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auroracalisto · 1 month ago

Text

the way i want you.

benedict bridgerton x fem!reader, 1.4k words summary: the reader is one of eloise's closest friends... and madly in love with benedict bridgerton. at a ball, he reveals his true feelings to them. a/n: the only mention of the reader being female is the dress and corset they are wearing. so. if you pretend to not read that, it could be gender neutral. this was an old draft with like two paragraphs that i started looking at. idk why it’s written in lowercase but the vibe is there and i'm not changing it. GIRL I JUST CHECKED AND I STARTED THIS IN APRIL OF 2022. bye. absolutely insane. (thank you past me, i actually really appreciate the inspo)

if there was anything you knew for certain, it was that you were madly in love with your dearest friend’s elder brother.

being near him made your heart thunder against the confines of your chest, threatening to be loud enough for all to hear.

your hands began to tremble, your voice began to waver.

the love you felt for him was so very obvious to everyone, it seemed, save for benedict.

eloise poked fun while penelope scolded her (for she, too, understood what it was like to love a bridgerton who didn't love her back). but deep down, eloise knew you would love her brother like no other. marriage might have been a fine prospect for benedict, but if he were to marry you, he would never wish for someone to love—you would be everything that he would need.

eloise had even quipped a time or two, teasing her brother and goading him into thinking about you. not that she would tell you, of course.

but love was a fickle thing. it worked in the oddest of ways, and quite frankly, it was hard to tell who benedict truly loved, if he loved at all.

he loved himself, and he loved his family. but eloise’s friend? the girl whom was just a few years younger than he, the one he saw blossom into a woman after several years of puberty? how could he possibly love her?

you wished he did. oh, it was a wish you made on the stars above more often than not. at any point in time, when you saw the first stars dot the sky, the wish would leave your lips.

let him love me.

please let him see me.

please let him know.

was it odd? perhaps. but in this world of expensive balls and beautiful debutantes, it didn’t seem too farfetched—especially when you loved someone. it would hurt to see them go off and love another, would it not?

your heart wasn't kind.

time wasn’t kind.

neither was your father or the corset you wore or the ballgown that seemed to itch in every crevice possible.

of course you had to choose the worst dress of all the ones you owned for this accursed ball! a repeat dress, to say the least. someone would snitch—you were sure it would be raved all about in lady whistledown's next pamphlet.

your mother was nowhere to be found while your father mingled with some of his military friends. eloise was hiding somewhere, most likely with penelope or by the buffet, and most of the bridgertons’ that had come to the ball were out in the ballroom floor, including anthony and colin.

but where was benedict?

you wouldn’t ask him to dance, despite your dance card being blank. you just wanted to see him—see his handsome face, his pretty smile.

lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize a man was creeping up behind you until a hand found its way to your back. you nearly dropped your flute of champagne, wide eyed as you looked back at the culprit. champagne splashed by your gown, and you said a silent thank you to whatever the universe had done to prevent your repeat dress being ruined by none other than the very man of your thoughts—benedict bridgerton.

“what on earth are you doing?” you asked, quickly turning to face him.

“just coming to see my sister’s friend,” he said, a cheeky smile playing on his lips. “am i not allowed to come and talk to you anymore, miss y/n?”

your eyes widened a bit. “you—of course you’re allowed. i will not tell you what to do. but to scare me like that? what if i had spilled this on you?"

“oh, i beg your pardon,” he said. “i didn’t know you were so jumpy. had i’d known, perhaps i would’ve tried to actually scare you.”

“you are a fiend, benedict bridgerton.”

he grinned. “and you love me for it, do you not?”

your cheeks burned in embarrassment as you looked away. you cleared your throat, avoiding what you truly wanted to say: yes. “why aren’t you dancing?”

“hm. well, i was, but when mother wasn’t looking, i slipped away.”

“she’ll get onto you.”

“perhaps,” he said, scrunching his nose. “but if i’m talking to you, she will excuse it.”

you rolled your eyes. “and why is that?”

“you’re eloise’s friend. she’ll excuse it.”

you purse your lips. right. just eloise’s friend. you let out a soft sigh and nod, looking out at the ballroom floor. the song was soft and light and the party-goers danced slowly with their partners. it was a sweet song, if you had to admit to anything that night.

you wouldn’t admit your love for benedict. you couldn’t. you wouldn’t. not now, not ever.

something catches benedict’s eye and he would have up and left had he not been thinking. he cleared his throat as he looked down at you.

“come with me,” he said.

eyebrows furrowed, you glanced at him. “what?”

“you heard me,” he said. “come with me.”

you do as you’re told. you follow him, and he leads you in to a hallway. there are a few other patrons, so you are not alone with a man (oh, god, imagine the scandal), but he specifically leads you to a painting in the middle of the hall.

“a painting?” you asked.

“not just any painting,” he said. “look at it. what does it remind you of?”

you shift where you stand, looking up at it. the oil pastels are beautiful, yes, but it’s a simple painting of a beautiful woman. what’s it to remind you of?

“it looks like your sister,” you said.

he snorted softly. “no,” he said. “it’s beautiful, yes, but that’s not what i wanted you to look at.”

he pointed towards the background. just beyond the portrait of the woman lay a field of beautiful flowers, each one meticulously painted by whomever the painter had been. it looked like it must have taken a painstakingly long time to paint each individual one.

“it reminds me of all the time i do not have,” you simply said.

“oh, you are no fun, y/n!” he said. he looked down at you and smiled. “they remind me of you.”

you blinked slowly. “what?”

“beautiful and yet so unattainable, hm?”

you blinked again. “i beg your pardon?”

“look at them,” he said. “each one unique in their own way, each one hand painted by someone with enough gumption to keep on with it. whoever did it wanted their painting to be utterly beautiful and difficult to recreate. all the fine detail makes the painting that much more extraordinary.”

“wait, wait, benedict, unattainable?”

“right. well if i wanted to recreate this, it would take me some time, wouldn’t it?”

“benedict. how would something like that remind you of me?”

he smiled at you for a moment before he softly said: “you’re eloise’s friend. i couldn’t do that to her.”

“do what?”

“have you the way i want you.”

it’s simple—those seven words seemed to change everything, and it was one of the most simple things you had ever heard.

your lips part in mild shock and you took a slight step back, looking at benedict in confusion. “are… are you—“

“yes. i am in earnest, y/n.”

“why did you—“

“not say anything sooner? have you seen how aggravating eloise has been recently? i did not need to fuel her ammunition.”

“since when did—“

“for some time now.”

“will you let me—“

“no, i will not,” he interrupted again.

“i swear to the lord above that i will—“

“no swearing,” he said. “just self expression, hm? like the painting?”

“what? benedict, you’re not making any sense.”

“maybe not.” benedict smiled down at you. “come. we should head back. perhaps fill in your dance card for once.”

you frowned. “what will eloise say?”

“i do not care,” he said. “it seems to me that you care far more than i do. besides, do you not hear how she speaks to me? i think she'd be honored."

he’s right—perhaps he’s yet to say anything because the way his life had been. perhaps he hadn’t said a word because of everything he and eloise had talked about. there was always timing, and sometimes, it was just a bit off.

whatever it may be, he was here, and he was true to himself. he wanted you, and he would have you, heedless of your thoughts and what eloise wanted from either of you.

oh, the scandal, dear reader. but as long as the two of you plan to marry, whatever scandal could there truly be?