a basin of water and bring it here please.”

 “Yes, sir.”

 You were curious what he needed the water for but did not question him. He held up two books before you with a smile on his face.

 “Idealistic poetry or swashbuckling tales of adventure?”

 You smiled and leaned against the wooden headboard. “Only if this swashbuckling adventure you speak of is of a heroine and not a hero.”

 Simon chuckled. “I dare say I have learned my lesson and have steadfastly filled the library with plenty of tales of heroines thrust into in a variety of adventure, some more lewd that genteel company would not dare speak of.”

 Your eyes widened as you gently swat at his arm. “Simon!”

 Again, he chuckled. “Forgive me my lady, a swashbuckling adventure it is. Are you comfortable?”

 “Quite.”

 “Then we begin. “Ahoy, who goes there,” Lady Philomena Vanquest shouted with her sword in hand.”

 You sighed watched him as he read to you. Within the first few pages your eyes closed and you envisioned the story playing out before you. His voice serving as the perfect tool to bring everything to life. His voice was easily your favorite thing about him. He had a voice that could work magic on a lady in the dark pressed against a wall--the voice that could seduce even the most unwilling bedfellow. His voice easily conjured feelings of lust and desire and it had been this way from the very beginning.

 “Jamilla? Jamilla.”

 Your eyes fluttered open and there he was peering at you with concern. The sun that was once beaming in the room was slowly disappearing.

 “Are you well?”

 You moaned then sat up. “I fell asleep.”

 “You did. I did not know my voice bored you so to catapult you into unconsciousness,” Simon teased.

 “I promise it does not.”

 “No?”

 Your eyes met and locked. “No,” you whispered.

 Simon smiled then nodded. “Good to hear.”

 A knock at the door brought both of your heads to watch Mrs. Butler, Bridget and Leesil walk in, each carrying different things. Mrs. Butler carried a trey of clothes, Bridget a basin, and Leesil a stack of fresh clothing and small glass bottles.

 “What is this?”

 “While I cannot in good faith allow you to submerge yourself into water, I can offer a compromise,” Simon said motioning for the items to be put down.

 The steam from the large basin told you it was freshly heated. Across the surface of the water rose, daisy, peony, lilac, sweet briar petals danced while filling the room with the aroma of the garden you loved to spend your time in.

 “My lady, I have also added the honeysuckle and jasmine oils you enjoy,” Bridget added.

 A smile spread across your face as your heart warmed. “Thank you.”

 “I take it this option is to your liking?”

 “Yes, very much so.”

 “Good. Thank you everyone, you may leave.”

 Alarm rushed through you at the meaning of his words. Did he intend to stay as you did it yourself or would he do it himself?

 “Seeing as this terrible predicament is my fault entirely, I offer my services. Tisn’t been a fortnight since we married and already you are battling illness. I fear your mother and brothers would skin me alive.”

 “Twas I who--,” you began only for Simon to cut you off, claiming the blame for himself once again. Accepting defeat, you nodded.

 “Thank you for your consideration.”

 “Bridget you may stay to assist.”

 “My lord,” Bridget replied.

 You watched Simon roll the sleeves of his half unbuttons white shirt and dip his hand into the basin to swirl the water around. He did it so slowly that your eyes could not look away. When he dipped a clean cloth into the water, the flower petals clung to it. Once he’d wrung the water out, he came closer and brought the cloth to slowly wipe your face with gentle strokes.

 Your senses elated from the smells enveloping you. They should have calmed you, made you feel at ease but the way your heart was rapidly thudding in your chest said they were doing the opposite. However, you believed the culprit this time was not the flowers but the nearness of your husband as he for the first time assisted you with something so intimate as a wipe down.

 You wondered if he could hear your heart. Could he hear the horse hoofs’ gallops going off inside of you as loudly as you heard them? He dipped the cloth into the water again and repeatedly his actions then brought the cloth to your neck. Everywhere he trailed the cloth, the heat from the water soothed your muscles taking some of the ache of your ordeal away. When you felt him slip to the back of your neck you lowered your head giving him easier access. The feel of his fingertips along the bone at the back of your neck had you gasping and clutching the blankets across your lap.

 Simon slowly brought the cloth around and dipped inside the lite material of your shift to your shoulder. As he went over it a few times goosebumps broke out over your flesh.

 “Bridget,” Simon uttered, his voice sounded clouded, as if he had to force it out.

 You wanted to look at him so badly, wanted to see if his face gave anything away to how he was feeling or what he was thinking, but you could not. Something inside of you prevented it. As Simon busied his hands in the basin again, Bridget came to your side of the bed and began lifting the shift you wore off of your body replacing it with a lite muslin cloth.

 It was then your heart beating really took off. You were now nude in front of him for the second time and this time was not any less nerve wracking. Albeit this time you were still covered, even the thin muslin left little to the imagination. suddenly an image of your nude body underneath Simon’s came to mind. His lips were pressed against yours as was every inch of his hard, lean and powerful body. The feel of cool air brought you back to see your lower half exposed to Simon’s sight. The muslin rested atop you, but he brushed it aside revealing one leg. Bringing the heated cloth to your ankle he slowly wiped upward then down only to do it again and again until he wiped all around. Your belly was in flight and your heart was seconds away from bursting. How could one man elicit such a strong reaction?

 You watched as the cloth returned to your knee and trail a torturously slow path up your thigh. When Simon’s hand dipped to your inner thigh you noticed a shake. Bringing your eyes to him, you saw the focus on his features. It was as if he were pressing every inch of your skin to memory to revisit later. You could not help but wonder when later he would think of this? In bed perchance?

 When his hand made it several inches up your inner thigh he retreated and moved to your other leg. You watched every move he made but not because you did not trust him to respect you, but because you wanted to remember this for your own revisit. You wanted to watch his hands roam across your body as you envisioned the cloth not there.

 After Simon finished your lower half a new basin that mirrored the first came. On Bridget’s instruction, you leaned forward revealing your bare back for him to wipe. The chance of his fingers raking down your back made you arch, dipping it inward. A groan escaped Simon then, it was a groan that made a part of you that you’d never knew of awaken. It felt like part of you deep inside your gut had fallen and it ached. Oh, how it ached.

 Simon brought the cloth up and again his fingertips made a trail. This time that ache made you moan. Simon sighed out suddenly sending a puff of air across your flesh. Another image came to mind of the same thing happening only along your breast. That made you press your fingertips to your lips. Were these memories? Dreams?

 “My lady.”

Looking to your right you met Simon’s eyes, but he did not speak. You saw the action he inquired in his eyes. Consent. Hesitating you took several breaths, none of them worked to slow your heart, none of them helped to calm your nerves. Your governess’ words rang in your head.

 “Ones husband is entitled to look upon his wife in any capacity he chooses.”

 Before now you’d always wondered just what she meant. Look upon how? Now you understood. Your throat was dryer than barren land in the prime heat of the summer months. You swallowed then slightly cringed hearing a small gulp echo around you. He must think you such a naïve wallflower, you thought. He didn’t budge, he just waited and waited and waited for you to grant him said consent. biting your bottom lip, you chewed at it until you were certine it was raw. Then you released the muslin you grasped so tightly at. The fabric fell to bunch in your lap revealing you in the setting sun’s light to your husband. As it fell you felt his warmed breath brush against your newly exposed breasts.

 Before it was candlelight he’d seen you and from a distance. They both afforded you some mystery but now he was inches away from you with ample light. He could look as he willed. You watched Simon’s eyes lower and slowly rake over your bodice. Every second his jaw jumped showing the definition of his jawline. He was handsome from the front but from the side—his profile was a thing of beauty.

 As he dipped the cloth into the basin again you heard him mumble a curse, you’d heard plenty a time.

 “Blast it.”

 When he raised the cloth to your collar you held your breath. It was not intentional but you felt the only way to get through this without leaping off of the bed either into his lap or out the door was to restrict your brain of oxygen so it would decrease its ability to think. It was perfectly logical, you theorized. The folly in your thinking did not occur to you until halfway through when you realized Simon’s movements were so slow, so torturous that he hadn’t even made it past your collar before white spots danced behind your eyes.

 “Breathe Jamilla,” Simon whispered.

 On command you did just that and that was when you felt the cloth swipe across your breast. Immediately, you felt your nipple pebble as another huff of warm breath skirt across your skin. Simon wiped over, around and under your breast then did the same to the other before dipping the cloth down the center of your body to your stomach.

 Alarm rushed through you. Was he really planning on going that far? Your governess had not given you any tips or information about this. Was he going to touch you? The anticipation made you shiver and just when you were certain you would shoot off the bed into the air, Simon’s hand stopped just below your navel. His eyes were squeezed closed, jaw clenched tightly and hand shaking. Seconds later, he pulled away and held the cloth to Bridget.

 “You can assist the madam better than I.”

 With that, he abruptly stood beside the bed then bowed his head to you.

 “I bid you farewell, my lady. I shall return for dinner—if you will have me.”

 For far too long the silence stretched in the room when Simon’s eyes met yours and his thick brow shot up you realized you’d been sitting there incapable of speech. A nod was all you could muster. Simon’s eyes dipped to your bare breasts and again his jaw went haywire. He turned then strode to the door leaving you alone with Bridget, a body full of anxious energy and a head full of thoughts definitely not suitable for a woman from genteel society. 

One thing was clear, within these images you were having and the current encounter there was one commonality—he had not persisted. He had in fact pulled away from you. He really did not want you at all—in any capacity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glossary:

Term “One and Six”: In Regency Era it was common among some to refer to ages over single digits as both numbers. EX: 16 = one and six. Of course, this isn’t always the case, it would depend on the region and the class of people.

Hysteria: Commonly referenced in Regency time which we in modern times would call panic. Could also be referenced to regency word Vapors which is usually when someone is going through a “panic attack” with the hyperventilating, agitation and or bouts of fainting.

Banyan: A men’s dressing robe usually worn at home. Think of a woman’s robe but for men. Could be elaborately designed, thick, or as thin as preferred.

Sennight: A time lasting one week.

Blazes: Euphemism for hell or the devil.

Blast: Equivalent to the modern terms sh** or damn.

Sod It: Equivalent to the modern statement "F**k it" or "Damn it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged/untagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!***

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TagList:

@shar74nettt @soapjay @ashanti-notthesinger @caramara3 @caplover22 @blackpinup22 @areubeingserved @your-chaotic-neutral @zejess93 @reignandrain @ovohanna24 @ramp-it-up  @littlepreciousangel @msblkfire84 @id-do-it-for-free-babe @my-rosegold-soul @sadthotsonlylove @arination99 @wondersofdreaming @veganvampre @ohsoverykeri @mery-be  @insanitytreason @mauvecherie @xximpressions @turnthepageandbeburnt  @turn-thy-paige @reignandrain @brownsugarcoffy​ @udeadass

[jimblejamblewritings]

Which Bridgerton Pairing Do You Want?

I might not go with the most voted pairing but I want an idea of who people want or like especially if I make more Bridgerton fics.

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107​ @i-have-no-life-charlie

[blakeswritingimagines]

Your Relationship Trope

Anthony: Enemies to friends to lovers, Forced to be together, Grumpy x sunshine, College relationship.

Benedict: Soul mates, Secret relationship, Forced proximity, Love at first sight, Secret admirers.

Colin: Childhood friends, Best friends siblings, Rivals, Opposites.

Daphne: Friends to lovers, Mutual pining, Love triangle, Forced together due to a storm/storming weather.

Eloise: Friends to lovers, Marriage of convenience, Unrequited love, Bickering all the time.

Penelope: Forbidden love, Forced to work together, star-crossed lovers, Second chance romance.

Simon: Enemies to lovers, Possessive lover x nonchalant lover, Bad one x Good one, Power imbalance.

[targaryenluvs]

Hey, sorry to be a bother, but on your Masterlist, your fic 'Infatuation' for Simon Basset is listed as two parts, but only one of the links work, and I can't find the other part anywhere, so I was wondering if there's only one part, or if it's a glitch. Btw, I adore your fics🩷

i think tumblr may have eaten it 😭

i’m so sad!! the second part is working, and i can’t find the first anywhere. thanks for bringing it up, i’m so sorry you can’t find it. i’m pretty sure the part up is the second part, the first part was just the reader watching the show and ending up as best friends with daphne and staying with the bridgertons ❤️

thanks for reading ❤️

[imgondeletedis]

to my 5 followers😍

who from you will be interested to read like a snippet or like something from a benedict x oc fanfiction i am planning to write?? idrk if it is good, anyways ive had the idea for a year now, i still hadn't figured out the whole plot yet, but yeah there are few things i am positive about, maybe if someone's interested and think that snippet is good i will start taking writing lesson to improve and then i will make the idea i have come to life hehehe

[d4yl1ghts]

can you please write a simon basset x reader where reader is a noble but also owns a boutique and designs dresses and is very popular amoung the ton? im thinking he meets her at a ball or something

designer

simon basset x fem!reader

summary: you’re a well-known member of the ton and you own a boutique. what happens when you meet the handsome duke of hastings?

warnings: mentions of alcohol

A/N- i hope this is alright!

-

You were stood at the corner of the ballroom that someone from the Ton was hosting. Every so often you would offer smiles to those who noticed you. You were well-known in the Ton, you just didn’t particularly enjoy talking to random people that you’d only ever heard of from random stories. As you glanced around the room, looking for something interesting, your gaze couldn’t help but return to a young man with short hair and a perfectly styled stubble.

Simon could feel someone’s eyes on him and he looked around and saw you focused on him. Once you had realised he’d seen you, you quickly turned to look away. You felt a blush creep onto your cheeks at having been caught staring at the handsome stranger. He elegantly made his way towards you. You took a gulp of your champagne.

“Hello, Lady Y/N.”, he gently kissed your hand. Your cheeks blazed even more. “Why have I not had the pleasure of meeting you yet?”, you questioned. “I’m not quite sure, but it is nice to meet you. I am the Duke of Hastings or as I’d like to be referred to as Simon Basset.”, he stated charmingly. “May I have this dance?”, he asked. You placed your glass on the side. “Of course, your grace.”, you said as you took his hand.

“I have heard that you own a boutique, is that true?”, he asked, glancing down at you. “Yes, I design dresses actually. It is my work but I’d prefer to say it is a hobby.”, you answered as you danced along to the music. “Ah, I do believe that designing would be a hobby. It sounds fun but I have never tried it. Perhaps you could teach me one day?”, he offered. You couldn’t help but notice the fact that he said ‘one day’, would this mean you’d get close to him? “I would love to teach you. Although, it is hard work sometimes.”, you replied.

“Do you think I am swayed by a bit of work?”, he responded in a flirtatious manner. “Of course not, I was just testing you, your grace.”, you stated playfully.

You broke your eyes away from Simon’s figure and noticed many members of the Ton staring at the two of you. This was going to be in Lady Whistledown, you presumed. As the instruments came to a close, the Duke lead you to the side. “Thank you, your grace. I enjoyed that dance very much.”, you curtsied. “I enjoyed it as well. I hope to see you again, Lady Y/N.”, he said honestly. “I am sure you will, Simon. I will probably have to come to many more balls or if not, you have my address I believe?”, you questioned. “Yes, I look forward to seeing you.”

The Duke walked away confidently and was soon out of the doors of the ballroom. You soon followed, there was no point of staying at the ball anyway. As you journeyed back to your manor, you couldn’t help but think of your next meeting of the Duke. He was very indoctrinating, he was all that was in your mind.

[ambrosiacomoninguna]

I. Daphne, mi mejor amiga.

Un rayo de luz natural, como un travieso pajarillo en busca de su hogar,  se filtraba por el pequeño y diminuta ventana del balcón abierta del ático cubierta de bellezas hojas de plantas que daban color en aquel rincón, no cabía duda de que esa iluminación tan esperada, bañaba con una cálida tonalidad luz todo su alrededor y aún mejor el simple hecho de que el aire se encontraba impregnado del aroma más habitual de aquella amplia habitación, el olor tan inconfundible del óleo se mezclaba profundamente con el toque ligero de los jazmines que se colaba desde el jardín, podía ser un momento tentador, pues la atmosfera especial de un artista embragaba de una manera irresistible y sin duda, reinaba en ese instante en toda la habitación.

En el corazón de la escena, Edith se encontraba totalmente absorta en su obra en la que había estado trabajando desde el comienzo del día, podía admitir que nada más el amanecer daba comienzo a su nuevo día, ella ya se encontraba allí, pues consideraba que era una de las mejores horas del día para abrir su brillante inspiración. Su rostro cubierto por pequeñas sonrosas sobre sus mejillas, era enmarcado por un largo castaño ondulado que caía en cascada sobre sus hombros cuyos ojos de un color profundo grisáceo que en ocasiones podría confundirse con un disimulado verde, brillaba con intensidad de una mezcla de concentración y pasión. Amaba lo que hacía, pues gozaba de la escena que ella misma desarrollaba. Sostenía un pincel fino entre sus dedos cuyos movimientos precisos y delicados lo guiaba sobre el lienzo dejando a su paso una danza brillante de colores, con cada trozo era una explosión de vida, una oda a la belleza efímera del momento y solamente quería dejarse llevar por la esencia fugaz del momento.

La fiel y risueña artista no solo reproducía fielmente la imagen que tenía en su mente, sino, infundía en su obra su propia visión y sensibilidad. Las formas se transformaban bajo sus toques con el broche impregnado, dando finalmente la forma de un retrato, adquiriendo el aspecto realista y personal que tanto quería.

Edith, no podía evitar detenerse de vez en cuando, admirando su proceso y que sus labios se llegarán a dibujar una gran sonrisa, estaba orgullosa de haber regresado con el diseño de sus dibujos y aquello solo le renovaba más entusiasmo. Aunque con su último toque con el pincel, tan solo le falto firmar la obra y dejar que reposará sobre el caballete.

 —Considero que quedaste bien, creo que he podido expresar la belleza que tienes, Simon—Murmuro con una gran satisfacción encima mientras deliraba con el último nombre.

Un gesto de aprobación cruzo por su rostro, había logrado capturar la belleza efímera que su personaje favorito de tal vez, su serie preferida, los Bridgerton. Había leído hacía años todos sus libros y admitía que aquel muchacho, siempre logro cautivarla por su carismática personalidad, aunque con la llegada serie dramática llevada por los libros a la plataforma Netflix, únicamente genero una gran explosión de felicidad en ella, por lo que llena de ideas y una inspiración que pensaba que tenía perdida, pudo plasmar todos sus progresos artísticos.

—Edith, querida, te están esperando abajo. ¿No te acordaste de que hoy venían? —una voz mimosa interrumpió de golpe la concentración en la que hacía breves segundos, había provocado que el tiempo se detuviera. — ¡Oh, Edith, ni siquiera estás vestida!

—Lo siento, mamá, pero no recordaba que hoy tuviera visita. Emma tuvo que irse a París y a menos de que pudiera teletransportarse, dudo que alguien quisiera visitarme. —susurro ahogado por el hecho de que extrañaba mucho a su mejor amiga, que, por motivos de sus padres, no la quedo opción que irse y separar aquellas dos almas gemelas en una asombrosa amistad.

— ¡No digas tonterías, Edith! La señorita Daphne, te está esperando. Y no sé de quién hablas, deberías de dejar de pasar tiempo aquí arriba, parece que te hace olvidar de tu alrededor.

— ¿Daphne?

Aquello sin duda la desconcertó tanto que provoco que el pincel que aún se mantenía en sus dedos, cayera sobre sus pies. ¿De quién hablaba? ¡No conocía a nadie con ese nombre! A excepción claro, de la protagonista de su favoritismo libro.

—Mamá, no sé de quién hablas. Me empiezo asustar.

— Hija mía, —respondió su madre, Judith, con una calma que contrastaba con la confusión de Edith. —Hablamos de la señorita Daphne Bridgerton. Han sido inseparables desde sus primeros pasos, se conocen de toda la vida.

La tranquilidad con la que respondió fue más que suficiente como para desconcentrarla, ¿cómo iba a conocerla? ¿Cómo era posible que hablara de alguien que solo existía en las páginas de una novela? Sus ojos finalmente se apartaron del retrato que tanto había trabajado y se encontraron a su madre, Judith. Pensó que se iba a desmayar, juraba que esa no era su madre, pero si, ¡si resultaba ser ella! A excepción de su vestimenta tan cordial, tan apretada que probablemente ceñida a causa del corsé que la hacía aparentar una figura más esbelta.

—No me mires así, hija, levántate y vístete, no hagas esperar más a tu amiga. Está deseando verte. —Sus palabras chocaron contra su realidad y sus manos temblaron al tener entre ellas las telas del vestido que le había dado su propia madre.

— ¿Estás segura, mamá? Preguntó, con la voz temblorosa. —.. yo no la conozco.

Judith sonrió con una ternura que solo ella podía transmitir.

—Claro que sí, querida. Es la hija de los Bridgerton, la familia que vive en la mansión al final de la calle.

—Pero ma…

—Levántate y vístete, no hagas esperar más a tu amiga. Está deseando verte.

Sus palabras chocaron contra la realidad como olas contra un acantilado. Sus manos temblaron al tomar las telas del vestido que su madre le extendía. La textura fina y delicada era tan diferente a la áspera lana de los vestidos que solía usar.

—No te tardes, —La orden de Judith resonó en sus oídos, ineludible— ella te está esperando en el jardín. Sabes que la puntualidad hace a una buena dama, Edith.

A penas pudo asistir en silencio, sin poder articular alguna palabra. Todavía asimilando lo que había ocurrido. Intento vestirse con aquello que su aparente madre la dio y se miró en el espejo, la imagen que le devolvió la sorprendió. Si bien era cierto que ahora vivía en una realidad paralelo, no era la joven artista ensimismada en su propio mundo, sino una dama de la alta sociedad, lista para enfrentar los desafíos y las alegrías que la vida le deparaba, pero simplemente ese hecho la aterraba, jamás había vivido en un mundo similar.

¿Era realmente posible que su amiga de la infancia, la Daphne Bridgerton de sus novelas favoritas, estuviera a tan un solo paso?

El corazón de Edith latía con fuerza en su pecho mientras descendía las escaleras. Su mente, aún tambaleándose por la revelación de su realidad distorsionada, luchaba por asimilar lo que estaba a punto de suceder. Todo a su alrededor no parecía su hogar, era todo tan diferente que simplemente la mareaba, no entendía que estaba pasando, quizá solo se trataba de un sueño, pero en ese momento era incapaz de formular ninguna conclusión. Cada paso la acercaba a una realidad que no comprendía, a un mundo que parecía sacado de uno de sus libros de fantasía.

Al cruzar la puerta que le dirigía al jardín, sus ojos se posaron en la figura que la esperaba junto a un marco de flores. La calidez que emanaba la joven era inconfundible, su belleza comparable a la de un ángel.

— ¿Daphne? —Intento preguntar con un hilo de voz, conmocionada por la irrealidad de la situación.

— ¡Edith, al fin! Qué alegría verte —la saludo con una sonrisa tan radiante que ilumino su alrededor, no tardo en acercarse y la invito con gesto amable a sentarse junto a ella.

Edith se acerco con pasos dubitativos, tomando asiento frente a ella y no pudo evitar pellizcarse la muñeca intentando despertar o creer que lo que realmente veía, no era parte de su imaginación.

— ¿Qué te sucede, Edi? —la joven bridgerton la miró con genuina preocupación— Te ves realmente pálida y distraída, ¿estás bien? Parece que viste un fantasma—río, pero al ver como su contraria bajo la mirada para evitar el contacto visual, solo la preocupo más— Edith, puedes contarme.

— ¿Es verdad? ¿Es cierto que eres mi mejor amiga? —preguntó con temblor en cada una de sus palabras.

Daphne abrió los ojos sorprendida, pero solo asistió con comprensión.

—¡Claro que sí! —insistió Daphne Bridgerton con una sonrisa pícara— Somos mejores amigas. Jugábamos juntas en el jardín de tu casa, compartíamos secretos y sueños bajo la sombra del viejo roble. Yo no sé qué haría sin ti, sin tu compañía.

Por alguna razón, aquello provoco un alivio enorme en el interior de Edith.

—¿Puedo entonces contar con tu apoyo? —murmuro en busca de una respuesta, todavía confundida.

—Si, —aseguró Daphne Bridgerton, tomando una de las manos de la artista entre las suyas.

—¿Ni por muy loco que suene?

—¿Más loco que preguntarme si somos mejores amigas?

Rieron las dos ante aquello.

—Mucho más loco que preguntarte si somos amigas—afirmó Edith con una sonrisa divertida.

—Entonces espero que me cuentes hasta el mínimo detalle, porque me encantan tus locuras y yo espero ser parte de ella.

Un calor reconfortante recorrió el cuerpo de la joven artista al sentir el suave contacto de la mano de Daphne Bridgerton aún sobre la suya en muestra de apoyo. La calidez de su sonrisa y la sinceridad en sus ojos la llenaron de una sensación de paz y seguridad que no había experimentado en mucho tiempo y pensó que no habría más opción que confiar en ella. Era como si se conocieran de toda la vida, como si sus almas estuvieran entrelazadas por un destino invisible.

Daphne no solo escuchaba atentamente, sino que también transmitía una profunda empatía y comprensión hacia Edith. Su mano, firme y cálida, apretaba la de su amiga en un gesto de apoyo incondicional. Sabía que Edith no la engañaba, pues la conexión que las unía era profunda y transparente.

Habían compartido tantas experiencias, secretos y sueños a lo largo de su infancia que Daphne podía distinguir con claridad entre la realidad y la imaginación. Reconocía en Edith la misma honestidad y pureza que siempre la había caracterizado, incluso en medio de la extraña situación que vivían. Sabía que Edith era incapaz de mentirle, que su corazón expresaba la verdad más pura, aun cuando sus palabras parecían sacadas de un libro de fantasía.

El miedo de Edith a ser juzgada era palpable en sus palabras, pero Daphne la tranquilizó con una sonrisa cálida y comprensiva.

—No tengas miedo, Edith, —le dijo con suavidad. — Yo estoy aquí para ti, sin importar lo que digas o lo que hayas vivido. Confía en mí, juntas podemos superar cualquier obstáculo.

Las palabras de Daphne resonaron en el corazón de Edith como un bálsamo reconfortante. La calidez de su amistad y la seguridad que le transmitían la llenaron de valor para continuar con su historia, por muy loco que sonará allí estaba junto a ella.

Sonrió, aunque de un momento para otro, ladeo su cabeza confundida, quizá en busca de un pensamiento borroso, un recuerdo.

—Oh, Edith, creo que está situación vivimos hace tiempo. —Aquello sorprendió ambas—Cuando éramos pequeñas, recuerdo que en uno de tus sueños que me mencionaste, describías un mundo totalmente alterno, con peculiaridades modernas. Incluso, pareciera que tuviste una pérdida de memoria durante dos meses...

Las palabras de Daphne provocaron un escalofrío en la piel de Edith. La confusión se apoderó de ella, mezclando la realidad con los sueños que compartían en su infancia.

—¿Estás segura de eso, Daphne? —Preguntó Edith con la voz temblorosa. —No recuerdo nada de lo que dices.

—Estoy segura, —respondió Daphne con convicción. —Recuerdo cada detalle de ese sueño. Era tan vívido, tan real... ¡Hasta me hiciste la misma pregunta que ahora!

Edith se quedó en silencio, tratando de recordar. Unas imágenes borrosas comenzaron a surgir en su mente, fragmentos de un mundo extraño que ahora Daphne le recordaba.

—Tal vez tengas razón, —murmuró Edith con incertidumbre. —Tal vez solo sea un recuerdo vago, una mezcla de sueños y realidad.

—O tal vez sea algo más, —sugirió Daphne con una mirada misteriosa. —Tal vez lo que estás viviendo ahora no sea tan diferente de lo que soñabas en tu infancia.

—No lo sé, es todo muy confuso…

—Siempre estaré aquí para ti, Edith —le aseguró Daphne con una sonrisa cálida— Juntas descubriremos la verdad, sin importar lo que sea. Además, no podría permitir que tuvieras otra mejor amiga.

Rieron a la par, la amistad de Daphne era su único punto de apoyo.

—Gracias, Daphne, —susurró Edith con los ojos húmedos de emoción. —Significa mucho para mí.

—Deberías de venir mañana, te ayudaré a que vayas conmemorando tus recuerdos. Tal vez si vuelves a ver a mis hermanos, ¡quizá empieces a sentirte nuevamente como en casa! —Daphne río con una gran sonrisa juguetona sobre sus labios.

La artista no pudo evitar sentirse contagiada con la alegría que transmitía su amiga. La idea de volver a conectar con su pasado y con la familia Bridgerton la llenaba de esperanza.

—¿Me llevo bien con todos? —preguntó Edith en un pequeño grito.

—¡Oh, Edi! — respondió con un gesto cómplice—. Si prácticamente eres parte de nuestra familia. Has pasado parte de tu vida con nosotros que en cualquier otro lugar. Anthony siempre pregunta por ti, creo que te tiene un gran aprecio.

Las palabras de Daphne provocaron un nuevo rubor en las mejillas de Edith. La idea de que Anthony la tuviera en su mente la llenaba de una mezcla de emoción y nerviosismo.

—¿De verdad? —preguntó Edith con un hilo de voz, casi incrédula.

—¡Por supuesto! —Afirmó Daphne con convicción. Siempre ha sido muy protector contigo, como si fueras su hermana—hubo un breve silencio—. Aunque en ocasiones, lo he visto mirarte, la forma en la que te trata… es evidente.

—Espero que no sea lo que quieres que interprete.

—¡Aun así, Edi! Eres mi mejor amiga, ¡ya le valdría a Anthony si se atreviera hacerte algo! —respondió Daphne con comprensión—. Te cuidaré en estos momentos de necesidad para que no se sobrepasen, eres importante para mí.

Edith sonrió con una alegría que no podía contener. La calidez de las palabras de Daphne la llenaba de un sentimiento de pertenencia que no había experimentado en mucho tiempo. En ese momento, Edith supo que su vida nunca volvería a ser la misma. La aventura que había comenzado junto a Daphne solo había hecho más que empezar, y estaba decidida a llegar hasta el final, sin importar lo que encontrara en el camino.

¡Me encantaría saber vuestras opiniones en los comentarios! ¿Qué os parece los diseños? Pesé decorar y manipularlas totalmente a mi medida, doy créditos a las texturas y recursos adquiridos por su dispuesto autor.

¿Entendéis bien la escritura? ¿Cambiarían algo? (Es importante que diga que es la primera vez que escribo en está plataforma) También la historia será corregida de manera diaria, no soy experta y cometo errores pero espero que les guste.

Pueden encontrar está misma historia en distintas aplicaciones como Archivefourown o Wattpad con mi mismo apodo: "nir4rera". ¡Muchas gracias por darme la oportunidad de leerme! ¡Miji! ψ(｀∇´)ψ

[becasworldsstuff]

Hello! I have recently found myself in the Bridgerton fandom and would absolutely love to read a Simon x reader fanfic.

I guess plot doesn't matter to me as long as it's sweet and fluffy and involves lots of cute, romantic moments. 🥰

-> pairings: Simon basset x reader

-> warnings: absolute none just fluff

-> becs <3 : hey love, sorry if I didn't do it sooner but I hope you like it

Classic music was playing while ladies and gentlemen were dancing in the big ballroom.

Simon and her were locking eyes, thing not gone unnoticed by her older brother that insisted in him not being a good fit for her.

Even though Simon had promised himself that no marriage was happening, the girl with her sweet eyes managed to break herself into his heart.

With long stripes he got to her side of the room and swiftly asked her to be his dame for the next ball, and not paying a glance at her brother she agreed, not that she could refuse anyway, the moment the music stopped signaling the beginning of another song, the Duke placed his hand on her gloved one leading her to the middle of the ballroom sending shivers down both of their spines.

The ton was watching them move around and twirling while not ever breaking eye contact once, their bodies perfectly completing each other and the look they shared were knees dropping.

At the end of the dance they took different ways while chattering filled the room.

Two weeks later the situation was always the same and while her family was on the promenade walking together, Simon came running to them dropping on his knees in front of her with a ring in his trembling hands, both of their eyes watering and when her pleading yes said with shaking voice made it ways to his ears he was quick to pick her up and hug her tightly while both of them cried with joy.

Lady whistledown was quick on her quill charming people with the duchess and Duke's love story, writing about their honeymoon and their beautiful bond, even her brother after the marriage melted into learning their true story.

3 months later

In the bed the sun was hitting her skin directly making it shine like porcelain, her sweet, big eyes closed with lashes carefully resting on her cheeks, lips parted, a sight to the eye for Simon who was on his side watching and admiring every single one of her details wishing the moment could last forever.

The rings on her hands caught his eyes and gently he picked her hand kissing the finger and lightly touching the knuckles and the palm.

"Love you my love, thank you for being the light of my life"