#halle hyacinth

[hamletshoeratio]

In season 4, I demand more Benedict and Hyacinth interactions. Gregory's off to school, Anthony and Kate are off to India, Eloise and Francesca are off to Scotland, the other two have married and moved out, so these two are the last ones under Violet's roof, I love what we've gotten of them but I need more bonding scenes. They're both hilarious and completely unhinged at times, I need more of this chaotic sibling duo.

[alpiku]

Halle Hyacinth, has been looking forward to finally making her official debut as a coordinator. With the support and guidance of her older brother Harley, she finally joins a contest, and to her surprise she wins her first ribbon!

However, she finds later that day that Harley rigged the contest so she’d win. A tactic he’s done many times before when he felt necessary. But unlike him, Halle is furious that Harley didn’t trust her at all…and on top of that that he’s been such a bad sport throughout his coordinator career. The image she so admired crumbling in a matter of seconds.

Halle storms off the contest hall in tears, but not before throwing her ribbon near Harley’s feet. Leaving to forge a path of her own, outside of her brother’s influence.

—

Harley is pretty hurt by this family dispute. His lighthearted and petty demeanor fading for a moment. While he was well aware that many people weren’t fond of him, he didn’t mind for he always remembered that the few that did, were what mattered.

Harley’s long friendship with Solidad had made him strive to find appeal in his eccentric ways and share that with everyone. And that allowed him to share that with Halle when she was born, who admired him just for who he was and got to teach her about Pokémon and contests.

—

Halle picked up Harley’s fondness for ‘scary’ Pokémon, her beloved Shuppet, Quinn, which she received as a gift from him. She later gains an affinity towards ghost-types and catches a Misdrivous and a Snowrunt. She also adds to her team a Mimikyu and Feebas she found abandoned.

They’re half siblings from their father’s side. I’d like to believe Harley picked most of his toxic traits from his household, but finally got a space to express and develop his abilities once he started spending more time with the new branch of the family.

Halle’s mom is a fashion designer and was absolutely thrilled to teach young Harley, who showed so much interest in the craft. She taught Harley how to sew and design his own clothes, as well as styling in general. She introduced him to contests too as she helped make some of Hoenn most stunning contest outfits ☆

—

Other neat ideas!

• Halle absolutely adores May! If she had to pick a favorite coordinator (aside from her brother) it would be her!

• She thinks Drew is bit overrated (but will never admit to it haha)

• Had never met Solidad until her first contest. But quickly comes to admire her after doing so!

• Appearance wise she resembles Harley a lot. She’s got short purple curly hair and is taller than average. She’s also got blue eyes and her hair is pinned back by a big ribbon. Her clothes also resemble her Shuppet.

• Personality wise they’re quite different. Halle doesn’t take things as seriously as Harley, especially winning. She can appear intimidating at first glance, but she’s a joy to be around!

• After the sibling fight, Harley starts becoming more distant and participating less and less on contests. At one contest he doesn’t pick on May or Drew at all, which frightens them a bit. Harley loses on the preliminary round and May wins the contest.

She later asks Harley what’s up, it’s true that Harley was a be a big obstacle on her coordinating journey till now, but some part of her missed that petty rivalry of theirs. It was definitely a challenge, but at times fun.

Long story short, Harley asks May for help with finding and patching things up Halle. To which she agrees, under the condition that he’ll make an effort to become a better sport (no cheating, no tricks and definitely no shenanigans) and join her and Drew traveling till they meet up with Halle.

Drew to everyone’s surprise is willing to help Harley with his sister too. Drew knows too well how simple words and actions can strain family relationships. Drew’s got a brother whom he hasn’t spoken to in years due to an argument in the past. (He lives abroad in Kalos.)

Solidad joins the group later down the road! Their rivalry grows and their friendship strengthens!

Maybe after reconciliation Halle joins the group as well, making Harley and Halle the sibling duo of the group! 💜

If I had a nickel for every time I’ve created a fanon sibling for one of the Hoenn coordinators, I’d have 2 nickels. Which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice.

[stars-of-kyber]

It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas - Chapter 1 - Deck The Halls With Boughs of Holly

Anthony Bridgerton always took Christmas very seriously. In the four years since he moved to his flat, his window was always the brightest one on the street. So when the neighbour across the street puts on a display of lights that are nicer than his, the only logical conclusion is to add more lights.

Kate Sharma can’t believe she’s going Deck the Halls with the cute single dad across the street but, seriously, how dare he smirk at her from his window like that? It was clearly a challenge. And it's so on.

Hyacinth Bridgerton initially was not really sure about the new bakery owner who kept upstaging hers and Anthony’s and Greg’s window lights, but she makes the best cinnamon buns in all of London and her dog is pretty amazing. She also makes Anthony smile like a fool. You can’t fault her for wanting to spend more time around her shop.

DECK THE HALLS WITH BOUGHS OF HOLLY FA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA A very Mery Christmas for those who celebrate it and happy holidays to y'all. Yes, I did say I would post this story before New Year's the last time, but I never specified WHICH New Year's, did I? Lol It's been only two years, come on! So very sorry for the delay but it's FINALLY HERE! This is going to be a four-part thing and the idea is to have the last posted on the 30th, which will make sense in the story I swear. I'm pretty sure I'll manage bc all there's left to do is finish chapter four so yay! My many many thanks, love, cheeks, praise and all that to @Harnitbee bc I swear to God the patience she's got to have with my dramatic arse is endless. Luv u, bestie! I can't fucking believe it's already Christmas. Where the hell did the whole year go?!

Happy reading, Enjoy!

[venusleontios55555]

SHE IS A FUCKING ICON

Shoutout to Violet Bridgerton to give birth to a Viscount, Artist, Traveler, Duchess, and a Feminist.

That shits tough.

[reedchristine]

[shesthespinstersimmer]

Foxbury / Ward Hall (1)

Previous / Next / Beginning

[teiasviago]

i need to get a screenwriting job already bc i'm spending too much time drafting my own version of bton s4....................

[sitting-on-me-bum]

Halle, Belgium

New growth on a tree is surrounded by bluebells, also known as wild hyacinth, as they bloom in the Hallerbos forest in Halle

Photograph: Virginia Mayo/AP

[gimmiesophiebaek]

Spirits Ch. 17 & 18

A two in one special on this Wednesday!

[leviathanspain]

not without him

anthony bridgerton x reader

synopsis: you knew birth would be no easy feat, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to do it without him

you clutched onto the white bedsheets, they were drenched with blood, and you were writhing on the bed as the doctor shouted orders at the nurses.

one had a cloth to your forehead, dabbing away your sweat and your tears. you couldn’t stop crying, it was an unbearable pain, that only got worse as the night went on.

violet had tried to prepare you, coming to her for advice on how to birth a bridgerton child. she had her most difficult birth with hyacinth, and just hearing her story sent chills down your spine.

anthony had been away in london when you went into labor. you knew he shouldn’t have left aubrey hall so close to the end of your pregnancy, but being the viscount meant there were things that required him present. you had hoped that your child would have some decency and arrive after the father, but the urge to push only became greater.

you feared that anthony wouldn’t make it, he was supposed to be here an hour ago, having rushed from london upon hearing the news.

the nurse looked down at you, “you have to push, my lady.” her voice quivered, as if she could feel your emotion. you teared up more, “no please- we have to wait for the viscount.” you felt weak, and you faintly heard the doctor shout that you were losing blood.

the nurse looked down again, and seemed firm, “you have to push, there is no time to spare if we wait for the viscount.” she dabbed your forehead again, “you and this baby will die if you don’t push now.”

you cried harder, “i need him here. i can’t do it without him.” you were scared, frightened by all these unfamiliar people. yes they were there to help you give birth to your first child, but you didn’t care, it wasn’t your husband dabbing your forehead or encouraging you.

your vision went fuzzy around the edges and your head fell back into the mounds of pillows that held you up. you could still hear the door push open, shouts being echoed into the room and finally, “let me through-“ his voice.

you heard a clatter of gear hit the wooden floor and you felt relief as he rushed to your side. anthony, still cold with the winter air, brushed the hair from your face, kissing your cheek. he saw how weak you looked, and could see the doctor’s expression.

“you can do it.” he whispered sweetly, “i’m here, you can do it.” he grabbed your hand, clutching it tightly and with his encouragement, you did the one thing you had been putting off.

the nurse over you seemed overjoyed that you were finally listening, there was fear among the doctor and staff that you would bleed out before anthony got there.

you grunted, weak from the blood loss. “push, my lady, push!” the nurse above you shouted, and you grunted loudly, doing as she said.

there was a brief moment of pause, relief that washed over you as you heard a newborn’s cry. you blinked away the sweat, feeling the damp cloth across your skin as you looked over at anthony, who hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. he was smiling brightly, but tears brimmed in his eyes, “you did it.” he whispered, “my lady….” he brushed the side of your face with a hand, and you closed your eyes, exhaustion washing over you.

you could see the light creeping through the curtains. it had been kept dark for you, candles burning just as you liked, even wearing your favorite nightgown. you could feel the pain, that ache that reminded you of what had happened.

you called out to your handmaid, watching as the door opened and instead, in stepped anthony holding the baby in his arms. your eyes softened, and you cooed, “my love.” you beckoned him to the bed, and anthony sat down carefully, the newborn in his arms was peacefully sleeping.

“good morning.” he kissed your forehead, “you have no idea how much i love you. i-“ he faltered, looking down at the baby to compose himself before he continued, “i almost lost you. please,” he looked at you, “please don’t ever scare me like that again. i beg you.” he whispered. he was happy at the birth of your son, but he wouldn’t have been if you had lost your life.

you looked at him, nodding. you didn’t want to say anything, instead looking down at the baby and resting your head on anthony’s shoulder, “have you thought of a name?” you noticed the baby’s fell head of hair and smirked, “looks like he got my hair.” you looked at the baby’s nose, “and your nose.” you laughed slightly, and anthony shrugged, “everyone says he looks like you more.”

his siblings must’ve arrived in from london. you smiled, but anthony knew what that smile was, “you must rest. the doctor said you lost a lot of blood, that you shouldn’t even think to lift a finger today.”

you sighed, “i won’t protest, i am feeling exhausted..” you didn’t know how to feel, your heart had never felt so much love all at once, “my boys.” you cooed, touching the baby’s hair as anthony kissed your forehead again.

[ladysharmaa]

Swim

bridgerton family x sis!reader

summary: when the youngest Bridgerton is playing in the garden with her siblings, she falls into the lake, not knowing how to swim. Realizing the accident, her older brother runs to save her

requested: yes

warnings: drowning

It was a hot day in the countryside, the heat almost unbearable and most of the animals seeking shelter in the shadows. The Bridgerton family was at Aubrey Hall, however the younger ones were dissatisfied with how the day was going. Daphne was away with her husband, Benedict had locked himself in the art room, consumed by a burst of inspiration, and Colin was still traveling through Europe. Eloise was visiting Penelope, and Lady Bridgerton was engaged in a lively chat with the other ladies of the parish.

"Anthony!" Y/n called out for the only brother left. However, she was also unlucky when she saw him hunched over paperwork in his study, his brow furrowed in frustration.

The youngest Bridgerton sighed in annoyence, everyone was busy except her three older siblings. However, their mother had forbidden them to go out and play in the garden without the surveillance of any family member, keeping them dry all day reading until they got tired of lying on the sofa, vanning themselves.

"Y/n! How many times do I have to say that you can't walk into my office like that?! It’s not proper." Anthony scolded her, he was also frustrated with the work that was piling up, the heat and his youngest siblings who couldn't seem to stop bothering him.

“The door was open…” Y/n muttered, only to earn a sharp glare. “I’m sorry, brother. But Hyacinth, Gregory, Francesca, and I are so bored. It’s unbearable indoors, and we want to play outside.”

The older man ran his hand over his forehead, taking a deep breath to control his impatience and not take it out on his little sister. The truth was that the heat wasn't helping for his patience.

“You know what?” he said, exhaling sharply, “Go. Go play outside. Just don’t disturb me again.”

"But mother said—”

"You'll be fine." Anthony waved a hand in the air, dismissing what the girl was going to say, his attention already focused on the documents. "Just don't get too close to the lake and if you need anything, fetch for a maid."

"Are you sure?" Y/n questioned hesitantly, knowing these weren't the rules Violet imposed.

"Off you go." the Viscount muttered, motioning for her to leave and close the door.

“Of course, brother.” she left in silence, closing the door.

She returned to her younger siblings with a bright smile, though a flicker of uncertainty lingered. "We can go!" she announced, and their faces lit up. The four of them dashed to the garden, their laughter ringing out as they burst into the open air.

The garden was Y/n’s favorite place, a haven of color and life. The vibrant flowers—roses, tulips, and daisies—lined the pathways, their sweet fragrance mingling with the warm summer breeze. A fountain bubbled gently at the center, its soothing trickle blending with the cheerful quacks of ducks paddling in the nearby lake. Towering trees offered patches of welcome shade, their leaves rustling softly as if whispering secrets to the wind.

Gregory raced to the fountain and splashed water at his sisters, eliciting squeals of surprise. The girls retaliated, sparking a playful water fight. The cool droplets against their skin brought much-needed relief from the sweltering heat, and their laughter echoed across the garden.

Hyacinth soon grabbed a small ball, and the group shifted to a lively game of catch. When Gregory threw the ball to Y/n, she was momentarily distracted by a pair of butterflies flitting gracefully nearby. The ball slipped through her fingers and rolled into the lake.

“Oh, no!” Y/n exclaimed, spinning around to face her siblings. “Anthony said the lake was off limits!”

“That was your fault, Y/n!” Gregory shot back, folding his arms. “You were distracted! Just go get the ball. Nothing will happen, and we can keep playing.”

Hyacinth frowned, tugging at Y/n’s arm nervously. “Be careful,” she whispered, glancing anxiously at the shimmering water. Francesca stood silently, her face a mix of worry and curiosity.

Y/n hesitated, looking between her siblings and the ball floating just a little too far from the edge of the lake. “Alright,” she finally said, though her voice trembled slightly. “I’ll get it, but don’t tell Anthony or Mama.”

She carefully made her way to the edge of the lake, the grass beneath her feet slippery and damp. The ball bobbed lazily on the water’s surface, taunting her. Stretching out her arm, she leaned forward as much as she could without stepping into the water.

“Just a little more…” Y/n muttered to herself, her fingertips brushing the edge of the ball. But the ground beneath her shifted suddenly, and with a startled yelp, she lost her balance. Her arms flailed as she tumbled forward, plunging into the cold water with a loud splash.

“Y/n!” Hyacinth screamed, her hands flying to her mouth as she watched her sister vanish beneath the surface.

“Y/n! Get up! Stop playing around!” Gregory shouted, his voice wavering as panic set in.

But Y/n wasn’t playing. The moment she hit the water, she remembered she didn’t know how to swim. Her brothers were always making the promise they would teach her how to swim, but they were always busy.

The weight of her wet dress dragged her down, and she struggled desperately to keep her head above the surface. Her hair was in front of her eyes, which was only adding to her panic. Her siblings were screaming behind her, but she couldn't do anything. She gasped, swallowing water instead of air, her arms thrashing uselessly.

“I-I can’t—help!” Y/n choked, her voice barely audible over the splashing.

Francesca started crying, while Hyacinth grabbed Gregory’s arm. “Do something, Gregory!” she pleaded, her voice high-pitched and trembling. "Help her!"

“I—I don’t know what to do!” Gregory stammered, his face pale as he watched his sister struggle. “We need Anthony!”

The three of them began screaming at the top of their lungs. “Anthony! Anthony! Help!”

Inside the house, Anthony sat at his desk, brow furrowed as he tried to focus on his work. But the distant sound of frantic shouting made him freeze. His siblings’ voices pierced through the thick walls of Aubrey Hall, each cry laced with panic.

“Anthony! Help! Y/n, swim, please!”

He was on his feet in an instant, the paperwork long forgotten. His hands were trembling and he was having trouble taking a breath in. Memories of his father dying were playing in his brain. He couldn't lose his younger sister, he wouldn't survive. He believed no one in the family would. Y/n was a ray of sunshine, she had the power of making him smile even in his darkest days.

Racing out of his study, he bolted through the house and into the garden. The sight that met him stopped his heart for a moment—Y/n floundering in the lake, her siblings screaming helplessly at the edge.

“Y/n!” Anthony roared, sprinting toward the water.

Without hesitation, he dove in, the cool shock of the water biting against his skin. His powerful strokes cut through the lake as he reached her, wrapping one arm securely around her chest to keep her head above water. “I’ve got you, Y/n! You’re safe!” he gasped, pulling her toward the shore.

Y/n coughed and sputtered, clinging tightly to Anthony’s arm as he hauled her out of the water and onto the grass. She collapsed onto her side, shivering and coughing up all the water trapped in her lungs.

“Y/n!” Hyacinth sobbed, rushing forward to kneel beside her. Gregory and Francesca hovered close, their faces streaked with tears.

Anthony knelt next to his youngest sister, his hands gently brushing the wet hair from her face. “What were you thinking?” he demanded, though his voice cracked with a mix of anger and fear. “I told you to stay away from the lake!”

“I-I’m sorry,” Y/n whispered, her voice trembling as tears streamed down her cheeks. “I was just trying to get the ball…”

“Forget the ball!” Anthony snapped, though the harshness of his words softened as he saw the guilt in her eyes. He sighed heavily, pulling her into a protective embrace despite her soaked clothes. “You scared me half to death, Y/n. Don’t ever do that again.”

“I won’t,” she murmured, burying her face in his shoulder. “I promise.”

Anthony held her tightly for a moment longer before pulling back and looking at the other three. “And you lot,” he said, fixing them with a stern glare, “should have come to me the second something went wrong. You don’t handle things like this on your own, understood?”

“Yes, Anthony,” Gregory muttered, his head bowed.

“I’m sorry, Anthony,” Hyacinth sniffled.

“Let’s get you all inside,” Anthony said, scooping Y/n into his arms. “Y/n needs to change out of these wet clothes, and all of you need to stay out of trouble. And don’t think this means I’m letting any of you off the hook when I tell Mother about this.”

The siblings exchanged nervous glances but said nothing. For now, they were just relieved Y/n was safe.

"And go get Benedict for me, please," Anthony sighed, tightening his protective hold on Y/n, who rested her head against his chest. Just like she used to when she was a baby, seeking comfort and safety in her older brother’s arms.

The Bridgerton siblings immediately sprang into action, not wanting to further anger their eldest brother. Gregory and Hyacinth bolted toward Benedict’s art room, their small footsteps echoing through the halls. Meanwhile, Anthony called for the maids, handing Y/n over gently and instructing them to draw her a warm bath and help her change into fresh clothes. Once she was seen to, he retreated to his room to rid himself of his soaked garments.

Later, Y/n was tucked into her bed, warm and safe, her cheeks flushed pink from the warmth of the bath. She had drifted off to sleep, her breathing soft and steady. Anthony sat in a chair beside her bed, his elbow resting on his knee as he leaned forward, his eyes locked on her small, peaceful frame. Every slight rise and fall of her chest reassured him she was still there, still breathing.

Beside him, Benedict sat in quiet solidarity, his hand supporting his chin as he watched his older brother wrestle with his thoughts.

“I thought we were going to lose her,” Anthony whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “She was screaming, Benedict. She was drowning, and I didn’t know if I’d reach her in time.” His jaw tightened, and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “All because none of us had the bloody sense to teach her how to swim.”

“It’s not your fault, Anthony,” Benedict said softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “She’s okay now. You saved her.”

Anthony shook his head, his eyes never leaving Y/n. “She asked me to let them go outside. I said yes because I was frustrated she was interrupting me. I didn’t think, Benedict. I didn’t think about the lake or the rules or how dangerous it was. I let her go because it was easier for me, and I put her in danger. That’s on me. I was irresponsible.”

Benedict’s hand squeezed his shoulder, grounding him. “You made a mistake, Anthony. But don’t forget, when it mattered most, you were there. You pulled her out of the water and you’re here now, making sure she’s safe. That’s what being the eldest means. You can’t be perfect all the time.”

Anthony let out a heavy sigh, leaning back in the chair. “I don’t have the luxury of mistakes. Not when it comes to them. Not when it comes to Y/n. I should’ve been better.”

Benedict paused for a moment before leaning forward, his tone shifting to something lighter, more familiar. “You know, Anthony, this might be the first time I’ve ever seen you admit to not being perfect. I’m almost proud of you.”

Despite himself, Anthony let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Not the time for jokes, Benedict.”

“Come on,” Benedict smirked, “you’ve been brooding for hours. She’s going to wake up and see that same grumpy expression, and then we’ll have a whole new mess to deal with.”

Anthony gave him a sidelong glance, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward slightly. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

Benedict leaned back, feigning a look of triumph. “I’ve been told.”

A small, sleepy voice interrupted their exchange. “Anthony? Benedict?”

Both men snapped their attention to Y/n, who was stirring in her bed. Anthony leaned forward immediately, brushing a hand over her forehead. “I’m here, Y/n. How are you feeling?”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him with a mix of guilt and relief. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

Anthony’s heart clenched. “You don’t need to apologize, sweetheart. I’m the one who’s sorry. I should’ve been paying more attention.”

“You saved me,” she said softly, her small hand reaching out to grab his. “Thank you.”

Anthony squeezed her hand gently, his voice thick with emotion. “Always, Y/n. Always.”

Benedict leaned in, his tone playful. “And just so you know, next time you want to cause this much chaos, at least let me finish my painting first.”

Y/n let out a small, tired giggle, and Anthony finally allowed himself to relax. His little sister was safe, and he would make sure it always stayed that way.

[burnthoneydrops]

Lavender's Blue, Dilly Dilly (c.b. x fem!reader)

pairing: colin bridgerton x fem!reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: none? but let me know if i missed any!

a/n: Ah! the first of my "if i was a girl in a book" series is here with sound of music meets colin bridgerton! there will definitely be more parts to this (at least i think there will) but i wanted to introduce the idea of the series with this part first! hope you enjoy, let me know what you think! pt 2

The Bridgerton house is terrifying. Not necessarily the contents of the building, though you can not exactly speak for that as you had not entered the house yet, but the actual building is terrifying. It is beautiful and warm and spectacular and terrifying. You take a deep breath and close your eyes before marching up the front steps, placing your two bags down on either side of you, and knocking on the door. It takes approximately two seconds for the doors to open and expose the wide foyer and many footmen seemingly standing around waiting for your arrival. What ensues is the most awkward staring contest of your life; the man who opened the door stares seemingly into your soul, the blankest of stares on his face. 

“Good morning, my name is Y/N and I am here to see Lady Violet Bridgerton,” you finally break the silence, hoping he will stop staring at you if you say something regarding your presence. 

With his arms stuck to his sides and his neck turning only when his body does, the footman marches down the hall and announces your presence in the doorway. The shuffling of many feet against wood and carpet sound soon after, and you are greeted by two little heads staring from the doorframe. You wave delicately, readjusting the bag you had yet to put down in your clenched fist before deciding to put everything down in hopes of looking more welcoming and open. 

“Ah, Miss Y/N, what a pleasure it is to have you!” An older woman in a beautiful periwinkle dress makes her way over to you. Looking down quickly at your brown frock, you push any insecurity out of your mind before sticking your hand out to shake. “Oh no, we’re a hugging household if you don’t mind,” Violet interjects your inner monologue. “Oh, not at all,” you put your arm down and let her initiate the hug, feeling both increasingly awkward and welcome at the same time. 

“Your timing is impeccable, as all my children actually happen to be in the same place at the same time,” the woman laughs. So this is Lady Bridgerton.

“Well, when one has a home this exquisite, I would be partial to staying here as much as possible,” you compliment. 

“I have a feeling we shall get along quite well Miss Y/N,” Lady Bridgerton smiles at you, and you feel like you have gained a victory, if not a very small one. “Children! Come greet our guest!” Oh. You are going to meet all the children right now. Splendid. 

A cluster of frenzied bodies makes their way out into the foyer, the two younger ones that poked their heads at you earlier leading the charge. They soon formed a line, appearing oldest to youngest– though you could not confirm– and you hold back a laugh as the two littlest ones battle it out for a spot in the lineup. 

“Gregory! Hyacinth! Stop that at once, we do not want to be confusing your new governess on her first day,” the oldest–or at least the first in line– yells while leaning over the back of the line. 

“Apologies, they are not always like this,” Lady Bridgerton comments to you, standing by your side and looking disappointedly at her children. 

“Mother, do not lie,” the second in line crosses his arms over his chest as the third suppresses a chuckle with a cough. You try not to laugh along with him, and he catches your shared moment, smiling at you while rolling his shoulders back and tucking his arms behind him. 

“Well, I believe it is time that you should all introduce yourselves,” Lady Bridgerton waves her arm down the line in demonstration. 

“I am Anthony, the oldest and the head of the household,” Anthony starts, stepping forward slightly then stepping back like a soldier. 

“Very pleased to meet you,” you nod, smiling lightly.

“I am Benedict, second oldest,” he goes to readjust his vest and you notice the charcoal marks under his nails and the paint on his thumbs. 

“An artist too I see,” you comment, and his eyebrows raise in amusement and confusion. “Your hands give you away,” you explain, nodding to the signs you gathered. His mouth forms a silent ‘ah’ before tucking his hands behind his back. 

“Colin,” the third one nods at you with a sly smile on his face, “third, one and twenty, and without need of a governess”. 

“Though some may beg to differ,” one of the girls further down the line pipes up, causing the two youngest to giggle under their breath. 

“Well, I am sure we will get to know each other well on adult terms then,” you nod, trying to keep the situation light. 

The girls keep the line going, Lady Bridgerton informing you that Daphne, the oldest daughter, was to debut this year and that while you would mainly be watching over the smallest two children, it would be much appreciated if you were to aid the girls in their more accomplished skills as well. 

“It would be a delight ma’am,” you smile, and when Lady Bridgerton announces that you will need to be shown to your room, Gregory and Hyacinth (whose names you now have committed to memory) are quick to grab a hand on either side of you and drag you up the stairs. Eagerly waiting to get to know their new companion better, you are left to wave a hasty goodbye to the rest of the family as you nearly trip over the initial stair for the children are oh so speedy.

The first night finds you unable to sleep. The space is unfamiliar and the job so incredibly daunting. Though you have faith that you can achieve what you set out to do, it does not make the prospect of having to live with eight children, one mother, and who knows how many staff any less immeasurable. When the Bridgerton family had written to the greater community that they were in search of a new governess, you had never imagined that they would select you, but you were of course more than grateful. Coming from humble beginnings yourself, the cavernous environment and the sheer amount of people in it were enough to spike your anxiety. After tossing on your side for the 100th time, you finally strike a match, lighting the candle on your bedside table and grabbing your diary from beside it. Writing letters to family and friends had become a habit of yours when you could not sleep, which you are not eager to admit happens frequently. You begin writing a letter to your mother, the words spilling out of you as the ink bleeds through the page and onto your hands. Paying no mind to anything other than writing, you are shaken out of your mental tunnel with a quick knock on your door. 

“Yes?” You call through, quickly shoving your diary under your pillow. 

The door opens hesitantly, and Colin peeks his head through the frame. “My apologies, I saw the light under the door on my way down the hall and feared someone had left it burning in their sleep”. 

“Oh,” you laugh awkwardly, “do not fret Mr. Bridgerton, it was merely me”. 

“Were you unable to sleep?” 

“Yes, but not to worry, it was merely,” you pause and realise there is rain tapping at your window, “the storm”. 

“Ah. I know a few of my younger siblings are unable to sleep during storms as well,” he nods in understanding. 

As if responding to a cue, Hyacinth runs up to the door and Colin opens it wider. Her creased forehead and pouted lips are enough for you to open your arms, sending her flying onto your bed. She ducks her head into your pillows, covering her ears further as thunder claps outside your window. You rub your hand along her back, looking between her and Colin who still stands at your door. 

“My dear, did the storm frighten you?” It feels like an obvious question, but one must cover all bases when dealing with new children. Lest you forget when, two families ago, one of the middle children was not scared of the storm, but of the fact that his older brother was chasing him down the hallway with a fish head. How they had even come across such a thing you will never know. Hyacinth nods her head and you pat the space next to you, whispering quiet shushing sounds in her ear as you hear another set of feet approaching your door. Colin looks down the hall as Gregory comes to join the party. 

“Were you scared as well darling?” You ask, scooting your legs to the farthest edge of your bed to make more room. 

“No! I wasn’t scared…I was merely coming to check on Hyacinth,” he sounds unconvinced. You nod in agreement, muttering ‘of course’ to save him his image of masculinity when another round of thunder rolls through. That masculine facade is quick to fall as Gregory runs up onto your bed, taking up the space behind Hyacinth. Colin chuckles and you send him a death glare to avoid him making fun of his siblings. 

“Now now, the storm cannot hurt us inside. We have light, and windows from which to watch the storm pass if we so choose,” you try reassuring them, but it seems to do little good as the children keep in their tucked positions. 

There is suddenly a fourth Bridgerton entering your room when Francesca makes her way in, her head down in fear and shame. You open your arms wider, allowing her a safe space in which to take refuge, and she joins the cluster of Bridgertons on your bed. “Couldn’t sleep,” she mutters before wrapping her arms around Gregory.

“You know what always makes me feel better in times like these?” You look between the three closest to you. None of them give a verbal answer, but Hyacinth raises her head from the pillows, looking at you with the saddest eyes known to man. “My mother used to sing to me when I was scared of the storms. Would you like a song?” Francesca is the first to nod, then Hyacinth. Gregory is last, first trying to keep a tough illusion but quickly dropping it when lighting flashes into view from your window. 

“Lavender’s blue dilly dilly, lavender’s green. When I am queen dilly dilly, you shall be king,” you begin. When you aren’t watching, Colin closes your bedroom door, leaning against the closest wall. “Who told you so, dilly dilly, who told you so? Twas my own heart dilly dilly, that told me so”. He hadn’t been expecting much when his mother informed the family of the new governess that was to join them, in fact he had rather been irritated by the idea. The youngest children always found a way to scare them off and it seemed like a waste of time and money in his opinion, but his mind is slowly being changed. Watching you interact with his siblings in such a kind a heartfelt manner, especially with it being less than 24 hours since your arrival stirs something within him. He does not quite have a name for it yet, but there is something compelling him to stay in place rather than walking the few extra steps to his room. 

Perhaps he could get used to having a new member of the household.

[mysindividual]

UNKNOWINGLY SERIES - masterlist

*ALL OF THESE CAN BE READ AS STANDALONE!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story!

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x liaison!fem reader

summary: In the bustling halls of the BAU, you’re the witty subordinate who’s been secretly crushing on Aaron, the stoic unit chief with a recently single status. For years, you’ve balanced your admiration with sharp banter, but things take a turn when your support starts to melt his icy exterior. As he navigates his newfound freedom, he’s blissfully unaware that your ability to make him laugh is turning into something deeper. With tension simmering between playful camaraderie and unspoken feelings, will he finally realize that the real mystery isn’t just in the cases you solve, but in the spark that’s been right under his nose? Buckle up for a charmingly complicated case of unspoken feelings!

warnings: boss x subordinate, age gap, mutual pining, mentions of divorce/murderers/alcohol (just basic criminal minds stuff)

1. Unknowingly, his

2. Unknowingly, he admits

3. Unknowingly, hers

4. Unknowingly, a yellow hyacinth

The rest coming soon…

Bonus scenes:

Unknowingly, his unspoken wish

[iwritefandomimagines]

NO LONGER IN DENIAL

masterlist

pairing: anthony bridgerton x reader, bestfriend!benedict bridgerton x reader

description: anthony has made no secret of not wanting to marry, despite it being more than clear that he is head over heels in love with you, his “best friend”. benedict decides he is fed up of anthony’s denial, and takes matters into his own hands — by inciting jealousy from his older brother.

warnings: angst, jealous!anthony cos i’m a sucker for him hehe, benedict being a shit stirrer who i adore, fluffiness at the end <3

“Lady Y/N is joining us for dinner this evening, I believe,” Benedict hummed, a small smirk gracing his face as the eldest Bridgerton’s head snapped up, “Mother told me she hopes to, anyway.”

Anthony watched as his sisters fussed excitedly over seeing you, for it had been at least a week since you had graced Aubrey Hall with your presence and they missed you dearly.

Anthony had too, of course, though he’d never admit it was for any reason beyond how highly regarded you were in his family and how much he enjoyed your friendship.

“I very much look forward to seeing her,” Benedict continued, still smirking devilishly, “Though I did have the pleasure of bumping into her as she left Modiste yesterday.”

Anthony furrowed his eyebrows at his brother, “You didn’t tell me that, brother.”

“Must I share every occasion I see Lady Y/N with you, Anthony?” he quipped in reply, crossing his arms over his chest as Colin stifled a laugh, well aware of what was going on, “One might think you jealous.”

“Jealous? You jest, brother. She is my closest friend, I am simply surprised you would not mention even in passing that you saw her,” Anthony spoke through gritted teeth, “Regardless, I look forward to seeing her.”

“Ah, perfect timing!” Francesca grinned as Lady Y/N’s arrival was announced moments later, and in you walked with a gloriously bright smile on your face, though this faltered as you saw the bitter look on Anthony’s face.

“Is everything alright, my Lord?” you asked shyly, taking a few steps towards Anthony, whose expression softened at this, “Have we chosen a bad day to visit? If so I apologise—,”

Suddenly Benedict was at your side now, “It’s quite alright, my dear Lady Y/N. We are all pleased to see you. Might we take a turn about the room? We have some things to discuss!”

“No fair! You saw her yesterday, I want to show her my embroidery,” Hyacinth pouted, though Benedict raised his brow at her and flickered his eyes in Anthony’s direction as if to explain his actions.

Everyone in the family was well aware of the affection shared between you and Anthony, even if he dared not admit how he felt because of his apparent desire not to marry.

Benedict believed he just needed a push to see that you had myriad other options, and that he could only push away his feelings for so long.

“I’m sure Benedict has something important to share, my dear Hyacinth, but I would love to see your embroidery promptly after,” your voice was like honey to the eldest Bridgerton, who fought off the desire to make his own request for a moment of your time, “There is enough of me to go around! My brother will be arriving shortly, also.”

Benedict began whispering almost as soon as you had crossed the room, endeavouring to make you well aware of his plan so as not to cause any discomfort to you.

He didn’t wish for you to be confused by his sudden flirtation, so immediately indulged you with the details of his concocted plan to induce jealousy in his older brother that might finally allow him to be honest about his feelings.

With some hesitation, you accepted his plan.

Benedict was well aware of your feelings for his brother, and you knew this — after all, you had confessed it to him yourself because you trusted him dearly. Much to Anthony’s dismay, nowadays Benedict was your closest friend of all.

Anthony had once filled that role, but as each year passed and your youth slipped away, you had fallen far too in love with him to be so satisfied with a friendship as you were with Benedict.

Benedict was your best friend — Anthony was the love of your life.

Though he did not admit it, you were the love of his too. This is why Benedict’s interference was so necessary as far as the second Bridgerton son was concerned.

It was unfair for you to believe your love unrequited when it was merely his stubborn refusal to see beyond his ‘duty’ as Viscount and head of the household that prevented him from giving in to his feelings.

The plan seemed already to be working by the time you were seated for dinner, far closer to Benedict than to Anthony who sat at the other side of the table.

He scowled as he watched his brother gossiping with you, still irritated by both his earlier remark about seeing you yesterday and his persistence with being the only person in the room to maintain your attention.

“It is working, my dear friend,” Benedict beamed across at you, leaning forward to both better execute his plan and so that you could hear him better, “If looks could kill, my brother would have seen me long since dead and buried.”

You brought your hand to your mouth, hiding the giggle that escaped as you waited to calm before looking across at Anthony, “Benedict!”

You drew in a deep breath, composing yourself before glancing across at the Viscount and catching his eye immediately. His glare was suddenly no more, his lips curling up in a smile that sent your heart racing.

You mouthed a small “Hello,” to him, blushing crimson at the intensity of his stare. Despite the conversation going on around him, all he could do was look at you.

The staring contest you seemed to find yourself in was swiftly broken by Benedict’s voice calling your name again, returning you to conversation with him.

The rest of dinner passed much the same — small conversations here and there with the other Bridgertons, longing stares from an increasingly restless Anthony, and teasing comments from Benedict, who was certain that Anthony would be confronting you tonight.

“We should probably call for our carriage, I suppose,” you smiled sadly, disappointed with both how quickly the night had passed by and the fact you’d hardly spoken to Anthony throughout, “I’ve had such a lovely evening. I only wish I could stay longer!”

“You could!” Anthony exclaimed, an unusual outburst for the eldest sibling but one that made all at the table laugh as he rose to his feet, “We could have a room put up for you. It is late, and Wellsbury Hall is quite the distance.”

You bit your lip, smiling at him as he sat back down again, “Oh we couldn’t trouble you with that, my lord.”

“Perhaps my dear friend is right,” your brother disagreed, “It is getting late, and if it is no trouble we would be incredibly grateful. And I hope we might repay you with an invitation to Wellsbury in the near future? I hope to host a ball before the season ends so that my darling sister might finally find a husband.”

His eyes flickered between Benedict and Anthony for a moment and you realised that he must have been in on Benedict’s little plan.

You looked around the room cautiously at every smiling face, before settling your gaze on Anthony with a nod, “Very well then. I’d be delighted. The many childhoods spent staying here overnight are often much missed.”

Lady Bridgerton grinned, “Fantastic. Then it is settled,” she turned to the maids stood by the door, “Please prepare two rooms for our guests as quickly as possible. It is, after all, late, and I’m sure they will soon wish to rest.”

The way Anthony watched you for the rest of dinner made you impossibly nervous.

When the maids told you which rooms were readied, you stood to retire to bed, but not before Benedict offered to show you to the room as it was in his opinion the best decorated.

“Brother, I don’t believe it’s appropriate for you to show Lady Y/N to her room,” Anthony huffed, having had enough now of him being stuck to you like heavy-duty glue, “Perhaps you should allow one of our maids to kindly do so.”

“It is quite alright, Anthony. We are in the comfort of our own home, and I know Y/N quite well enough,” Benedict sing-songed, “Unless you would prefer to show her? The maids are quite busy clearing up.”

Anthony’s jaw clenched at his brother’s comment about knowing you ‘quite well enough’ and so he found himself at your side quickly.

“In fact yes, perhaps I should,” he agreed, a sternness in his tone you’d become used to again today. He was so much gentler with you, but today with you so seemingly far from him he has grown stoic again, “After all, I am the head of this household and you have not let me spend a minute with my closest friend, hm?”

Colin interjected now, aware of all eyes on the conversation, “Perhaps Lady Y/N can make the decision herself?”

“I—,”

“Fine, I concede,” Benedict raised his hands in surrender, “I suppose I’ve not let her leave my side this evening, though you cannot fault me for that. I will bid you goodnight, Y/N. Goodnight brothers.”

He took your hand in his, lifting it to his lips for just the gentlest of kisses to the back of it, before he bowed and quickly left the room.

With Anthony facing the other way, towards you, Benedict turned to shoot you a wink before leaving, and nerves bubbled in your gut at the unknown of what was to come.

The kiss to your hand was the final straw for Anthony, who linked his arm with yours and lead you out of the room without another word to anyone else.

You were silent for the walk, but once you stopped still outside of the room you were to sleep in Anthony turned to stand in front of you, his breathing jagged as his eyes searched your face for clues to why he was feeling so furious at your friendship with Benedict.

“Is my brother courting you?” he came right out and asked it, his chest heaving and yours doing so now too as you shook your head.

“Not at all, my lord,” you bit your lip again, before looking down at the ground to avoid his gaze.

He brought his index finger to your chin, lifting your face so that you were forced to look at him again, “And do you wish him to be?”

Again you shook your head, but his finger never left your skin for a moment.

“I was so sure—,”

“Forgive me, my lord, I have just been finding comfort in his friendship of late as I see him regularly about town,” you frowned, suddenly even more conscious of how little time you spent with Anthony in recent weeks.

He leaned ever so slightly closer, “Finding comfort in his friendship? And what of ours?”

“Our friendship, my lord? I—,”

“I apologise, Y/N, but I do not like to see you so close with my brother. Not least because of the fear of a scandal if others saw his behaviour,” he gritted his teeth, “He touches you too often. Leans too close to speak with you and it… it is misleading.”

You gulped, “Why would you be so infuriated by the notion of him courting me, my dear Anthony? He is your brother, and he cares for me. Even if it is not him I wish did so.”

He cocked his head in confusion now, before his eyes widened in realisation of his brother’s scheming. And in considering that, he realised that it had worked.

He’d never wanted to marry, and especially never for love.

But with you stood right there at his finger tips, smiling up at him nervously with a twinkle in your eyes, he threw caution to the wind and realised that you had changed that in him.

He could no longer deny his desire to hold you, to have you entirely as his, to make you his Viscountess.

“Who do you wish to treat you as such, my lady?”

“Surely you can see the answer for yourself, Anthony.”

“I simply wish to hear you say it. But if I must do so first, as a consequence of my foolishness in not seeing it sooner, then so be it. I dislike your closeness to my brother because I miss your attention being mine. I wish to have you at my side always, to laugh with you and dance with you and just talk with you all evening. I do not wish to see Benedict court you because I wish to do so myself.”

“Anthony—,”

“Please, my love, let me finish. I have most probably been in love with you for as long as I have known you, and yet chosen not to see it out of my own stubbornness. If not for my scheming devil of a brother, I might still be in denial. But I love you most ardently, Y/N. And if you feel at all the same then I should like to make you my wife. My viscountess.”

You were speechless, perhaps for one of the first times since meeting Anthony.

You had always told him everything, always saved your last dance for him at balls, always rooted for him in every game of Pall Mall even as his competitor.

And now here he was, the famously anti-marriage Viscount asking if you too wished to wed him.

“Anthony, I had hoped it was clear as day that I too have been unfathomably in love with you for longer than I can explain,” you blushed crimson again under his gaze as a smile spread across his face, “To marry you, well, would be the only way I might find joy in marriage. I know you’ve never sought a match, let alone a love match, but I love you most dearly, my dear Anthony.”

He captured your lips with his as soon as you stopped speaking, knowing that he shouldn’t do so but hoping nobody was around.

Besides, he would soon make you his wife, and he couldn’t contain the excitement.

“I know I’ve previously had my reservations but I am no longer in denial, and I’m sorry for taking my liberties with you by kissing you before we are wed but I could not help myself. And I wish to spend a lifetime kissing you, Y/N. Will you marry me?” he looked shy all of a sudden, which you had never seen before, and you grabbed both of his hands in yours to kiss them.

“Of course, my dear, there is nothing I would like more!”

His smile became impossibly wide, and once more he kissed you out of sheer excitement.

“I’m sorry that this was so abrupt, and I have yet no ring. But my mother will be ecstatic and I plan to give you her betrothal ring because— you are the only woman worthy. And I shall spend our whole life ensuring that I make up for taking so long to do this,” he was vulnerable now, still shy under your careful gaze,

“I had no desire to marry because I had no desire to put the woman I love through the pain of losing me like my mother did my father. She was distraught but— I see now that it is no good wasting time with this fear. However long I might live, I wish to spend those years loving you and making you happy, so that any pain might be worthwhile.”

You kissed him now, tearing your gloves from your hands and reaching up to cup his face and kiss him, “I love you, Anthony Bridgerton. Always. And I cannot wait to be your wife. It will be the greatest honour.”

You were both hot and flustered, and it was taking everything in him not to push open your bedroom door and sweep you off your feet.

But for you, he was a gentleman, and so he settled for one final kiss atop your head and a sweet goodnight.

“We shall tell the others as we break fast tomorrow, perhaps?” you could see the dizzy joy in Anthony’s eyes as he asked this of you, and you nodded profusely.

“I cannot wait, my dear.”

“Then I will bid you good night, my love. I will dream of you, and look forward to seeing you in the morning. Sleep well, my future viscountess.”

“Sleep well, my love.”

As you went to part, you heard a rustle a little way down the corridor, both looking up to see a smug Benedict smirking, leaning on the wall just down the hallway.

“Even I underestimated my own plan. Congratulations, brother. You finally saw sense.”

———

hello! i know this is completely random as i’ve been writing for djats lately but i has this idea and felt the neeeeed to write it. feel free to request more bridgerton fics, as i’m inspired at the moment and rewatching it.

in the meantime, here is my masterlist!

[paracosmic-murdock]

Could you do Benedict Bridgerton with wife reader?

Ben had always been the second son who had all the fun until the day he fell in love. From that moment, only her on his mind. Never once does his gaze befall someone else. He thinks all is well with her and their children. Until one day, she faints and reveals that she had fallen ill. (it wasn't terminal illness but her health was declining or she could survive from it. You choose) He didn't know what to think or do in this situation. Angst but ending with fluff. You decide how it goes. Add anything you want to. Thanks!! :))

hiii, thanks for your request <3 it's the first time i've gotten one and i'm excited and hoping not to disappoint!!! anyways, here it goes:

if there is no you

pairing: benedict bridgerton x wife!reader

summary: after many years of loving and having each other, you and benedict had a beautiful family and a perfect little life together until you fell ill one day and it all threatened to end. while you lied on your bed all day and night, fearing that you might leave your husband and children alone, benedict died a little each second that approached him further to losing you.

tags/warnings: mentions of chronic illness, not character death, grief, fear, angst, happy ending, song: soon you'll get better (taylor swift)

word count: 2.2K

❁ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

Benedict had believed his life as a bachelor would never end. He thought he would enjoy his singleness forever, that he could just sleep around, drink to unconsciousness, and party to death; but no.

The day he met you at Lady Danbury's home for a dinner party, he got immediately obsessed with you… utterly enamored.

You had a passionate and scandalous love story, one of those you can only see in romance novels. You even paved the way for the rest of Benedict's siblings to bring home scandals in the future: Daphne, Anthony, Eloise, Colin… all of them followed the footsteps of the second Bridgerton son, who settled down first than his siblings against all odds.

Your grandfather knew Lady Danbury through her late husband, and they had become great friends. As you had failed to find a husband to your liking, he and your parents sent you to Mayfair to live with Lady Danbury for the social season and help you find a husband. Which, ultimately, worked.

You were soon engaged to a fine gentleman. He was endearing and kind, and would surely make an amazing husband and father to many children with you. He could provide for you and give you a safe life. Lady Danbury had picked him just for you, and you were comfortable with that decision. That, until you met Benedict.

He had successfully managed to skip most social events, and when he didn't, you never actually saw each other. However, Lady Danbury decided to invite the Bridgertons to your engagement dinner, where you two formally met and changed the course of your lives completely.

Defying social étiquettes, Benedict decided to court you while you were engaged. You masked the yearning to see him with that socially imposed civility of a lady who has to receive whatever gentleman that approaches her.

He wrote you letters and snuck around to see you at night until before your wedding, during which he firmly spoke when it was time to speak or forever hold one's peace.

Under both compassionate and outraged looks, the two of you left that church and began your own love story. After the birth of your second child, the Ton forgot about the scandal behind your marriage and you lived happily ever after until you didn't.

It was one enjoyable afternoon at Aubrey Hall. The entire family was there: Anthony, Kate, Daphne, Simon, Colin, Penelope, Francesca, John, Gregory, Hyacinth, Lady Bridgerton, Lady Danbury, Lord Anderson, and, of course, the latest generation of Bridgerton children.

You and Benedict had made enough Bridgertons yourselves: Benedict II, the eldest, was seven years old, Benjamin, six, Blair, four, Blanche, two, and Béa, five months old.

Lady Bridgerton was ecstatic with the birth of your youngest. She had her granddaughter in her arms while her children and their spouses played pall mall in the broad backyard.

“Are you feeling well?” Eloise asked, noticing how you seemed fatigued.

You nodded, not wanting to miss a moment of the game. “Certainly, El.”

It was getting far too difficult to catch your breath, but you were sure you could control it, at least this once. You couldn't.

The next thing you saw was your husband beside you, holding your hand in his, near his mouth. You could feel the warmth of his words against the back of your hand, and almost hear the prayers falling from his lips.

He was never a man of God, but he considered changing that at the sight of you lying unconscious on that bed for several hours.

“Ben?”

Benedict let out all the breath in his lungs and rushed to hug you. “Thank God!”

You felt weak and dizzy, but didn't want to worry him anymore, so you reciprocated the embrace despite the headache it was causing.

“What happened?”

“We were playing with the family,” he answered. “And you fainted suddenly. We took you to the room and the doctor came to see you. He said that, taking your underlying symptoms into account, it might take hours for you to wake.”

“Oh…” you muttered, trying to ignore the reproach behind his words. “How long has it been?”

“Around five hours,” He sighed. “Do you want something, my love? Water, food?”

You pursed your lips. “Uh, water should be fine. Thank you.”

Your husband nodded and poured water in a glass. Once he sat beside you again, he gave you the water himself, making you smile.

“Where are the children?”

“They are having dinner with Mother.”

“How are they?”

“They are fine,” he assured you, but you knew he was lying. “Do not worry about the children, our family is taking good care of them. Mother is with Béa, so we mustn't worry about her too much.”

You pouted. “She must be hungry, Benedict. She certainly needs me! Bring her to me, please.”

“Are you sure? The doctor said you must rest.”

“Please, Ben.”

He couldn't say no. He could never say no to you.

Benedict was in front of you, sitting expectantly, awaiting your answer.

He wouldn't blame you for anything, for the last thing he should do right this moment is put you under stress. The doctor said that stress or worry would only make it worse, and Benedict wouldn't risk it. You, however, had to tell him the truth.

“They began two months before Béa's birth,” you finally spoke. “It was sporadic at the start, just pain in my chest every now and then, difficulty breathing sometimes, until it turned into something bigger. My heart starts pounding really, really fast, and sometimes I faint like I did yesterday. But now, I-”

Your husband's face was the most afflicted you have ever seen, and you felt guilty for hiding it from him for so long.

“I'm sorry,” A soft whimper left your mouth. “I know I should have told you months ago, but I could not bear the thought of upsetting you over something I was able to control.”

“Is that why you have chosen to carry the weight of your illness all by yourself? To not upset me?”

You nodded. “We are happy. We deserve to be without anything ruining it.”

“The children and I, we are happy. You cannot possibly be happy under the burden of that secret of yours.”

“I never intended for this to happen, I figured it would go away one day, it was never this complicated-”

“I know that, my dear,” Benedict sighed. “I am right here with you, alright? Always.”

You held back the tears. “How did you find out?”

“Dahlia got scared and told me the truth,” he answered, mentioning the involvement of your lady maid. “She said you have been in denial for months, and that this was not the first time this has happened. Your health has been decaying for a long time, but you wouldn't accept it.”

“Ben, I… I am scared.”

“I know,” He looked up at the ceiling and then at you. “Do not be. Everything will be alright.”

He kissed your hand and gave you a sweet smile.

“Thank you for being here.”

“I will always be here for you, Y/N. I love you more than anything,” Benedict replied, swallowing his own feelings. “What if you make some space for me there beside you? Can you do that for me?”

You let out a soft laugh, remembering for a quick second how much you missed your husband's jokes and that whimsical attachment you adored, oh, so much. He always made you feel like the new girl in London who caught his attention and made him do all sorts of follies. You were that girl the day you met, the day you gave birth to your third child, and right this moment. He loved you, and it was so maddening that his delusions passed as hope.

Benedict wanted you to get better, but the doctor said you probably wouldn't.

He thought you were full of life, even when your voice was hoarse and your skin a little too cold for an alive person. He thought you would be fine even when you said goodbye to him every night as if it was gonna be the last time.

What was he supposed to do? He had to hold onto hope. You had to live and see your children grow up. You had to see them marry and carry your grandchildren.

You were merely eight and twenty. You couldn't die and leave him.

Benedict hated it when he realized that he was making it all about him, but how else was he supposed to decipher how he felt about the possibility of losing you? He didn't see himself capable of dealing with your loss and keep going. He couldn't fathom the idea of raising the kids by himself. He didn't know how he would look at little Blanche, who looked exactly like you, and not break down.

“How are you today?”

You smiled weakly. “I am doing amazing, my dear.”

“Is that so?” he inquired with a happy smirk. You nodded. “It is great to hear that.”

“How are you?”

“I am quite content.” Benedict assured you, though the bags under his eyes and the loss of fullness of his cheeks gave away his dishonesty.

But you pretended like you believed him. “How are the children?”

“Quite well. Benedict and Benjamin have started their fencing lessons yesterday,” he said. “Blair has proven herself to be good at reading, quite like you, Blanche has been misbehaving lately but showing her artsy skills. As for Béa, she is growing more each day that passes. She gets along very well with Mother, as you know, so it is alright. They miss you. I have been trying to keep their little minds occupied, but they do.”

You didn't notice when you started crying.

“I wish to see my children grow up. I want to grow old with you, Ben… I'm scared.”

This time, he didn't have the strength to tell you not to be. This time, he cried with you.

“Me as well,” He kissed your forehead and attempted to get up. “Perhaps I should-”

“Please, stay.”

“I do not want you to see me like this.”

You pursed your lips. “Who else if not me?”

Benedict cried more and you felt guilty for being the reason of your husband's was misery.

“I wish to never lose you,” he whispered. “Because… What am I supposed to do if there is no you?”

“I will always be with you.”

“I know.”

You smiled at him, trying to comfort him; but you couldn't.

Nothing you did would ease the pain, nothing other than getting well.

“You cannot lose hope.”

“It is quite easy for you to say, El,” Benedict sighed, looking at the moon. “It is not the love of your life lying on her deathbed. It is not you who will be left alone with five children to tend to. It has been months, and I have no clue what to do. I only want her to be well.”

“I know I am not losing the love of my life, but she is my sister,” Eloise replied. “I hope not to burden you with my pain, too. I cannot bear the thought of losing such a loving soul. She has always inspired me to see the world as she does. And life. Even now, on the verge of leaving, she has managed to show goodness.”

He let out an afflicted sigh. “What did she say to you, Sister?”

She took his hand in hers. “She said that she would leave in peace if she had to. That she trusts us to take care of you and the children. And that she is happy with the life she has lived. She said that she has lived a life full of love, and that is what makes life worth living: the love we give and receive. You have done right by her. You have given her the life and family she always wanted.”

“I do not want to make this about me,” he said. “But I cannot help but to do so. If she leaves us, Eloise, I am leaving right behind her, I- I don't believe myself to have the strength it takes to survive in her absence.”

“You must be strong. For her and your children.”

“I don't want to be strong, I want this to be over.”

“I know, but… didn't the doctor say she was improving?”

“I do not want to have faith for nothing.”

They stayed silent on the swings of Bridgerton House until Benedict thought it was time to go back home. The sun rising announced it.

Once Benedict set foot on his home, he saw you having breakfast with your children. A wide smile spread on his face at the sight.

“Mr. Bridgerton, how dare you return home until after sunrise?” you questioned him amusedly, pointing to the empty seat on the end of the table. He was about to sit where you told him, but the children stood up from their places and ran to him before he could. You laughed. “But it is alright, for I got to surprise you.”

Benedict smiled and walked to you with your second youngest, Blanche, in his arms. “You are out of bed.”

“I am out of bed,” you confirmed with excitement, holding his face with your hand and driving him close enough for to you to peck his lips. “I love you.”

“Daddy!” Blair exclaimed. “Mama read us to sleep last night!”

“Did she?”

“Yes, Father! And Mama saw Benedict and I during our fencing lesson.” Benjamin, your second born, added.

“Mama is getting better, Father.” Benedict, the child, mentioned with a sweet grin, just like his father's.

“She is,” Benedict, the father, confirmed. “And everything will be alright.”

all things benedict bridgerton taglist: @imgondeletedis

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Heated

pairing: benedict bridgerton x f! wife reader

The tension had been brewing for weeks, a silent storm gathering between you and Benedict. It was not one singular issue, but a cascade of unmet expectations and unspoken grievances. Benedict had been retreating to his studio with increasing frequency, consumed by the demands of his latest commission. You, meanwhile, had been left to shoulder the burdens of the household managing the staff, ensuring the children were well cared for, and navigating the endless social obligations of a Bridgerton wife. Each passing day, the weight of your responsibilities seemed to grow heavier, and the distance between you and your husband grew wider.

That evening, the dam finally broke.

Dinner was chaos. Hyacinth knocked over her bowl of soup, Gregory and Francesca bickered incessantly, and the twins conspired to switch their vegetables when they thought no one was looking. You had turned to Benedict, seeking his assistance, only to find him absent in thought, his gaze fixed on some distant point as though already lost in his art.

“Benedict,” you said, your tone sharp enough to cut through the clamor. “Might you assist me, or are you content to simply observe?”

He blinked, startled out of his reverie, and frowned. “What would you have me do? They are children; they will misbehave.”

The dismissal stung, sharper than you cared to admit. You bit your tongue, choosing to wait until the children were tucked into bed before unleashing the storm within you.

When the nursery door clicked shut, the argument erupted with the ferocity of a tempest.

“You have no notion of what it takes to manage this household, Benedict!” you exclaimed, your voice trembling with frustration. “Day after day, I am left to juggle everything while you bury yourself in your studio, as though you have not a care in the world!”

His eyes narrowed, his own irritation flaring to life. “And do you believe I am idle in my pursuits? I work tirelessly to provide for this family, Y/N. Do not presume to lecture me on my obligations!”

“Provide?” you scoffed, your tone laced with disbelief. “How can you claim to provide when you are absent from the very family you profess to care for? You do not see the strain you place upon me!”

“And you,” he countered, his voice rising to match yours, “do not see the strain I endure, the pressure to succeed, to create, to secure a legacy for our children!”

The argument escalated, both of you hurling words you would later regret. Accusations of neglect, of ingratitude, of failing each other, filled the space between you. The walls seemed to tremble with the force of your voices, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew the staff and the children could hear every word.

At last, Benedict’s anger reached its peak. “I cannot do this,” he muttered, his voice low and tight with emotion. “I need air.”

And with that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoed through the house, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.

Benedict walked briskly to Aubrey Hall, the chill of the night air doing little to cool the fire in his chest. By the time he arrived at Anthony’s study, his frustration had turned to guilt.

Anthony regarded him with a raised brow as Benedict poured himself a drink. “Well, brother, you look as though you’ve been through the wars. What happened?”

“We argued,” Benedict admitted, sinking into a chair. “It was… unpleasant.”

Anthony sighed, setting his glass down. “And now you are here instead of with her. Tell me, what purpose does that serve?”

“I do not know,” Benedict muttered, his head falling into his hands. “I left because I feared I might say something I could not take back.”

“And now,” Anthony said pointedly, “you have left her alone to contend with her own anger and hurt. Return to her, Benedict. Fix it.”

“What if she will not forgive me?” Benedict asked, his voice tinged with doubt.

Anthony’s expression softened. “She loves you. Do not allow your pride to stand in the way of that.”

When Benedict returned home, the house was quiet, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. He ascended the stairs with measured steps, his heart pounding as he approached the door to your shared bedroom. Pushing it open, he found you seated on the edge of the bed, your hands clasped tightly in your lap. Your eyes, red from crying, lifted to meet his, a mixture of hurt and longing reflected in their depths.

Before you could utter a single word, Benedict strode across the room and cupped your face in his hands. His lips crashed against yours with an urgency that stole your breath, his kiss a fervent apology for every sharp word and every moment of neglect.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing uneven. “My love,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “I was wrong. I should never have raised my voice, nor should I have walked away. I beg your forgiveness.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you reached up to cradle his face. “I am just as much to blame,” you whispered. “I should not have let my frustrations fester for so long. I only ever wanted you.”

“And I, you,” he said fervently. “Always.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, his hands sliding to your waist as he lifted you effortlessly into his arms. He carried you to the bed, laying you down with a tenderness that made your heart ache. Each touch, each whispered word, was a vow to love you, to honor you, to never let pride or anger come between you again.

As dawn broke, the warmth of forgiveness and love filled the space where anger had once dwelled. Benedict pressed a kiss to your temple, his arms wrapped securely around you. “We shall argue again,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement.

“Undoubtedly,” you replied, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“But I will never walk away again,” he promised. “That, my dearest, I swear.”