#colin my wife bridgerton would NEVER

[dearestgentlereaders]

guys i’m going to be honest and say we did not get the colin bridgerton we truly deserved in part 2. there was so much more to his arc that they glossed over and I feel like his story time was taken over by the many unnecessarily longed out subplots

[your-mums-nuts]

Colin going from “your daughter did not entrap me, I proposed to her out of love, nothing else.”

To

“Perhaps that was another part of your planned entrapment."

Fuck you bridgerton season 3 part 2 all my homies hate bridgerton season 3 part 2

[sea-owl]

I'm amused that Penelope speaks in a higher pitched, more innocent like voice at ton events and to Colin because that's what she's been taught will attract a man. (Also possibly, even unconsciously, a way to distance a resemblance between her and Portia) She might have even been trained to do this at one point or another. Society dictates that innocence and beauty go hand in hand. So since society deemed her, wrongly in my opinion, less than when it comes to her physical beauty, she tries harder to seem innocent even though that's not who she is.

The part that really amuses me about this is the moment Penelope let's her voice drop back to it's natural pitch and she let's her cuntieness show Colin is heart eyes and instant hard on.

Colin Bridgerton is a messy drama king and LIKES when his wife's bitchy side comes out.

[pencil-n-pen]

YOU BEWITCH ME

꧁ ༺ ✧ ༻ ꧂

─────────────────────

Oh baby I am a wreck when I’m without you- I need you here to stay.

Line Without a Hook, Ricky Montgomery

──────────────────────

benedict bridgerton x eldest daughter! reader

summary: Benedict Bridgerton has been the least tolerable Bridgerton since you arrival to the ton. You are a lady of respectable means, though nearly forgotten by society due to some extenuating circumstances. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t stay away from him.

cw: time period typical treatment of women in society. btw when i say eldest daughter i mean SHE IS THE FIRST BORN OF HER FAMILY SHE IS NOT RELATED TO HIM NO INCEST THAT IS NASTY !!!! also no smut

a/n: i’m writhing on the floor foaming at the mouth im dying dead. my girlies from the books know that Benedict is a Tier One Yearner (tm) and im utterly obsessed with the dynamic of elizabeth bennet and fitzgerald darcy so i bring you the bridgerton version

i wrote this before i watched season two so shhhhh i didn’t steal her backstory from Kate’s i had no idea they were gonna be so similar T-T

please excuse the crazy long playlist my brain is infected

songs i listened to while writing: Somethin’ Stupid by Nancy and Frank Sinatra, Bewitched by Laufey, Line Without A Hook by Ricky Montgomery (these fools are yearning CRAZY) Amore mio autami by Piero Piccioni, Valentine- Live at the Symphony by Laufey & The Iceland Symphony Orchestra, Someone to Say- Reprise from the Cyrano Motion Picture Soundtrack, Hopelessly Devoted to You by Olivia Newton-John, The Way I Loved You (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift, A Lovely Night by Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone, The Swan by Camille Saint-Saëns, Sebastian Comberti, and Miriam Keogh

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title taken from Bewitched by Laufey (GO LISTEN TO LAUFEY)

✧˖°.

In your short time at the ton, you have met every Bridgerton. Eloise in particular is your favorite- her determination to carve her own path despite the vice grip societal standards have on her is nothing less than refreshing and inspiring. Violet, their mother, is the most likeable of all the ones you have met. Anthony is respectable, Colin is nice, and the children behave well enough for their age. That just leaves one left.

Benedict Bridgerton is the least tolerable and easiest to dislike out of his siblings and family. His cavelier disregard for anything of true substance —besides the art he covets so dearly— grates on you. His smirk prickles your skin whenever he flashes it at you (which is, of course, much too often) and his general manner of being make you desire nothing more than to leave whatever party or ball you are at and never return.

And he, no matter how hard you try, does not seem to get the message.

"Ah," He bows slightly as you enter, "The lady doth grace us with her presence."

You give a tiny curtsey —enough to appease Portia Featherington, whom you have arrived with— and a thin smile, which drops the second she is out of earshot.

"Mr. Bridgerton," You greet, purely out of formality and however might be eavesdropping, gossip is especially rife in this town, "How... nice of you to leave the comforts of your canvas to charm us ladies at this party. I'm sure there is someone else here in attendance who would wish to speak to you more."

Indeed, there are several ladies eyeing the pair of you. To Benedict, with very obvious heart eyes, and to you, barely contained sneers.

If only you could assure them you are of no threat to their dear Benedict. Not a threat to any gentleman well and truly looking for a wife, to speak plainly.

"But who would entertain you? It must be difficult, being here, so far away from your friends and family in..." He trails off, leaning in to you expectantly.

"Cheltenham," You respond, smile paper-thin.

"Cheltenham," He nods. "I hear they have the most magnificent gardens. We do have some impressive ones here in London, but we are not quite known for them."

"Oh, yes. You must be quite familiar with these gardens by now. I must suppose this is our third time having this exact conversation."

There. Right there, his smirk almost falters. As usual, your sharp-tongue and quick-wit catches him off-guard. It is the easiest way to disarm a one Benedict Bridgerton long enough to make a quick escape.

Except this party is rather boring (even though you have just arrived) and well. With almost no chance of possible suitors approaching you and your usual preference of lingering on the fringes of parties and analyzing what happens in them, there is little better to do than subject Benedict to whatever mood you are in.

"You'll forgive me," he affirms, "It is hard to find topics of conversation when one's partner is adamant on not continuing past formalities."

The usual flame begins to spark in your chest. "Oh? Then let us continue, if that's what you desire. I had believed you would want to save your best conversation for the ladies who are much more... diverting."

"My, my," He tilts his head, smirk widening. "Do you consider yourself plain?"

"I consider myself un-agreeable," You remark, words rolling so easily off your tongue. Something about arguing with Benedict specifically always makes your words easier to find, easier to say. "I think you will find that most, if not all, of the gentlemen here agree. Even Lady Whistledown writes of my abilities to repel any and all suitors."

"So I have heard," Nearly in sync, you both pluck glasses of wine off a passing tray, "I do worry, my dear Lady. You sound almost proud of this feat."

"I am. I have worked tirelessly for the title."

He takes a sip of his wine. "I recall several suitors calling upon you back when you first arrived, at the start of this season."

"Ah yes, well," You take a sip of your own, "Nothing makes a woman think of marriage like being fought over like a shiny new toy."

Benedict chuckles, looking down at his glass and then back at you. "I see now why you and my sister get along so well."

"I believe that was evident from the moment we met. Not just anyone deserves the right of befriending Eloise Bridgerton."

"Ah! There we go," He raises his glass as if toasting. "Something we both can agree on."

The conversation lulls into silence, neither of you bothering to start it up again. You merely stand, an appropriate distance apart, and watch. Benedict, likely watching his brother, who has taken to the dance floor, and you, watching a young lady who bears a rather striking resemblance to your one of your sisters.

A stab of homesickness plunges deep into your chest, so sharp and so quick you almost suck in an audible gasp. You haven’t seen your sisters in quite some time. Each of them married and in love and happy- something you worked so, so hard to achieve.

Even if it meant you yourself are likely to become a spinster.

Benedict notices your momentary grief. He follows your eyeline, and when he speaks next, it is surprisingly soft.

“Do you miss your sisters?”

You sip your wine, at the same time using the glass to cover the slight shine of tears that has risen in your eyes and to take a moment to gather your words.

“Do you miss Daphne?”

“Of course I do,” His voice is firm, almost vehement. “But I gather that the bond between sisters is different than sisters and brothers.”

The wine begins to settle in your stomach, rich and heavy.

“It is,” You say, nearly a whisper, “My sisters and I were all very close. I miss them a great deal.”

You allow your words time to hang in the air before continuing. “But they are all married now, and they are happy. Most of them have children of their own. They’ve all gotten fine lives for themselves.”

Benedict makes a noise in the back of his throat that has you turning to stare at him.

“You are the eldest, yes?” He asks, something you can’t identify in his eyes.

“I am.”

“And you have not yet married,” He continues, “I would think that the eldest would get married first, and her sisters would follow her lead.”

You stare down at your gloves. This topic of conversation has come up several times over the course of your stay —Especially because you’re staying with the Featherington’s, being old family friends of your father, and Portia does love a good piece of gossip— and it never gets easier.

“My mother died before any of us entered society. I was raised by our governess, and my sisters were raised by me. Our father has… little interest in the affairs of match-making and courtship and everything it is young ladies get up to.”

Benedict is silent while you speak, eyeing you curiously.

“And my mother had always spoken of how she wished for her daughters to marry for love. And with her gone, well,” You swallow harshly over the lump in your throat, “Somebody had to ensure that came true. How could I prepare my sisters for society and guide them to their matches if I was busy and married?”

He doesn’t respond for several long moments. When he does, there’s an edge to his voice that wasn’t there before.

“I had not considered you so selfless.” He admits, eyes flicking over your face. “I must say, I am quite surprised. So many layers to the ton’s most infamous suitor-fighter.”

And just like that, all the air seems to return to the room, and whatever momentary tension was there leaves, and you remember that you are speaking to Benedict Bridgerton.

You give him another fake smile. “We can’t all be so one-dimensional, Benedict.”

—

You’re not sure how you have found yourself a seat at the Bridgerton dinner table.

Of course, you are not surprised at all to have found yourself at dinner with the Bridgerton’s. Eloise is always insisting you come to dinner— the dowager Bridgerton has heard of her pleas so often that they’ve almost come to save you a seat- you are there at least once a week.

The surprise falls in the matter of who is sitting next to you.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” You say, voice just loud enough for him to hear, “Your wine glass is a bit close to mine, don’t you think?”

The smile he sends you —that you can barely see from the corner of your eye— is sharp and full of teeth.

“Nonsense. I’ve found that a little proximity is good for things every now and then.”

“Every now and then,” You repeat, voice firm, “Somehow I find myself seeing you more and more.”

“Oh, surely there are worse fates.”

“Hardly.”

“Tell me- are you this sharp-tongued with all whom you meet?”

“Only the ones that deserve it.”

He raises his wine glass to his lips. “And what have I done to deserve such cruel wit?”

“Oh, don’t play ignorant to your intentionally aggravating behaviors.”

Benedict rests a hand over his chest in mock pain. “You wound me. Truly.”

The sip of wine you take is a little too large to be considered a sip. “Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

“Tell me,” He tosses back a generous gulp of wine, “Were you born this stubborn and sarcastic or did it come naturally over time?”

“Hmm,” You pretend to think, “I suppose I’d consider myself that of a fine cheddar. Only tasting sharper with time.”

Benedict laughs, a private thing, clearly already tipsy. “That doesn’t even answer my question.”

“Why do you even want to know?”

“I want to know what your sisters endured during their childhoods. My word. I can only imagine why you haven’t had any suitors since arriving here.”

Fear races up your spine at his words, a sudden a rather unwelcome reminder of why your father sent you to London.

“Yes, well,” You answer, your mouth suddenly dry and your hands sweating in your gloves, “They should know there is no accounting for someone’s personality.”

He’s silent for a few moments. It makes you nervous his silence, so you turn your head, just a little, to see what expression he’s wearing.

Only when you turn, he’s already staring. Not even the half-head turn that you’ve done. He’s staring. Right at you.

His brows are furrowed, little creases on the skin in between them, and his eyes are bright and searching.

“Are you alright?”

You have been in London for two months, one week, and three days.

Benedict Bridgerton is the first person to ask if you’re okay.

“Fine,” You say, smoothing out your features with force, “Wine does not always agree with me.”

He doesn’t believe you. But he doesn’t pry, either.

“Shall you be giving the wine a thorough lecture, then?”

“Wine does not have ears. A lecture would be wasted on it,” You pause, “However, if we can track down the winemaker…”

Your words have their desired effect. He laughs, this time a little louder than something just for the two of you to share, garnering a couple glances from Anthony and Eloise, so you sip your wine and pretend you did not just make Benedict laugh. A real laugh, not the fake one he does when you’re arguing.

You suppose there are worse ways spend an evening.

—

It is an almost pleasant day in London. Almost being that the temperatures are fair, but the weather overcast.

You find garden parties the most interesting of all the parties to be had by the high society families because it means you get to escape to the gardens. Of course, there are others milling about in them, but they offer much more privacy than a ballroom and have the added bonus of reminding you of your home in Cheltenham.

“What is it liked to be overlooked by society?” Eloise asks, ever lacking decorum. It is, honestly, refreshing. She does not beat around the bush or sugar-coat her words.

You think on her words before responding, taking the time instead to eye some rather nice roses. “Honestly? It is not as terrible as you might think. Everybody always says that spinsterhood is a fate worse than death, but if it’s anything like this, I can’t think it to be that painful.”

She nods, thinking over your words. “But didn’t you want to marry? You must be lonely.”

You elbow her side as you walk, arms entwined. “How could I ever be lonely with such incorrigible friends?”

You both laugh, raucous and cackling and nothing close to lady-like.

“Is there a pack of hyenas roving about the gardens?”

You hear the rush of footsteps swishing across the grass, then feel the brush of fabric on your arm.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” You sigh, cutting him a glare, “What are you doing here?”

He loops his arm through yours, the same way that Eloise has done to you.

“Mr. Bridgerton.” You warn, tone sharp

“Oh relax,” His smirk is in high form, today, “I am protecting you ladies from those hyenas. We haven’t found them yet, have we? It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“Eloise,” You pause, craning your neck about the garden, “Do you see a gentleman around here?”

Eloise snickers behind her glove. “I can’t say that I can see any.”

Benedict rolls his eyes. “Humor me, then.”

You continue walking. “I suppose we will. It’s good to engage in charity, dear Eloise. You must not think yourself above those less fortunate.”

He scoffs. “Since when do you consider yourself charitable?”

You flap your fan a few times. “I have a great many qualities. Do not fault me because you are so caught up in yourself to notice anything other than what you want.”

His fingers flex. “And what is it you think I want to see?”

You shrug plainly. “Me as I present myself. Unbecoming and, probably by the standards here, vile.”

“No.” He says, the word more of a sound, sort of ripped from his chest.

You look at him in alarm and he meets your gaze evenly. “You are a great many things- stubborn and irritating, but never vile.”

His words and the vehemence in which he said that stun you into silence. You’d never imagined Benedict, of all people, to take such an issue with that word. Vile. You’ve been called vile often over the course of your life, by mothers and suitors and other debutants and even on occasion your father. Its meaning has been mostly lost on you, the cruel nature in which it is said no longer barbed and painful. It is just a word, like every other word.

He’s staring at you, an almost pained expression on your face, so you figure you should say something.

“I see,” Eloise’s arm tightens on yours, “I suppose I should take your words to heart. I am glad to know that there is at least one gentleman who does not think me a vile woman.”

Benedict smiles, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes for a moment, something you don’t manage to place before it is gone.

“Ah! You called me a gentleman. Have I won you over?”

“For now, at least.”

—

You miss dancing.

Since you are the most un-agreeable lady in the Ton, you are seldom asked to dance, and since a partner is a requirement for the activity, you tend to spend most parties on the fringes, either talking with Eloise or merely observing.

Or arguing with Benedict. But you’ve found it a little harder to truly poke at him with any real malice or criticism since he defended your character so passionately that day in the gardens.

“You’re watching the dancers like they personally offended you.”

He always finds you at parties. Actually, he always finds you no matter where you are.

You gaze at him out of the corner of your eye. “I’m envious. Pay me no mind.”

He snorts. “Envious of the dancers? Whatever for?”

“I miss dancing. The only problem with scaring away all your suitors is that you also scare away all of your potential dance partners.”

You both observe them quietly for several moments, eyes tracking the flowing and sweeping movements.

“Do you,” he pauses, clears his throat when his voice cracks over the last syllable, “Like to dance?”

“Yes,” You admit, a tad embarrassed, “I always have. Most of society’s expectations for women are quite sedentary or still. But dancing is… its movement and passion. And sometimes, when your partner is agreeable and the music fair, it can almost feel like you’re not dancing at all. That there is no one else there, just the two of you.”

Your face heats, the realization that you’ve been talking so long about something you really do care about striking you. “Or so I’ve heard. I haven’t actually experienced that last bit.”

He inclines his head. “Where did you hear about it?”

“From my mother, as she regaled me on the day she met my father.”

You both stand, shoulder to not-shoulder, more like mid-upper arm, observing the spins and steps of the pairs of dancers.

“Would you dance with me?”

You snap your head to him. “Dance?”

“Yes,” He says, voice a little breathless. “I have yet to do my duty dance for the evening and it would be unfair to keep a lady from the dance floor.”

He extends a hand. “Especially if she longs for it.”

You stare down at his hand. “People will talk of you dancing with me. I would not want to bring reproach—“

“Dance with me,” He says again. “Please.”

Who are you to deny such an earnest request?

He marks a spot on your dance card- your first and only of the night.

As the next song comes a close, he leads you onto the the dance floor, and for the first time in awhile, you feel… conscious, of the eyes on you.

Everybody always watches for the who the Bridgerton’s dance with. Except now Anthony has Kate, and he is much less interesting than the second Bridgerton brother taking a partner to dance. Especially a partner with the reputation you have.

The song begins, and you glide your way through the steps.

“You didn’t have to dance with me. I’m sure we’ll—“ you pause, spinning, “—appear in Lady Whistledown’s review in the morning.”

He grasps your hand tightly. “Let them talk. I have never been the brother anyone is well and truly worried about.”

You begin to feel more and more alive and the song plays on. Movement— real, fluid, passionate movement thrums in your veins, the music jumping through the air.

But all good things must come to end.

Eventually, the music comes to a close, and you must curtsy, and allow Benedict to leave the dancefloor.

“You dance well,” He praises, eyes alight, “I see why you miss dancing. You glide like a swan.”

The smile that tugs at your lips is entirely involuntary. “You are too kind. I do not dance that well. I just have a passion for it.”

He raises a brow. “Oh come now, accept the compliment.”

You shake your head, chuckling a breathy laugh. “Then I must pay you one in return. Not once did you step on my toes or lose your way. Color me impressed.”

His face lights up, joy evident. “And the night grows better! A compliment from our dear spinster.”

“I have always proclaimed myself a fair judge, have I not?”

Benedict’s expression is alight with amusement. “You have. But that doesn’t mean I’ve been all that inclined to believe you.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Well, there’s no accounting for opinions, even if they are wrong.”

“I thought opinions above being right or wrong.”

“Only sometimes.”

Benedict looks all together too pleased with himself as he gazes at you, lips quirked up and cheeks still a little flushed from the dance.

He extends a hand.

“Care for another dance?”

You smile down at your gloves. “I couldn’t possibly. Dancing with me once could be forgiven, but twice? What would your mother think?”

“My mother happens to like you a great deal,” He says smoothly, “And I think I might enjoy dancing with somebody who actually dances.”

How could you refuse?

You place your hand in his.

“I’d be delighted.”

—

As has become a particular habit of yours recently, you’re lying away, staring at your ceiling and pondering Benedict’s actions.

Why did he ask you to dance? Why did he allow you the joy of two dances?

Why did he care?

Why can’t you stop thinking about it?

In your heart, and probably your mind, you know why. The warmth of his hands through the gloves and the dappling of the candlelight on his flushed cheeks is stuck fast in your mind for the exact same reason you’ve hated him since the moment you met:

You love him.

You didn’t love him when you met, but you know yourself. You know he is the type of man that you would love- the type that would break your heart because he is charming and kind, and he will never choose you. And why should he? You’re sharp and sarcastic and nowhere near the shining qualities and perfection of this season’s diamond- any of the season’s diamonds, really. You’re a spinster in the making with an attitude and standards.

It is a most unfortunate combination. For your upbringing to have made you so hard to love and have also instilled such a deep want for love and romance in your heart. You know you were not made for it, not for the kind your father sent you to London to get.

He wants you married to whoever will take you- only problem is, now no one will. Especially not Benedict.

But… could he?

You turn over in bed, smushing your face into the pillow.

No, you tell yourself, Don’t go down that road. Don’t even think about it.

You barely sleep a wink, that night.

—

The morning brings the post, and the post brings a letter from your father.

Not even Portia Featherington’s threats of grounding stop you from racing into a carriage to Bridgerton house.

You enter through the back entrance and upon seeing your disheveled appearance and tear stricken face, a servant rushes inside to fetch Eloise immediately.

The girl herself looks harried and concerned as she meets you in the back garden, a million questions etched in her face and streaming out of her mouth.

“My father,” You half-sob, “Has found me a husband. Baron Dunsmoor. He is— he’s horrible. He has had two previous wives, and then all died in childbirth. He is disgusting and revolting and treats women like, like cows.”

Eloise’s expression crumples. “What is, what can be done?”

You shake your head, pressing the back of your hand to your mouth. “It is too late. He’s ordered me to come home at once so the proposal can be made official.”

The younger Bridgerton girl grasps your shoulders. “What if you were to get a proposal? Here? Now?”

“Eloise!” You say, “Who are we going to find to marry me before tomorrow?”

Her eyes shine when she answers. “My brother. Benedict.”

The cruel, twisting stab to your gut that hearing his name, now, here, gives you is nothing short of agonizing.

If you were not crying before, you certainly are now.

“How could you say that?” You ask, breath hard and stuck in your throat, “He would— He will never marry me. That is, it’s cruel to even suggest that.”

“No, no I promise, he loves you, I am sure of it—“

“Eloise, please do not—“

“He has painted you, drawn you, I swear he must have illustrated your likeness more than—“

“Eloise!” You snap, patience thin and tears thick, “That is enough. Benedict will not marry me. I cannot—“

“Marry me.”

You snap your head up at the sound of a familar, rich voice, eyes meeting Benedict’s as he marches over to you eyebrows drawn tight and lips set.

He looks… distraught. Utterly wrecked.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” You gasp, “You—“

“Benedict. Please. You never call me Benedict.”

His words come out like a dying man’s wish, despite you being the one stuck in a hopeless situation.

“Benedict,” You start, “I cannot marry you.”

“Why not?” He snaps, words and expression immediately becoming sharp and confused, “You would rather live a life with that wretched man?”

“Of course not,” You retort, “But it’s not that simple—“

“Yes it is!” He cries, throwing his hands up and taking another step towards you, “Tell me, honestly, if you wrote to your father and told him I had proposed and you had accepted, would he not choose my proposal over the baron’s?”

“Yes, but—“

“But what?”

“But I cannot accept!” You shout, aware of Eloise standing only a few feet away and servants no dough crowding to watch from the door, “I can endure a loveless marriage to a loveless man. I could not endure a loveless marriage to a man that I love.”

Benedict sucks in a gasp, and you refuse to meet his gaze. How can you, after saying that?

Birds chirp overhead. There is the distance noise of carriages moving about in London. Somewhere distant, a dog barks.

“Do you truly think our marriage would be loveless?” He says, voice scraped raw and quiet, “How could you not know the depth of my affection for you?”

You look up, taking a half step forwards, searching his face for any hint of a lie, for deception.

You find open, painful, vulnerable honesty.

“What reason would I have to believe that I had a chance?” You ask, voice hushed, “All we do is argue. I have been cast out by society and you are a Bridgerton.”

He reaches forwards, grasps your hands in his. Your breath hitches.

Neither of you are wearing gloves.

“I am so in love with you it makes my chest hurt and my bones ache. Eloise was right. I have drawn you hundreds of times because there is just so much inside of me and it has nowhere to go,”

His lips quirk up a little, almost sad, “I loved it when we argued, because it meant you looked at me. It meant I held your attention. And you are remarkably smart and so, so much more wonderful than you give yourself credit for. I would sooner burn everything I’ve ever drawn than let you marry that man, than let you believe that you can never marry for love.”

He squeezes your hands once.

“Please, marry me.”

Your eyes are burning with a fresh wave of tears, but there’s something warm and alive unfurling and beating in your chest, something that glows with every word he says.

You laugh a strange noise, somewhere between a chuckle and a sob.

“Yes,” You gasp, your smile practically splitting your face in two, “Yes. I will marry you.”

Benedict’s smiling too, the both of you looking like fools, smiling and laughing in his garden.

Eventually, he turns to Eloise. “You’d better go tell mother she has another wedding to plan.”

Eloise scoffs. “Oh, please. She’s been working on this one for ages. I’m absolutely positive everybody knew this was only a matter of time except the two of you.”

He looks baffled, and you note in the back of your mind that he’s still holding your hands, “What? I wasn’t that obvious.”

“You danced with her. Twice. In a row.”

“So?”

Eloise rolls her eyes. “You don’t dance with anybody, especially more than once. You’ve been making love eyes at each other over verbal spars for ages. It’s been disgusting to watch.”

You snort. “Then look away.”

“Absolutely not. You insult my brother too well.”

You laugh again, then look back to Benedict.

“My father, and the Baron—“

“I will write to him today,” he soothes, “And have the letter sent with the fastest post carrier. You’re my wife now. I’m not going to let anyone else have you.”

Your cheeks heat. “I’m not your wife yet.”

He shrugs. “Only a matter of time, my love.”

Eloise retches in the background, and Portia will be an absolute nightmare to deal with when you get back, and part of you still wonders if Benedict is serious, but none of that seems to matter.

Not with how he’s looking at you now. Not with your hands in his.

You’re really looking forward to that first kiss.

✧˖°.

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[aliesbienish]

Dastardly Plans

Summary: You plot revenge, Anthony finds it incredibly attractive.

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

“Would you be so kind as to help me plot a murder,” You stated as soon as you stepped foot into Anthony’s study.

“I’m sorry but what did you just say my darling wife, I must of misheard you?”

“I need help with planning a murder, do keep up my love. Maybe you were the wrong choice, perhaps I shall approach Eloise instead, she seems a bit more quick witted”

“Don’t you dare. I was just making sure I heard correctly, I never said no. But just out of curiosity who are we killing and why?”

“That silly Miss Connors. Francesca just confided that she’s be coming up to her at every ball saying hurtful remarks. She even had the audacity to step on her gown causing a terrible rip. The wretch is clearly jealous of Franny, and I will have none of it. So I’ve been thinking the best way to get rid of the Miss Connors problem will be to never have to see her face again. Argo murder! Really it’s a two birds one stone situation because it will show the Ton the consequences of messing with the Bridgertons, especially while I’m Viscountess.”

Anthony started at you, his mouth wide open in awe and his eyes shining with desire. Your defence of his siblings was not only endearing but incredibly sexy.

“Honey, you still there. Yes or no to murder, I don’t have all day.”

“Absolutely yes. In fact I know Colin mentioned a substance he came across on the continent which was deadly yet odourless. One drop in the dreadful girls tea and mission accomplished”

“I knew I married you for a reason” you smirked, bringing Anthony in for a kiss.

————

Hope you all enjoyed. Feel free to send through any requests x

[favefandomimagines]

Ocean Away (a.b)

Summary: a disastrous fight threatens to end your engagement with Anthony

AN: inspired by “Ocean Away” from the Unofficial Bridgerton Musical. I know it’s a song for Daphne and Simon but I thought it would fit so well with Anthony

This was deeeep in my drafts

He hadn’t meant for it to get so out of hand. What started out as a seemingly normal conversation, ended in both you and Anthony shouting at each other.

“Anthony, I need to ask you something.” You said to your fiancé. “Yes, darling?” He questioned. “When was the last time you saw Siena?” You asked.

The question took him aback. You have never spoken of Siena or his past endeavors. Meaning something must have made you ask him. “What has made you wonder such a thing?” Anthony asked. “Lady Whistledown,” You started before a scoff cut you off.

“Lady Whistledown? You are believing this gossip now.” He spoke. “She has never been wrong before, Anthony. She wrote that she saw you leave the opera house the other evening.” You said.

“An evening where you said you were with Benedict.” You added. “You are above believing these lies, Y/N.” He said. “You have not yet denied it once.” You replied.

Anthony had yet to deny any of what Lady Whistledown wrote and that made you fear that what you had read was true. “I should not have to. We are to be husband and wife in a matter of weeks and you question my fidelity to you.” Anthony said.

“Because two weeks before you proposed to me you were with her. Am I wrong for worrying?” You rebutted. “Your insecurities are not my doing, do not put this blame on me.” He snapped. “My insecurities? I have never been insecure in our engagement until you gave me a reason to be.” You spoke. “This is mad. You believe Lady Whistledown over me?” He asked.

“For goodness sake, Anthony, you have not denied it! There is only one side to this currently and it is hers.” You yelled. “Well, forgive me for not wanting to entertain this any longer.” He said, turning away from you. “You cannot even be honest with me, can you?” You asked quietly.

Anthony could hear the way your voice began to break as his back was to you. He never wanted to hurt you.

Hurting you was at the top of a list of things he never wanted to do to you. And by not claiming his innocence because of his pride, he was hurting you.

“I am going to spend the night in Eloise’s room.” You announced. Anthony still made no attempt to move or even apologize.

You wiped a tear from your face quickly as you headed for the door.

“I sincerely hope you know that Lady Whistledown said I was mad for accepting your proposal. That you would always be the naive and self-sabotaging young viscount. Please do not prove her right.” You spoke before leaving the room.

The problem was Anthony was a prideful man and it would be his pride that would prevent him from doing what was right.

The garden party was supposed to be a celebration of your engagement and it was turning quite sour. Luckily, no one knew of the turmoil that was going on because of the facade you had put on all day.

You spoke to guests, entertained their prodding questions into your wedding and tried to carry on with the afternoon. Your eyes often wandered to Anthony, who was standing stoically with Colin and Benedict. He looked as if he had completely forgotten about your argument as if it meant nothing.

It hurt you, seeing him act so blasè about what had occurred the night prior. That made you fearful because what if he ended the engagement? What if he did not want you anymore?

He had yet to apologize for the way he spoke and the words he said, you had hoped he had just forgotten. Or maybe he was not sorry at all.

You found Eloise and Penelope Featherington, both girls trying to help distract you from your own thoughts.

Eloise was one of your favorite people because of simply how she was unapologetically herself. She was a very funny young woman and that was refreshing in society.

Anthony watched you as you smiled and laughed with his sister by the lake. You were happy after all that happened last night. How could you be happy?

“How can she be smiling? It is as if she realized I am not what she wants.” Anthony spoke aloud. Benedict and Colin looked at one another, neither knowing how to approach the topic.

“Brother, maybe she is trying to be brave. Not let people know she is hurting. They all believe you were with Siena the other evening, she is trying to show it is all a lie. Even if she does not believe it herself.” Benedict said.

Anthony continued to watch you, your eyes never once meeting his gaze. He knew he needed to apologize to you. Tell you that he was never with Siena and the moment he realized you were who he wanted, he had not seen her.

There was a moment where he lost you in the crowd of people. He did not know where you went off to and that worried him more so than his pride.

Anthony started frantically looking around the grounds for you, weaving through the crowd until he spotted you sitting on the bench under the willow tree.

You had always loved that spot and often times Anthony would catch you reading there. It was also the spot you were sitting in when the two of you confessed your love for each other for the first time.

He approached you silently and sat down a few inches away from you.

“I remember the first time I saw you. You had just arrived at the Queen’s ball with your mother and it felt as if time stopped. There was nothing, that tempted me to take my eyes off of you. I knew then that I wanted you and only you. You made me believe that marriage could be for love and for nothing else.” Anthony spoke.

Him recounting the night of your debut made your eyes well up with tears.

“I am afraid. I am afraid that you will want her again and I cannot go through that kind of pain. I love you with everything that I am and if I was not enough for you, it would be the death of me.” You confessed.

Anthony looked at you with slightly wide eyes, never having heard your concerns before. He blamed his past behavior on your fears knowing it was not an easy feat to love someone with his reputation.

He moved closer to you and took your hand in his. “I am also afraid.” He spoke. It was then you looked at him with eyes wide, never having heard the man you love he so vulnerable.

“I am afraid that I will not make you happy. That one day you will wake up and feel like some other man could make you happier.” He continued. “I do not think there is another man in this lifetime who will make me as happy as you do.” You said.

“I have not nor will I ever, see Siena again. You are the woman I love, the woman I cannot stop thinking about. It will always be you.” Anthony said. “She has always had such a strong hold on you, forgive me for being skeptical.” You muttered.

“Now the only woman who has a strong hold on me is you. And that is how it will stay.” He replied. “Do you promise?” You asked. “I promise.” He spoke without hesitation.

Anthony took your hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I love you, Y/N. I always have and I always will.” He said. “I love you too.” You spoke. “And I’m sorry.” You added. “You have nothing to be sorry for, my love.” Anthony replied.

“Your mama might think we have run off and abandoned our own celebration.” You commented. “That does sound rather tempting.” Anthony teased.

You stood up and held your hand out for his, which he took with a smile. If you would have told Anthony Bridgerton that he was about to get married and to the love of his life, he would have called you mad. But here he was, and couldn’t have been happier.

[igotanidea]

Almost there: Anthony Bridgerton x reader

part 1: Too much

part 2 : Not enough

***

„One of those days you will get us both in trouble, Eloise.”

Due to some miracle, Y/N and her second-in-age sister in law managed to escape the watchful gaze of all, lady Danburry, Violet and Daphne, and rushed forward on the promenade. It was generally frowned upon, that the married lady strolled in the presence of a girl, who wasn’t even a débutante yet, but neither of those two seemed to take much interest in ton’s opinion.

“Trouble from merely speaking the truth?”

“Shall I remind you that this virtue is long forgotten in the society full of hypocrisy and deceit?” Y/N whispered taking Eloise’s arm to at least keep the pretences of being discreet. It would be unwise to let anyone else eavesdrop on the little exchange of words between close friends.

“It’s almost like you don’t trust me, my dear sister-in-law.” Eloise chuckled feigning the pompous tone.

“Please don’t ever call me like that again. You were my friend before you were my family. Don’t put the distance between us now. ”

“If anything I’d dare say I’m the reason you met with Anthony and –“ the sentence was cut out abruptly, as Eloise realised that Y/N was currently in the middle of a heavy argument with her husband. An argument that made her flee the house and turned out on the doorstep on the other Bridgerton’s house announced, in search for a friendly soul to talk to. And now she actually realised that all that may have been her fault from the beginning. If Y/N and Anthony have never met, they never would have fought and never—

“Stop overthinking it, dear.” The current viscountess chuckled observing her friend’s slightly hazy gaze and recognising it instantly. Clearly Eloise was getting lost in her own head.

‘Do not call me that!” the girl’s eyes became sharp and conscious again “I can hardly stand being called that affectionately by my mother, let alone by you.”

“Worked just as planned though.”

“Well, my biggest congratulations on being effective in the matter. You are almost as good at me with it.” 

“Oh, almost? From what I can recollect I taught you most of those tricks.” Y/N smiled brightly.

“Really?” Eloise raised an eyebrow “I can’t remember. Hey what do you say we run away from our chaperones and have a proper, meaningful discussion on what’s troubling you?”

“I wish it was that easy. But I’m a wife now and apparently –“

“Viscountess Bridgerton!” a sudden voice came from in front of them and Y/N felt like actually taking Eloise advice and rushing off. It was almost like the whole world decided to prey on her misery on that particular day. First lady Danburry, now lady Featherington. “How lovely to see you! Marriage serves you well. You are beaming, dear.”

Y/N gritted her teeth in hardly hidden annoyance at such obvious show of nosiness and lack of tact. She knew instantly that she had to cut the conversation short before another wave of unwanted questions about her blessed (or not) state would come.

‘Lady Featherington. Pleasure to see you there. Are your daughters accompanying you or are they occupied with their upcoming prenuptial agreements? I surely hope they would be as fortunate with their future husbands as I am with mine. And speaking of which, if you excuse me, I need to discuss a very urgent matter on the subject with my family.”She put an emphasis on two last word and not waiting for response, abandoning all the rules of the lady behaviour, tried to drag Eloise away almost sighing deeply in frustration.

„Oh, but viscountess, once Penelope weds Colin, we will be a family.” lady Featherington stopped both girls in their tracks before they managed to escape.

„I beg your pardon, what now?”

‘Oh, you didn’t know, viscountess? Your brother-in-law is about to marry my youngest daughter. By some miracle, clearly, since Penelope--” Portia started rambling without a care in the world.

„Oh I know about that part.” Y/N faked a smile that didn’t reach her eyes „I merely have the deep conviction that us becoming family is rather an improbable claim.”

„But--”

„Dearest lady Featherington, do not push my hand here. I would rather stay in amity with you. A very fragile alliance shall you pry into my private matters. I dare say you have a certain interest in using those bold statements? ”

„I beg your pardon?”

„The viscount, is still in the charge of his famliy’s - our family’s finances. And that shall include the future fortune of Colin. Shall you insist on intruding me during my leisure time I might have a word with my husband.”

„You truly do not  disgrace yourself with being modest, do you, Y/N? Has social advancement changed you so much? I clearly remember you being a scrawny child with no aspiration and position and look at you now. A snake in a sparkish dress.”

„She can at least choose the colour that highlights her beauty and doesn't make her look like--”

„Thank you Eloise.” Y/N cut her off before she could cause some more havoc. Lady Featherington was an onerousness but her gossiping nature was something Y/N did not need in the current situation. „I shall believe lady Portia will keep our little conversation in mind for the future purposes. Hers and her daughter’s.

„Actually if the viscount is around --”

„Unfortunately, matters of utmost importance kept him at home today.” Y/N responded with the most patience she could gather at the moment. There was always a possibility of farewelling the unwanted company, but as previously stated - there was no need of spreading the rumours of some discrepancies between the newlyweds. This hydra had to be beheaded immediately before the news spread throughout London.

„Such a shame you were left to tend for yourself then viscountess.”

„I shall believe I’d receive the most warm welcome back once my husband free himself of all the duties and occupations.”

***

While Y/N was having a lively discussion with indefatigable Portia Featherington, someone was observing her closely from behind the tree, staying unnoticed themselves.

 “Are you spying on her now?”

“I’m not spying!”

“Oh really? Then tell me brother, why on Earth would you hide in the bush instead of accompanying your wife on the promenade? If I were you –“

“Good thing you are not.” Anthony muttered grumpily keeping his eyes fixed on his wife’s silhouette. Even with her cheeks reddened from the indignation and eyes sparkling with cunning intelligence she was the most beautiful woman he has ever laid his eyes on. If anything, those characteristic may have only been adding to her charm.

he viscount may not have heard all the words exchanged between two ladies, but the way Y/N was keeping lady Portia at bay, standing her own ground and not wavering in the slightest was admirable and worthy of a viscountess. Serving as a reminder that his wife was not a fragile bird who was - in his opinion- in dire need of his protection and care, but rather  a capable, strong woman, who would survive on her own.

Which brought him to another conclusion - that she didn’t rely on him as much as he expected her to. That she was proud enough to get the audacity to leave his home, leave him and decided (solely by herself!) to pay a visit to his sister.

“If I were you—“ Benedict grinned mischievously “I would run and drag Y/N away from Eloise before those two officially call you an idiot and make a plan for Y/N to leave you for good.” apparently the second son was capable of reading his older brother’s mind and pointing out all the worries that were already inside viscount’s head

“She would never.”

“I am unaware of the scope of your failure, but given the fact your wife rushed to Eloise, out of all the people must have been immense.”

“That’s it!’ Anthony hissed, almost crawling out from behind the tree, ready to clear this misunderstanding immediately.

***

„Oh, my dear!” Lady Featherington placed her hands on her hips as if she wanted to emphasize her higher position and knowledge of male-female relations. „Do not occupy yourself with the romance fantasies. Courtship is gone once the knot is tied. And after a child is born--” her gaze landed on Y/N’s stomach „you put all the efforts into keeping the family afloat and secure the future of the offspring.”

„I believe--”

„Viscountess, you are so young. So naive and innocent. Fed on the novels and stories.”

„Most of which cover the topic of history, literature and medicine rather than Shakespeare plays.” now the young woman was getting angry her cheeks flushing  „topics which I boldly presume are far from your interest.”

„I beg your-”

„I kindly forgive you, lady Featherington. Now if you excuse us - I shall wish you a good day.”

„I am not--”

„Lady Featherington.”

The sudden deep voice coming from behind made all the ladies turn around at once.

„Viscount.” Portia bowed slightly „I was just having a little chat with your wife.”

„Educating her on the specificity of marital relations?”

„Giving her some of the knowledge that her prematurely deceased mother - God rest her soul - did not have the opportunity to teach her”

„How kind of you.” Anthony almost smirked and Y/N had to muffle the chuckle forming in the back of her throat looking down. It was like she saw the old him. „However I suppose that once I am here, you shall be free of your educative duties?”

„I--”

„do not preoccupy yourself my lady. My wife shall not lack the company from now on.” having said that, Antony walked right to Y/N offering her an arm and - a sight truly unexpected - bid the older lady goodbye while leading the viscountess away.

„I didn’t need you to save me.”

„such a shame I happened to be around then.”

„My undoing indeed.”

„Unforunate event that you might have to keep the externals for the duration of a stroll.” Anthony held her tighter and closer to him while nodding head to the acquaintance.

***

„Did you gather some intel on the current situation of our brother and his lovely wife?” Benedict, who followed the two of them without any hesitation, asked Eloise.

„I am Y/N’s confidante, I shall never-”

„You cannot trick me sister.”

„Anthony is an idiot.”

„I had quite a feeling you would say something like that. Now- shall we interfere or remain passive observers as Antony makes a fool of himself begging for her forgiveness?”

Eloise smirked as they continued their following.

She and Benedict always understood each other without words.

Edit: part 4 Stuck

@pietrawebster @chrissisheadisinclouds @fuzzym4m4 @gloomysel @urfavnoirette @dd122004dd @milkbummm @bevstofu @taniasethi @syraxnyra @christinabae @pandoraneverland @bevstofu @topguncultleader @jana-jaeynneee @myaa21212121 @ziarah @cat-lockwood @leaf-rose-thorn @elissanatok @lily3450 @nervousmumbling @cat-lockwood @pr3ttyfac3jaelyn

[lisaphantasia]

Whoever started that rumour about Colin cheating I hope both sides of your pillow are always warm and you forget to put your ice cream in the freezer..

Colin 'I love my wife' Bridgerton would NEVER

[petew21-blog]

The Bridgerton Scandal

“Dearest gentle reader, this author feels compelled to report the latest scandal in our society. A certain young gentleman has expressed his intention to seek a wife in this coming season. And who might that gentleman be but Mister Colin Bridgerton, newly returned to the ton after his travels abroad. Who, one may wonder, shall become the next fortunate young lady?”

Anthony sat by the fire, holding today’s edition of Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers. Not thinking much of it, his mind wandered from the paper to his forthcoming engagements, scarcely paying attention to the words before him. Suddenly, the door swung, his brother walked into the room visibly angry.

Colin:”Do you care to explain why Lady Whistledown feels the need to share the news that I am in search of a bride this season?”

Anthony muttering:”Who gives a damn what that hag and her infernal paper says.”

Colin:”Anthony, as far as I am aware I have no intention of marrying any time soon. Have you spoken to anyone about this matter?”

Anthony:”Indeed, I might have… mentioned it to Mother and Benedict as a suggestion of course.”

Colin:”And why would you do so without first speaking to me?”

Anthony:”Because I am the head of this family and it falls to secure advantageous matches for all my siblings. You, Benedict and Eloise are of age and must begin shouldering new responsibilities.”

Colin:”You ought to follow Daphne's lead and find someone for yourself, rather than attempting to sell us off like racehorses.” 

Colin was ready to leave the room, but Anthony was enraged now. Anthony got up and stormed towards Colin. 

Anthony:”Do you have any idea what it costs to maintain our property and this family? Every day that we waste our time doing nothing, we waste our money and our fortune. You strut about the ton like a peacock, desperate for attention, but with no intention to marry them. Well… You will do as I command.”

Colin:”What grants you the right to dictate the course of my life?”

Anthony:”My position as the Viscount.”

Colin:”Father would never have forced us into marriage against our will.” Colin said, frustrated and angry. 

Anthony:”Well, he is no longer here. So you will obey MY decisions.”

Colin:”I shall do no such thing!”

Anthony, full of rage, grabbed the nearest object to him, their father's relic from the cabinet. It was an old wooden box, mostly worthless. Their father never spoke of it. Kept it away from their reach. When Edmund died, there was no one to pass the knowledge of this old relic. Thinking nothing of it, he threw it swiftly at his brother’s back, hoping to hurt him.

But Colin turned swiftly and catched it, smirked and threw it with even stronger force at Anthony. The relic bounced off Anthony's back and fell on the ground. 

Colin left, heading into his room, while Anthony left the house into his favourite brothel. Maybe he would find a woman resembling Sienna to keep his mind off all of his duties and his younger sibling.

Next morning

Anthony woke up from having a bad dream, all sweaty and tense. He rose from the bed, hyperventilating. Something wasn't right. He looked at the window. The sun shone into his face, which was not unusual, given his windows faced east. Yet his bed should have placed the morning light at his right, not his left.

He drank an immeasurable amount of liquor last night, so he probably might have entered the wrong room after his return. Did he return? He remembered drinking in the middle of passionate sex with a prostitute.

He looked around. This looked like Colin's room, but no sign of Colin anywhere.

Anthony got up. Something felt really off. He decided to get himself a bath before seeing the rest of the family and filling his duties for the day.

Considering the fight he and his brother had last night, it might be better to find him and explain the situation. 

He turned around to grab clothes left on the bed. As he reached out his arm, he noticed it looked different. He looked at it. It was less hairy and a bit thinner than his own. Then he noticed his hands. Smaller. His eyes lowered to his chest.

“What in the…” he began speaking, but hasn't even finished his sentence. He recognised it. That voice was unmistakably Colin's voice. Why was Colin's voice coming out of his throat?!

Anthony looked around and found the nearest mirror. And in it, the reflection of his younger brother looked back at him mimicking his every movement. 

Colin woke up to the voice of a woman laughing.

He looked around. What was this place? And how did he get there?

Colin saw the naked woman in front of him. Smiling, giggling. Oh no, he was somehow in a brothel now.

Colin:”How did I get here?”

Woman:”Are you well, my viscount?”

Colin:”Viscount?!”

Woman laughed again:”I see you are still a bit drunk. Unfortunately your carriage awaits as you requested.”

Colin:”I have?”

Woman:”Yes, you said you don't want to be seen returning home late.”

Colin:”Oh…”

Woman:”I'll leave you to get dressed. Thank you for visiting us again, my Lord. I have had a great time.”

Colin couldn't believe what she was saying. Is this all a dream?

Colin swiftly got up and looked out of the window. The sun was rising. If he wanted to avoid any embarrassment from his brothers he should leave now. No matter how he got there.

He looked around the room for clothes, but suddenly felt his weight shift differently. He was used to his core strength being different. He felt heavier. He felt uneasy.

Colin looked down. “Bloody hell!” The surprising length between his legs was definitely something he was not used to. He looked at it. It was longer and the girth was really impressive. Had something happened to him overnight?

But the more he observed, he noticed his much thicker pubic hair. 

He looked back at his ass. “What the…” the perfectly formed ass was covered in a fur-like set of hairs all over.

Colin grabbed the clothes on the floor. He knew whose clothes these were. And by looking at the reflection in the window his suspicion was confirmed. 

“I'll kill Anthony for this!”

Benedict spent his morning as usual. Drinking tea after his late nights painting, drinking and having fun with others. He grabbed the Lady Whistledown left on the table. “What a sharp tongue you have. I wonder who you might be.”

Anthony in Colin's body, dressed in yesterday's clothing stormed into the room.

Anthony:”This must be a very sick joke you pulled on me brother! I might not know how you did this, but let me assure you revenge will be sweet.”

Benedict nonchalantly raised his brows and looked at who he assumed was Colin:”Had some nightmares little brother?” Benedict smiled.

Anthony:”Cut the act. This isn't something to laugh at. This is a serious matter. I have meetings I have to attend. Letters to answer to. A family to take care of.”

Benedict:”If I didn't know better, I would say you’d finally gone mad and started impersonating our dear brother.”

Anthony:”I am Anthony!”

Benedict laughed and without a word returned to the Lady Whistledown. 

At the very same moment, Anthony's body returned.

Anthony's new face turned red. “You! You stole my face!”

Colin:”Me?!? Why would I want to have to watch your stupid face in the mirror and have these ugly sideburns?!?”

Anthony ran at his former body, making Colin stumble an fall. They were rolling around fighting for the position on top to have advantage of the other one.

Anthony wanted to punch Colin with a fist, but Colin distracted him:”You wouldn't want to hurt your pretty face, now. Would you brother?” This made Anthony stop, but gave Colin enough time to throw him on the ground with his new bigger body.

Colin:”Seems like I’m the stronger brother now, right brother?”

Anthony growled:”You’ll regret this!”

Benedict stood above them and observed with curiosity. “Ok, enough or I'll call mother to set you straight.” After hearing the scary threat, they stropped. Both stood up, rearranging their clothes and looking at each other in disgust.

Benedict:”Do you care to explain to me what this is all about?”

Colin:”I woke up in a brothel. With no recollection how I got there. And then to my horror I found out I have Anthony’s face.”

Anthony:”Could be worse. Like waking up with your small cock.”

Colin:”I’ll punch you again!”

Benedict laughed. “Very well. So you two think, you’re each other? We’ll see about that. Colin, or I presume that’s you now Anthony, tell me what is the most humiliating moment? Something you’d never tell a soul, or least of all Colin.” Benedict smirked knowing that if they pulled this sort of a joke on him, this was a thing that Anthony would NEVER let Colin know.

Anthony in Colin’s body sighed:”Don’t make me say it out loud, please.”

Benedict got close to Anthony and gave him a chance to whisper it to his ear.

Benedict:”This can’t be! You two really are each other! But how? This shouldn’t be even possible.”

Colin:”We had a fight last night. Anthony decided to get us all out of this house, is that right, Anthony?”

Anthony:”I only told you what my concerns were and that you are of age to get married. So are you Benedict…”

Benedict:”All right, that’s a topic for another morning. What did you do after?”

Anthony:”I left to… cool off.”

Benedict:”Off course you did.”

Colin realised what they omitted. “You threw that old box at me!” He picked it up from the ground. “I caught it and threw it back at you!”

Anthony:”You think it caused us to…?”

Benedict nodded:”It’s worth a try.”

Colin threw the box at Anthony, but he missed and made it fall.

Colin:”What are you doing?!”

Anthony:”Your body is different from mine! So clumsy.”

Anthony picked it up and threw it back at Colin. But nothing happened. The two swapped brothers looked desperate.

Benedict:”All right, well let’s hide the box somewhere safe and we can try later on.” Colin wanted to hand the box to Benedict. “Are you quite mad?! You want to drag me into this mess too? I am not going to touch that thing.”

Colin put it on the shelf behind him, out of their younger siblings reach.

Anthony:”So what do we do now? I have meetings to attend to.”

Colin:”No, I do. I am Anthony now. You are now Colin and you can help out with the correspondence you’re always complaining about.”

Anthony sighed. “Will you, please, not embarass me? It is a very important meeting that might get us a very profitable deal. And, please, don’t eat anything I wouldn’t. I don’t want to return to my body being heavier and unable to see my manhood.”

Colin:”I’ll try not to embarass you, that I can promise. But I guess I will enjoy sweets more than I ever have in my life.”

Colin put a piece of chocolate in his mouth and left the room to get a carriage.

Benedict leaned next to Anthony:”I think that was for the comment on his size. Is it really?”

Anthony:”I can show you. I am used to a much higher standard than this worm.” 

Benedict:”Oh please do. I'm so curious.”

Anthony unbuckled the belt and let down his pants.

Benedict's eyes widened in shock. Benedict:”Good Lord… is that it?”

Anthony:”Awful, isn't it?”

Benedict:”I mean… it's not THAT small, but it is definitely unseen. I wonder if Colin thought about shaving. Might be easier to find it.” Benedict said in a mocking tone.

Anthony:”Maybe if I get it hard, it will look bigger.”

Benedict:”Yes, brother. And maybe if you water it twice a day it’ll grow by spring . I must admit, I had rather higher expectations from our bloodline. This must be… humbling.”

Anthony:”What should I do with this if we won't change back to ourselves?”

Benedict:”Probably sharpen that tongue of yours.”

Benedict couldn’t stop laughing for the next following minutes, thinking of the ways he could make this situation even more amusing.

Anthony sat down behind his desk watching the piles of correspondence. He never had enough time to get to it, always finding more entertaining duties. He exhaled and with his shit half opened, revealing his brother’s hairy torso, got into sorting it out.

One meeting after another, Colin found himself exhausted. No wonder, Anthony is so frustrated all the time. The conversations he had today gave him a headache he never had in his entire life.

“Shall I call for a carriage, my lord?” his servant asked gently.

“Yes, please. I am fatigued.” Colin responded, getting up and leaving the mansion he found himself in.

They rode for half an hour, but when they were approaching the house, the carriage did not slow down.

Colin:”Why are we not stopping?”

Servant:”We are going to the same place as usual, my lord. Or do you want us to not go there today?”

Colin smirked. Anthony always arrived late from his meetings, because he was in a brothel! Does he want to do the same thing? But he is his brother now. In his body, which is disgusting. But at the same time, it would be priceless to see Anthony’s reaction after he’d tell him, he fucked a prostitute with his body.

Colin:”No, carry on.” Colin smiled

The owner of the brothel showed him to the same room he woke up this morning. Entering, finding it empty, Colin took off his brother’s clothes.

Colin could smell Anthony’s sweat clinging to the fabric. “You reek, Anthony. This must definitely be a new way of torture.” he took off his shirt and looked at himself in the mirror. He hated the sideburns. “Ehh, I despise those sideburns.”

The door swung open. The same lady from the morning entered. “Miss me?”

Colin:”Of course.”

She pointed at the bed and Colin understood. As he laid down, the lady in front of him started stripping and throwing off her clothes. Colin felt as his new cock started getting hard.

He lowered his pants and revealed a much larger penis, than his body had.

Colin’s eyes widened. He took a grip of his new shaft and observed the veins and the head of his new large cock. The length of it couldn't be covered by the size of his hand. He gave it a go and played with the foreskin. He was so fixated on it that he completely forgot about the woman.

Woman:”Shall I leave you alone, my lord?”

Colin looked up, his hand still holding the cock. He laughed and dragged her by the hand to him.

The moans coming from the room were for the first time mostly coming from a man, instead of a woman.

Colin:”Don’t you think this is a bit too much? Altering his looks?”

Benedict:”I think it’s perfect, ANTHONY. You said you wanted a change and hated the sideburns anyway. Didn’t you?” Benedict reminded his little brother of the presence of the staff in the room.

Colin:”It seems a bit too much. It was only a size comment.”

Benedict:”Are you forgetting your argument from last night? We should remind our brother his words. Besides, size matters, brother. Thought I daresay you’re only just discovering that.”

Anthony entered the room. Benedict and Colin, in his body, sat on the sofa with a mischievous look. And then Anthony noticed the sideburns.

Anthony:”You didn’t!”

Colin:”I did.”

Anthony:”I would have never…”

Colin:”You would.”

Anthony:”You’ll pay for this.”

Colin:”We’ll see about that. Could I remind you something, my LITTLE brother?”

Anthony:”Remind me what? And if you’re suggesting that I have a small cock now, don’t forget it’s your cock!”

Colin and Benedict leaned their head in unison and smirking, clearly planning something ominous.

The three of them continued their afternoon journey in a carriage.

Anthony took off the shirt to put on another one that wasn’t so sweaty.

Anthony:”So who else do we have on the list of your potential brides, Colin?”

Colin:”You really got into the role. And it's YOUR list, Anthony and they are your potential brides. You’re me now. And you said last night that I should get married very soon.” Colin said with a smile in Anthony’s body, making Benedict chuckle next to him.

Anthony:”I don’t know when the two of you started conspiring against me, but I will get back at you for this. As soon as I am back in my body…”

Benedict:”If you get back.” Benedict winked at Anthony, making him furious before his next meeting.

The Bridgerton family spent their afternoon in the local park. Colin seemed extremely pleased with himself, while Anthony couldn't wait to somehow get back at his brothers. Colin spoke to the ladies, bragging about being a viscount and hinting at his size.

Anthony took Colin aside to talk at the pier alone. “Colin, bloody hell, what are you doing?!? You want to ruin my reputation?”

Colin:”Oh come on brother. You should be proud. I am making you famous among the ladies.”

Anthony:”You have to stop this instant. People might get suspicious.”

Colin:”You know, I was wondering if I should visit that girl of yours in the brothel.”

Anthony:”What are you…”

Colin:”When I visited earlier today, to fulfill your regular schedule, the woman from last night told me about her. What was her name? Sienna? She must have been fabulous by what she told me about you visiting her all the time.”

Anthony couldn't keep his temper. No matter the embarrassment or whose body he was in. Anthony pushed Colin into the lake. 

This impulsive act caused all the people around to gather nearby. Colin got out of the water. The soaked white shirt, now transparent, completely revealed Anthony’s muscular and hairy chest for all the people around to see. Gasps and giggles could be heard from all over.

While Colin climbed the pier, Anthony already received scolding from Lady Bridgerton.

Colin looked up at Anthony leaving the park and decided that shaving off his sideburns won't be the worst thing he'd do to Anthony's body.

Colin and Benedict were having another drink together while gossiping about their brother.

Anthony entered the room.

Anthony:”I came to apologise. What I did on the pier was impulsive and childish. Please, accept my apology.”

Colin, already tipsy from the alcohol:”Does that even count Benedict? When he's just apologising to himself? I think that shouldn't count. Don't you think?”

Benedict:”I think not. It doesn't seem sincere.”

Antlook's eyebrows lowered in a scolding way looking at Benedict. He turned back at Colin:”I came to you, Colin. Whether you accept or not is entirely up to you.”

Colin:”I think that your body accept the apology. Speaking of your body. I do have a question on my mind. Why is your ass so hairy? And how do you manage your hygiene? Don't you get like some pieces left there?” Colin said with a mischievous look on his face, smirking at his face looking back at him.

Benedict was now in tears.  Unable to say a single word.

Anthony looked at the both of them, straightened his back and confidently spoke up:”You two can mock me all you want, but do not forget that I am still in your body and just as much as you are embarrassing me now, I can embarass you.”

Benedict:”How?”

Anthony:”I could engage in a romantic encounter with a fellow man. That would definitely get a front page in the next Whistledown.”

Anthony turned his back at them and left the room, leaving them stunned.

Benedict:”Well this all just got even more interesting than I even hoped for.”

The next morning, Benedict woke up the two of them quite early.

Benedict:”Gentlemen, get ready. I relaised that we have a one time opportunity to settle an argument. Meet me at the garden in 10 minutes.”

Both got dressed and arrived to the garden to see that Benedict has prepared a fencing gear.

Anthony:”Benedict, what is this? Why now?”

Benedict:”Fencing. You are always bragging how you can beat anyone solely based on your technique. Now is your chance to prove it. And why now? Why not, the two of you will fight for the rest of the day, so we may as well get on with it early in the morning. Shall we?”

Colin and Anthony accepted.

Benedict:”And the winner is indeed Anthony. Once again. Anthony held out his hand and shook it with his own body. He sat down on the bench.

Anthony:”I told you it was about technique. You didn't believe me. Now I got a proof.”

Colin:”Proof of what?”

Anthony:”That I'm better than you two.”

When Colin beat Benedict, he decided to sit down next to Anthony. Benedict sensed the tension and left them alone.

Colin:”I'm sorry for the sideburns.”

Anthony:”Don't be. I truly look better without them. You were right. I'm sorry for the comments. It wasn't right.”

Colin:”No, you're right. I'm not that endowed as you are. Which is a very pleasant change, I must say.”

Anthony:”It's very strange that we are two brothers talking about each other's private parts, isn't it?”

Colin:”It truly is.” Colin laughed.

Anthony:”Did you enjoy having an intercourse in my body?”

Colin:”I have. Your body is very well built. And your… cock is magnificent. Did you try mine out?”

Anthony:”Haven't had the chance. I was startled by the size difference.”

Colin:”It's actually not that different from having your larger one. You just have to know what you're doing.”

Anthony:”Are you trying to say that I have it easier to have an intercourse ?”

Colin:”Try it out and we can compare later, if you're up for it.”

Anthony:”Sounds like a challenge.” he said with a smirk and amused face expression.

Colin accompanied Anthony to the brothel. Not that Anthony wouldn't be able to find it, being a regular customer, but they didn't know Colin's face.

Anthony:”Tell them to get me Jennifer. She'll be considerate if I fail.”

Colin:”You will not fail. I will.”

Anthony left Colin in the entrance hall and headed to the room. Jennifer was ready on the bed, waiting to be fucked. Anthony took off his shirt and nervously hyperventilated.

Jennifer:”First time?”

Anthony:”Something like that…” he dropped his pants and watched Jennifer's reaction. 

Jennifer:”Oh don't worry, darling. You're in very good hands.Anthony's, or Colin's cock was getting hard. And although the size was not impressive, now it was easier to imagine that this thing could please someone.

Anthony entered his bedroom where Colin was lying naked in the covers.

Anthony:”Where did you go last night? I thought you wanted to have fun.”

Colin:”I wasn't feeling it last night. I went back home. But tell me about your night.”

Anthony sat down:”It was incredible. I never knew that pleasing each other orally with a woman was just as entertaining as penetration.”

Colin:”See, there are more ways to have intercourse.”

Anthony:”I know that of course. But even the intercose was Interesting. She guided me and we both had a great time.”

Anthony looked around the room. The clothes were tossed everywhere. The covers were messy. His body was sweaty and panting.

Anthony:”Why are you so out of breath?”

Colin:”I… I did not want to enjoy the company of a woman last night, because I wanted to enjoy your… manhood all for myself.”

Anthony suddenly realised that he might have interrupted him during the act. “Oh… I am sorry? This is a very strange situation. I'll leave.”

Colin put his arm behind his head. “You know what brother. I still feel like I could get some tips on this large thing from the original owner. Care to join me?”

Anthony was visibly shaken by Colin's proposal.

Colin:”It's not like we haven't seen each other before.”

Anthony closed the door, took off his clothes and went to the other side of the bed.

Anthony:”I guess we’d just be exploring just like when we were children.”

Colin:”I have never done that.”

Anthony:”You haven’t? Me and Benedict did, all the time.”

Colin:”You never included me.”

Anthony:”Well you were much younger then we were. And after we stopped exploring the possibilities, we found out that we can do many interesting things with women.”

They were now next to each other, both naked. Anthony broke the tension.

Anthony gripped his smaller penis and started pleasing himself. His smaller cock began to grow. 

Anthony:”It’s really not that bad as I imagined.”

Colin:”Of course it isn't. It’s about skill. Here, let me show you.” Colin let go of his bigger penis and moved Anthony’s hand. He spat into his hand and twisted it around the whole thing. Anthony started moving around in pleasure. “Wait, wait, how did you…?”

Colin:”You gotta learn the tricks if you don’t have the advantages.”

Anthony tried it himself and almost collapsed. “I swear this thing is even more sensitive than my own.”

Colin:”I do have one thing to ask you.”

Anthony:”What is it?”

Colin:”Have you thought about trimming this hairy ass of yours?”

Anthony:”Why on earth would I do so?”

Colin:”While on my travels abroad, I met a woman who showed me something very interesting. Maybe I could show you as well, If you dare?”

Anthony hesitated. “Depends on what it is…”

Colin:”Even if it may be an unclean way of pleasure, I assure you, you have never felt like this before.” Colin got close to Anthony and once again spit on his hands, but this time he spread the saliva on his fingers. His fingers were getting close to Anthony’s ass. Colin maintained eye contact with Anthony the entire time.

Anthony:”Wait I…”

Colin:”Trust me. And if not me, trust yourself, literally.”

Colin pushed his fingers inside slowly, giving Anthony time to adjust. And finally finding the right oval structure, stimulating it, increasing in speed.

Anthony had to place a pillow in his mouth to not scream out loud in pleasure. He didn’t even notice that his dick got hard and in a few moments, hot white liquid came shooting out of it on his belly.

Anthony had to catch his breath, while Colin smiled. 

Colin:”Amazing, right?”

Anthony couldn’t believe what a wave of pleasure just swept him. The two spend the next hours talking more about Colin’s experiences on his travels, while Anthony showed his own tips to Colin.

The Bridgerton's found themselves at a ball beginning another season. Only a few days after the exchange, the brothers settled their differences, now being closer, but still in the wrong bodies.

Anthony approached Colin. “So which one of us is winning?”

Colin:”Winning?”

Anthony:”How many women has my body had intercourse with, with you in charge?”

Colin:”Three, maybe four. Depends how you count if it's at the same time.”

Anthony smiled. “I'm only at three. You’re in the lead.”

Colin only smiled back, feeling the bittersweet feeling of missing his body and life.

Anthony:”Listen, Colin. If we exchange, I will stop pushing you into marriage. You will find a magnificent bride and make her a happy woman. When you will be ready. And if we don't exchange, I hope you'll do the same for me.” Anthony and Colin laughed together out loud. Anthony left to ask Penelope to dance with him.

As Colin watched them leave, he couldn't but smile at the development of his brother's opinion.

On the next morning the two brothers woke up in the original bodies. They met up half way down the hall, undressed, but happy to be themselves once again.

The only person who was not happy was their brother Benedict. Being the only one who knew about the exchange, gave Benedict the opportunity to mess with the brothers and help them plot against each other.

The comments about the amount of hair, sizes and mocking of their previous situation didn't stop from Benedict. This led the brothers to step up and get revenge on their brother.

While sleeping, the two brothers brought their father's relic in a napkin.

Anthony wanted to touch Benedict's hand and then touch someone from the staff to get proper revenge on Benedict. 

But as he and Colin argued, who from the staff should it be, the relic slipped from the napkin, filling next to Benedict.

Without realising what they have done, they left the room, giggling.

If only they had known that if not touched by another person, the one touching jr would exchange with the original owner at the time the person touched it as well.

That's why Benedict soon found himself shirtless in a field holding the box. 

Not only in a different body…

but a different time.

A story requested from a friend who wants to remain anonymous

[plotbunnysyndrome]

More Than Honour

Chapter 1: The Season Begins

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Introduction: The season opens with silks and secrets, smiles and schemes. You, a beloved fixture in the Bridgerton household, are meant to be just another part of the family’s rhythm. But this season? This one hums with something different. A glance held too long. A conversation that lingers. A heart you thought you knew — and one that may never be the same again. Let the season begin.

Dearest gentle reader,

As the season commences, the ton is abuzz with anticipation, for what is a London season without its fair share of speculation and scandal? The debutantes, eager and resplendent, flock to the dance floors in search of favourable matches. Mothers sharpen their sights on eligible prospects, their ambitions rivaled only by their daughters’ own hopes for love—or fortune, whichever comes first.

Yet, amidst the familiar faces that grace our society, there are those whose presence requires no introduction. The Bridgertons, ever the picture of familial prominence, return to the heart of the season with the weight of expectation upon their shoulders. And at the helm of their ranks stands none other than Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, whose duty-bound heart is said to seek a wife at long last.

But let us not be quick to assume that duty will be his only companion this season. A certain cherished family friend, whose presence in their lives has been as enduring as it has been unquestioned.

One wonders—will this season bring nothing more than the usual pleasantries for our dear Miss Y/N? Or shall fate see fit to stir the waters of certainty?

As always, this author will be watching.

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown.

The morning sunlight spills through the large bay windows of Bridgerton House, casting golden ribbons across the polished floors. The air hums with the sounds of a household in motion—servants moving swiftly through corridors, the faint clatter of breakfast being served, and, of course, the unmistaken chatter of the Bridgerton family gathered in the dining room.

You are seated at the long table, comfortably nestled between Eloise and Benedict, both of whom are engaged in a lively debate over the merits of poetry versus painting as the superior art form. Across from you, Anthony sits with his usual composure, skimming the morning paper with an air of practiced disinterest, his attention split between the news and the occasional interjection from Colin, who is, as always, brimming with some new tale of adventure.

“You cannot possibly believe that painting is the greater art,” Eloise scoffs, stabbing her fork into a piece of fruit with dramatic flair. “Poetry captures the depths of human emotion in a way no painting ever could.”

Benedict smirks over his teacup. “And yet, a painting requires no words to move its audience. A single brushstroke can convey an entire story.”

You glance between them, amused. “And yet, a terrible painting is simply dreadful, while bad poetry is at the very least entertaining.”

Eloise beams in victory while Benedict lets out a dramatic sigh. “I should have known you would side with her,” he laments. “You always do.”

Anthony, having remained silent thus far, folds his paper with measured precision and sets it aside. “Perhaps,” he muses, his gaze flickering to you with mild amusement, “the issue lies not in the art itself, but in the interpretation of the viewer. One can appreciate both poetry and painting, and yet still prefer neither.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “And what, pray tell, do you prefer, my lord? Or are you admitting to having no artistic sensibilities at all?”

Eloise snorts into her tea. Colin chuckles. Anthony barely lifts a brow. “I prefer that my breakfast not be disrupted by fruitless debates.”

“How very poetic of you,” you quip, earning a grin from Benedict and an approving nod from Eloise.

Anthony exhales through his nose—a sound that is not quite a sigh, nor quite a laugh. It is a response you are more than familiar with; a wordless acknowledgement of the game you play with one another. Nothing unusual, nothing significant.

Just familiarity. Just friendship.

At least, that is what it has always been.

Across the table, Violet Bridgeton observes the exchange with an unreadable smile before delicately setting down her teacup. “Now that we have settled the great artistic debate of the morning,” she says with graceful finality, “perhaps we might turn our attention to the upcoming ball.”

A collective groan ripples through the younger Bridgertons.

“Must we attend?” Eloise laments. “It will be nothing but insufferable small talk and matchmaking mothers.”

“Precisely why you must attend,” Violent counters, her eyes twinkling. “And as this season marks Anthony’s search for a wife, I expect you all to be on your best behaviour.”

Anthony, having just taken a sip of his tea, nearly chokes. He sets down his cup with a bit more force than necessary. “I do not require an audience, Mother.”

“You require a miracle,” Colin mutters under his breath.

You bite back a laugh as Anthony sends his younger brother a sharp look.

Violet, ever the composed matriarch, merely pats her eldest son’s hand. “Nevertheless, you will be there, and you will be charming. That goes for all of you.”

She glances at you, warmth in her gaze. “And you, my dear, will be an invaluable help, as always.”

You incline your head, smiling. “Of course, Lady Bridgerton. I would not dream of abandoning you to such a task alone.”

Anthony exhales. “At least someone is sensible.”

You glance at him sidelong. “Oh, I have never claimed to be sensible, my lord.”

He gives you a look, but whatever retort he might have offered is lost as Violet claps her hands together. “Then it is settled. We shall all attend, and we shall all enjoy ourselves.”

Eloise slumps back in her chair with a groan. “Unlikely.”

You cannot help but agree. The season has only just begun, and already, it promises to be eventful.

And yet, for now, all remains as it has always been. Just as it should be.

Bridgerton House, Your Chambers

The late afternoon light filters through the lace curtains, casting golden warmth over the quiet sanctuary of your room. A gentle breeze drifts in from the open window, carrying the scent of wisteria and the distant hum of carriages passing beyond Bridgerton House. It is a moment of stillness, a rare pocket of peace before the grand affair of the evening.

You sit before your vanity, wrapped in the soft elegance of your dressing gown, as Violet Bridgerton stands behind you, deftly weaving your hair into an intricate style befitting the ball. Her hands move with the ease of a woman who has tended to many daughters, though there is something particularly tender in the way she fusses over you—adjusting, smoothing, ensuring perfection without a single harsh tug.

“You have such beautiful hair,” she muses, gathering a section and twisting it between her fingers. “It takes well to styling. Much better than Eloise’s—though do not tell her I said that.”

You smile at her reflection in the mirror. “Your secret is safe with me.”

She hums in amusement, securing another pin. “I must say, I am rather pleased you are joining us this evening. Balls can be so dreadfully tiresome when one attends them alone.”

You arch a brow. “Alone? You will have your entire family present.”

Violet sighs, a knowing glint in her eye. “Yes, but my sons are notoriously unhelpful when it comes to navigating such events. And my daughters—well, one would rather read, and the other would rather hide.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head just enough to make her still your movement with a gentle hand. “I do not believe Eloise is quite so terrible.”

“She is stubborn,” Violet corrects, though there is no true exasperation in her tone—only the fondness of a mother who knows her children too well. “Much like her brother.”

At that, you pause.

Anthony.

Violet’s hands do not stop their work, but you feel the shift in the air. The weight of what has not been said. “You worry for him,” you murmur. It is not a question.

Violet meets your gaze in the mirror, her expression soft but distant, as if she is looking beyond you, into a time long past. “I do,” she admits. “How could I not?”

You hesitate before speaking again, choosing your words carefully. “It is not merely a wife he seeks, is it?” Violet exhales, her fingers stilling for just a moment before continuing. “No,” she says, quieter this time. “He seeks a responsibility. A duty fulfilled. A perfect match, on paper and in practice. But love?” Her voice turns wistful, almost, almost mournful. “That, I fear, he will not allow himself to find.”

You watch her in the mirror, the way her gaze lingers not on you, but on something unseen—memories, perhaps, of a love she once had. A love Anthony lost before he ever had the chance to understand it.

“He believes love is a weakness,” you say, carefully threading the thought aloud. “Something that clouds judgement. That makes a man falter when he should stand firm.”

Violet nods, her lips pressing together. “I have tried to show him otherwise. I have tried to tell him that love is not something to be feared, but something to be embraced.” She sighs, securing the final pin. “But some lessons, I suppose, must be learned in their own time.”

You glance down at your hands in your lap, considering this. Considering him.

Anthony has always been a steady presence in your life—protective, reliable, occasionally insufferable. You have known him as the eldest Bridgerton, the viscount, the ever-responsible brother and friend. But love? That is something he has never let himself be.

Violet watches you for a moment before placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “He listens to you, you know,” she says, voice warm with something unspoken. “More than he lets on.”

You look up, meeting her gaze in the reflection. “Does he?”

She smiles, though it holds a trace of sadness. “Oh, my dear. If only he knew it himself.”

A quiet settles between you, thick with unspoken truths. Then, with a final part to your shoulder, Violet straightens. “There. You are ready.”

You rise, letting the dressing gown slip from your shoulders as you move to step into your gown for the evening. Violet helps with the delicate fastenings, smoothing the fabric once it is in place.

“Whatever happens tonight,” she says softly, “promise me you will enjoy yourself.”

You turn, giving her a small smile. “I promise.”

But as you glance once more into the mirror, seeing not just yourself but the weight of the conversation lingering in the air, you wonder if that will truly be possible.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

could I get an angsty one shot with a fluff ending for Benedict where his wife gets hurt but he doesn't know if she'll get better?

A/n: I am bad at angst....I hope I did this justice.

The walls of the Bridgerton estate had never felt so cold. The grand halls, once filled with laughter and warmth, were now suffocatingly quiet. The only sound that echoed through the corridors was the heavy, uneven breathing of Benedict Bridgerton as he paced outside the shared chamber of yours. It was the only thing that calmed him at the moment.

His hands shook at his sides, his fingers curling into fists, then releasing. He had washed the blood from them hours ago, but he could still feel the warmth of it, still see the crimson staining his skin. Your blood.

He knew it was something that was going to be haunting his dreams.

The accident had been sudden—too sudden. One moment, you had been standing beside him at the garden party, your laughter dancing through the air like music, your hand resting lightly in the crook of his arm. And then—chaos. The startled horses, the overturned carriage, the screams.

And the sight of your, crumpled on the ground, unmoving.

Benedict had dropped to his knees beside you, shaking hands pressing against your side, his voice breaking as he called your name. The memory played on an agonizing loop in his mind. The way your eyes had fluttered closed. The way your breath had shuddered before slowing.

The way he had felt his world crack open.

“Brother.”

The voice barely registered at first, but then a firm hand clamped down on his shoulder, pulling him from the torment of his thoughts. Anthony stood beside him, his face unusually solemn, his gaze heavy with something Benedict didn’t want to name.

“Colin has gone for the doctor,” Anthony said quietly. “Mother is with her now.”

Benedict swallowed hard, his throat raw. He hadn’t been able to go inside. He had stood at the door like a coward, waiting for someone to tell him that she would be fine, that this nightmare would end. But no one had.

“What if she does not wake?” Benedict’s voice was barely above a whisper, thick with fear. “What if—”

So many different scenarios running through his mind, so many horrible thoughts. His muse, the light of his life was injured and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

“She will,” Anthony cut in firmly. “She is strong.”

Benedict let out a breath that felt like a wound. “So was Father.”

The words hung between them like a ghost.

Anthony’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “You cannot think like that.”

Benedict wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that the woman who had become the very fabric of his existence, the woman who had taken his name and made it something worth carrying, would not leave him.

But when the door creaked open, and Violet Bridgerton stepped out, her face pale and worn, his heart nearly stopped.

“Is she—?” The words choked him.

Violet reached for his hand, squeezing it. “She is still unconscious, but the bleeding has stopped.”

Still unconscious....you still had a chance. Hopefully.

The relief was fleeting, overshadowed by the suffocating weight of uncertainty.

“I need to see her.” His voice was hoarse, desperate.

Violet nodded and stepped aside.

Benedict entered the dimly lit room with careful steps, his entire being drawn toward the figure in the bed. You looked too still, too pale against the stark white sheets. He knelt beside you, his trembling hand reaching out to brush against your cheek.

“My love,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Please, come back to me.”

The minutes stretched into hours, the only sounds in the room the crackling of the fireplace and the soft, unsteady rhythm of your breathing. Benedict never moved, never let go of your hand. He pressed his lips to your knuckles, his tears trailing down onto your skin.

And then....

A shuddered breath. A faint shift.

His head snapped up just as your eyelashes fluttered, your face scrunching slightly as though waking from a long dream.

Benedict felt his own breath catch, a desperate hope rising in his chest.

Your lip's parted as your eyes finally opened as you gave him a weak smile. "Benedict?"

A sound escaped him—something between a laugh and a sob. His fingers tightened around yours, his forehead dropping to your hand as relief crashed through him like a wave.

“I’m here,” he murmured. “I’m right here, my love.”

You tried to move, wincing slightly, and he immediately pulled back, his hands hovering as though afraid to hurt you. But then you gave him a weak smile, your fingers barely brushing against his cheek.

“You look terrible,” you teased softly.

A laugh burst from his lips, shaky and filled with so much love it almost hurt. “You nearly die, and you insult me?”

You sighed, your thumb tracing over the worry lines on his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

Benedict shook his head, his fingers brushing through your hair, pushing it back from your face. “No. Just—don’t ever do that again.”

Your smile faded slightly, replaced by something softer, something deeper. “I’m here and I will not go anywhere,” she whispered, repeating his own words back to him.

And with that, Benedict exhaled the breath he had been holding for what felt like a lifetime. He leaned forward, pressing the gentlest of kisses to your forehead, his lips lingering as he whispered against your skin.

“I love you.”

You squeezed his hand, your voice quiet but unwavering. “I love you, too.”

And in that moment, with you warm and alive beneath his touch, Benedict finally allowed himself to believe it.

You were coming back to him.

You were staying by his side. He would make sure of it.

[ellswritings]

How To Be A Heartbreaker

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

TW: Enemies to lovers, lots of tension, Eloise, Daphne, and Benedict teasing, brief sexual encounter at the end. Not full smut, but it is kinda spicy. I think that’s it. Let me know if I missed anything.

·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ 　　.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ . ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ 　　.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ . ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ 　　.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ . ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ 　　.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ .

“Kill me now,” Y/N grumbles quietly to Benedict who watches with amused eyes as his best friend glares at his older brother.

“Oh how I love your dramatics,” he replies, placing a bubbly drink in her hands. She gratefully accepts it, taking a generous sip of it as she continues to burn holes in the side of Anthony Bridgerton’s head.

Y/N has been close with the Bridgerton family since her conception really. Violet and Y/N’s mom, Y/M/N, we’re pregnant with Y/N and Eloise at the same time. They went through the pregnancy together, wanting to give their daughters a built in best friend which both girls were extremely grateful for. Y/N and Eloise have been joint at the hip since birth. The only two people they let infiltrate their tight-knit bond is Benedict and Penelope.

For whatever reason, even though the rest of the Bridgerton family absolutely adores her, Anthony Bridgerton is the only one Y/N hasn’t been able to win over. No matter how hard she tries or how often she’s around him, he’s never been able to warm up to her. It’s rather infuriating. The snide remarks, the glares from across the room, the incessant complaining, the way he pushes her buttons, and how disrespectful he is towards women in general. Ever since he’s decided to look for a wife this season, his view on love and marriage has been nothing short of disgusting to the young woman. She pity’s the poor lady who ends up betrothed to that man.

“If you keep glaring at him like that Y/N you’ll get wrinkles,” Colin Bridgerton smoothly joins the conversation. Y/N’s always enjoyed Colin’s company, but she knew to not spend too much time with him as his not so secret admirer wouldn’t be too happy about it.

“Good,” she scoffs. “Maybe then I wouldn’t have to participate in the marriage mart.” She downs the rest of her drink causing the boys to chuckle at her cynicism. Y/N has never been one to conform to societal norms for women. She took up fencing with the Bridgerton boys at a young age, much to Eloise’s dismay. Y/N’s parents allowed her to participate in such things, but Eloise unfortunately had no such luck.

“It really is a wonder why the men of the ton are not knocking down your door,” Benedict responds sarcastically, resting his hand on the small of Y/N’s back.

She smiles when she notices Eloise and Daphne exiting the house to join the rest of the family outside. The Bridgerton family, in addition to Y/N are all at Aubrey Hall for the time being. Violet is always kind enough to invite Y/N whenever they go. The family have been waiting for the older Bridgerton sisters to make their way outside for the friendly game of Pall Mall they always play. Even though friendly isn’t exactly the word most would use when watching this group.

“Perhaps it’s my charming good looks and prize-winning personality,” Y/N smirks sardonically before placing her glass back in Benedict’s hand. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to converse with two individuals who can actually challenge me intellectually.”

Her smooth insult leaves the boys laughing, shaking their head at her words. She saunters directly over to Eloise and Daphne, the three girls immediately getting immersed in whatever hot button topic they’ve decided to bring up. Y/N smirks when she feels Anthony staring daggers into the side of her head before storming over to his brothers.

“I don’t understand how you both can stand her,” Anthony grumbles. “She’s insufferable. I mean, how can they not see how evil she is?” He gestures in the direction where Y/N walked in.

Both Benedict and Colin follow his finger and see Y/N throwing her head back laughing as Hyacinth and Gregory run into her arms at full speed. The sun glows around her creating a beautiful silhouette behind the woman. She looks like an absolute angel which makes Anthony’s statement appear much more ridiculous.

Benedict quirks an eyebrow, “Yes… from the depths of hell that one.”

“I can see the crown of flames on her head,” Colin joins in on the sarcasm train, making Anthony fume in his spot.

“One of these days you all will see her for who she truly is,” swears Anthony. “I will make sure of it.”

“Are we ready to play?” Daphne calls out with a wicked grin. She’s more than ready to destroy her siblings and sibling adjacent. “Or are we going to dilly dally all day to avoid my inevitable win?”

“Ooh, the Duchess is feeling confident,” Eloise taunts. “Let’s see if she truly has the skills to back it up.”

Y/N snickers at the bickering sisters before looping her arm through Eloise’s as they head towards the mallets. Y/N knows how deeply Anthony loves his black mallet. He has ever since they were children. Before their petty rivalry escalated into what it is today, Y/N’s favorite mallet was the lavender one that is currently sitting pretty directly within her grasp. But by the competitive look on the eldest Bridgerton’s face, she’s feeling a darker color will suit her just as nicely.

Eloise is the first to try and grab her mallet but Colin stuck his hand out to stop her. If looks could kill, Colin would be six feet under by now. Eloise looks as if she could bite his head off. Her older brother notices the dangerous look in his sisters eyes before swallowing thickly, “Let us toss a coin.” His suggestion is calm. It’s rather typical of the third eldest brother to try and maintain harmony. Quite futile if you were to ask Y/N. Things tend to get nasty rather quickly.

“Last year, we promised to let the youngest pick first!” She recalls rather passionately. Y/N sticks her finger up in the air in order to second Eloise’s point. She distinctly remembers the conversation from last year when they were in the exact position, but then they allowed the eldest to have their pick first.

“We pick based on alphabetical order,” Anthony states rather harshly.

Y/N tilts her head, “How convenient that is for you,” she chides. “Someone already nervous about their future loss?”

“I don’t recall inviting you into the conversation,” he snaps. “You have no say in how we decide to proceed.”

“She has just as much of a say as all of us,” Daphne scoffs at her brothers behavior. “She’s been playing this with us since we were children.”

“That doesn’t give her any right over our tradition,” he insists with a glare. “We’ve always picked alphabetically and I will not allow her to ruin that.”

“Perhaps we should settle this on the planche,” Y/N suggests challengingly. She and Anthony have always been rather… rough when it comes to fencing. “I would love to show you just how much I can ruin things. Like your ability to produce offspring for example.”

Eloise snorts, slapping her hand over her mouth as Benedict looks away with amusement written on his face. Colin’s jaw falls slack and Daphne gasps loudly, punishing Y/N by slapping her arm. “Proper ladies do not speak that way.”

“When has she ever been a proper lady?” Anthony snarls.

“Okay, enough!” Daphne stops them, getting rather tired of the relentless noise. “The only proper thing to do is allow our guest to choose her mallet and strike and strike first,” she nods towards Y/N.

The H/C woman smiles politely, “Thank you, Daph.” The look she sends Anthony is nothing short of smug, rubbing her first victory in his face.

“What?!” He asks incredulously. “Did you not just get done stating how she’s practically an honorary Bridgerton?”

“And did you not just get done saying how she has no say?” Daphne challenges. “I’m simply abiding by what you said brother. Since I am an actual Bridgerton sibling, I will make the decision so she does not ruin anything for you.” Y/N and Daphne share a knowing look, finding humor in Anthony’s complete and utter shock. He did not realize how his words would bite him back so soon.

The rest of the siblings look more than pleased with this arrangement. Eloise pokes Y/N’s side as she watches the mischief twinkle behind her eyes. Colin gestures towards the container holding the mallets, “Miss Y/N, please, take your pick.”

“Thank you, Colin,” Y/N smiles widely over at the third eldest before sneering just at Anthony. The mischievous young woman leans forward, looking directly at the lavendar mallet. She’s chosen that mallet every time so no one looks surprised. At least until she smirks, leaning over her usual weapon of war and wrapping her fingers around the black mallet. She watches Anthony’s jaw fall to the floor as she pulls it out and there has never been a time where she’s felt more satisfied with a decision.

“Would you look at that?” Daphne chuckles, poking fun at her older brother.

“Oh, is this yours?” Y/N feigns innocence. “I’m so sorry Viscount, it must’ve slipped my mind,” she runs her hand up and down the handle, jutting out her bottom lip to show just how sorry she is.

Fumes. That’s all that is coming out of Anthony’s face. He wishes he could rub the pure expression of her face. “You know that mallet is mine,” he claims angrily. “It has been since we were young. You always play with the purple. You chose mine on purpose.”

“It’s actually lavender,” Y/N replies nonchalantly, not feeding into his anger. “But perhaps I needed a change in pace. I’m sure you’ll do just fine with a different color,” she shrugs. “Unless you need this as some sort of crutch?” She lifts a brow, holding it out towards him. “Like a baby with a bottle.”

Small snickers ensue and Anthony clenches his jaw, the muscles ticking with anger. “I do not need a crutch. I will play just as well with any other mallet.”

“I’m sure you will,” she nods patronizingly.

“Are we to stand here and listen to them bicker like a married couple, or shall we play?” Eloise whines. Anthony and Y/N both look at her like she has three heads, not believing the statement that just came out of her mouth. A small blush appears on Anthony’s face and before he knows it, the rest of his siblings are shooting forward to grab their own mallets. Due to his momentary stun, Anthony is immediately at a disadvantage. All the mallets get swooped up, except the lavender one.

He stares at it with an intense hatred. He clenches his fists causing them to pulse as if he were wrapping his hands around someone’s neck. They all look at him expectantly, waiting for him to take it. A low growl escapes his throat before he begrudgingly reaches forward and yanks it from the container.

“Let’s go then,” he says stiffly before walking to the game field.

The game was off to a relatively good start in Y/N’s eyes as she finds herself doing much better than the Bridgerton siblings. She immediately knocks her ball through the high arch of iron on the first strike, evoking claps from Benedict and a rather annoyed sigh from Eloise. Y/N pokes her friends side and Eloise sways her hand away before getting her own mallet ready to swing.

“I always forget how good you are at this game,” Daphne compliments.

Y/N brushes her off, “You flatter me, Daph. But believe me, I am nothing compared to you. You won’t last year if I recall correctly, no?”

A self-assured smile makes its way onto the Duchess’s face as she lifts her head up slightly higher. “Yes. Yes I did.”

Benedict claps teasingly for Eloise who completely missed her mark. She groans before stomping over the Y/N and Daphne with her arms crossed. “I might just start hitting him instead of the ball,” she huffs, directing her faux anger towards Benedict.

Y/N pats her back, “You’re doing well, El. Just stop focusing so much on beating your brothers and it’ll come much easier.”

“Oh shut it,” she rolls her eyes playfully. “You out of everyone here cannot be spewing that nonsense. You are about as competitive as they come. The only person who might be able to beat you in that area is Anthony.”

“Oh, Anthony can’t beat me at anything,” Y/n shakes her head.

“Wow,” Eloise scoffs. ���You really just got competitive over who can be more competitive,” she looks at Daphne with a bewildered expression. “It’s a talent really how you manage to do that.”

Colin’s swing is similar to Y/N’s, going right through the small arch, but stopping just behind her ball. He groans, wanting to have nudged hers out of the way. When Benedict goes he swings a tad bit to hard. It would have gone through the goal and knocked both Colin and Y/N’s ball out of the way, if he knew how to aim properly. He throws his head back with a laugh as Eloise points a finger in his face with a triumphant bellow.

“Anthony, it is your turn,” Colin nods politely at his brother, trying to hide his amusement at the lavender mallet in his hand.

“I can see that,” the older brother grumbles, taking a step behind his ball. He gets in position mumbling quiet profanities at a certain woman for taking his lucky charm. When he swings, his ball goes flying, completely missing the intended target.

“Is someone out of practice there, Viscount?” Y/N calls out teasingly, swinging her mallet as a way to rub in her early lead. She walks over to her own ball and readies herself, “Why don’t I show you how a true professional does it?”

She cocks her arm back and once again hits the ball perfectly through the iron gate. Loud cheers erupt for the girl as she takes a rather obnoxious bow right in front of Anthony. A storm swirls behind his eyes and all he wants to do is yank her by the arm and get rid of the smug look she always seems to wear. It really is a shame she acts in such a way. She vexes him to absolutely no end. Anyone can see that Y/N is a beautiful woman. She always has been. Ever since they were children everyone would always comment on how gorgeous she would be when she got older, and they were right. Her e/c eyes shine constantly, like the stars in the sky. Her hair is always the perfect silky texture. She is extremely well-read and intelligent. She’d make the perfect bride. The only issue is that mouth of hers.

Anthony’s glare remains hard, but he silently scolds himself for thinking such positive things about her. It wasn’t obvious to any of the others, but Y/N could see a small flash behind his brown eyes. Something that was different from the usual hatred he holds for her. When she stands up straight from her bow, her eyes momentarily gaze over his face. She’s never really admired the Viscount in any sort of way. But being this close and fueled with as much tension as they are, it’s hard not to examine his chiseled features. She bites the inside of her cheek to prevent the flush creeping up the back of her neck as she stands under his scrutinizing stare. Y/N exhales before lightly bumping his shoulder and walking past him.

“Beat that,” she challenges.

As the game continues, loud claps, cheers, and bickering is all that is heard. Violet watches from her spot under the gazebo along with Lady Danbury with happy smile’s on their faces. Benedict runs over to Y/N, holding her to his chest as he tickles her for knocking his ball out of the spot it was in. He had the perfect shot and she made sure it wouldn’t last long. She squeals in his grasp until Colin quickly comes to her rescue. She smack Benedict’s chest with an out of breath laugh before moving back over to Eloise.

The younger sister screams happily when she slides her ball directly through the arch, highfiving her best friend for the victory. Everyone seems to be in rather good spirits, despite where they are at in the game. The only thing troubling is that every time Anthony goes, something seems to be on his mind as he barely misses his mark with each swing. Violet and Lady Danbury seem to be the only ones who have noticed his eyes traveling to his supposed “arch nemesis” right before he swings.

“I give it til the end of the trip,” Violet whispers to her friend.

Lady Danbury laughs, “Oh dear, I give it til the end of this match.”

When it reaches Anthony’s turn once again, he hits it and this time, it actually goes through the goal. The only issue is that it lands barely passed Y/N’s ball. The two share a tense glance before Y/N travels over to where her ball is. With one good hit, she could easily win this game and leave Anthony in the dust.

Eloise runs after her friend, “You have the chance to best him! You must take it,” she encourages.

“That would not be very sportsmanlike, now would it?” Colin asks rhetorically.

Y/N looks at him, her eyes meeting his. They both seem to soften for a moment until she smirks. “Since when has sportsmanlike conduct ever been a concern in our games?”

“She has a point, brother,” Benedict points out. “Kindness during a game of Pall Mall has never been a virtue within any of us.”

“What do you say, my lord?” Y/N asks Anthony who has been rather silent since their previous exchange. She lifts a perfectly manicured brow, “Are you in a losing mood?” She jests, trying her hardest to get a rise out of him. How she loves when he gets frustrated with her. Especially when he loses any sense of personal space, getting in her face as they argue. Those are her favorite moments as it is so much sweeter being able to put him in his place.

Anthony tries to remain unfazed, “My mood shall remain unchanged, regardless of your choice,” he replies with a tight lipped smile.

“Oh, is that so?” Y/N turns to fully face him. She tilts her head, analyzing him like a predator would their prey. Anthony swallows thickly, fighting off every urge to take the upcoming squabble elsewhere. “You would bravely bear the crushing shame of defeat? How unlike yourself.”

“Despite my brothers and sisters continuing to egg you on, you have been behaving with much more grace than your usual self Miss L/N,” he says, completely diminishing any attempts at her trying to evoke his anger. “I am pleasantly surprised at your conduct this game. Perhaps someone is finally losing their edge, hm?”

He wins. Y/N feels a rather angry fire burning in the pit of her stomach. She glowers, “Me? Losing my edge? Well, if that is the case, I’m sure you won’t mind me doing this.”

With the strongest swing she’s had yet, she knocks Anthony’s ball clear across the grass and into the trees many feet ahead. Her ball falls only a few inches in front of them and she feels a strong satisfaction when looking back at Anthony. His previous performance trying to diminish her hard work at angering him have not helped him in the slightest.

“Well done!” Eloise claps.

Anthony looks up, narrowing his eyes to the sky to avoid doing it directly at Y/N. He reluctantly brings his hands together in a celebratory clap in order not to appear too unruly. Eloise bumps Y/N’s shoulder, “You are sparing no mercy, and I absolutely love it!”

Suddenly, with the most mischievous smirk Y/N has ever seen him wear, Benedict walks up to his ball which is now the closest to where Y/N’s landed. Y/N’s smile drops as she watches him bring his arm back as far as possible, using his mallet to knock her ball directly into the tree line where she just sent Anthony’s. Her jaw falls slack as Benedict winks in her direction.

“What a shot brother!” Anthony celebrates loudly, feeling avenged by Benedict’s actions.

“Yes, what a shame isn’t it Miss L/N?” He jokes. “Think of this as revenge for sending my ball in the wrong direction earlier.”

Y/N grinds her teeth together but shoots him a fake smile, one that Benedict can easily see through. Her petty behavior causes laughter to erupt from everyone. “You two better go fetch them,” Colin points in that direction. “Unless you would like to quit, here and now?”

Anthony and Y/N glance at each other, both of them looking rather angry about their current predicament. They send challenging looks to one another, tempting the other to speak up first. Y/N sticks her nose up, “Absolutely not.”

Anthony sneers, “After you.”

Stomping off, Y/N rolls her eyes. “What a gentleman.”

The duo stomps rather over-dramatically into the green brush. Y/N huffs as she pushes a large branch out of her way. An evil grin comes over her face as she continues pushing the branch forward until she’s sure Anthony is close enough behind. As soon as she hears his footsteps drawing nearer, she releases the branch from her hold. She covers her mouth with her hand to prevent the laugh that’s about to escape as Anthony is whacked in the face.

He lets out a loud yelp, putting a hand to his face to make sure no extensive damage was done. He can hear the small snickers leaving Y/N’s lips and that is his final straw. He lunges forward, wrapping his arm around her wrist. She gasps as they’re suddenly face to face, noses practically touching.

“What one earth are you doing?” Y/N seethes, trying to pull herself away from him.

“What am I doing?” He scoffs at her. “What are you doing?” He leans down closer to her. “If I was any less of a gentlemen, I would punish you right here and now for your insolent behavior.”

Y/N laughs in his face, “Punish me? Oh, in your dreams Viscount. You cannot do anything more than take what I do to you. You are not my husband nor my father so you hold no power over me.” She rips her arm out of his hand and continues marching on, her heart still beating rather rapidly from how warm his breath felt on her face.

Anthony’s nostrils flare but the burning sensation on his hand were her supple skin once was keeps his true fury at bay. He frustratedly kicks a rock as some form of an outlet while following after her in search of their balls.

“You best hope your play does not hand victory to my brothers, or we shall never hear the end of it,” Anthony grunts out after the silence between them became too much. At this point it seems he’d rather argue with Y/N than be left with his own thoughts.

“I am not worried about Colin or Benedict,” Y/N smacks another bush out of her path. “I don’t see why it would be a problem if they won anyway considering you seem so hellbent on preventing my victory.”

Anthony goes to respond with a tone just as venomous until Y/N stops in her tracks. He follows her line of vision to see both her black and his lavender ball sitting in a large, almost lake size, puddle of mud. “You’ve have to be joking,” Y/N complains under her breath. “There is no way either of us would be able to hit these out of the mud without coming out looking absolutely dreadful.”

An idea seems to spark in Anthony’s mind as he looks at her with an idealistic smile, “We could always pluck them out,” he suggests. “No one would be any the wiser.”

“Are you suggesting that we cheat, Viscount?” Y/N asks him with an unusual expression on her face. Anthony can’t help the shudder that surges through him at her calling him by his proper title in that tone. She’s done it before, but this time simply feels different.

“Perhaps,” he nods. “The only two people who would know of our situation is us. I see nothing wrong with evening the playing field a bit.”

“Well, contrary to your beliefs, I play fair,” Y/N turns away from him and heads towards the balls. She has no issue getting a little dirty if it means making herself look better than the man behind her.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day where you’d be an honorable person,” Anthony taunts. “Even though it is just for sport.”

“I’ve always been an honorable person, Anthony,” Y/N huffs out as she gets ready to hit her ball. “Just because you refuse to see it, doesn’t mean it is not there. Besides, I would never cheat in your presence as I am more than sure you would advertise it to the rest of the group the moment we got back.”

“You would do the same!” He insists.

“Oh, I never said I wouldn’t,” she admits playfully. “I would absolutely reveal your scandal to anyone who would listen. But I cannot do that if I participate in the same bad behavior, now could I?” Anthony watches in awe as she submerges her shoes and the entire bottom hem of her dress in the messy liquid. She swings, easily knocking her ball out of the mud. She wipes a bead of sweat from her forehead before looking at Anthony, “Your play, my lord. Unless you do not wish to dirty those lovely boots of yours?”

“Do not worry about my boots,” he tells her coldly. Y/N only grins at how tense his shoulders get as he climbs into the mud right next to her. Even with the stink of the earth, she can still manage to smell the scent of mahogany, leather, and a tad bit of cinnamon. Even his natural smell manages to twist her stomach in knots. It’s so innocent, nice, compared to who he actually is.

She stares at him for a moment too long as he goes to whack his ball. His hits Y/N’s, surpassing it just slightly. When he glances back up to be egotistical about it, he sees she’s already looking at him. Time freezes momentarily as they stare at each other. They both try to make their eyes hard, but it seems almost impossible. Y/N’s tongue peeks out, coating her chapped lips and Anthony doesn’t have the strength to stop himself from glancing downward.

“Something you find interesting, my lord?” Y/N queries in an unusual quiet tone that greatly contrasts her boisterous one.

His eyes move back up to hers. He forces himself to snap out of whatever spell he was put in, “No,” he bluntly answers. “I believe it is your turn, is it not?”

Another beat of silence passes between them before Y/N nods, “Yes, you would be correct. I’m surprised you’re able to keep track of such complicated matters,” she affronts him with such ease, bringing back the agitation between them.

One of her shoes stays stuck in the mud, but it matters not to Y/N. She simply shakes it off, continuing on in her now brown-stained socks. Anthony huffs at how easily she switched back to her cold demeanor, “Must you always be so difficult?” He scolds, pulling her shoe out of the mud. He walks over to her and throws her shoes in front of her, “Put these back on before you step on something that hurts you.”

“No,” Y/N refuses as she goes to but her ball. “Besides, why do you care if I hurt myself anyway? You’ve never been one to get invested in my safety.”

Anthony lets out a loud yell of annoyance, “Why must you have this insufferable need to challenge me at every turn. You think you're so clever, so invincible. Why don’t you just listen to me for once rather than engaging in one of your reckless endeavors?”

“I will never listen to you,” Y/N grunts out as she hits her ball into Anthony’s causing it to fly high in the air before colliding with the branch of a large tree. When it lands, both of them notice the familiar wooden bench that sits below it. Y/N’s eyes soften as she watches Anthony’s entire demeanor change. She’s not really sure how to react or what to say to him. What does one say to a person when they’re standing dangerously close their father’s grave.

Y/N’s throat bobs up and down as she gulps. She ventures closer to Anthony, placing a hand on his shoulder, “We do not have to continue the game, my lord,” she whispers. “I do not want you to–”

“I’m fine,” he cuts her off harshly. “Why do you care about my feelings anyway?” He asks, mocking her response from earlier when he tried to return her shoes. Y/N goes to say something, but she’s too late as Anthony is already stalking off to get back to the rest of the group.

Guilt seeps through Y/N’s veins. She sighs, completely forgetting about the balls they’ve left as she chases after him. “Anthony, wait!” She calls out. They might bicker over the smallest things, but the last thing she wants is for him to leave in this state. The older man doesn’t slow for her calls. She hurries after him, ignoring the mud squelching beneath her feet. She frustratedly calls for him again but to no avail. When she finally feels as if he’s in reach, she tries to grab his arm but is stopped by her own foot getting trapped in the root of a tree. She cries out in pain, falling to the floor as her ankle twists in a trap made by Mother Nature.

Anthony halts dead in his tracks when he hears her yell. He turns around and watches as she sits on the floor, nose scrunched up as she tries to remove her foot from the roots. She winces at even the barest of touches. Suddenly the animosity that was just between them vanishes as he rushes to her side.

“What did I tell you about putting your shoes back on!” He scolds, but his voice is much more worried than it is self-righteous.

Y/N gives him an incredulous look, “Pardon me for being more concerned about your well-being than my footwear.” She groans as Anthony manages to lift her foot of its entrapment. “I wasn’t exactly thinking I would get mauled by a tree when I was chasing after you.”

“You should not have been running in the first place! Once again, you are reckless and have no regard for your own safety,” he shakes his head.

“I am not reckless,” Y/N argues. “I can take care of myself just fine, thank you.”

“No you clearly cannot,” he gestures to her foot. “You needed me to come over here and take it out for you or else you would’ve been stuck out here alone.”

“I would’ve done just fine without you!” Her voice cracks from her emotions being on overdrive. “I simply wanted to make sure you were okay. I know how much your father meant to you and yet even when I try to be nice you still act like an insufferable prat!” Her chest heaves up and down, their faces slowly getting closer together as the argument intensifies. “You have hated me since we were children and the one time I try to put that aside, you still belittle me and treat me as if I am beneath you. I am tired of your idiocy. You constantly have to think you are right, but how can one be right when they go about living their own life to please someone else rather than themselves?!”

Anthony is left stunned by her outburst. He doesn’t know whether to yell back or be impressed at how well she’s analyzed him. He does try to live his life in a way that benefits his family over him. He’s never tried to put himself first and clearly Y/N has taken notice. He watches as her face continues to turn bright red from anger. He feels his own red heat filling his lungs as he maintains eye contact. His face droops down to hers, getting impossibly close.

“You do not like me,” Y/N continues, ignoring the proximity. “I have been around you and your family since birth and you are the only one who cannot seem to stand me. My mere presence is a burden to you and you have never bothered to give me an explanation!”

“Of course I do not like you.”

“Then tell me why!” Y/N demands. “You at least owe me that much if we are going to go about the rest of our lives making each other miserable!” Her eyes are narrowed as she tries to fight off the tears threatening to appear at her waterline. “What did I do to you to cause all of this? Because I cannot think for the life of me of an inciting incident that earned your hatred from the beginning. Unless it is my birth that upset you so,” she adds sarcastically. “So tell me, Viscount. Why is it that you dislike me so?”

“Because- because you infuriate me!” He finally lets go of his composure, joining Y/N on the yelling train that seems to have just left the station.

Y/N inches closer to him, “And what is it that you think you do to me, hm?” She asks, poking his chest with her finger.

Anthony laughs at the preposterous idea, “What is it exactly that I do to you? Besides put up with your constant assault on my character?”

Y/N feels her senses getting rather fuzzy as Anthony’s grip on her leg seems to tighten. He’s conscious enough not to put pressure on her hurt ankle, but not enough to realize how deep his fingers are digging into the tissue. The way his eyes are boring into hers makes her tilt her head back, exposing the bare skin of her neck. His scent once again fills her nose and causes her breathing to become bated. “You…” she trails off as he suddenly moves his hand to corner her into the tree she is sitting next to, “you hate me.” Her answer comes out as a whisper as the two sit with a burning flame between them.

Anthony nods his head, “Yes, I do. I hate you.” He leans forward, giving Y/N no room for any kind of escape. Her breath hitches in her throat as she feels his body heat encompassing her. She doesn’t bother trying to move or make any sort of protest. “Every. Single. Part.”

His lips crash onto hers with a ferocious intensity, a clash of wills and pent-up emotions finally unleashed. Anthony’s hands threaded through Y/N’s hair, pushing her backwards to pin her fully to the tree for support. He leans into her body, evoking a small sound from her lips at the sudden sensation. Her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers digging into his shoulders, drawing him nearer still. The kiss was fervent and searing, their breaths mingling in a dance of unspoken desires and long-buried passions. Each movement was deliberate and ravenous, conveying years of unacknowledged tension and unvoiced longing. The world around them ceased to exist as they lost themselves in the incendiary connection, a fusion of fire and fervor that left them both breathless and craving more.

Anthony takes a risk, biting her bottom lip to which he is pleasantly surprised by the soft whimper that escapes her as she allows him access. Their tongues fight in a battle for dominance, one that both work valiantly to win. Anthony grips her hip roughly, shocking her and handing him his inevitable win. When he removes his lips from hers, she throws her head back as he works his way down, kissing her jaw, her neck, the crook between her shoulder and clavicle. He sucks on the smooth skin just below the neckline of her dress, summoning a sinful moan from her.

“I believe this is the only time I’ve enjoyed hearing something come out of your mouth,” he mocks, continuing his artistry across her chest.

Y/N laughs sinisterly before pulling Anthony back up to her by his hair. He winces from the sudden shock of pain, his eyes darkening as he thinks back to when he said he would punish her for her behavior. This would just be added to the list. Y/N doesn’t relent her grip as she grazes her lips over his, “Why don’t you let me show you just how much you will like my mouth, Viscount?”

Anthony chuckles darkly, not expecting that to be the words she utters. He removes himself from his spot that kept her pinned to the tree before standing. He towers over her with a demanding look on his face, “Well don’t just sit there. Come over here and show me.”

[shelbgrey]

Dating Benedict Bridgerton Headcanons

Paring: Benedict Bridgerton X Reader

Summary: headcanons about courting and marrying Benedict Bridgerton -SMUT warning

💙MasterList ML2 💙Dating MoodBoard

Every Bridgerton’s love story seems to have some sorta trope attached to it. Anthony and Kate have the pleasure of absolutely owning the enemies to lovers, Daphne and Simon successfully fooled the town with their fake courting, and of course the lovely friends to lovers story that evolved between Penelope and Colin.

But when it comes to Benedict and you it just depends on who you ask. Anthony who you have the pleasure to call your best friend says it's the longest slow burn in history or if you ask Kate or violet they will say with everything they believe in that you and Benedict are soul mates.

Growing up and into adulthood the two of you were practically attached to the hip

You've known the bridgertons since you were about ten. You were getting pushed around and picked on by a couple of kids that were older. Anthony, Benedict, and Colin just happened to see it and started throwing rocks at the bullies.

You've been best friends ever since, but you've always had this connection with Benedict.

You are part of the family, there's no doubt about that. Your mother died while giving birth and your father was always gone. The Bridgertons became your family and you a sepical connect with them that outsiders just don't seem to understand.

“wow, your always around them and not one of those men have corted you... Oh I get it, your the Bridgerton’s pet” - Cressida Cowper

Anthony was your first kiss. It didn't mean anything, you just wanted to know how to kiss and Anthony was close enough with you that he could do it and not catch romantic feelings. No one else knows but you guys.

Later on Benedict did find out. “So, you kissed my wife and never givin a thought to tell me?” he wasn't angry since it was way before you and him courted. “we were 13 and she didn't know how to kiss, I was doing her a favor”

Into adult hood Anthony was rooting for you two the most. There was a point he was getting tired of the 'slow burn' as he calls it.

He told Anthony this. “What is it, truly, to admire a woman? To look at her and feel inspiration. To delight in her beauty. So much so that all your defences crumble, that you would willingly take on any pain, any burden for her. To honour her being with your deeds and words. That is what the true poet describes” Benedict couldn't help but admire you from acrossed the ball room as the words vomited out of his mouth. Even back then he knew those words were about you.

The first time Anthony sees you cry because of Benedict he waists no time talking some since into him. The first time you and Benedict ever kissed was after you found out he quit the art academy. After the kiss Benedict was feeling so many emotions he wasn't prepared for or knew how to handle, he apologized for 'disrespecting your honor' and left. “I kissed Benedict” you told Anthony because he was your safe space.

Anthony spit his wine out in suprise. “and I don't think it mattered one bit to him” after Anthony heard that he went to talk to benedict. Anthony was angry at him for hurting you but at the same time he wanted to help out his little brother and best friend the best he could. “mother told me once it's unthinkable to find someone so special, someone you love”

“I hurt her” Benedict said, shaking his head. Anthony sighed. “real true love is worth it, do not lose her dammit”

But unfortunately you two didn't become official untill the Polin era. During those few months you avoided Benedict and the family knew something was wrong when your arm would be linked to Colin's and not Benedict's during family walk or gatherings. Colin was oh, so confused when he comes back from his travels and finds out Elois isn't talking to Penelope and your not talking to Benedict.

“what? I can't be happy to see you? You've been go for months” you told Colin as you both walked together instead of you walking with Benedict.

You found out about what he was doing all season and the three way an blew up. That's when benedict confessed everything he's ever felt for you. “I never cared for love or maybe I just didn't want it... That was until I met you. I love everything about you. Your compassion, your stubbornness, the way your eyes sparkle. You filled a part of my soul I didn't even relize was empty, you healed me when I didn't even know I needed it. And believe me when I say I loved you the moment we met, I don't care if we were just kids. I love you”

When you got married Anthony walked you down the isle. “I intend to walk all my sisters down the isle”

Anthony and Eloise definitely cheered the loudest at your wedding.

You rarely call him Benedict, it's always my Love, Ben, Benny. He knows he's in trouble or something is wrong when you call him Benedict.

He doesn't care that you're not as prim and proper as most women. He loves the fact you want to fence with him and his brothers or the fact you'd turn your dresses in skirts and wear his brother white shirts that were hand-me-downs.

His love language has always been physical touch even when you guys were clueless to your feelings. He always needs his arm linked with yours or his hand on your hip.

You're the most beautifulest thing he's ever seen and he wants you to know that. He has always been smitten by you.

Before you were together he was always thinking about you, rather he was having sex with another person or touching himself.

He always wants to sketch you or paint a portrait, he probably has a whole sketchbook of just you in different positions and situations, both innocent and not.

You admired the way his brow furrowed in concentration when he works on his art, he looks so handsome just standing there working.

you feel closest to him when you're modeling almost completely nude and he's painting. No matter what you're doing you always feel so comfortable around him and you both share a connection beyond words and meanings.

He loves dancing with you, the best thing for him is to take you somewhere private and just have a dance with just the two of you.

Forehead kisses. He is so much taller than you it's just easier in the moment, but it's also just a sweet innocent thing that's a staple in your relationship.

He loves receiving them too. Like if he's sitting on his stool in front of a canvas painting, he'll definitely accept a kiss on the forehead from you.

Speaking of canvases and paint, you've both definitely covered your skin in paint and had sex on a large canvas and made an abstract piece of art. And Benedict will hang it up in your bedroom or his art studio.

Fighting over macaroons all the time beacuse you both like the same ones. But if you're having a bad day or it's that time of the month he'll bring a whole box for you.

He's soft with you. He's so gentle and delicate and you can tell through the way he brushes your hair from your face or the way he nuzzles his face into your neck that he just absolutely adores you.

This man needs physical contact a lot. He's a big cuddler and just needs you in his arms, it's a comfort and a protection thing.

“Darling, I would love it if you cuddle me” he said, giving you puppy eyes and holding his arms open. You smiled and cuddled up to his chest.

Like I said, he needs contact with you. He loves little and big acts of psycial contact. Like he loves if you stand infront of him and fix the collar of his coat or rest your hand on his thigh during dinner.

He's so flirty with you. No matter how many years you've been together, he still thinks you're the sexiest, most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, blushing.

“because you're beautiful”

The way he kisses you makes your heart race. He holds your face in his hands and you honestly feel like you and him are the only things that matter in the world.

He is your biggest supporter. Benedict is your absolute number #1 fan, everything you do amazes him. You've never had a man supporting and encouraging you every day and night.

Whatever you want to do in life he'll be there and have your back. “You are my muse, Darling. And I am forever grateful for you”

He'll think it's adorable if you're a book worm and will always bring home new books for you If he sees them. Sometimes the both of you will sit on the couch in comfortable silence for hours together while you read and he sketches.

Benedict is usually if not always very playful and relaxed, but he also has a protective side. If you're hurt or disrespected a fire will ignight and you will see a side of Benedict that's scary.

Like i said before, you never cared to meet society's expections when it comes to activities and clothes. Of course when you go out to balls, parties, and races you dress properly but there's always a hint of your own style that goes against the 'normal'. Stealing Benedict's top hat is great example. If your borde at the races or just want to wear it, you'll take it and put it on your head.

Benedict and Anthony also tought you how to fence, it's one of your favorite things to do with your boys.

Later in marriage you'd have four kids. Atticus, Charlotte, then boy/girl twins named Eloit and Violet.

Charlotte inherited her father's artistic abilities and Benedict has kept every scribble and every finger painting she's made.

He leaves little notes and sketches all around the house for you. You find them everywhere. In your bag, the book you're reading at the time. On top of your pillow. Stuck onto the mirror in the bathroom. He loves those little details. Loves to write you silly or romantic notes because he knows how much you love them.

Your Favorite one he ever wrote was, 'If I were to kiss you and then go to hell I would, so then I can brag with the devils I saw heaven without even entering it.'

Like I said from the beginning, he believes you are his soul mate. There's just this unconditional connection between the two of you no one can explain.

If your in bed he'll always have his arms around you. Rather your the little spoon or your on his chest. But sometimes if his day is rough he'd want to lay his head on your chest. His favorite feeling in the world is your arms around him and your fingers running through his hair.

He absolutely loves feeling your fingers run through his hair. He'll kill to have his head on your cheat while you play with his hair after a long night of dancing.

He's soft with you. He's so gentle and delicate and you can tell through the way he brushes your hair from your face or the way he nuzzles his face into your neck that he just absolutely adores you.

He can be a rough kisser, but mostly he's a passionate kisser. He pours all his love and emotions into it, he makes sure you're the only one on this earth he wants to love.

NSFW headcanons:

If he's had a rough day, he either needs one of two things. A rough fuck or he needs to curl up beside you and rest his head on your chest while you play with his hair.

He's a boob man, He’ll push your bra up and take a nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirls all around while he squeezes your hips.

He'll bury his face into your boobs as he pounds into you. He loves it when you start moaning and tugging at his hair, He honestly can’t get enough.

Hair pulling, he loves feeling your fingers in his hair or he'll tangel his fingers in yours and tug on it when he's getting head or about ready to cum.

He didn't realize how much he actually liked it until you started pulling on his hair while he was eating you out. “Hell... Do that again... Please”

He's very skilled with his tounge, he loves eating you out. your legs around his head. He loves your legs in general and loves leaving kisses on the insides of your thighs. He'd rather pleasure you for hours than receive.

bitting your neck just to hear you moan. When you finally give in to him, he'll lay you down on the couch or bed and start pealing your clothes off to reveal your chest.

You guys are very adventurous in the bedroom. You both have definitely gotten messy with paint before.

One time you both got covered in paint and made love on top of a giant canvas. It made an abstract art that he framed and hung it up in his art studio.

If you come into his studio to tease him it'll usually end with you on top of his desk and smear paint across your cheek as your lips move in a heated rethem.

He'll leave trails of red down your body as he does so. “There's my little work of art, all messy and perfect” He murmured against your lips.

Speaking of which, he refuses to refer sex as 'fucking', he thinks is degrading towrds you so it's just sex or 'making love' in his vocabulary.

He definitely has a Praise kink, he loves making you feel loved and appreciated. He loves how he can easily make you blush. “you're so Beautiful”

“Mmm, you taste so damn sweet” He moans as he continues to pleasure you, his tongue teasing your clit. His hands move to your hips, holding onto them tightly as he devours you.

Even though he's the dominant person in bed he wants to know you have equal control too, if you don't like how rough or fast he's going he'll stop and check on you and make sure you're okay. All he cares about is your pleasure.

“You want it harder, Darling?” He'll comply with her request, thrusting deeper and faster, causing the bed to shake with your movements. He let out a low groan as he felt your nails dig into his back.

He loves missionary, keeping eye contact while he fucks you. He loves how you dig your nails into his back and wrap your legs around his waist to bring him impossibly closer.

Benedict also loves watching your face while you bounce up and down his dick. He loves the expressions you make when he thrusts up into you when you least expect it. “I can't get enough of you, Darling”

If your lips are wrapped around him, he's taking control. It's usually rough, but he'll never do anything to hurt you.

He'll move his hips fast, thrusting himself deeper down your throat, the way you suck him drives him insane “Darling, you're doing so good”

He loves how good you are at making him feel. He loves being at your mercury as he thrusts down your throat. “Darling, you're going to make me cum so hard. I want you to swallow every last drop.”

Benedict is so vocal, he'll let out deep groans and moans as he feels your tight pussy wrap around his cock when you ride him. “Stay with me, y/n... Fuck me back”

Posing naked for him while he sketches you. One time you both sat infront of a mirror, you between his legs with your thighs spread while he used the mirror to sketch you both.

He'll always bury his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and biting as he rides his orgasm out. He'll keep bucking his hips into yours until you're both spent. “Christ you're beautiful...”

his voice is like a siren call, pulling you into the depth of pleasure. His hands moving to your hips, holding you steady as he praises you and drowns you in pleasure.

He can't get enough of your reactions, his eyes always burning with intensity as he takes in the sight of you laying under him, bare and utterly captivating.

One of his biggest kink is cumming inside you, seeing you filled up just makes him go crazy.

He has a thing about cumming on your breasts too. He'll watche in awe as his cum drips down your chest, marking you as his. He'll look at you with so much satisfaction and desire. “You look so beautiful like this”

He'll lap at your clit with so much hunger, circling his tounge over your swollen bud until you're a moaning mess. When he thinks he's teased you enough he'll take it into his mouth, eating you out like a starving man until you're cumming hard on his tongue.

He's very attentive when it comes to aftercare. you want a warm bath? Done. You want massages? Done. You ask, he delivers. All he cares about is your comfort, he insists on cleaning up any mess that's on you or the bed. If he sees any marks or bruises he will apologize for that with a soft smile on his face.“That's a good girl. Just relax and catch your breath, I've got you.”

You'll probably get teased the next morning beacuse Eloise or Colin heard you.

[dollypopup]

"Penelope should have chosen Debling!"

My sister in Christ. . .he literally dumped her???

Like just before Colin Bridgerton was on his knees after outrunning her carriage to profess how he can't stop thinking about her in his love me, choose me, I'm yours speech, Debling did the Regency equivalent of calling her a floozy who would undoubtedly cheat on him when he abandoned her for several years to chase his passions (because she would never be one of said passions since she asked outright if he could ever come to care for her and he went 'hmmmm seems unlikely! good thing you have solitary hobbies to occupy you instead!') when he has been given 0 evidence of such other than realizing she liked to look out the window because she had a crush on the boy across the street. I was ready to challenge that man to a duel for Pen's honor

His feelings for her were middling at best, I mean Christ on a Pogostick, after he asked her mum for permission to propose he isn't even happy when he opens the door and Pen is there? She's looking like a snack- nay, a whole ass MEAL, and he can't even smile? He just nods at her and dips the fuck out? You don't think it would kill Penelope to know that both her sisters have husbands who absolutely adore them and she's out here with an absent dude who likely won't even write to her?

Portia's 'Love is make believe!' speech is so transparently full of shit when you realize that we've got Dankworth who is so obsessed with Prudence that he makes heart eyes at her every waking moment and considers her his little bonbon and Albion who loves Phillipa so much that he was waiting for her to consent to sex (not realizing she didn't know what it was) for two entire years because he would never pressure her and so he was content with finishing in his pants when he kissed her to make sure she was comfortable. And you want Penelope to settle for a life of loneliness? When Colin is so besotted with her that he dreams of her and breaks every societal expectation in the book as a notorious People Pleaser to run after her and cannot even wait for the morning after being intimate with her to introduce her as his wife to his family in the middle of the night? You want her to turn down Mr "When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible" Bridgerton? For LORD PENGUIN?

Be so serious right now

[angrydemonfawnbaby]

maybe one day i will be over bridgerton season three and my hatred for penelope but that day is not today

i understand that the books are different and that book polin and penelope are not what their show counterparts are but i need book polin and penelope fans to take a step back and examine the absolute psychological horror of what show polin is.

genuinely there is something so insidious about a girl who meets a guy, believes it's love at first sight, and then befriends his sister. in fact, her ONLY friend is his sister. she spends years pining, sitting and staring out of her window so often that everyone in her life knows this is a common occurrence for her. a habit. she loves him, she wants to be with him, she wants to be a part of his family, and that family treats her well, they treat her with kindness.

and she tears them down. secretly. she uses her friendship with the daughter, her closeness to them, to prop herself up. to write vitriolic things about them, to cast shame on them, to bring their reputation into question time and time again. there is something so irredeemably manipulative about a girl who takes the secrets of those who trusts her and reveals them publicly when it best suits her--when she does not want the boy she loves to marry a girl who has been kind to her, a girl who considers her a friend, who has shared her anxieties and heartbreak. it does not matter that this girl would be a good wife, or that the boy truly cares for her, because this girl is not her. and she could've told the boy herself, but that boy is kindhearted and sensitive and good and he might still marry this other girl. and that is what is truly unacceptable, that is what can't be allowed to happen. so she destroys it, thoroughly. it does not matter who is caught in the blast.

it did not matter how this embarrassment would effect the family she claimed to love as her own, the family she wanted to be a part of. it did not matter that it would ruin marina, the only other person to consider penelope a friend. it led to marina nearly dying, it led penelope's own family being shamed and shunned. it did not matter, because to penelope, the only thing that mattered was that colin remained unmarried so that he may one day love her the way she loves him.

it did not ever matter that colin already loved her as a friend, because to penelope that was not a love worth having. not from colin, or marina, or eloise.

she does not care who she hurts. again and again. with daphne, with anthony and the sharma sisters, with her own best friend. eloise confides in penelope things that not only could destroy her reputation and that of her family, but things that could get her in trouble with the queen--views that are dangerous. and despite what she says, she does it to save herself first and foremost, to keep eloise from discovering her secret.

and when she thinks that the boy she loves will never return her interest, when he returns from his time away different from the boy she has spent years obsessing over from afar, she writes about it once more. to make herself feel better, to make him feel bad. for not loving her, for daring to try and change, for daring to be something he is not--something different from the boy she supposedly loves.

penelope actions as whistledown have shown her to be a callous, selfish, manipulative person. she understands that being whistledown means having power, admits it, and she has constantly used that power to destroy other women--regardless of how kind they were to her (marina), how much they trusted her (eloise), or if she even knew them at all (kate and edwina, the queen and her infant grandchild). she is a vicious and mean person on paper, with no loyalties to anyone but herself. her actions as whistledown are undefendable and cruel. and she is whistledown, they are one and the same.

i cannot see how anyone can look at the two and see anything to romanticize. she knows eloise would not want her in bridgerton house, rightfully so, but she goes to be close to colin, and then she invades his privacy by reading his journals. she continuously lies and crosses boundaries, but her eyes well with tears immediately after and so all is miraculously forgiven--nevermind that she will go home to write something cruel by candlelight later.

even their first kiss feels like a manipulation. a coersion. she begs, cries, pleads, claims she could die never having been kissed and she knows colin is a soft, sensitive boy. he was going to marry marina after a short courtship, convinced of love, he might've went ahead married her if he'd found out about the pregnancy privately because he is a good and kind man. so of course he will kiss her.

and then he proposes, and before they can go about it properly, before he can rethink it or back out--she publishes it in whistledown. so that the whole ton knows that she has finally won. she has succeeded in becoming a bridgerton. and she continues to lie to them all. she continues to lie to colin. she smiles and plays the role of the innocent girl next door, when she has been their primary antagonist force behind the curtains for years now.

even her declaration of love is said to distract, to protect herself, when he has discovered her secret, her true identity, and she can no longer hide. she shouts it at him, like it is meant to make everything okay, to make all of the bad things she's done go away.

and in a well written story, with well written characters, it would not. it would be seen for what it is. desperate. manipulative. but this season of bridgerton is a let down in many ways, and all of them are rooted in how the narrative has catered to washing away how horrible of a person penelope has been, instead of acknowledging it and moving forward with a true redemption arc.

so instead, we get to watch a gossiping mean girl who has spent years stalking and preying on one family in particular, manipulating her way into her happy ending with said family. and everyone just has to be gaslit into believing this is okay when it's not.