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fayes-fics · 1 year ago

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Awakening

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: You experience an awakening a few days into your arranged marriage with the Viscount.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, female masturbation, slightly dom/sub (use of little one/my lord), innocence, corruption kink, vaginal fingering, oral sex (m to f).

Word Count: 3.4k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Request fill for Anon, HERE, about Anthony being arranged married to an innocent reader. Sorry it's taken me so long to write this, Nonny, but I hope you still enjoy it, even though I changed the parameters of the request slightly. Enjoy <3

Viscount Anthony Bridgerton is most perplexing.

He is all at once both the best and the worst person you know. A providing husband, but an absent one. A polite, undisputable gentleman, but one who has barely said more than a handful of words to you, his supposed wife. An arrangement was brokered with your father, and now, merely weeks later, you are walking the halls of Aubrey Hall as the new Viscountess Bridgerton but barely feel as if you know your husband.

The night before your wedding, you had received a very vague talk from your mother about how you should expect your new husband to enter your bedchamber and perform his “spousal rights” and that, as his wife, you must allow whatever he decides to do. You still have no earthly idea what that might mean; your room has never once yet seen his presence—on that night or, indeed, any of the four nights since. Part of you worries you have somehow failed to be the wife he needs; part of you is relieved he has not done anything to you that you must endure in some way.

There is one thing you are certain of, though. While Anthony may be distant, almost an absence from your life, always busy with some business or other, there is no doubt you find his countenance pleasing. He is so very dashing and handsome. Earlier today, he swept in from a hunt wearing very tight tan breeches, and the sight caused a funny, warm tingling low in your gut. Between your legs, really. He nodded politely as he swept past you in the hallway, continuing his discussion with his brother as he did so. You twist to watch his retreating figure, wishing you could have the opportunity to speak with him, but the view of his shapely bottom in those tight trousers is at least partial compensation.

So as you lay under the covers on your fifth night alone, your ladies' maids having brushed your hair and taken their leave, you sigh deeply and snuggle into the crispy white sheets. Your thoughts turn to your husband again and that outfit he was wearing. The way those trousers clung to him, the movement of muscle as he strode purposefully. And that sensation rears again—the pulsing between your legs. It seems like your body needs something, but you do not know what. Flushed for some reason, you push away the covers. Before you know it, curiosity has the better of you. While you replay the image of him walking in your mind, your legs fall apart, your hand reflexively falling between them to provide a remedy—almost like an itch you need to scratch.

Your fingers slide through folds of flesh there, and strangely, there is unfamiliar sticky dampness. When you pass your fingers over a particular spot where your two lips meet, you get a pleasurable spike that makes your mouth slack.

Oh.

Almost without meaning to, you keep touching that spot, a call and response that is impossible to resist. The more you rub right there, your body swelling slightly under your movements, the better you feel. A languid buzz in your brain that feels both stimulating and relaxing. When your husband's image pops into your head again, everything suddenly gets sharper and more urgent. And so you do. You think of him. His handsome face, the way his forearms flex when you sit across from him at dinner, and he eats with his sleeves rolled up and again those legs and bottom in those tight trousers. Tumbling images that speed up in your mind as your fingers do the same, powerless to resist.

You are soon gasping and writhing, yet you do not stop; it feels too good. Something almost violent happens in your body, your lungs restricting, your brain buzzing, and suddenly, with a crest of physical delight, you are experiencing something completely novel. There is a squeezing, rippling inside, and you cry out as a remarkable ecstasy takes your body. When eventually the feeling subsides, you collapse back down, panting and bewildered; your whole body flushed, your fingers, still resting between your legs, wettened with a slick substance that could only have come from within you.

Whatever just happened, it's nothing you have been told about before. Not fully understanding, all you know is you want to experience it again. It's addictive, powerful, and so very relaxing once over. You instantly fall into a deep, sated slumber and wake up the most refreshed you have felt in many months.

And so it becomes a habit.

Whenever you feel the need and have a private moment, you retire to your room and touch your body until you feel that pinnacle—often thinking upon the Viscount as you do so. His name even falls from your lips, breathy, almost a tasty morsel, as you find your peak. It is no longer something you only do when you retire to bed for the night. You find yourself doing so any time of day, whenever the mood strikes you, an addictive, fun, illicit thrill. You wonder idly if such a thing is taboo, but you struggle to believe something that feels so good could ever be unacceptable behaviour as long as you are in private, alone.

One week after your wedding, on an uneventful afternoon, you put down your needlework and huff a sigh, your eyes drawn by movement outside. There, riding towards the house at speed across the lawn is Anthony. It's a sunny summer day; he wears only a shirt billowing in the breeze with sleeves pushed up around his elbows. And again, those tan breeches flexing around his legs as the horse gallops, him moving with the beast in a rhythmic motion. Time seems to stand still as you are inexorably drawn to the window to watch the sight coming closer and closer. The whole time your breath becomes more rapid, that telltale throbbing between your legs flares. You decide there is only one course of action.

When he veers off to the left towards the stables to the side of the house, you turn heel and run up the stairs. Keen to have that incredible high. This new, enthralling image will be the star of your thoughts this time. You pass his valet on the stairs and politely nod before scurrying and closing your bedroom door behind you.

You drop your underwear onto the floor, hitching up your dress and chemise around your hips as you throw yourself onto your bed, not even bothering to pull back the bedspread, so very keen to touch yourself.

It doesn't take much, that familiar slick already there, painting your fingers as you slide them against your nub, one hand reaching behind to grasp the headboard as you writhe on your fingers, all thoughts of Anthony and that repetitive bouncing motion of him upon his steed. So wrapped up in pleasure, his name on your lips, you do not hear the knob turning and the door opening.

“My valet told me you were here….” his loud baritone voice rings out around the room but grinds to a halt mid-sentence.

You squeal in surprise; the star of your fantasies standing right before you, skin sunkissed and his hair tousled from his ride, a look of utter shock painting his face.

Instinctively, you clamp your knees together and attempt to push down your dress, but it’s too little, too late. He has seen exactly what you were doing, and now he looks distressed, hIs breathing uneven.

“Did you…. Did you say my name?” The tone is not one you have heard from him before, rough but straining.

You sit up slightly and avert your gaze downwards, abashed he has interrupted your private moment.

“Yes,” you confess quietly.

He takes a hesitant step forward towards the bed and swallows heavily.

“You were touching yourself? And... and saying my name?” he looks almost winded.

“Yes,” again, it's soft, and you chew your lower lip, thinking perhaps you are about to be chastised. He certainly looks very… agitated.

“Do you know what you are doing to yourself?” he blurts out, a vein in his forehead prominent as he locks his jaw.

“Not really,” you admit, “only that when I think of you, I get an ache between my legs, and it feels wonderful when I touch it.”

He makes a strangled noise and closes his eyes, his head tipping back slightly.

“I… I did not expect to consummate yet,” he mutters heavily, “I thought I had more time.” He seems to be talking to himself as much as you.

“What does that mean? Consummate?” you inquire, your mother's words coming to the forefront. Perhaps this is what she was referring to.

“As your husband, I have perhaps been neglectful of my spousal duties,” he says slowly, his head tipping back down to look at you, his eyes intense.

“Duties?” you frown.

“What you were doing to yourself…” he begins, moving closer now so he stands by the bed, “it is because you desire me. I had not considered that may be the case.” He twists his mouth into a thoughtful pout, but you do not miss how he seems to stare at your breasts as they rise and fall inside your stays. “But now that I know it is true… it… changes things.”

“How?” you look up at him, wanting to understand.

A smirk tugs at the left corner of his mouth. “It means there are things I can teach you, things you should know that can happen between a man and a woman. Things you will find pleasurable, just like when you touch yourself. It is my responsibility, as your husband, to show you such things now.” His hand reaches out, and you inhale sharply as it lands upon your raised knee.

“You make it sound more like an obligation than something you want to do,” you respond, voice wavering at the distraction his hand is causing, the viscous throbbing between your legs even heavier now.

“Oh, nothing could be further from the truth; I want to, now that I know you desire it too.” His voice is a soft thrum that makes your nipples peak and a shiver run down your spine.

“Why have you not come to me before, husband?” it sounds breathy even to your ears.

“I thought you disliked me. That this was an arrangement you were enduring. That I should be polite and respectful. Keep my distance, at the least, until you adjust to your new life as Viscountess. Until an heir is needed. But now I know that is not the case…”

His voice is a pleasant low rumble as his hand starts to move, slightly calloused fingertips skirting the soft skin of your inner thigh, your dress and chemise bunching around his toned forearm as he does so.

“What are you…?” your breath quickening now.

“Shhhh, Viscountess, let me help you,” he hushes, and you stare at him with wide eyes as his warm fingers reach your folds. He hisses at the heat and wetness he finds there. “Oh, you really do like me,” he purrs, and something in you makes you lean slowly back onto the padded plush headboard, unable to look away from his face.

“Yes…” you whimper as his thumb, much broader than yours, makes a sideways swipe over your swollen nub.

“How often?” he murmurs, shifting to take a seat on the bed next to you, his thumb never wavering in its slow, intoxicating rhythm,

“How often wh-what?” You stutter, rapidly losing the ability to form words as your body riots, grasping the bedspread on either side of you, scarcely believing how amazing it feels when someone else touches you, especially him.

“How often do you touch yourself and think of me?” his voice gravelly.

“Everyday… so-sometimes m-more than once,” you pant out, your lips tingling, holding his fiery gaze.

“Oh, you naughty little thing,” he growls, and it sets your face aflame. “Touching yourself multiple times a day and thinking of me. Do you reach a peak every time?”

“Y-yes, my lord….”

His eyes flash; he leans in closer so you can smell spiced cologne and traces of his natural body scent, heightened from his riding exertions.

“Please call me that when I'm touching you,” he asks, but it almost sounds like an order, one you are happy to obey.

“Yes, my lord,” you respond instantly.

“Good little one,” he compliments, and the praise makes something bloom inside you, an urgent want to please him.

He changes his thumb’s motion to a circular pattern and presses more insistently. You gasp loud, glancing down at the slight of his toned arm flexing as he moves, his fingers obscured by your dress rucked up around his wrist.

“Tell me, have you put your fingers inside yourself?” his tone still velvety.

“No? What do you mean? I just,” you pause to whimper, “do as you are right now.”

His face turns into a handsome smirk you can't look away from.

“Would you like to find out how it feels to have someone inside your body, little one?” The question is molten, and you swear your entire skin feels too heated and tight.

You just nod, snagging your lower lip with your tooth, and then your eyes bulge as a finger slips lower and presses into a fleshy barrier that resists his touch.

“I can feel you are still intact, a chaste maiden indeed,” he rumbles, and part of you wonders what that means, but you do not ask. “Luckily, there is just enough of an opening for me to do this…”

You moan as a single finger pushes a fraction into your body, something completely novel and profound. You stare at him open-mouthed

“Oh, my dear little thing, I have barely even put the tip of my finger inside and look at you. Wait until it's my cock,” he warns darkly.

“Your what?”

He grabs your hand off the bedding and guides it to the junction of his thighs. Something is hot and hard under there, and you cannot hide your shock even as your hand curls around it and squeezes instinctually.

He growls. “That’s it, feel it. My cock is going to go inside you, right here….” he lectures, and his finger that was teasing pushes deeper into your pussy, aided by the pool of wetness leaking from within.

Again you moan at the invasion, and he looks so proud, pumping the digit slowly as his thumb restarts its movements on your clit.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim in a harsh whisper, the feeling so utterly mindblowing.

“No, your lord,” he corrects, preening from what he can do to your body.

“My l-lord….” you amend stutteringly.

He nods his approval and leans over you, his breath warm on your face as he observes your expressions, gauging your response to each move he makes. It's so overwhelming that he is touching you inside and outside your body.

You are rapidly losing the ability to do anything besides make noises and chase sensation; your knees falling further apart, your hand still on his cock, pressing unconsciously with the same rhythm his fingers play your body. He glances down at his lap, his other hand moving from its grip on your wrist to cover yours, his hips tilting a fraction, pressing more insistently into your palm.

“Would you like to come right now?” his breath almost as ragged as yours.

“W-what is that?” you stumble.

He huffs a bemused sound. “When you reach your peak, little one. It is called coming.”

“Yes, please, my lord,” you answer the instant you understand, spiralling fast now, your lungs heaving, your slit hot and slippery, where he teases you.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, and you obey instantly.

He gently removes your hand from his cock, and his fingers slip out of your body. You sense movement on the bed, and he manhandles your feet outwards and upwards towards your hips. Cotton brushing the back of your thighs, and a wave of warm air across your inner thighs, so open and exposed now. A few seconds later, you feel something entirely new— a wet, hot, thick mass sliding through your folds unlike anything else. Your eyes fly open, and you startle to see that Anthony has crawled between your legs and his head is now buried at the apex of your thighs. Then you cry out as he does the same thing again, realising he is using his tongue.

“What the….?” you can't even complete the sentence.

“It is not just my fingers I can use, little one,” he tutors, his tone dusky, his breath hot on the patch of hair between your legs as he pulls up slightly to talk, his eyes burning into yours.

You watch, mesmerised, as he flattens his tongue wide and lowers his face to lick a long strip through your entire slit, morphing into a spear as he maps your clit, swirling around all sides. It's so intense your channel flutters, wishing his fingers were still inside you.

“Yes, that is it, you like that, do you not? Come on,” he coaxes as he takes a deep breath, inhaling your body scent. The way he is handling you, so absorbed in you, a euphoric feeling burns behind your ribs at the idea he wants your pleasure.

He envelopes your clitoral hood and sucks hard. His eyes flashing with pride as he has to grab your hips and hold you down, your back arching off the bed, crying out without caring if anyone can hear. The way he growls as you do so tells you exactly how much he wants to hear it, his pride that he can do this to you.

Something primal washes over you as he bites gently on your swollen clit, holding it between his teeth as you feel two fingers at your entrance pushing in, making you cry as you stretch around him, your body accommodating them even as you feel so filled.

“Anthony… Anthony, my lord,” you chant repeatedly as he holds you down with one strong arm and rocks his fingers shallowly into your body, his tongue swirling. It’s a sight that you can’t look away from. His hips flex into the bed almost involuntarily, as if his cock needs friction, too.

You feel that tide rising somehow more potent when orchestrated by him, a white-hot burning where he plays you and a tension in all your muscles.

“Give it to me,” he snarls, muffled, feeling the ripples around your clit and pussy against his face and fingers.

He redoubles his efforts, almost mercilessly lashing you with his tongue, varying pressure and speed. Entirely without meaning to, your hands fly into his hair, loving the sensation of thick curls sinking between your fingers as you grasp his strands, making him cry out right into your body. And it’s precisely what you need.

Every fibre of your being held taut and shaking now snaps, the pressure inside you like a dam breaking, so much more intense than you have ever experienced from just your fingers. Something almost inexplicable, ephemeral, your body experiencing a hundred different things firing at once. Your world contracting and exploding. You can feel your own heartbeat in your extremities, a rush of blood in your ears, eyes screwed shut as you shudder under him, and yet he moves with you as your hips roll in waves, his mouth never leaving your body. You know you are leaking onto his face, your inside clenching powerfully around his fingers. Dimly, you are aware the noises you make are loud, but you find yourself unable to prevent it and don't even want to.

As you recover, he crawls over your prone body as you lay there panting, fundamentally changed in the sharing of this experience with him, of him to be the one to make your body reach its peak. A true awakening of your senses.

It’s then he kisses you for the first time since a cursory brush of lips at the altar on your wedding day. His face musky with your juices, his lips hot, soft and damp as they press to yours. This is so different to that kiss. It's lingering and hot, his lips plush on yours.

His handsome face breaks into a dazzling smile as he looms over you, the back of his hand gently brushing down your cheekbone as you stare up at him dazed, the taste of yourself seeping through your lips. “Rest for now, my dear wife.” His tone is softer now, the use of wife instead of little one making your breath catch. “I shall return tonight, and you shall become a woman,” his voice laden with untold promise.

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iwritefandomimagines · 2 years ago

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NOT FOR HIM — BENEDICT BRIDGERTON

masterlist

pairing: benedict bridgerton x reader [plus platonic anthony x reader where he’s being a matchmaker/shitstirrer]

description: you may not have been the season’s diamond, but your debut had caused quite the stir in many a man’s heart — your childhood best friend benedict bridgerton included. however, given that the viscount had decided that he would marry this season, benedict cannot see why you would choose him over his brother.

warnings: kinda tiny bit of angst (if you squint) into tooth-rotting fluff !!! tiny bit of suggestive benedict at the very end but it’s not much !

author’s note: this is basically like a reverse to the anthony one i wrote because i have a big ol’ soft spot for benedict too after my latest rewatch. enjoy !!! [edited, but not thoroughly — will be returning to do so asap]

“You look astonishing, Y/N,�� Benedict’s eyes were wide when he saw you, “Absolutely astonishing.”

You blushed crimson under the intensity of his gaze, “You don’t look too bad yourself this evening, Lord Bridgerton.”

You never called him that — you’d known him far too long to consistently comply with formalities — but considering that it was one of your very first balls of your very first season, you had to be the picture of manners.

“It is so strange to hear you call me Lord Bridgerton,” Benedict screwed his face up, “Even if it does give me some small hope that you might consider me too as one of your many suitors.”

You shook your head gently with a laugh, “Oh, Benedict, as if you would wish to court me.”

Before he had a chance to retaliate with stern disagreement at your idea that it was such a preposterous notion, your eyes snapped up to see his brother entering the ballroom.

“Ah,” you grinned, noticing that he had spotted you both immediately and was on his way over to you, “It appears your brother has finally arrived!”

You didn’t look at Benedict for long enough to see the frown on his face at your apparent excitement.

For years, everyone around you had speculated about the closeness of your relationship with Benedict.

Granted, you were close with the whole family, but the tenderness with which Benedict treated you had always teetered on blatant romance even if neither of you had seen it before.

Of course he was aware of it now — he’d realised he was in love with you long ago as silly young teenagers, and now that you were finally out in society (emphasis on finally, as you had delayed doing so as much as possible) he had hoped to make that clear.

But of course your eyes were fixed on his brother, the Viscount, who had finally decided he wished to marry and therefore seemingly snatched all of your attention away from him.

“Good evening, my lord,” you curtsied, and Anthony laughed, “Such formality! How are you enjoying your first ball, Y/N? I trust my brother has not let you leave his side?”

You giggled, and as much as Benedict adored the sound of your laughter he couldn’t help the clenching of his jaw at his brother’s remark and your evident amusement.

“He has taken great care of me, undoubtedly,” you smiled, hands resting on Benedict’s upper arm for a moment as you leaned into him, “How do you feel about your first ball on the hunt for a wife?”

Anthony scoffed, “Consumed with dread, as expected,” he joked, “Brother, would you mind if I stole Y/N away for one dance? Only so that I might enjoy one last moment of vague freedom before I endure the onslaught of mamas I see staring me down?”

Benedict swallowed thickly, because yes he very much did mind you being stolen away to dance with a man who could provide for you so much better than he could.

He had always been second best to his brother, but never with you.

And now he felt rather ridiculous as he nodded meekly and watched you saunter away at the side of his own brother, who would never love you like he did nor treat you as more than a friend and a commodity necessary to the life of an important man.

“Of course.”

You smiled shyly over at Benedict as you followed Anthony away, and made a mental note to confront him about the sad look gracing his features as you did so.

“My brother is staring daggers into my skull already,” Anthony chuckled as you took your positions to dance, “I rather wonder why he was not dancing with you if he is so bothered by my doing so.”

You bit your lip, “We have danced together twice already, Anthony. In fact, I’ve danced only with him so far tonight. I feel… safe with Benedict. This is all so terrifying.”

As Anthony beamed down at you knowingly, you realised quite what he had initially said, “Whatever do you mean by him staring daggers? Why would he be doing that?”

“Oh, my dear Y/N, you must see that my poor fool of a brother is overcome with jealousy at our interaction,” he laughed as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Particularly now that I plan to marry. He quite clearly thinks that it is you I wish to do so with.”

You looked down at your feet for a moment, suddenly feeling shy.

When you remembered that you were talking to a man you knew like he was part of your own family, however, your head snapped back up — a smirk gracing your face.

“Oh, am I not to become Viscountess? I so had my hopes up!” you feigned a gasp, “In all seriousness, Anthony, why on earth would Benedict think we might marry and more so why on earth would he care so much?”

Anthony heaved out a deep sigh at that as you danced, almost irritated by your blatant ignorance to what was so clear.

“I don’t believe I should tell you the answer to that if you are somehow quite unaware of it yourself,” he shook his head, briefly meeting the eyes of his brother as he spun you, and smiled almost teasingly at him, “I hope that after stealing you from him for this dance he might finally discuss it with you himself.”

You rolled your eyes, “You jest, Anthony, because if you are trying to imply that he has affections towards me I’m sure you are sorely mistaken.”

Anthony stopped abruptly, quirking his eyebrow at you, “You truly are oblivious?”

You looked at him curiously, doe eyed and inquisitive as you waited for him to continue — or to resume dancing so you didn’t continue to feel all eyes on your frozen frames.

“Right, very well. I am going to walk away now, all smiles,” he informed you, plastering a smile on his face and nodding at the onlookers as he kissed the back of your hand to show no ill-will had halted your dance, “I would suggest that you get some fresh air, perhaps? My brother might… Come to check on you.”

You forced a smile as he silently moved away from you and towards the buffet table at the other side of the hall.

With a sharp breath you took his advice, despite your confusion, and lifted your skirt a little to busy your hands as you traipsed out of the ballroom and onto the balcony.

Like clockwork, Benedict Bridgerton found himself at your side in mere moments.

“Are you waiting here for my brother?”

The tension in the air was palpable, his voice low as he failed to hide the disappointment at his suspicions.

“Not for him, no.”

“Then for another?”

“I suppose so.”

“Apologies, then. I’ll leave you to it.”

You spun on your heel now as he turned to leave, touching his shoulder, “No, Benedict, I was waiting— for you.”

“For me?”

The incredulous smile on his face made your heart swell with hope — perhaps Anthony was right.

Maybe what you had spent all these years perceiving as friendship truly was reciprocated love all this time.

“Anthony claimed he believed you jealous, and that you thought we were attached,” you giggled, and he swore his heart melted at the sound of your gentle laughter, “And I was utterly unsure as to why you would believe that, let alone be jealous of it. But then he told me to get some fresh air and that you might find me here and I became hopeful.”

“Hopeful?”

“Yes. Hopeful that perhaps the feelings that have steadily grown on my part throughout the time I have known you might be returned. That perhaps you were not joking when you said you hoped I might consider you a suitor this season,” you blushed crimson as you served him your honest feelings on a silver platter.

He cocked his head to the side curiously, not quite believing you entirely though you were evidently being sincere, “Do you not wish to marry my brother?”

You scoffed, quickly covering your mouth with your hand at the outburst, but then sighed as you looked deeply into his eyes, “Of course not, Benedict.”

“But he is a Viscount — he could offer you so much more than I, and he seemed taken with you.”

“He was taken with making you jealous enough to confront me, my dear Benedict. He spent our dance essentially telling me to wise up and talk to you,” you bit your lip nervously, “Because he knows that I have long loved you, and believes that you feel the same.”

The curious smile on his face grew now into a beaming grin, his hands flying to take yours within them and bring them to his lips for a gentle kiss.

“I—, Y/N, I cannot— I cannot even begin to express the joy that those words have brought me,” the words tumbled from his lips like he couldn’t think fast enough to convey his feelings, “I have been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I settled for cherishing mere friendship because I feared I would not be… I would not be the man for you beyond that.”

You shook your head, “Benedict, surely you know how dear you are to me? I— at the very least in my heart, you are the man for me. I’ve been certain of it for so long and that is why I feared entering society so much. I didn’t want to marry for the sake of marriage and have to have the man I truly love as a mere friend. You are more than enough for me, Benedict, I feel safe with you — you are home to me.”

“And you are home to me, Y/N,” he was trying so very hard not to kiss you, his words soft and delicate as his breath fanned over your face due to your newfound close proximity, “If you would allow me to… I would like to court you. In fact, I would propose to you now if I was to allow my selfishness to take control. But I want you to be sure it is me you want, even if it hurts to see you dance and converse with others.”

“You’re all I could ever want, Benedict,” you spoke like it was utterly obvious, “And when you do propose, you can be certain of my acceptance. For now I am happy to share every dance with you and pretend we need to get to know each other to form an engagement. We have all of the time in the world.”

“We do.”

You were both breathing heavily, eyes glossy with the sheer emotion of the confessions you had just shared.

“I wish so badly that I could kiss you right now, but I fear I may not be able to control myself in future once I do,” his voice was barely above a whisper as you licked your lips, swallowing thickly.

“I wish— I wish you might kiss me too,” your reply was hardly even coherent, too love drunk to properly formulate your words, “More than anything.”

He was still holding onto your hands, and so he brought them up to ghost another kiss over them again, settling for this as he fought his urge to press his lips to yours instead.

“As you said, my love, we have all the time in the world,” there was a subtle undertone of what you might describe as lust in his tone now, intertwined with the love struck lilt he had been speaking with.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his lips ghosted up your forearm briefly before he brought them back down to your hands.

“And I cannot wait.”

———

horny benedict at the end to satiate my own need for that despite the intention for this to just be fluffy hahaha. hope you enjoyed !!!

feel free to keep requesting — and in the mean time here is my masterlist.

#bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton imagines #benedict bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton one shot #bridgerton one shot

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websterss · 2 years ago

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CUDDLE COMFORT — ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

SUMMARY: Evenings with Anthony are what you look forward to the most when given the chance to finally rest, especially after long cases.

WARNING(S): Slight insinuation but that’s it really, fluff

WORD COUNT: 2,222

PAIRING: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

A/N: Hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

After you had bid Lucy and George a goodnight. You hurriedly follow Anthony into his and yours shared bedroom. He was not in the mood after tonight's case, especially after having Kipps and his crew lend a hand. It didn’t take long for him to burst out of the stopped taxi and make his way inside. Now here you are, watching him try to wind down from the built up rage and exhaustion inside him.

You lean back against the door, it closes with a click. You tuck your hands into your back pockets. You lean your head back against the wood watching as Anthony furiously tries to undo the knot of his tie. He clenches his jaw as he pulls against the material. When it doesn’t budge he moves on to take his shoes off instead. One after the other being thrown off to the side carelessly, something you know he’ll regret doing by the morning. He lets out a sigh and tries to control his breathing. You take notice in the way his fist clenches.

You push off the door and make your way over to stand between his legs. He subconsciously widens his spread to allow you to get closer. You hum as you reach forward and gently work on the knot he couldn’t get undone himself. He finds comfort in your serene stature, your shoulders slouched and fimble hands moving swiftly and slowly. He envy’s the way you’re not nearly as bothered as he was. Kipps’ stupid face slowly starts to dissolve from his memory as your fingertips brush against his jaw. He reaches forward to pull you closer in by the waist. His fingertips lift the hem of your shirt just enough to graze your skin. It had been a long day and all he wanted was nothing more than to feel you under his fingertips. To revel in the linger of your soft touches and your lavender scent. You pull out the tie from around his neck and begin to wrap it around your hand. It doesn’t take long for his head to fall against somewhere along the area of your stomach. You glance down and start to thread your fingers through his locks. You add in the occasional back rub to help him further relax. He hums, enduring in the pleasure you relieve on his back muscles. You knew that Anthony needed to find tranquility within the four walls of his and yours bedroom, and fast, or else he’d spiral into madness.

He pulls back slowly. His tiredness was clear as day. His dark black circles only make his lack of sleep more apparent. He keeps his hands at your waist. Letting you take over. Your hands now work on removing his dress shirt. A few smudges of dirt coating the once white fabric. You mindlessly work your way down the shirt, finding solitude in the silence that washes over you two. His eyes watch your every move with attentiveness as you help him undress. A dynamic some wouldn’t understand but one you both relinquish in. It’s intimate…private. It was your thing.

You stand back up after undoing the last button. Anthony closes his eyes in delight as you push his disheveled locks back. “Pajamas tonight or…“ You trail off to allow him to ponder his choices. You smooth your hands over his collarbones and under his shirt to slide it off his shoulders. Anthony lifts his chin as he helps you maneuver the sleeves down to his wrist. You can feel the knobs turning in his head upon seeing his signature grin showcase itself. A glint of mischief glosses over his brown eyes.

“We could do without them tonight, no? Besides, they would just get in the way like always.” You throw your head back laughing. Only he would be in the mood after a horrendous day. You adored your boyfriend with a passion. He never fails to make your nights after a long ass day of ghost hunting. His stomach flutters hearing his favorite tune. It only makes him laugh along with you cause your laugh was incredibly affectionate.

“No.” You groan. Your face pinches into a pout. You hang on to his shoulders loosely, head still thrown back.

“Come on.” He tilts his head. Though he knew just from the shit day you’ve all had that you both would not last very long. He’d be surprised if he even lasted enough for a make out. He was barely surviving off of what little bit of energy he did have left. No way he’d be able to put in the energy to tango with you. You likewise. You weren’t any better. He could see it clearly on you just how exhausted you were. If his dark circles were anything to go by, it was the fact you weren’t even trying to hide how tired you were anymore. Your eyes weren’t far from drooping shut. You were ready for bed. You had allowed yourself to finally relax the minute you stepped foot inside the house. You were physically drained and yet you somehow still remained on your two feet. Your features are relaxed now. No lines visible. Just the crinkles from your squinted eyes. “We will not last a second, my darling.” He admits with a light laugh. His eyes begin to droop and fall shut for a split second. The hand in his hair was not allowing him to stay awake.

“A millisecond more like it…Anthony, I’m as dead as-“ You began with a complaint. Your brows furrow in thought. Your brain falters as you can’t manage to come up with anything to compare being as dead as. “Well…I’m not exactly sure now, but what I do know is that I am incredibly tired and on the verge of passing out.” You breathe out a laugh. A boisterous laugh emits past Anthony’s lips as you take off your jacket and shirt rather hastily. You blow a raspberry as you let the clothes hit the carpet. Your hands flop to your sides as you stand in an unflattering way. You might as well resemble the hunchback from Notre Dame. “Where’s your shirt?” You begin walking around the room to find your version of pajamas. Underwear and a big tee always do the trick for you. Anthony leans back against his hands. He arches a brow, amused as you shuffle back and forth. Your hands pressed against your bra covered breast as you searched for his shirt. An adorable habit of yours he loved.

“I think you forgot another layer.” His implication behind his smirk isn’t missed by you. You just choose to ignore him.

“Nope, I’m good.” You hum as you start throwing loose clothing around. “Where is it…” You mutter under your breath.

“Would you like me to assist you?” He begins unzipping his trousers, opting to exchange them for a pair of sweats.

“To find your shirt? Yeah that’d be nice!” You stifle a laugh watching his smirk fall. “Ah, there you are- haha.” You boast in victory. You let out a monster like growl, close enough to have you mistaken for the Cookie Monster. You slip the shirt over your head and through your arms. You reach behind you and unclip the bra from under the shirt. You slide the straps smoothly down each arm and take it out from the front of your shirt. Your smirk grows as you hold the bra in front of Anthony’s face. The strap dangling from your finger.

“I don’t know why you choose to remove it under the shirt. It’s not like I haven’t seen them before you know. Gorgeous might I add, they deserve to be freed.”

“I know they do…” You nod in agreement. “And I know you’ve seen them, but I’m tired. If I free them and show them to you, you’ll go primal on me. We’re tired, let’s just rest tonight, yeah? Sleep in. Also it feels a little bit exposing at the moment especially when I’m not in the mood.” You poke his stomach causing him to flinch away. “I felt the need to take my bra off this way-“

“No, no no. It’s okay. I get it. You don’t need to further explain it to me. I shouldn’t have implied or suggested that.” He holds you by the arms. A faint tired smile mirroring your own. He rubs his palms up and down your skin. You sigh and let your eyes fall shut. It doesn’t take long till he’s tugging you into bed with him. “No more further implications. Let’s just get into bed.” He crawls in through his side, while you crawl on the bed to get to yours. The covers are thrown back. Each of you taking to your preferred sides. You both settle under the covers after a passing of wiggling around to get situated. Anthony extends out his right arm, and you find your place cuddled up into his side. You sigh heavily. Groaning out a moan as the mattress and covers invite you with a warm embrace. You can feel the heat radiate off Anthony’s chest. He lets out a soft chuckle as he nuzzles his face into your neck. A tender kiss pressed against your skin. You hum in delight as he goes for your hands, intertwining them together. He brings your hand up to his lips, giving them a kiss which he transitions into draping your intertwined hands over your side. You occasionally switch up the spooning but it looks like he preferred to be the big spoon tonight. Who were you to argue with that? A beat passed then you started up with a softness in your tone. You both liked to converse about your days before sleep overtook you.

“I cannot believe that Kipps' crew came to the rescue once again.”

“We were not rescued.” He pulls you closer, a scoff falling in your ears. You roll your eyes. You know how prideful he grew to be. Too cocky to admit that this case was way out of your control.

“I don’t know...” You argued. “Having him pull you back over the railing seems like he rescued you.” You turn your head a tad to meet his eyes. He now rolled his eyes.

“I had it handled.”

“You were dangling from one arm.” You quirked a brow at him. “Your hand was slipping...”

“A mere moment of weakness.” He brushed it off. “Given another minute, I’d been able to pull myself over.” He gave his signature grin.

“Anthony.” You sighed. “You were rescued. They rescued us. Thank god they came when they did.” You settled your head on his shoulder. You raised your intertwined hands up to your lips to seal your love upon his knuckles. “I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you had they not. You’re here because of him whether you refuse to acknowledge that or not. We’re here, on account of the many times Kipps crew have saved us. You may hate him for showing up and granting us our lives again, but I’m grateful for that bloke alright. Thankful he’s given us another day to lay here...to cuddle and all.” You breathe out a shaky laugh. Tears brimming your waterline. You only lightly laugh further as he wraps his arms around you more securely.

“I do...I do acknowledge that the walking appendix has rescued us.” You scoffed at his attempts to compliment him. “I am grateful. I promise you I am.” He presses a kiss against your temple. “I cherish our cuddles entirely too much...”

“But?” You edge on.

“I am not admitting that we were in fact vulnerable nor thanking him.”

“I expected nothing less from you.” You pressed your cheek against his chest. Your eyes flutter. Sleep overpowering your bodies as you're wrapped in each other’s embraces.

“You’re gonna write him a letter and have us all sign it aren’t you?” He groans, his eyes closed shut, and his mind still awake at this point.

“Might even send a goody basket. Think he prefers doughnuts or strudels?” You hum out.

“I don’t care.” He shifts again and settles into a comfortable position. You hummed, finding comfort as silence fills the room again. A beat passes, then...

“Strudels.” He huffs, giving in. If he couldn’t stop you, he’d join you.

“Really? I saw him more as a pie sort of person.” Your face scrunches in question. Your eyes still remain shut.

“Strudels. End of discussion. Now go to sleep.” He groans as you get pulled flushed against his skin. His hands fiddle with the hem of your shirt under the covers. His hand doesn’t stray lower than the hem, only lifting it a bit to meet the skin of your stomach. You stop shifting and relax your muscles. Reveling in Anthony’s soft touches. He thought peace finally overcame you. That you both would fall asleep, which would put an end to this night, and wake to begin the start of the next day. He knew better than to welcome your silence so suddenly.

“I think I’m going to make him a pie instead.” Your eyes open, focused on the ceiling. Anthony groans, hiding his face in your neck.

“Go to sleep...” He muffles out.

“Strawberry or apple. Think he’d like apple?”

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood x fem!reader #anthony lockwood imagines #lockwood and co #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood & co #my gif #writings by juls

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atlabeth · 1 year ago

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between colleagues - anthony lockwood

part 2

summary: besides, what's a bit of fake dating between colleagues anyway?

a/n: i have missed him!!! there is just something so fun about writing for l&co and anthony specifically i truly love their world and i love him!! this was originally going to be the entire thing in one fic but i decided to post this on its own and test the waters with you all because i am TIREd of writing long fics. free me from my prison. this is literally my third fake-dating fic bc i never get tired of the trope but lmk if you want to see more

wc: 3.1k

warning(s): fem!reader, mentions of: canon typical job stuff, a child dying (mentioned in passing. literally half a line), and a good ol fashioned breakdown. but this is almost completely fluff bc that's all in the background

You groaned as Lockwood pushed the door open, working through the knot in your shoulder while you all walked inside. You tossed your rapier into the umbrella stand, not even bothered by the clatter, and began unbuckling your belt.

Winter was the worst season for ghost hunting. As if it weren’t already freezing enough dealing with Visitors and their effects, your most recent job was almost fully outside. You considered it a miracle hypothermia didn’t get you before any sort of ghost-touch.

“What are you groaning about?” Lockwood asked, glancing back at you. “I think tonight went rather well.”

He’d removed his jacket, and his white undershirt was dirt-stained and damp with sweat. Though he looked unaffected as ever on the surface, the quickened rise and fall of his chest said, in his own way, he was just as exhausted as the rest of you. You raised an eyebrow, but Lucy beat you to the punch.

“You think every night goes well if we come back alive,” she said wryly.

“It’s not the best measurement,” George added. He tilted the iron charm over the door back into place then set his bag on the floor. “Tonight was rough, Lockwood. Even by your ridiculous terms.”

Lockwood looked at you. “Anything you care to add?”

You grimaced as you rubbed your shoulder. “I’m never breaking down a door for you like this again.”

You did feel a bit like an action hero in the moment, but you regretted it soon after. Even more so when it didn’t even matter in the scheme of things—the source ended up being buried by the locked shed, not in the shed itself. At least you were now last in the rotation of opening suspicious doors.

“You offered to,” Lockwood defended.

“Because you said you would handle all the supply calls for the next week,” you said dryly. “And it looks like that may need to happen soon.” You held up your belt—once packed with salt bombs and magnesium flares, you’d emptied it completely trying to save all your lives. It was a sad sight.

He frowned. “Even the flares?”

“Even the flares,” you said.

“I’m all out of them too,” George said. “Surprised we didn’t start a full-on forest fire in the backyard.”

“I thought those would last longer.” Lockwood’s frown deepened. “They were quite expensive.”

“At least we got paid a fair bit,” Lucy said. “And we did indeed get away with our lives.”

“Barely,” George grumbled, kicking off his boots. He tossed his rapier haphazardly to the side, not even bothering to deposit it into your umbrella stand, and dropped his belt on the ground, still boasting a whole two remaining salt bombs. Your lip curled at the trail of chaos. “I’m going to bed. No one bother me for at least fifteen hours.”

Lucy smiled, shaking her head as he walked off. “Dramatic, but he’s got the right idea. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“See you, Luce,” Lockwood said.

“I’ll be quiet when I come in,” you assured, and she gave an appreciative nod. Lucy dropped a stack of envelopes on the kitchen table before she went upstairs—it was her job to pick up the mail, and you were honestly surprised she remembered after all this.

“You’re not mad at me,” Lockwood said, glancing at you as he went over to pick up the mail, “are you?”

“No,” you sighed, and you flopped onto the couch, “just dramatic. More so than George tonight.”

He chuckled and leaned against the counter, making deft work of the envelopes as he sorted them into piles. One for the never-ending junkmail that graced your door, and four others for each of you. “Good. I can never handle you being mad at me.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you stared up at the ceiling. “You’re off the hook this time, so don’t worry.”

“And I appreciate your mercy immensely,” he said. Another glance over at you. “You look exhausted. Are you sure you don’t want to turn in?”

You shook your head. “Our post-job detox is the most important part of all this. I can hold out for another hour.”

It was hardly a detox, but it had grown to become a necessity for you and Lockwood, sitting together and talking through everything in the wee hours of the night.

One extremely tough case left you reeling harder than usual—children always got to you, and the girl’s death was particularly grisly—and apparently, Lockwood could tell.

It took a couple days of gentle prodding, but one night, after being completely out of it in the archives with him that day, you broke—completely. Full on sobbing. Wholly embarrassing to do so in front of your boss, especially when he, George, and Lucy didn’t seem half as affected by it all.

It turned out he was just better at covering it all up—Lockwood understood it all a lot better than you thought. He just sat with you in the living room and talked with you, talked you through it. There was a lot of crying, a fair bit of permanently swearing off ghost-hunting, and more than a bit of hatred against the entirety of the United Kingdom.

By the end of it, though, after you’d cried yourself into a headache, gone through a quarter of a box of tissues, and actually worked out your problems with Lockwood’s help, you felt far better.

Lockwood thereby forbade you from holding in your feelings until they burst, and so it became a routine—it was cheaper than therapy, and most therapists, save for the few former agents working in the field, couldn’t understand it anyways. You usually slumped on the couch, Lockwood usually leaning against the counter. Sometimes with tea, often with tears, always with slightly morbid jokes.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?” Lockwood asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“It’ll heal,” you said. “It’s mostly just sore. I’ll stay away from my rapier for a few days, sleep on my other side for once, and everything’ll be fine.”

“Good.” The ruffling of paper stopped for a moment, and his voice was slightly sheepish when he spoke again. “Are you still up for that meeting with the Caldecotts tomorrow, then?”

You groaned and screwed your eyes shut. “Lockwood, it is three in the bloody morning. You scheduled the Caldecotts for eleven.”

“I didn’t know that this job would go on for so long!” he defended. “The last few have all wrapped up before midnight. It’s not my fault this Visitor was particularly elusive.”

“I am drenched in sweat, Lockwood,” you said. “Half of my coat is burnt from plasm and the other half is frozen solid. There is still dirt under my fingernails, my boots are covered in spiderwebs, and I haven’t slept in twenty-three hours. And you want me to be ready to deal with Lorena Caldecott, the most annoying woman I think I have ever met, in eight measly hours?”

“Yes,” he said brightly. That just got another groan out of you.

“They made you in a lab, Anthony Lockwood,” you mumbled. “That’s the only explanation for how you’re still going.”

He chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll phone them first thing tomorrow morning—well, later this morning, I suppose—and see if I can push it back another day.”

“And if not, you’re doing this on your own,” you said, finally opening your eyes again to see him walking over. He handed you your stack of mail—hardly a stack, really, only consisting of four envelopes—and smiled, irritatingly pretty even with smudges of dirt on his face. There was a reason he got away with so much, and that smile was half of it.

Lockwood said your name cloyingly. “Come on. You know I do interviews best when we’re together. You keep me on track.”

“I knocked down a door for you, Lockwood!” you proclaimed. “Is that not enough to get me out of this?”

“I took the supply calls,” he said, “and I’m pushing back the meeting. We’re even now.”

“Fine,” you said, extremely grudgingly. “But you’re getting them to push it back at least until tomorrow, because once my head hits the pillow, I don’t think I’ll be up for at least twenty-four hours.”

“Promise,” he said with a nod.

You sighed, finally righting yourself so you could look at your mail, and glanced up at Lockwood as you picked them up. “You get anything interesting?”

He shook his head. “Unless you consider a letter from Fittes begging me to buy the newest edition of their manual interesting.”

You hummed and looked back down at yours. You slipped your finger under the seal and tore it open, chuckling a bit when you took it out.

“How about you?” Lockwood asked.

“25% off my next Dorothy Perkins purchase,” you said, holding the coupon up. “Very thrilling.”

“Incredibly so,” he nodded. “When’s the last time you even got something from there?”

You huffed a laugh as you worked open the next envelope. “I bought a dress for my cousin’s graduation last year. Haven’t worn it since.”

“So doubly thrilling,” he said.

You’d opened your mouth to shoot back, but instead you frowned as you pulled an embossed card out. You skimmed through it quickly enough but got the meaning all the same.

“Huh,” you said. “My cousin is getting married.”

Lockwood raised an eyebrow. “Dorothy Perkins cousin?”

You shook your head, still frowning. “No. Maternal aunt’s son. Dorothy Perkins was paternal aunt’s son.”

“Ah,” he said dryly, “how could I have made such a mistake?”

You didn’t even have the energy to retort back as you stared at the letter. “I suppose I’ll need to pull out that dress again. It’s an invite.”

“Congratulations,” Lockwood said. “Are you going to need time off?”

“I don’t even know if I should go,” you mumbled, leaning your head against the side of the couch.

“Why wouldn’t you go?” he asked with a frown.

“Because I haven’t seen my family in a while,” you said, “and I haven’t seen this side of the family in an even longer while.”

Lockwood shrugged. “Then it’ll be a nice reunion.”

“Lockwood,” you said, “I’ve lied to them.”

“…Okay,” he said slowly. “About what?”

You winced. “They think I have a boyfriend.”

He still seemed lost. “Strange thing to lie about.”

“You don’t understand.” You sat up, putting the letter to the side. “My family’s from Liverpool, right? We’re all so busy that we never really have time to meet up, but I make it a point to call my mother a few times a month so she knows I’m still alive.”

Lockwood nodded. “Yeah, I know. You usually call her after every rough case.”

“Right. Because my mum hates my career,” you said. “I thought she was going to have a heart attack when I told her I’d scored my first job with Tendy’s. I thought she would actually pass away when I told her I quit Tendy’s for you.” You glanced at Lockwood. “She thinks you’re a lunatic, by the way.”

He shrugged. “Many do.”

You smiled and shook your head. “She hates that I’m an agent, but so long as I stay alive, she says she can deal with it. But she has a rule on our calls that I can’t talk about our jobs—says they give her nightmares. So instead, she talks about every facet of my personal life.”

Lockwood’s eyes finally flashed with understanding and he nodded. “Hence the boyfriend lie?”

“Hence the boyfriend lie,” you echoed. “She will not stop bothering me about it—apparently the dating life of her daughter is more important than anything else. So on our last call, I just lied and told her I had one to get her off of my back.”

Lockwood actually had the nerve to laugh. “And how did that work out for you?”

“It worked fine,” you said, “and it was going to continue to be fine. But then Will had to go out and get engaged, the dolt.”

“So just go on your own,” he suggested.

“I can’t show up alone,” you grumbled. “Not only would it be completely embarrassing, but the questions would start up all over again.”

“Then don’t go.”

“I can’t not go!” you exclaimed. “Will’s a lovely cousin.”

“You just called him a dolt,” Lockwood said.

“I call you a dolt all the time,” you said. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like you.”

Lockwood chuckled and shook his head, and that was when an idea came to you. There was a slight furrow in his brow when he glanced back at you.

“I don’t like that look.”

“Come to the wedding with me,” you said suddenly.

Lockwood’s expression sobered even further. “You can’t be serious.”

“It’s the perfect solution!” you exclaimed, moving to the edge of the couch as you clasped your hands together.

“You want me to be your pretend boyfriend,” he deadpanned. When you nodded, he shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“Why would I be joking?” you asked. “You’re quite possibly the best candidate for it all. We’re best friends, we know each other well— God, I’ve talked about you enough in general to my mum that she won’t even be surprised that it ended up being you.”

Lockwood’s eyebrows rose. “Won’t they look down on you dating your boss?”

“You’re hardly my boss,” you said.

“I pay your salary,” he said. “You live in my house. My name is on the door.”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” you said. “Besides, you owe me after tonight!”

He frowned. “We just agreed that we were even.”

“Well, I lied,” you said. “My shoulder is in excruciating pain from knocking that door down, and the only way for it to heal is for you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

He gave you a wry look and said your name. “Come on. This is an awful idea.”

“It’s a brilliant idea,” you said. “You get a chance to dress up and charm an entire family—you live for that sort of stuff, Lockwood. I finally get my family off my back with some actual proof and I actually get a break for once.”

You saw the uncertainty on his face and you huffed. “Don’t give me that look. This is the exact sort of plan you’d come up with and try to force on me if it meant we’d get a hand up.”

“I know,” he said grudgingly, “that’s why I don’t like it. It’s dangerous when you start learning my tricks.”

“Please, Lockwood,” you begged. “I’ll do all your chores for the rest of the month. I’ll shake Lorena Caldecott’s hand with a smile on my face.”

“That is tempting,” he said wryly. “I can never fold my dress shirts the way you do.”

“Wrinkle-free dress shirts,” you said with a gesture. “And— and, I will cash in my favor with Arif. Discounted doughnuts for the next three months.”

Lockwood’s eyes widened. “You’ve got favors with Arif?”

You shrugged. “I helped him out a couple times with ghost things.”

He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “You really are something.”

“Discounted doughnuts, Lockwood,” you continued. “Discounted doughnuts and wrinkle-free shirts and my best behavior for the Caldecotts, no matter how sleep-deprived I am.”

“…This really means a lot to you,” Lockwood said after a moment, “doesn’t it.”

You nodded. “My family— my mum—will never lay off if I show up alone. If you’re on my arm, you talk a bit about yourself and compliment me a few times and charm them with literal ghost stories, then I’m off the hook for good.”

Lockwood pursed his lips, his arms folded across his chest as he thought it through.

“Please,” you said. “It’ll just be one night.”

After another moment, he let out a sigh almost as dramatic as your earlier ones, but his lips quirked up at the corners.

“Fine,” Lockwood said. “I’ll go with you.”

Your eyes widened. “You will?”

“Yes,” he said with a laugh. “It— it’ll be fine—you’re right. We’ve been living together for the past year and a half—we know each other well enough to sell it. And with half the agency going out for it, I can write off any hotels or dinners as business expenses.”

That got a laugh out of you too, and you shook your head. “You are my savior, Lockwood. Truly.”

“Just means we’re back in your court on favors,” he joked. “And you know what? I think this could actually be fun.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he nodded. “Besides,” Lockwood smiled wryly at you as he stood up from his spot against the counter, “what’s a bit of fake dating between colleagues anyway?”

You huffed a laugh and finally managed to pull yourself back up into a sitting position. You cracked your neck and rubbed your shoulder, grimacing a bit at the soreness but thankful that it wasn’t worse. “Can we work out the rest of the details later? I’m exhausted, and I know you’ve got to be running on fumes.”

His smile softened and he nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Later today, I suppose.” He frowned as he looked at the clock. “God. It really is late.”

You hummed in agreement as you unlaced your boots, trying your best to avoid the spiderwebs when you took them off. That was your number one question about the Problem—why the hell did spiders have to gravitate towards ghosts?

“Get some sleep, Lockwood,” you said, setting your boots with everyone else’s shoes. That mess was an issue for another day. “You’ve got to be refreshed—those supply calls aren’t going to make themselves.”

Lockwood rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t completely bite back his smile. “Best behavior for the Caldecotts, love.”

“And nothing less!” you exclaimed without turning around, pointing in the air as you continued up the stairs. You heard Lockwood laugh behind you, and the sound brought out a smile of your own.

It was now nearly four in the bloody morning. Your shoulder still ached, your coat was beyond repair, and you would have to scrub beneath your nails for at least ten minutes before you settled in tonight. But somehow, Lockwood still had you smiling and feeling better about the whole experience.

For god’s sake, you fought ghosts on a daily basis. You’d been training with a rapier since the tender age of eight. Your skills rivaled some of Fittes’ and Rotwell’s best—who cared what your family had to say about you?

You were right. This wedding would be a piece of cake with Anthony Lockwood by your side.

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood x you #lockwood & co x reader #lockwood & co #x reader #reader insert #sadie writes

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bosbas · 11 months ago

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Chapter 12: did you wish you'd put up more of a fight?

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 4.1k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, mutual pining, physical altercation (nothing serious but a few mentions of blood), mentions of sex if you squint, benedict being so so stupid

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: guys idk anything about physical fights sorry if this is super unrealistic LMAO

August 12, 1814 - But, dear reader, I cannot fail to mention the upcoming gathering hosted by the Bridgertons at Aubrey Hall. Those lucky enough to receive an invitation are surely busy preparing for the eventful trip ahead. Every year, the Bridgerton country party proves to be an excellent hunting ground for ambitious mamas with daughters of marriageable age. Will this year's party bring forth new proposals? Whispers around the ton indicate that a certain Bridgerton brother might propose to Miss Y/N Beaumont, and that would certainly be the news of the season. Fear not, for this author shall keep the ton abreast of any and all developments.

"I beg your pardon?" he spoke, tone low and venomous as he breathed heavily. "What the bloody hell did you just say?"

Benedict saw you exchange a nervous glance with his older brother and his blood boiled at the sight. It was him you should be exchanging glances with. Not Anthony, of all people. He could hardly believe it. In fact, he didn't believe it at all. This had to be some sick joke, some cruel prank that you and his brothers and perhaps even your brothers had all been in on to rag on him for disappearing to the countryside for a month and a half. He desperately wanted you to burst out laughing and start making fun of him for believing that you and Anthony were to get married. But as the seconds ticked by, it became more and more unlikely that this was the case.

Interrupting your prolonged eye contact with Anthony, you looked down at your hands anxiously. This was not how it was supposed to go. There was no nature walk, no time alone with Ben, just an angry Benedict standing at the door to Anthony's study, waves of fury rolling off of him. A small part of you had hoped he would be angry, yes, but now that you were seeing him, unmoving, you wanted nothing more than to disappear from the room. You wished Ben had come ten minutes earlier, where you would have greeted him with a hug instead, feeling his strong arms make themselves at home as they wrapped around you. Benedict was not often angry, especially not at you, but when he was, he usually voiced his displeasure quite loudly to anyone who would listen. However, knowing he was standing there, stock-still and seething, you weren't quite sure how he was going to react.

"How much of that did you hear, exactly?" you asked meekly, trying to gauge how much damage control you would have to do. You kept your gaze firmly on your hands, unable to meet his eyes and slightly fearful of his silent anger.

"Enough to know that my brother is the man you're marrying," Benedict responded, sounding angrier than he was when he first walked in, if that was possible. "I see it's been quite a productive season," he added in a clipped tone.

Your head snapped up at his last comment. You felt Anthony tense beside you as he felt your anger rising, but you didn't care. How dare Benedict blame you for finding a husband after he so unceremoniously walked away from you? Meeting Ben's intense gaze and flinching as you practically felt the daggers shooting from his eyes, you yelled back, "What did you expect, Benedict? You walked away from me and I did exactly what you wanted me to do. I found a husband. I don't know what more you want from me."

Try as you might to keep your voice strong, a wobble at the end had betrayed your true feelings. You had sounded more pleading than anything, but you were beyond caring. You were absolutely crushed, and you could see that Benedict was hurting as well. After years of looking into his eyes, you could recognize that he, too, was hiding sorrow behind his anger. Trying to remain composed, you bit the inside of your cheek as you felt Anthony reach over and place a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"I didn't–" started Benedict, unable to continue once he saw Anthony's hand on you. It was true, then. The courtship. Or the proposal. Or whatever else you two had been doing while he was in the countryside five seconds away from tearing his hair out in desperation because he loved you so much. Suddenly, it was difficult to remember why exactly he hadn't wanted to marry you. Marrying you couldn't have been worse than what he was feeling right now, the devastating realization of having truly lost you. Surely nothing could be worse than this.

Carrying the unspeakable grief that came with losing one's best friend and soulmate all in one evening, Benedict turned around to walk out of Anthony's office. He couldn't bear to be there any longer, watching the woman he loved be caressed by his brother. Without a second glance at the two of you, he closed the door behind him and made his way to his own room. He would have been better off going there in the first place, he thought. Then he could've had a few more moments of peace before he found out what you and Anthony had been up to in his absence.

Looking at the closed door, Anthony's hand dropped from your shoulder as he stood in shock at what had just happened. "Are you alright?" he asked you, knowing the answer but needing to reassure you anyway.

You shook your head, holding in tears that were threatening to spill. "Someone should go after him," you said pressing your fingers to the corner of your eyes. What you really meant was, you should go after him, Anthony, but you wanted to give him a chance to say no. To decide he wasn't going to clean up yet another mess you had made because of your stupid feelings for his brother.

But Anthony, ever the eldest child, nodded in agreement. "Just stay put for a bit while I get him into his room. I don't think it would be the best idea to have the two of you talk right now."

Aubrey Hall had already seen too much chaos today without what he expected was going to be a shouting match between you and Benedict. If only the shouting match could lead to the two of you realizing that you did, in fact, love each other very much and that you would, in fact, be very happily married. He gave you one last squeeze on the shoulder and took off determinedly to find his brother.

Benedict saw Anthony catching up to him out of the corner of his eye but didn't stop or slow down. He couldn't bear to stop now, he needed to get to his room. Or really anywhere that was stripped of every trace of you. Benedict could barely think, the moment when Anthony placed his hand on your shoulder replaying relentlessly through his mind and preventing him from thinking about anything else.

Feeling Anthony stop right behind him, Benedict turned around to face him. The two brothers stood, staring at each other, for several moments. Anthony trying to think of what to say and Benedict getting angrier by the second.

"If you had–" started Anthony, only to be cut off by Benedict immediately.

"How could you do this?" Ben shouted, voice raw from holding back the string of curses he wanted to direct at Anthony right now. Anthony bit his lip, grimacing. He knew Benedict would be mad, but he had been unprepared for the magnitude of his fury. In a way, he felt bad for Ben. Anthony could tell that you were the love of Benedict's life—it was ridiculously obvious—and it couldn't have been easy to see you with someone else. But enough was enough, and Anthony had seen you heartbroken for long enough to know that Ben had only brought this upon himself.

"Might I remind you that you left, Benedict? After she asked you to marry her, no less," shot back Anthony, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He could see Ben waver at his words, face blanching slightly at the realization that you had told Anthony about your quasi-proposal.

"And you think you're better than me? Anyone with half a brain knows you don't want to marry for love. Did that change in the last four weeks? Are you now suddenly unequivocally in love with her? Is that what happened?" asked Benedict, an unfathomable bitterness on his tongue. His words were mocking, but deep down he did want answers. Did you and Anthony really fall for each other while he was gone? Had he been that foolish, to ever imagine the possibility of having something beyond friendship with you when his older brother was right there?

Anthony rolled his eyes, "Come off it, Benedict. You can't play the victim every time. She's aware that I don't want to marry for love. After some very negative experiences with the men of the ton, you included, she's decided she is perfectly fine not marrying for love either." Seeing Benedict's brow furrow in protest, Anthony continued, "Honestly, I promise I didn't force her into anything, I only gave her the option. She decided all by herself that this was what she wanted. And if you'd stop being a prick for about two seconds you'd realize this is what's best for her, anyway. That I'm what's best for her." And sure, Anthony knew he had probably gone too far with his last comment, but Benedict was being incredibly frustrating at the minute that Anthony didn't care.

However, Benedict didn't want to stop being a prick for two seconds. Especially because you were about to get engaged to his brother, who was being a massive dick right now. So instead, he chose to give into his anger, pushing against Anthony's shoulders so he was knocked against the wall.

"That you're what's best for her?" he scoffed. "I've been best friends with her for two decades but suddenly you're the one who knows exactly what she needs? Seems quite logical," finished Ben, pure poison dripping from his voice.

Undeterred, Anthony pushed Benedict back. "What is so wrong about our courtship? You left her so she could find a husband and that's exactly. What. She. Did," he yelled, accentuating every word with a shove at Ben's shoulders, who responded by swatting his hands away.

"She was off limits, Anthony. You knew that! You never should've done that," cried Benedict, grabbing his brother by the collar, and growing more frustrated by the second. However, whether he was angrier at Anthony or himself was unclear.

Exasperated, the elder Bridgerton reached over to slap the side of Benedict's head. "Off limits? Why would she be off limits? She seemed pretty on limits when you said you couldn't marry her and fucked off to the countryside for half the season," came his response.

"Because she is my best friend," Benedict roared back. Hearing Anthony's mocking laugh brought out a level of anger Ben did not know existed within himself, and he found his fist flying to make contact with Anthony's mouth. Ignoring the metallic taste on his tongue, Anthony responded by kneeing Benedict in the groin until he doubled over and slammed the fist that had just hit him into the wall.

Ben cradled his hand against his side, wincing as he saw his grazed knuckles, but he was unrelenting. It was like all of the pent-up emotions of frustration and uselessness he had been feeling in the countryside were finally bubbling over now that he had someone to direct his anger toward. "Because she is my best friend and you know that I'm in love with her. I know you know, Anthony, you cannot pretend otherwise," he said, desperation evident in his voice.

Fairly done with the conversation and itching to go sort out his busted lip, Anthony tried to straighten out his collar as he spoke to Benedict, "Well, even if you are, it doesn't do her much good if you have no intention of marrying her, does it?"

Benedict was stunned to silence. Anthony was right, of course, but Ben couldn't find it in himself to concede to the man who was going to take away Benedict's best friend and the love of his life all in one go. So he just stared at his brother, breathing heavily and searching for words that would not give away just how destroyed he truly felt.

"I am proposing to her in a week. You have until then to fix this, otherwise, you will truly have lost her forever." And with that, Anthony walked off without a second glance, leaving Benedict to grapple with his thoughts.

Walking upstairs in search of something to stop the bleeding at his lip, Anthony couldn't believe that Benedict had admitted his feelings for you. The intensity of the argument between the two brothers had most likely been the catalyst for the confession, but Anthony hoped that this might be what allowed Ben to finally see right by you and love you the way he so obviously wanted to. Regardless, Anthony couldn't help the protective instinct that surged within him. He cared about you, and he was acutely aware of the heartbreak that awaited you if his brother didn't come to his senses.

Too caught up in his thoughts, Anthony missed your presence entirely as he made his way past your room. "Anthony, your lip!" you exclaimed as you closed your bedroom door behind you, bringing him out of his musings. He touched his hand to his injury, hissing in pain slightly as he was reminded of the blood coming out of his cut lip.

He waved his hand dismissively, "It's alright, just a scrape," he assured you.

You seemed doubtful but nodded anyway. "I was going to ask how your talk with him went but I think I have a very clear idea," you said, earning you a short laugh from Anthony.

He cleared his throat, looking at you up and down with a mix of concern and determination. The atmosphere in the room was heavy, charged with the aftermath of the confrontation with Benedict.

"Look, I gave you my word, and a gentleman's word is his bond. I fully intend to honor our agreement," Anthony began, his tone steady and resolute. "But, I also think it's crucial for both you and Benedict to have a conversation, to sort out feelings on both sides."

You looked at him nervously, not ready to confront your feelings for Benedict, let alone any that Benedict might have for you.

He gave you an encouraging smile. "If you decide you still want to marry me afterward, that's perfectly alright, and I'd be delighted to do so. But I think it's only fair that you both have a chance to speak your minds before we move forward." He met your eyes, sincerity evident in his gaze. "Talk to Benedict. I think he went to his studio. I'll give you both the time you need."

You knew he was right, unfortunately. So you nodded, giving him a grateful hug before he excused himself to go clean up his injury and you headed down the stairs to go look for Benedict.

---

In the solitude of his studio, Benedict wrestled with a storm of emotions he was feeling as he paced the room. He couldn't believe that he was going to lose you to his brother. Even if you and Anthony were not in love with each other now, it was only a matter of time, he reasoned. You were, at the very least, the most extraordinary woman he had ever encountered, and surely Anthony would see it that way eventually. Especially if the two of you had children. His heart dropped at the thought of you and Anthony in bed together, but he pushed the image away once he heard a knock on his studio door.

Seeing your face poke into the room, he couldn't help the butterflies that erupted in his stomach, even despite his tumultuous thoughts. "Well, hello," he greeted you curtly, lifting his hand to run his fingers through his hair nervously, knowing a difficult conversation awaited him.

But you gasped before you could respond, immediately distracted by his bloodied knuckles. "Benedict, what on earth...?" you trailed off as you rushed to grab his injured hand in both of yours.

Benedict's breath caught in his throat as he felt your hands on his. The tenderness with which you turned over his hand made a previously dormant warmth rise in his chest, and he bit his lip to keep from shivering. You looked so beautiful, face pinched in focus as you ran your finger over his injury, and he inhaled sharply as your finger traced over his open wound.

"So this is what you and Anthony were doing instead of talking, then?" you scolded, looking into his eyes but not letting go of his hand. It didn't matter that you were still furious with him, it felt too good to have the heavy weight of his fingers half-intertwined with yours after so long of having him away.

"It's nothing," Benedict responded, shaking his head. Then, remembering why his knuckles were grazed in the first place, he added bitterly, "Why don't you go check on Anthony instead?"

Your face fell immediately and you dropped his hand. He hadn't meant to upset you, and he certainly hadn't meant to make you let go of his hand, but it seemed like his anger and jealousy had taken the reins today. But even when you were angry with him and looked about three seconds away from hitting his other hand, he couldn't help but marvel at you. He was completely enamored, looking from your furrowed brow to your narrowed eyes to your full lips. And his eyes stayed on your lips because it seemed that no matter how angry you were he couldn't ignore the ever-growing urge to kiss you right then and there, consequences be damned.

You rolled your eyes, anger bubbling up inside of you once again. "Benedict, I simply don't understand why you're so upset. If anything, marrying Anthony is a better option than marrying anyone else. Our families will remain close and you and I can still see each other fairly often. And once you're married–"

"I'll never marry," he interrupted, voice clipped. He was appalled that you would even suggest that, although he reasoned that you had no reason to believe that he wouldn't marry.

You look at him, confusion written all over your face. "I– What? What do you mean you will never marry? Benedict–"

"I love you," Ben blurted out. "I love you in a way that even words cannot express. I would rather remain unmarried than be with someone who isn't you," he added, needing to make sure that you understood that he loved you beyond what the boundaries of your friendship allowed. He had thought that you might fall in love with some other man, and he would be fated to watch you be besotted with someone else. However, now that he knew that you intended to marry Anthony, who you were most definitely not in love with, he needed you to know that he was the one who had loved you for years now. And he hoped that you might love him, too.

But you did not swoon like he expected. And you did not rush into his arms to kiss him or confess your undying love for him. You didn't even smile. "Are you joking?" you said angrily.

Benedict's eyes widened, shocked by your response. "I'm not– Why would I be joking?" he stumbled over his words.

"First you tell me you won't marry me, which is fine by the way, and then you leave so I can find a husband, which is also fine. Except," you let out a disbelieving laugh, "once you find out that your older brother is the man I'm going to marry, you are suddenly in love with me." You're still staring at him, daring him to challenge you. "It's a little too convenient, don't you think?"

He was panicking, horrified that you thought his confession was merely a way to get back at you for going after his brother. Guilt was coursing through his stomach in an entirely unpleasant manner, and he was struggling to find the words to convey his love for you in a way that you deserved to hear.

"It's not like that! I do love you. I want you and I don't want anyone else," he said desperately, reaching for your hand so he could reassure you.

But you were having none of it. After all this time, you couldn't believe he had the nerve to show up at Aubrey Hall, get into a fight with your future husband, and then confess his supposedly undying love for you. Feeling his hand clutching yours, a feeling so familiar, brought tears to your eyes. You ripped your hand away from his, not able to parse the gentleness with which he held your hand with his careless words.

"Stop it! Having you leave after I asked you to marry me was painful, but this might be the cruelest thing you've ever done, Benedict," you said, tears blurring your vision. "You can't just march in here after weeks of being away and demand that I stop my plans so that you can get back at your brother."

Benedict's eyes welled with tears, reflecting the pain that echoed in your own. He couldn't believe you still wanted to marry Anthony after all this. You were his one big love. There was no one else. And it was all too much to think that you didn't feel the same way.

So he pressed, "Is my love not enough? I have been falling apart on my own from the magnitude of my love for you. Should that not be enough? To know that I love you with every fiber of my being, more fiercely than I've ever done anything in my entire life?"

Tears were running unobstructed down your face now and you choked back a sob. If Benedict had told you this about six weeks ago, you would have dropped everything to be with him. But it was too late now.

"It's not enough when I had been feeling the exact same way and you still walked away from me," you responded, clutching his hand for comfort even though he was the one who had caused you pain.

He pulled you in fully, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing your back comfortingly. Benedict put his chin on your head as you buried your face in his shirt, breathing in his familiar scent that never failed to make you feel at home.

"I'm sorry, darling. I'm so sorry," he murmured, hugging you tighter when he heard you sob. "I suppose being in love with you feels so natural I didn't quite realize what it was until recently." He kept rubbing your back, tracing patterns on your skin.

"And– And I thought I was ruining our friendship. When I wanted you, I kept thinking I shouldn't have been," Ben added, cringing as he realized the gravity of his misunderstanding.

You were overwhelmed by his confession, barely believing that he actually reciprocated the feelings you had struggled to keep hidden for so long. You couldn't help the steady stream of tears running down your face, and you burrowed deeper into Benedict, needing to be closer still. You felt one of his hands lifting your face to look up at him and the other keeping you pressed firmly against him. Your tear-stained eyes met his as you sniffled, struggling to breathe normally.

You watched, almost in slow motion, as Benedict's eyes fluttered shut and leaned down, lips slightly parted as he leaned down toward you. This was everything you wanted, wasn't it? In the rose garden, you had wanted him to kiss you more than you had wanted to keep breathing. You had probably spent hours looking at his lips, wondering what it would be like to taste them. To have them on your lips and enjoy the feel of them as they moved against yours. To know what it felt like to have Benedict be truly yours.

But that was then, and you wanted different things now. So you broke free of his grasp and pushed him away, breathing heavily as he opened his eyes in shock and looked to you for an explanation.

"You can't just do that, Ben! We haven't resolved anything, and it certainly won't be resolved by you kissing me," you exclaimed, playing up your anger to hide your pain.

So you turned on your heel, exiting his studio as quietly as you had entered, and he was left, for the second time that day, speechless as someone walked away from him.

—

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ms-fade · 1 year ago

Text

Day 3 of Kinktober

Public toy play.

Anthony Lockwood x Fem!Reader. 18+ Drabble.

Warnings: Public play, Toy play, Vibratater, Slight sir kink, someone talking to the reader when she’s getting pleasured, Cum control.

You couldn’t believe that you said yes to this.

He was so charming when he asked you all those mouths ago and he knew when to ask you, how to ask you. Lockwood had you pinned against the bed as you laid on your back with your legs wrapped around him. All you could do was cry at the overstimulated he gave you by giving you his cock all night until the sun was about to come up. He knew you’d do anything to be called a good girl so when he ask with his cock buried in your cunt, he knew you’d say yes.

It’s been mouths since then and you forgot about it, not even taking him seriously until he showed you the controllable bullet. It was purple and had a wire having out it for easy removal, the fucking smirk on his face made you annoyed. “I wasn’t joking sweetheart.” You spend about ten minutes trying to persuade him away from the idea, but you had to admit it did seem hot. “Let me try it once, the thought about it- Fuck. It turns me on so much.” That sent shivers down through your core and you had no choice but to indulge his fantasy.

In the little shop that sold your favorite items for missions for cheap he decided to control you there. Behind the shelfs you stood with your hands gripping the metal and forcing yourself to stand up. “Hmm.” You tried to keeper your mouth shut but it was so hard when it felt so good. Lockwood was watching from the aisle across with the controller in his hand. His cock hard while watching you try and keep your composure.

Pushing a bit further your hand pushed off a book on the floor and it was load you jumped in shock. “Oh fuck,” you whispered and looked over at your boyfriend with a glare. He just laughed and turned up the setting for giving him attitude. Your pussy clinched at the new sensation and your knees become so weak you almost feel. “Oh shit.” You moaned and looked down at the book trying to pick it up and act normal.

“Excuse me miss,” a voice called from behind you and made your face go pale. “Do you need any help?” Turning your head slightly around you saw a boy with a name tag and a store outfit on, his features similar to lockwoods. “Just fine, I have a-” the toy changed vibrations and started to pulse within you and you fell back a bit with a groan. “Had a nasty fight on a hunt- Oh. Could you pick up that book for me?” You held your stomach to act like it hurt so he wouldn’t get suspicious.

He bent down and picked up the black book and handed it back to you with a smile, “Anything else you need? We have medical supplies here if you need it.” Nodding you pushed back onto the shelfs and took a break to lean on something.

“Actually, I’m just looking around but I’ll call you if I need anything..” you smile and trail down to his name tagged, “Marcus.” Lockwood saw how the boy looked at you. In other situations he would jump over and feel jealous but not now, not when he’s about make you cum. It was hot to see him think he has a chance but he’s the one in control of you.

The boy walked off and as soon as he did you made a “O” face and your legs shacked with pleasure. You hummed and tried to grind on something that wasn’t there, you needed to cum so badly. Looking back over to lockwood you mouthed him a plead for permission to cum. It was perfect for him to see you begging to cum when you had hated the idea before.

Instead of a nod of approval you got nothing, his fingers clicked the button and the feeling stopped immediately. Whimpering you groaned at his teasing and got pissed off how he could do that to you. Flipping him off you took a few breaths of recovery. Clit throbbed to be touched and satisfied, your whole clinching on the toy inside.

“Don’t be so down, baby.” His voice spoke as he walked over to you, “We still have more places to go. Can’t you take more?” His fingers took your chin and pulled you closer, his eyes filled with hunger and desire. “Be a goodgirl for me and I’ll let you cum. Not just on the toy, but on my cock.” It sounded so good. Your body aches to do both.

“Yes sir.”

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x fem!reader #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood smut #anthony lockwood x reader smut #lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader smut #lockwood smut #lockwood & co x reader #lockwood & co smut #lockwood and co x reader #Kinktober #kinktober 2023

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thechaoticdruid · 5 months ago

Text

[This Bites] 7

Astarion x F! Chubby MC

Plot: Winnie and Astarion attend the carnival in hopes to get information on a certain mysterious modder.

Content/Warnings: Violence, touching without consent, clowns, a special guest, death threats, near death experience, choking.

Chapter 6: Here

Chapter 8: NEXT

The screams of people riding the roller coaster filled the air. Winnie held Astarion’s hand as the group walked across the carnival grounds. Astarion who'd been rather enthusiastic about going, now seemed rather unsure. Winnie assumed he was more excited about going on a date than the date itself. Astarion’s hand tightened around Winnie’s as they passed a rather eerily looking clown who was putting on a show for some children, juggling sparklers. His eyes looked over to them for a split second. Winnie shook her head and decided to ignore the strange person and focus on what she came for.

“So erm…. Anthony I was really wondering if you could maybe help me. Becca said you're a modder and you might know the person who made this BG3 cheat engine.” Winnie took out her phone and showed him a screenshot of the cheat engine file she took with her laptop.

“Hm ... .Oh yeah I chatted with him before over discord.” Anthony replied, not looking back at the short female, too distracted by all the sights and sounds.

“Babe, look! A haunted house, let's go!” Becca exclaimed as she took hold of her boyfriend’s arm.

“Oh alright I'll come with so you don't get scared” Anthony winked at Becca before taking her arm.

“I don't know what you're talking about, you're the one always getting scared.” Becca teased back before looking at Winnie. “Come on Wyn! Let's go!”

“Yeah okay.” Winnie replied.

“So we're going to hunt for spirits?”Astarion hummed.

“No. It's not real. Just people in costumes jumping out from behind the corner to scare people.” Winnie explained.

“Oh? Well that's considerably more boring.” Astarion huffed.

“Hey, don't hate on our fun! We don't have magic and dragons like you do back home.” Winnie playfully punched him in the shoulder.

“Very well let's go then.” Astarion smirked and followed Winnie towards the ‘haunted house’ ride. The attraction was set up to where you'd get and ride through a fake haunted house. Winnie and Astarion sat behind Anthony and Becca as the car slowly moved along. For the most part the vampire was unimpressed. Being much too perceptive he could always tell when someone was about to jump out.

“Hmm…That's a poor hiding spot.” Astarion mused as he noticed a man in a bloody pig costume hiding in the shadows. The man jumped up causing Anthony and Becca to scream. Astarion stared boredly, an arm wrapped around Winnie’s waist as she tensed up, startled. The vampire caressed his beloved's back comfortingly. He honestly relished the thought of taking a protective role. It made him feel strong, valued, like he had a purpose.

“Oh now he's just lying on the floor, tut tut tut. You can do better than that.” Astarion tsked before a man in bloody clothes leapt up and screamed at the cart. The vampire rolled his eyes before looking back at Winnie. She didn't scream at the attempts to scare them like Becca and Anthony did, but she would tense up or flinch. Astarion leaned in and whispered in Winnie’s ear, “There’s another idiot hiding behind that door over there.”

Suddenly a man in caked in white costume makeup with fangs and fake blood all over his face jumped out from behind the door hissing and getting way too close to Winnie’s face for the pale elf's liking. Astarion’s eyes narrowed a bit before he punched the ‘vampire’ in the jaw.

“Why the hell did you do that for?” Winnie asked, looking at Astarion in confusion.

“He was getting on my nerves and he got far too close for my liking.” Astarion huffed.

“You can't just punch people because you want to! You're going to get us in trouble.” Winnie said with a look of worry.

“Don’t fret love, I’ll handle any ire that comes our way.” Astarion replied.

“That's what worries me.” Winnie rolled her eyes.

“Sweetheart, everything worries you.” Astarion sassed. Winnie pouted as the carts came to a stop outside the haunted house. They got out and Winnie silently thanked God that somehow miraculously Becca and Anthony missed Astarion's little outburst.

The group walked away from the attraction as Astarion glanced over to see that creepy clown from before. He began clinging on to Winnie as he glared at painted face fool.

“It's just a guy in make-up Star.” Winnie said, running a hand over his back comfortingly. Astarion huffed a bit as they kept walking, the clown disappearing amongst the crowd of people.

“It's hideous.” Astarion murmured quietly.

“So Winnie I have a question, how did you and Star meet?” Becca turned to Winnie with a curious look.

“Oh you know…We…um…” Winnie tried to think up something quickly.

“My darling and I met at the beach. I needed some assistance fending off this disgusting beast.”

“It…was a really big crab.” Winnie added, rubbing the back of her neck nervously.

“It was monstrous, but Winnie smashed the little wretch with a boulder, my sweet little hero.” Astarion hummed before looking at Winnie fondly.

“It was a very small boulder.”

“Well that's…..interesting.” Anthony hummed as he and Becca stared at them awkwardly, clearly thinking their story was ridiculous.

“AH LOOK BUMPER CARS!!!” Winnie said, trying to change the subject as she pointed at the ride.

“Ooh that actually looks fun.” Astarion said as his red eyes trailed over the scene of people smashing into each other.

“How about we have a little playful competition against the ladies?” Anthony suggested as he looked over at Astarion.

“Oh, you two are on!” Becca exclaimed and grabbed Winnie’s arm, “come on Wyn let's go kick some ass!” Becca dragged Winnie off before she could comment and Astarion rolled his eyes and followed after Anthony.

Eventually the two pairs got separated in the line with at least ten people between them. Winnie looked back, worried about Astarion doing something chaotic while she wasn't within range to intervene.

Astarion glanced back in her direction, he wasn't exactly torn up about their separation, but he would have much preferred trying this activity with Winnie instead of Anthony whom he knew nothing about. Anthony looked Astarion over for a moment before he spoke.

“So…Winnie seems nice.” He hummed aloud.

“She is absolutely wonderful, my Winnie.” Astarion hummed with a content smile.

“Okay…I mean she's not around bro. You don't have to go all out.” Anthony chuckled.

“All out? I mean every word.” Astarion huffed, “don’t you feel the same about your Becca? She seems very taken with you.”

“She's aight. Pretty hot and good in bed.” Anthony said nonchalantly.

“Oh, well lucky you then.” Astarion rolled his eyes. Meanwhile Winnie was standing with Becca, looking back at the others with a nervous gaze.

“Maybe we should see if we can squeeze into line with the boys…So we don't get separated?”

“Nah it's fine, there should be enough bumper cars for them to join us.” Becca stated, her eyes looking over Winnie curiously observing her gaze.

“You're staring at him.~” The redhead said in a sing-songy tone.

“He has a tendency to get into trouble.” Winnie said honestly.

“You sure you're not just disappointed he's not glued to your side like normal?” She teased.

“You act like he's hanging on me 24/7.” Winnie chuckled.

“Isn't he? Whenever I've seen you two he follows you around like a lost puppy.”

“You've seen us together like twice before today.”

“And I have amazing intuition. So…Have you two….you know…?” Becca smirked.

“I'm not having this conversation.” Winnie rolled her eyes.

“Whaaat? I was just gonna ask if you two had kissed! Don't be weird about it!” The redhead teased making Winnie turn bright red.

After a few minutes they climbed into the cars. The bumper cars were brightly colored and had both a driver and passenger seat in each of them.

Becca and Winnie got into one, Becca in the driver's side and Winnie in the passenger seat. However before they could even get buckled up, they were slammed into by Anthony and Astarion. Astarion smirked mischievously as his fingers curled around the steering wheel.

“Star!? What the hell?” Winnie hissed.

“Sorry darling, I've never controlled one of these things before aha!” Astarion giggled with a mischievous grin.

“Oh it's on! Let's get him back!” Becca exclaimed, steering the bumper right into the guys. The group giggled and teased each other as their cars would collide. Despite the fun eventually Winnie had to usher their little group away when her vampiric partner began to slam the car into some obnoxious children. (One whom so rudely exclaimed “out of the way old lady!”)

Once the four had left the ride Astarion slipped back beside Winnie. Anthony seemed to follow after Astarion however.

“So…Make a new friend?” Winnie asked glancing over at Astarion and Anthony.

Astarion wrapped an arm around Winnie and pulled her off away from Anthony until the two of them were out of earshot.

“Friend isn't quite the right word I believe, but nevermind that while I was alone with him in line he mentioned that the creator of your modification lived nearby in some city called Varamont.”

“Varamont? That's like a five hour drive from here.” Winnie rubbed her temples. “I'm not sure I could stand riding for that long on my bike.” Winnie said with a sigh.

“Come on Winnie we're going into the mirror maze!” Becca called as she and Anthony caught up with the two.

“I think I'll sit this one out actually.” Astarion spoke up.

“Ah yeah…He gets a bit claustrophobic!” Winnie added.

“You ladies go on in then. I wanted to get some food anyway.” Anthony piped up.

“Okay….” Winnie said as Becca dragged her off into the mirror maze. Winnie followed after her reluctantly as her friend continued to talk her ears off about mundane things. They had a lead on where ShadowMommy69 was. Things were going well. So why did Winnie have this gnawing feeling something bad was going to happen?

She sighed as her and Becca walked through the maze occasionally bumping into a mirror once and a while. “Becca…Is everything okay with Anthony? I mean he is your boyfriend but it seems…like he's avoiding you.”

“Anthony can be a bit reserved, but he's really a sweetheart.” Becca replied. Winnie frowned, Anthony didn't seem to have any problem hanging out with Astarion. She wasn't quite sure he was a good match for Becca. As much as she admired her friend, Becca had a bad track record when it came to dating. Winnie could recall that the redhead's last girlfriend apparently maxed her credit card and her parents had to help her with the debt. She really didn't have the best judge of character when it came to romantic partners. Not that Winnie could really talk considering her first boyfriend was a bloodthirsty undead creature of the night, but at least Astarion payed attention to her. A little too much sometimes. That wasn't his fault though. The man barely had anything to do while he was cooped up all day to avoid the sun's rays.

As Winnie and Becca continued walking through the mirror maze the two ended up taking different paths. Winnie being distracted by her thoughts and Becca distracted by chattering about her own boyfriend. Eventually the girls were separated in two totally different parts of the maze. Winnie was even pulled out of her head by her nose bumping against the cold glass of a mirror.

“Shit…Where'd she go? Becca!?” She called, looking around as she got no answer. The lights that illuminated the maze from above flickered a bit. And Winnie felt a chill go down her spine.

It's okay. Everything is alright. We’ll just find our way out.

Winnie could feel her heart speeding up as she carefully maneuvered through the maze. However each turn and path seemed to go on forever. Winnie couldn't even tell how long she'd been in here! She quickly took out her phone as she began to get nervous only to find that the battery was dead.

Okay…Maybe this isn't so great…

Suddenly she noticed a shadow move across one of the mirrors. Winnie nearly jumped at the sight of it, backing up fearfully. Then suddenly there was a voice.

“Ah, we finally meet in the flesh.” A familiar looking brunette haired man suddenly appeared in front of one of the mirrors, his reflection appearing in all the surrounding ones. It took a moment for Winnie to process who this was.

“Raphael?! What the hell are you doing here!? I'm pretty sure I killed you!” Winnie gasped in complete and utter shock.

“And yet here we are face to face.” The devil chuckled as Winnie began to back up. “I should actually thank you, you know. If you hadn't pulled Astarion out of our dreadfully repetitive world I would never have been able to find a way out.”

“Shit. I knew something bad was going to happen. You…You better not s-start any trouble!” Winnie said, trying to act intimidating though deep down inside she was terrified.

“What trouble? I'm simply here to explore this new realm much like your toothsome companion. Besides, you have other things to worry about.”

“What do you mean?” Winnie asked with worry.

“Astarion and I are not the only ones who've found a way to enter your domain. The person who caused this opened far more doors into your world than he intended.” Raphael spoke in a calm tone. A smile etching its way onto his face.

“Why are you telling me this?” Winnie raised an eyebrow with suspicion.

“Because you are of interest to me and without this knowledge you'll likely meet a very early demise.”

“If you're planning to use me to do your dirty work you must be desperate. You realize I'm no fighter. Hell I'm not even an advent-” Before Winnie could finish her sentence the devil disappeared without a trance. “Oh you Asshat! I was talking to you!” Winnie huffed, looking around for the devil, but he was gone. Raphael showing up was bad enough but the thought of others coming into this world was horrifying. Dragons, mind Flayers and God knows what else could appear and there was nothing Winnie could do about it. She was literally just a retail employee!

“I need to find Astarion.” Winnie murmured to herself.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Astarion had been waiting outside, trying to keep to himself as best as he could. The carnival goers were all looking more delectable by the minute. He could feel the ravenous maw inside begging, no, demanding to be sated.

“Hey Star.” Anthony called as he returned from getting some food. “Damn, the girls sure are taking their time aren't they?” The dark haired male hummed. Astarion looked up, red eyes immediately noticing the pulsing vein on the human man’s neck. He gulped nervously, doing his damnedest to ignore the urge to tear into Anthony's throat.

“Oh…I-I'm sure they'll be back soon.” Astarion said with a huff, his eyes looking away from the other male.

“Hey, you alright?” Anthony asked.

“I'm fine. Just a bit cold.” Astarion lied and looked back towards the mirror maze. The vampire tried to keep his mind focused on Winnie, knowing well that she'd allow him to feed once they arrived home. But then he suddenly felt an arm wrap around his waist. He looked back and noticed the other male was getting far too close for comfort.

“Hey why don't we ditch the girls? I think the two of us have more in common anyway.~” Anthony said with a smirk before suddenly Astarion shoved him off.

“Touch me again and I'll choke you with your own innards.” He hissed.

“Whoa hey! Calm down! There's no need to pretend here. I know you're just pity-dating that girl, it's kind of obvious.” Anthony exclaimed, causing the vampire to narrow his eyes at him.

“Pity-dating? Ha! Darling, if I was going to court anyone out of pity it'd be you. Now stay the hells away from me before I rip out your throat.” Astarion snarled, his eyes were beginning to glow red, as he bared his fangs. This set off alarm bells in the human man’s head.

“J-Jesus Christ!” He cursed and backed away. The vampire pushed back the urge to drain the male dry as he stepped away, beginning to retreat to a less populated space. His eyes then suddenly perked up at the sight of caged pigs off inside some tent.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

After stumbling through the mirror maze Winnie bumped into Becca once again.

“There you are, Wyn! God, I thought You left for a moment!” Becca exclaimed.

“Becca! I need to get out of here and talk to Star! It's important!” Winnie said.

“Shit. Did something happen? Are you okay?” Becca asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I'm fine…I just need to talk to him about something personal, okay.” Winnie stated. Becca nodded in understanding.

“Okay. Let's go, I think I found the way out.” Becca grabbed hold of Winnie’s hand so the two of them wouldn't get separated again before she led her he down another path. Winnie could spot scratches and smudges on the mirrors, as if someone had already left a trial to help guide them out. Eventually they reached the end of the maze and stepped out. Not a moment sooner chaos broke loose as pigs began to charge across the fields in front of them.

“Fuck sake!” One of the carnival workers yelled.

“Someone let loose the pigs!” Winnie and Becca looked at one another in complete and utter bewilderment. As the carnival workers rushed to wrangle their swine, one began to slowly approach the two girls. It was the clown Winnie had seen earlier.

“Ladies, may I speak with you for a moment?”

“Uhh…We're a bit busy at the moment! S-Sorry.” Winnie blurted out before suddenly the make-up caked stranger began to move in.

“What's the hurry!? There's a show starting soon. Come and see!” The clown chuckled.

“She said we're busy.” Becca spoke louder and stood in front of Winnie. The clown cracked his neck before suddenly grabbing a hold of both their arms.

“Hey get the fuck off us!” Becca shouted as both her and Winnie began to flail and attempt to pull away, but the clown was surprisingly strong.

‘Let us go!” Winnie shouted, eyes scanning the area for passerbys but it seemed the whole pig fiasco had distracted anyone who could have helped.

Winnie suddenly kicked the clown in the shin, making him release them. The two of them bolted as the stranger began his pursuit.

Fucking hell this is like something out of a horror movie!

Winnie panted and huffed as Becca moved ahead of her. The slender female was able to keep more distance between herself and the creep chasing them. Winnie could feel her ribs and legs burning. She didn't think she had enough stamina to keep going. The clown chased them back into an empty tent when suddenly Winnie tripped, falling onto her hands and knees. She winced, feeling blood dripping down a cut on her knee. Winnie scrambled to get back up as the clown lunged at her grabbing hold of her by the throat. Winnie gasped for air, gripping onto the clown's large hands

“Winnie! Get off her you creep!” Becca shouted and ran back towards the clown. The red head leapt into his back and grabbed hold of his hair, yanking it hard and even tearing a chunk out, causing him to shout and let go of Winnie before moving to throw Becca off of him. Winnie fell to the ground holding her neck as the clown moved to strike at Becca. The redhead looked up with wide eyes before suddenly something sharp pierced through the clown's chest from behind, causing blood to pour down onto the ground as the carnie fell to the floor. Astarion stood there clawed fingers dripping with blood as he quickly turned his attention to Winnie who was still rubbing her throat.

“Winnie! Winnie my sweet, are you alright?” Astarion looked down at the human woman with fearful eyes as she rubbed her throat. She gave a small weak nod.

“Y-You just shoved your fingers through that man h-how!?” Becca began to stutter out. Astarion ignored the redhead, his attention was on the marks on Winnie's throat.

“Arghhhhh!” A loud snarl suddenly filled their ears. The clown corpse began to stand back and change, growing bigger and bigger. Suddenly a large blue skinned humanoid beast with long tusks and glowing eyes.

Shit. The devil was right.

Winnie mentally cursed as Astarion stood in front of her protectively. Blood was still dripping from the wound in the creature’s chest. The creature growled down at the trio. The silver haired vampire bared his fangs at the beast. He was unarmed but he'd be damned if he let some filthy creature hurt his beloved and get away with it. While the beast was slowed by its injury he took the opportunity to attack.

“Ignis!” He launched a firebolt straight into the monster’s face. The beast roared in pain as its eyes were blazing. The stench of burning flesh filled the air. The beast quickly turned tail and darted out the back of the tent, disappearing into the night. Winnie got back to her feet, taking a few deep breaths. Astarion peeked out through the back of the tent to make sure it was go before returning to Winnie’s side.

“Magic…He just did magic!?” Becca sputtered out. Winnie sighed and rubbed her temples before looking over at Astarion.

“I'm going to assume that's not normal here.” Astarion spoke up.

“No, definitely not. I was actually looking to warn you about this kind of thing earlier.” Winnie replied, her voice sounding a bit croaky from nearly getting choked out. “I ran into Raphael in the mirror maze…”

“The devil is here!?” Astarion asked aloud.

“Devil?!” Becca exclaimed.

“Yes. He said when you came here others did too, himself included. I imagine that monster was one of them.” Winnie said.

“Would someone please tell me what's going on here!?” Becca demanded.

“Ah….Right…This is all probably going to sound insane.” Winnie sighed.

“Everything that's happened today has been insane. We just got attacked by a god-damned clown monster-thing and your boyfriend chucked a fireball at it!”

“Yes ... .Um…How do I put this…..Hm…Becca this is Astarion…I uh…pulled him out of my computer about a month ago after downloading this messed up cheat mod.”

“Ah…Hello.” Astarion gave her an awkward little wave. Becca just stayed silent for a moment, eye twitching at the insanity of it all.

“This is a dream. I fell asleep while getting ready for the carnival and Anthony is going to wake me up any moment now.” Becca spoke to herself as she tried to rationalize the situation.

“Oh I doubt he'd stay long enough to realize you were asleep.” Astarion muttered under his breath.

“I thought it was a dream at first too, but after a couple of weeks I didn't wake up.” Winnie said softly.

“How is this possible?” Becca asked.

“Honestly I have no clue. I've actually been trying to the bottom of this. This is why I need to find out who made that mod. I'm certain it's behind everything.”

“I need to take some time to process this. I'm going out to my car…” Becca said before walking off, looking rather shaken up.

Winnie stepped out of the tent with Astarion slowly following behind her.

“It looks like the number of people who know our secret seem to be growing.”

“I wouldn't worry too much about Becca. She knows how crazy this all sounds, she's not going to go tell someone. Shame all hell broke loose tonight.”

“Gods I'm glad I was able catch a whiff of your blood before it was too late. I….I should have been with you…. I'm sorry…” Astarion pulled Winnie into his embrace.

“It's alright Astarion, there's no way you could have known we were going to get attacked. I had no idea there was any danger until I met with Raphael.”

“What did the devil want?” Astarion asked.

“I'm not sure. He kind of just showed up to warn me. That in itself seems very suspicious.”

“He wants likely wants something from you, no doubt.” Astarion furrowed his brows.

“I can't imagine what. I'm not a fighter, I can't go and kill anyone for him. Could it be my soul he’s after?”

“Maybe…But I have a feeling it's not as simple as that.” The pale elf huffed before looking at her neck once again, gently cupping her cheek.The marks were turning into bruises.

“You sure you're alright?”

“I am, just…sore…Are you alright? You still need to feed?” Winnie asked before moving up the sleeve of her jacket to expose her arm. Astarion gently pushed it away declining.

“No. I took care of that, besides you've been hurt enough today.”

“Astarion, I wish I could protect you instead, but I'm not an adventurer or a hero. Suppose I'm just going to end up being a burden.” Winnie sighed.

“Darling, you do enough for me already. You practically feed, clothe and put a roof over my head. Keeping you safe would never burden me my love.” Astarion slowly wrapped his arms around Winnie, pulling her into a hug. Winnie returned it nuzzling her face into his neck.

“We should return home. Get something for your bruises.” Astarion pulled back.

“Okay…..and thank you…For saving me Astarion…” Winnie wasn't exactly sure what came over her. She definitely wasn't one to initiate affection very often being as shy and timid as she was, but in that moment nothing else seemed to matter. Winnie leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft, chaste kiss upon his lips. Astarion was slightly taken back for moment but almost immediately returned the gesture leaning into it.

Winnie quickly pulled back as she realized what she'd done, her face flustered and full of embarrassment. What was she thinking!? She didn't even ask for fucks sake!

“I'm sorry! I should have asked if it was-” Astarion grabbed hold of her hips and pulled her back into a kiss. This one was more passionate, full of longing and need. It seemed Astarion wasn't satisfied with Winnie’s sweet little peck. The brunette was a little at a loss of what to do. She'd never been kissed before. Not in romantic sense anyway. She did her best to try to mirror his movements before he eventually pulled back and rested his forehead against hers.

“Took you long enough.~”

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Apologies for the wait! I've been rather distracted since the last chapter, but here it is! The monster in the chapter was an oni btw. It's a shapeshifting monster in DnD.

~Druid

@seradyn , @plimsim , @astarioffsimpmain , @marcynomercy , @iamsexytrash , @gaymistakeboi , @divineknightmare , @tinyfreakgirl , @misscrissfemmefatal, @gianchan-de @jaksfanficsaver , @the-disaster-in-waiting , @hp-art-studio , @im-just-a-simp-le-whore , @dajeong , @iamnotokei , @the-pale-elfs-love , @geminipridekitty

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion romance #astarion ancunin #Astarion x oc #Astarion x chubby oc #astarion x mc #astarion x female oc #Astarion x Female mc #astarion x chubby reader #Astarion x chubby mc #isekaied into the real world fic #fictional characters in the real world fic #astarion x modern oc #astarion x modern mc #bg3 raphael

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theship-thewalrus · 2 years ago

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This is My Idea || Benedict Bridgerton

benedict bridgerton x reader

based on the song 'this is my idea' from The Swan Princess

word count: 1682 words reading time: about 7 minutes warnings: none really

I can't believe I'm stuck with her all summer I bet she doesn't wrestle, hunt or box

The boy who stood in front of you looked conceited. The brown, untamable hair that looked similar to a bird's nest you had passed in the carriage. He looked rather unimpressed as his eyes scanned you, for someone so young he seemed to resemble a sour-faced mother.

"Where are you manners dear? Introduce yourself."

The voice of your father filled your eyes, causing your eyes to cast back to him for a moment. You were sure your face convey a look of uncertainty almost asking if you truly must indulge this idea. The carriage ride to the countryside had taken some time, Adurey Hall, they had called it. The best place to spend the summer, or so you were told.

"(Y/N), a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

As you bowed her head slightly to show respect there was a beat of silence. It caused your eyes to flick up, wondering what fool did not understand how to greet someone. You watched the shoulder of the boy in front of you get knocked forward, a puff of air leaving his chest. A scowl formed on his face as he stepped forward bowing his head and holding out his hand.

"Benedict."

As he took your hand in his there was a small pause again, both of you looking back to your parents. Almost pleading for them to intervene, asking them with your eyes if they were truly going to make you both do this. Yet, all that was returned were encouraging smiles. The kiss on the back of your hand was quick, you quickly retracted your hand to wipe it on your dress and him to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

What a fun summer you had in store.

We've tried all summer but we just can't lose her

"Wait up! Anthony! Benedict! This isn't funny!"

Three pairs of footsteps could be heard running across the floors of Audrey Hall. Maids clinging to the walls of the halls as three children barrel through. The two boys were much fast than you, something you blamed on your skirt. You could hear their mutters of each other, encouraging the other to run faster in an attempt to lose them.

The doors flung open as the trio ran outside, the boys gaining ground against you. The wooden floor you had been running on quickly changed to stone and then uneven grass, that you were sure you were going to trip over. The ground only worsen as you trailed the boys to the forest that encased the grounds. Perhaps if you were in the first under better circumstances you would not be so annoyed.

"Quick, Anthony! Before she gets here."

You could hear Benedict urging his brother to climb the rope ladder to their little treehouse. Moving forward, your fingers just missed the rope of the ladder to the treehouse. The two boys are much too fast in pulling it up and away from you. Looking up at them with an angered and displeased expression you were only met with their smug ones. Having gotten out of having to spend any time with you for now.

"You'd think she'd take a hint a learn to read."

You could hear Benedict tease, waving a piece of paper at you from his higher position. Squinting you could make out 'no girls' in scratchy words and a terribly drawn picture of what you assumed to be you.

"This really isn't fair." "We really couldn't care."

With a huff, you picked a plank of wood that stood tall near the tree. Though it seemed to be the main support of the tree house as you heard the planks of wood groan and shift under the boy's weight. Before it all came crashing down around you, boys included.

She tries to talk me into playing dress-up She's always flirting with the castle guards

You don't quite remember when you had given up trying to befriend Benedict. It was clear the pair of you simply had no intention of ever wanting to get to know each other. Perhaps if you both had not been forced together for months, since you were both young, it would be different. Now you seemed to spend your time with the Bridgertons entertaining his younger siblings, gossiping with Daphne and talking to the various servants.

It was not unusual to find yourself outside, you enjoyed the time away from the ton and in the countryside. Yet, this particular time you seemed to be occupying your time talking with a footman. He was rather young and you must admit, easy on the eyes. You sparked up the conversation with him during your walk around the grounds. Asking him to accompany you on a quick walk in the nice weather.

"Why, I did not know you were so knowledgeable on the different Flora around Britain."

Your voice was smooth as you spoke, looking at the young man from the corner of your eyes. The pair of you stood a respectable distance apart. You heard him chuckle before he answered, turning his head to face you.

"Well, miss, I tend to find myself out in the forest in my free time." "How wonderful,"

You muse a small smile on your face as the pair of you turned to head back to the manor. Though a figure in one of the many windows caught your eye. Squinting slightly you attempt to figure out who happened to be spying, you assumed it would be Daphne, the girl would want to know everything as soon as you get inside. But much to your surprise the figure was none other than the man you were avoiding, Benedict. You could not make out his face, but you could tell by his body language that he was not in the greatest mood.

I'd like her better if she'd lose at cards

Sitting across from Benedict you peer over your cards at him. There was one thing you both agreed on, and that was a love for card games. At times you had both been known to wager something, a necklace here or a few coins there. But during your winning streak, Benedict was too fearful, having already lost too much. He already owed you one of his paintings and some poetry.

You pretended to not notice Colin peering over your shoulder, trying to grab a look at your cards. You doubted he could see much or even knew how to play. You watched Benedict's movements carefully, you doubted he would suddenly win this round, you weren't worried about losing.

"Four sevens and a ten." "I think I've won again."

Your words were covered in honey as you showed your card. Displaying them opposite his with a smirk playing on your lips. You could not help yourself, it felt nice to win against the boy. Considering you could never seem to win against his older brother. Small cheers from Daphne and Eloise were heard as Benedict groaned and leaned back in his chair unimpressed.

For as long as I remember We've been told we'd someday wed

Somewhere along the years you and Benedict had figured out the reason why you were both forced together every June until September. Your fathers had been friends and you guessed they desired a way to keep your families close. Unfortunately for you, you had simply been born close to Benedict. Thus, it seemed simple that the pair of you should wed. Though it was rare they spoke about it, there were always countless hints and pushes to shove you both together.

Being pushed around in this manner was not want you had expected during this visit to the Brigdertons. You could feel your father pulling and shoving you in all sorts of directions. Your unhappy grumbling going unheard by the man. That morning you had been shoved into a rather nice dress and your corset did up so tight you were sure you were going to pass out.

I see him smiling and my knees start buckling I see inside him and my doubts are gone

You heard the door shut behind you, your father leaving you in a room by yourself. Hearing another door slam shut on the other side of the room. Casting your eyes over you saw Benedict. He seemed to change over the last time you had seen him, matured a bit more. He did seem so brash and aloof as before, more refined and put together.

You watched his eyes as he scanned you as well, realising he was not alone. Confidently you took a few confident steps towards him. Though he seemed to stumble a little at the start he was quick to extend his hand as he meet you in the middle. Extending your hand he grabbed it softly, you took note of the charcoal on his fingertips that he had not seemed to clean yet. Though you did not seem to mind all that much. Softly kissing the back of your hand he would straighten up once more. Yet kept his hand on yours, it brought a smile to your face.

"How have you been these past months?"

Your question breaks whatever trace the man was under, bringing his attention back to you. There was a pause as you watched him think of a response. Perhaps not all that much had changed since you were young, the man still needed to be pulled through conversation.

"G-Good! I've been good." "That is good it hear."

There is another pause for a small moment before he seemed to catch on to what you were waiting for.

"And how have you been?" "Well, I spent the colder months inside by the fire." "Good, good. I had painted the manor in a winter setting. I would be happy to show it to you." "It would be my pleasure to see."

This is my idea This is my idea What a good idea, it's such a charming and romantic notion.

#benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagines #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton

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merlincersei · 11 months ago

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Merlin BBC UK TV Show - Opinion Piece Part 21 - Uther v/s Captain Ahab

As per my usual Christmas tradition, I need trauma to balance out the Christmas cheer so I subjected myself to watch the Merlin series all over again for the 11th year in a row!!!!!

Me before watching Merlin:

Me after watching Merlin:

While viewing the series this time around, Uther's character really stood out to me.

There is something about the way the writers choose to write Uther's character that made him come across as being more ""flawed" rather than the cold calculating antagonist that has been popularized by Charles Dance as Tywin Lannister in Game Of Thrones.

It is a real coincidence as Charles Dance himself appeared in the Merlin series as Aredian in the Witchfinder episode.

All credit must be given to Anthony Head, whose portrayal balances the multiple requirements the script demands with brilliance be it stoic, emotional and/or comedic elements.

But it was while watching the episode "The Tears of Uther Pendragon" that I could not help but find overlaps between Uther Pendragon ( 2008 Merlin BBC TV Series) and Captain Ahab (1851 Book Moby Dick)

So I felt that it could become a Tumblr post.

Here is my attempt to outline the similarities between our antagonists.

Leadership Qualities

Captain Ahab is the chief captain of the Pequod and leads a crew in various whaling expeditions.

Uther is the king of Camelot and rules the kingdom of Camelot.

Motivated By Revenge

Captain Ahab had become disabled when the white whale, Moby Dick had bitten off Ahab's leg during a whale hunting expedition. Over his long recovery, Ahab believes that Moby Dick acted with deliberate intelligence and commits himself to avenging his lost leg.

Uther had become a widower when his infertile wife who was impregnated through magic died at childbirth. Overcome by grief he believes magic to be evil and vows vengeance against everyone who uses magic.

Accidental Death

Captain Ahab throws his harpoon and hits Moby Dick, but its line wraps around his neck and drags him off his boat when the whale dives, drowning him

Uther is accidentally killed by Merlin when a magical artifact reverses the healing spell into a killing spell.

#merthur #merlin bbc #merlincersei #lgbtqia shows #merlin meta #anthony head #moby dick #herman melville #captain ahab #uther pendragon #signal boost #bradley james #colin morgan #arthur pendragon

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bullet-prooflove · 11 months ago

Note

Hiii could u pls write 32) “I’m always ready for a war again” for Tim Bradford. Thanks sm

Monster!Series:

Part One: Monster - Tim learns the reason you've been keeping your relationship a secret.

Part Two: The Gaslight (NSFW) - Tim tracks you down a month into your leave of absence.

Part Three: Stalemate - Captain Ashmore discovers your relationship with Tim.

Part Four: Foul Play - Ashmore employs another tactic in his hunt for you.

Part Five: Prayer - Tim comes face to face with his worst fear.

It’s past one in the morning and Captain Anthony Ashmore sits in his office, his left hand curled around a crystal tumbler of scotch and whilst an ice pack rests on his right, soothing the pain that ebbs across his split knuckles. The skin is raw and bruised already, he knows that it’ll be worse tomorrow. It doesn’t matter because there’s a catharsis in the pain. He got what he wanted, it’s all over now.

As he sits there, he thinks of you lying at his feet, beaten, broken, bloodied. The faint rasp of your breathing echoing in his ears before he’d knelt down beside you, his thumb trailing over your lower lip, smearing the blood like lipstick.

Goodbye my love, he had whispered before he kissed you.

He can still taste the copper in his mouth. It tastes bitter and sweet. He’d placed his palm on the centre of your chest then, pressing down hard as that last breath had left your body.

It’s a powerful feeling, taking someone’s life, looking into their eyes during their final moments.

He hopes it’s Bradford that finds you, that the Sergent looks at you and knows that he did this, that he’s the one that killed you.

“He makes me come, in a way you never could.” You’d spat in his face when he’d confronted you about those pictures.

It’s those words that make him lose control, the sting of them, the knowledge that a man so far beneath him has brought you pleasure, that you think he’s better then Anthony. He doesn’t remember the first blow, or any of them really, only the rage that ate through his veins like a wildfire when he imagined Bradford’s hands on you, his name on your lips as he fucked you.

It’s only in the aftermath that he’d realised what he’d done, how far he’d gone. He’s done something similar once before, the night he put a gun in your mouth when he’d seen you and Hasim embracing. He hadn’t realised your partner was gay at that point, that him and his husband had just been cleared for adoption. That had been the catalyst for the divorce. You never documented it, just like you didn’t document all the other times he lost his shit.

Everything he did was because he loved you and you just couldn’t see it.

When they come to arrest him, he doesn’t expect it. He thought he’d covered his tracks, leveraging a few friends to provide him with an alibi, a late-night poker game. All three are well established fellow cops, it should have been enough. Afterall the other evidence is circumstantial. The bruises on his knuckles were from where someone had tried to mug him, he’d been too embarrassed to report it, he’d tell them.

What he hadn’t reckoned on was the video. He doesn’t remember seeing any cameras on the premises when he’d scouted the house previously which means you’d installed them not long before he’d arrived tonight.

It’s a set up; he realises as the handcuffs are fastened on his wrists. Something you’d orchestrated to catch him in the act. You’ve spent months evading him and then tonight when he’d drove past the house, the living room light had been on, and it was like a moth to a flame.

He laughs when he realises what you’ve done, it’s a hollow twisted sound that scratches across Angela’s nerve endings as she hauls him towards the door. Anthony’s always been taken by how well you can outthink a perp, it’s one of the things he’d loved about you.

“Fuck, she got me.” He says shaking his head. “She got me good.”

@redpool @malindacath @anime-weeb-4-life @burningpeachpuppy @viridianphtalo @vermillionwinter

#tim bradford #the rookie #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford the rookie

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yeoverheart · 5 months ago

Text

My Own Tune ♪ PART 1

*DISCLAIMER* This is going to be an ongoing series. It is also my first time writing something like this, suggestions and criticism are accepted <3.

The ton is filled with anticipation for the new Duchess of Picardy to arrive for this new season. For these fine gentlemen would surely have a battle to steal the heart of Lady y/n, and it will not be easy being as though she is here for other.. pursuits. Thankfully, Viscount Anthony Bridergton has announced he is on the hunt to find his perfect match, and leaves the ton wondering who that special woman might be.

As the carriage arrives at Lady Danbury’s home, I'm kindly greeted by her familiar face, “Good Afternoon Lady y/n. Oh how wonderful it is to see you.”

“The pleasure is mine, Lady Danbury.” holding my dress as I step down from the carriage to politely greet her.

I have only met Lady Danbury once; 4 years ago after she had gotten word that my mother had fallen ill, she immediately came to visit France and supported my family and I as my mother took her last breath. I don't fully understand the history shared between the two, although my mother would tell me childhood stories and they often involved Lady Danbury. Before my mother passed, she whispered something to her; I don't know what was said and probably never will, but I watched as Lady Danbury nodded as she held back tears and accepted whatever my mother said.

The servants warmly greet me and take my bags into her home. Lady Danbury walks beside me as we follow slowly, “Wow, this is...beautiful!” I let out a quick breath as we entered the marbled floor. I walked towards the middle of the floor, my head spinning trying to soak in all the beauties of Lady Danburys home.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Lady Dunbury smirks with a confirming nod. I slowly walk around with my hands folded behind my back inspecting the first floor, the glistening chandelier that hangs from the ceiling sparkles around the room. The smell of fresh paint filled the air as I got closer to the wall of paintings by the never ending staircase. “Are any of these paintings still fresh Lady Danbury?” I question. Lady Danbury makes way towards me with a confused look until she recalls the gift she received from the Bridgertons. “Ah yes, the Bridgertons. They're letting me borrow their portrait so my wall doesn't look so empty while my portrait is still being created. Charming family, aren't they?”

“Yes they are quite perfect” I gazed over the familys’ beautifully crafted features, although I linger on one for a second longer. Lady Danbury notices and follows my eyes, “Yes, Anthony-the Viscount, he is quite the charmer”, Danbury gives a toothy grin. I try to hide the rosy tint that quickly spreads amongst my cheeks, taken away by such a handsome man.

I'm here to pursue my passion for music, no distraction; or rather handsome ones at that. Walking in the other direction I hesitated, “Is he-.” Before I can finish a servant enters, “Lady Danbury you have a visitor.” Danbury and I make eye-contact, it seems as if she wasn't expecting any visitors by the unsure look on her face.

“Good afternoon Lady Danbury.” A gentleman enters the room, seemingly in a hurry. A familiar gentleman. His eyes drift towards me after he stands straight from his bow.

“Mr. Bridgerton.” Lady Danbury responds with a smile. The realization hits evidently on my face, it's the handsome gentleman from the portrait. I try to hide my reaction as I feel heat rise to my cheeks from embarrassment.

“And you?” He walks a bit closer towards us.

“Lady y/n, it's very nice to meet you.” I bow with a smile.

Anthony offers a welcoming grin, “The pleasure is mine.” Stuck admiring his smile lines; I am taken out of my trance as quickly as they fade.

Our locked eyes seem to linger a bit too long before Anthony clears his throat and announces, “I’m here to collect our family portrait, I have received word that yours is freshly complete and ready to be presented.” Ending off with that inviting smile once more.

“Oh yes! If my portrait shall arrive while I am giving my guest a tour, have them replace it right where the Bridgertons’ had theirs” Lady Danbury annonces to a servant across the room.

“I have my carriage ready, is it alright if I have them come take it?” Anthony says.

“Why yes of course” Lady Danbury replies. “Now, there's much more for you to see Lady y/n, follow this way. Excuse us Mr. Bridgerton”

“Goodbye Mr.Bridgerton.” I say offering a smile.

“Goodbye Lady y/n.” Anthony smiles once more, captivating me into his charm.

I cannot.

I follow as Lady Danbury leads.

After a moment of silence while walking up to the second floor Danbury suggests, “Anthony isn't music, let's not forget what you are here for.” Oh my, was it that obvious?

“What could you mean, I was only being friendly.” I protest

“I know that look.” Danbury gives me a suggesting look as if she is a parent reminding a child that they cannot have sweets before dinner.

“You should know I'm having a ball tonight, mainly to show off my newest portrait, you will remain close. These balls are often used for gentlemen to scout their wives out, but you are here for other reasons.If you wish to remain in your room you can, but I must say I have a dress that would look rather splendid on you.”

“Very well, and please Lady Danbury trust me I have no intentions of finding a husband anytime soon, I leave that duty to my siblings.

#anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgeton season 3 #kate x anthony #lady whistledown #fluff #smut

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