#there was a few moments that were questionable as I’ve found in every Bridgerton book so far but it made me feel so much! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

johnkrrasinski · 4 years ago

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baby, just say yes

full masterlist

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 3,324

Warning: fluff!! pure feelings, inaccurate depiction of middle-age relationships (?)

Summary: inspired by taylor swift’s “love story” and a bit of bridgerton. james barnes was the son of your father’s rival. what happens when two star-crossed lovers fell in love? will their love conquer their families’ bad blood?

a/n: in honour of taylor releasing re-recorded version of love story, i wanted to write something inspired by it because i’m a sucker for fairytales (HA!) i wanted to post this on valentine’s day but it turned out to be longer than i planned. also, bridgerton might have influenced some of my writing. so enjoy! reblogs and comments are always appreciated. :)

The party was in full swing as the music enlivened the masquerade revellers in ball gowns and fancy suits. You stepped into the party in your best dress with your hair half pinned up in braids. You wore your fulgent jewellery proudly, not caring what anyone thought of your confidence. As the daughter of an aristocratic family, you never once had to worry about fortune or popularity. Your father was a powerful man and everyone knew and worshipped the ground you walked on. But really, you were smart enough to know that these people were merely a bunch of bootlickers. They wished to get close to you for your wealth and repute.

The ball that was held by your father bored you. You never really liked any of his associates. You were a naturally an introvert, you preferred to be alone in your room and read books or be with your dog. However, keeping up a good appearance, well your father’s appearance, was necessary to maintain the family’s name. So you had no choice but to get up, get ready and show your face.

You greeted one of your cousins, Bella, who had come all the way from France. She looked dazzling as always. She hoped to meet a rich husband in one of these balls, but none of them had been captivated by her enough to get down on one knee. Somehow, they always turned their heads to you even when you never displayed any interest in marrying any time soon.

People were chatting, laughing and drinking left and right, some were on the hunt for a match. A few men had come up to you and asked for a dance, you always came up with a reason to dodge them. So you ran to the nearest table to get a glass of champagne. A bit of alcohol could soothe your nerves.

And then, as if the world stopped moving and time froze. A man with short dark hair and navy blue velvet suit made an entrance to the ball. He folded his hands behind him and his walk displayed confidence and power. You couldn't see his entire face for he was wearing a mask but even with only half of his face was shown, you could already tell how handsome he was. The scruff on his lower face added to his sex appeal and there was a mysterious way about him.

He walked further into the ball until his eyes found yours, and it was like the butterflies in your stomach had been possessed. He boldly made his way towards you until you were standing face to face. You could make out his features more clearly now from this proximity. You couldn't help but instantly noticed his eyes; how translucent it was, not only in the colour but also the way it spoke to your soul wordlessly. And the blue in them made you think that God created him and inspired the ocean to seize the colour. And his smell was intoxicating. He had a masculine scent to him, filling up your thoughts with obscene scenarios. It piqued your curiosity about the man behind the mask.

You were a respected woman despite your age. Not only because of your family’s power but also because you carved out your image as this ‘untouchable, implausible’ lady to any man. It would take a true magnetic man to charm you and so far, you haven't crossed paths with one yet…. Until tonight.

He broke the silence first by greeting you, “hello there, milady. Quite a warm night, isn’t it?” Oh, how his voice was making you feel things you’d never felt before. Is this what love at first sight felt like?

“Yes, milord. It truly is.” You replied in a calm manner despite the hurricane inside you.

The orchestras began playing a lively tune, inviting men and women to pair up and dance. He held out his hand for you, “may I have this dance, milady?”

He led you to the centre of the ballroom. He stood in line with other men facing their partners. They bowed their heads and so did you with other women. They held out their hands for their partners to take and began putting their hands on their partners’ shoulders and waists.

You held your breath as he laid his hand on your skin, closing the distance between the two of you. He began to take the lead as your feet were moving in sync, trying not to step on him. You had taken dancing classes before but you almost never danced in the ballroom, so you were a little nervous about forgetting the lessons you had learned in front of this beautiful man.

“I never caught your name, milady.”

“I never caught yours either.” You snarked.

“I asked you first, milady,” the smirk on his face showed his amusement.

You chuckled, “My name’s y/n.”

“Such a lovely name for a lovely lady.”

“Oh, please. Cut the coquetry, milord. Plenty of men have told me that before.”

“Oh, have they?”

The choreography made you switch partners and you danced with this stranger. He looked delighted to have a chance with you but you merely smiled politely at him, until they switched back to your previous partners.

“Did that man tell you the same thing?”

“No, but I could tell from his expression that if we had danced a little longer, he would’ve found a synonymous flattery for me.”

“Are you used to having men throw themselves at your feet?”

“Yes, milord. I eat it for breakfast.”

You danced with him a little bit more until he spoke a hushed tone, “this party bores me. Would you like to meet me in the garden once this dance is over?”

“That would be splendid.”

The dance was finished and you bowed to each other and he kissed your gloved hand. “I’ll see you in the garden in 10 minutes.” He walked past by you, brushing your shoulder with his. You turned your head in his direction, deciding whether you should hold onto your words or not. But without much thinking, you took a glass of champagne and then snuck out, avoiding your parents’ scrutiny.

You found him standing there with his hands behind his back in the middle of the garden where flowers surrounded him, making the sight seem romantic. “Are you expecting someone, milord?”

“Not anymore,” he smiled. “I’ve persuaded you into a clandestine meeting, seems like I am winning the game.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, milord. I sneak out to the garden every day. Which reminds me, I didn’t quite catch your name back there.”

“My name’s James, milady. But, you may call me Bucky.”

Your furrowed your brows in a questioning look, “Bucky?”

“Yes. My mother bestowed me that nickname and the people that are closest to me call me Bucky.”

“Hm, is this another of your flattery that I get to call you ‘Bucky’?

“Yes, milady. I don’t take a lot of women to the gardens as well, so you could say you’re pretty special.”

“Let’s see how tonight goes and I will know.”

You and James talked some more. He told you stories about his family and you told him about yours. He also opened up about how his mother died. Though he looked dejected while telling stories about her, most of the times he was charming, with and clever, making you feel at ease in his company. You had met plenty of men but none of them had made you feel as comfortable as James did. He made you laugh several times with his jokes and you exchanged thoughts about social issues such as marriage, love, children with him. You always thought you’d never marry or perhaps you’d marry in your thirties or forties but it seems as if your heart is tossing away those ideas.

You were really enjoying your time with him that there was a moment where it was just the crickets and your soft breaths. You laid your head on his shoulder as his warmth engulfed you. You nearly fell asleep until the voice of your father disrupted your moment. “Y/N!” The sounds of footsteps were approaching and then your father’s incensed face came to view. “Y/N! What do you think you are doing?!”

“Father, calm down, I was merely promenading with James.”

“Milord, forgive me. I asked for your daughter to meet me in this garden. Please, don’t rebuke her.”

“You shut your mouth, young man. I know who you are and I would never let you lay a hand on my daughter, ever again. You should be ashamed o yourself.”

“Father, what are you so furious about?”

“Don’t you know who he is, y/n?!”

“No, who is he?” You looked at James then back to your father. James looked shocked at the intrusion.

“He is the son of that bastard, George Barnes. I had told you many stories about the lies and betrayals they did years ago. I would never forget them.” Your father enunciated those words as he stared into James’ eyes.

“Is that true?”

James looked doubtful, “yes.”

You felt dizzy. The first man that had truly captured your heart was the son of your families’ number one rival. It was as if the world didn’t like the idea of you finding love.

“Y/N, I swear, on my mother’s grave that I didn’t know. I didn’t know you were-”

“You stay away from my daughter! Do you hear me? If I ever see you anywhere near her, I will kill you with my own hands.” You father grabbed your hand then dragged you back to your carriage where your mother had been waiting for you both.

You tried to free yourself out of your father’s grip but it was to no avail. You looked back at James who was still standing there one last time before the carriage took you away. You cried all the way home.

It’s been three days since the debacle in the garden. You didn’t regret one thing about your feelings, but you blamed the universe for the circumstances. Out of all the people in the world, why must the man that you’d been waiting for was the one you couldn’t be with?

You missed James. You missed the warmth of being in his arms, the gentleness in his eyes and the way his voice soothed you. You wanted to see him more than anything but since that night, you begged your parents to let you see James, you fought tooth and nail to make your father change his mind, but all you got was being locked in your room after you threatened them to run away from home. They even went as far as hiring a guard to stand in front of your bedroom all day.

You sat by your window, looking up at the moon in your nightgown, wondering if James was thinking of you too until your reverie was disrupted by a knocking sound on your window. You instantly looked down to see what was the cause and the sight before you blew away the dark clouds above your head. James Barnes was standing below, with pebbles in his hand.

He smiled when you saw your face and you opened your windows, “James! What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you, of course. Are you able to come down?”

“I’ll try, but be quite okay? Don’t let anyone see you.”

You opened the lock of your door as quietly as possible. It was nearing 2 AM and the guard was snoring in his seat. You minded your steps like a ninja, not wanting to cause any noise. You held your breath when he stirred in his sleep but he thankfully he didn’t wake up. So you sprinted downstairs under the darkness of your mansion.

You quietly unlocked the door of the main entrance and immediately ran to the backyard, where James was waiting for you.

“James!” You shrieked. The joy in his face was palpable, so did yours. You ran to him, lifting your nightgown so you wouldn’t stumble and jumped on him and he caught you.

“I’ve missed you, princess,” James whispered breathily while hiding his face in your shoulder.

“I’ve missed you too. How did you know where I live?”

“I got connections. I’ve spent the last three days endlessly thinking of you.”

“I haven’t thought of anything else other than you too, James.”

He smiled then kissed you deeply, pouring all his longing in the last three days for you.

James took you to the outskirts of the town and you walked hand in hand, wandering around in the night. You talked about the history of your families and how your father wouldn’t let you go out alone knowing that you would try to see him and he told his father about you and what went down in the garden. You sighed, knowing that there was no chance for you and James to be together but then a fleeting thought came.

“Let’s run away,” you recklessly uttered.

“What?” James heard every word you said, he was just taken aback by what it meant.

“Let’s just… Get out of here. We can leave at midnight, I’ll pack up my things and we can be together.”

“Y/N, we can’t.”

“Why?” You were exasperated. “Don’t you wanna be with me, James?”

“I do, however, I can’t do that to you, my love. It’s too dangerous. Your father is a powerful man, I can’t imagine what he would do to us both if he found out.”

“We can, we just have to be careful! C’mon James, I’ve felt so alone my whole life until I met you. I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

“You won’t, darling. I promise you. I’ve got plans, okay? You just need to trust me.”

“Okay, I trust you.”

It had been a week since you last saw James and you were losing faith every day. You had no clue of what James was planning to do. You trusted him but you wished he had been more clear of his intentions. Now, all you could do was wait for him in silence, unable to do anything, like a kite in the wind.

“You haven’t touched your food, dear. Is everything alright?” Your mother asked from across the dining table.

“Yes, mother. I am simply not famished.”

“Eat some of your food, will you? I’d hate to see you ill.”

You wished you could sneak behind your father to vent to your mother about your feelings for James, however, you knew that your mother was loyal to your father and there was no secret between them. You used to hope that one day if you’d ever find a husband, you would have the same foundation in your marriage as your parents had, now you would be delighted if they announced their divorce so you could be free from your father.

The majordomo interrupted your dinner by informing that you had a couple of guests. By the look on your father’s face, you could tell that he wasn’t expecting any tonight, but he got up to welcome whoever was waiting outside anyway.

You heard your father’s booming voice from the dining table and you and your mother exchanged glances. You instantly followed him to see what was going on.

“You dare to show your face here after I’ve warned you of staying away from my family!”

And you stopped in your tracks when you saw James standing next to an older man facing your father. “James…”

“Y/N…” Without a second thought, you ran to him, wanting to hold and kiss him more than anything. For a second there, you forgot everyone was watching. But your father caught you and your guard held you back.

“Let go of me!”

“Now I want you out of my land and never to return or there will be a huge consequence.”

“I am here to make peace. My son told me about your daughter and I wasn’t keen on the idea of uniting our families but I am willing to try for him. Let’s end this bad blood between us, Robert. We shall not let our children suffer simply because of our pride.”

“I’d rather die than to let my your bastard of a son touch my daughter.” Your father gritted through his teeth. “Now leave or you will be removed forcibly.” Your father turned around but before he could close the door on them, James stopped him.

“I’m in love with your daughter, Sir Y/L/N.” That stopped your father in his tracks. “I have met many women yet, I have never felt this way for anyone,” James gazed into your eyes.

“In the last two weeks I have known her, I have learned that you raised a bright, courageous, loving, beautiful woman,” he paused, as if he was trying to show you the sincerity behind his confession. You didn’t realize tears have welled up in your eyes.

“From the very moment I saw her in that ball, I knew I’d live in regret if I didn’t catch her name before I leave. Your daughter stood out like a diamond in the dirt and it was an honour to held her hand while dancing. It was an honour knowing her. And it would be an honour to have her by my side until the end of my life,” He paused. “I know I am undeserving of your daughter but I will never let her doubt that she is loved and she deserves everything good I could offer.”

A single tear cascaded down your cheek. “So, Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?” He moved closer toward you, and your father was left speechless by James’ words. James got down on his knee and presented a velvet box with a gleaming diamond ring inside it.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes, thousand times yes.” James put the ring on your finger and you jumped on him and he caught you. For a minute there you forgot that there was still an unresolved animosity between your families, though your mother had a huge smile on her face and she nearly teared up at the sight of her daughter being so in love. George Barnes was smiling ear to ear as well, looking so proud of his son.

He thought that with his son’s reputation of being a rake, he would never settle. But he finally found his match and though he didn’t take it so pleasantly at first, James talked it out to him and George learned to be happy and accept it. George recalled the moment he fell in love with Winnifred, she didn’t come from an aristocratic family. She was merely a singer and his family didn’t approve but he opposed them and married her anyway until they had James. George also hoped that their marriage could end the bad blood between him and your father.

James set you back on the floor and you looked at your father. “Father? I love him and I may never fall in love again. Please, let me be with him. If you love me, you won’t stand in the way.” Your father was baffled, but the resentment in his eyes had softened. “Do you really want to spend the rest of your life waiting for me to find someone to marry and keeping enemies? I’m marrying him whether you approve or not. But I wouldn’t want you to be absent from my wedding.”

Your father sighed, “are you happy?”

“More than I have ever been.”

“Then I suppose, I shall put my pride aside for the one person I love the most in the world.”

“Thank you, father.” You hugged him and he kissed the top of your head.

You grew up being cynical toward fairytales, but for once in your life, you believe that you have found your fairytale ending.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes medieval au #bucky barnes royal au #bucky barnes royalty au #prince!bucky #romeo and juliet au #romeo & juliet

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bleulone · 4 years ago

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i love your analysis so much! i have a question as well, like, how do you envision polin's sex scenes ? thanks for your answer (:

Hey! Thank you very much :)) I have no idea if they are that even good but I’m happy you like them. It’s just my brain tending to produce some iNsIGhiTfUL analyses though they usually end up drowned under a huge wave of stupidity and horrid spelling/grammatical mistakes XD. So, about Penelope and Colin’ sex scenes, I guess we’re getting spicy in this house 🌶. I mean, I don’t blame you. Who’s not hot for Polin ?! The steamy Polin hours have already begun and they’re legit challenging my patience. (Be still my Polin heart, be still).

Okay, without further ado, let’s talk about sex baby, shall we ? It’s a pretty long answer/meta so bear with me.

I don’t know if you’ve read Romancing Mister Bridgerton, but a quick reminder (for those who haven’t... yet), there are a bunch of iconic steamy scenes that I’m dying to watch on screen. First we have the famous “thank you” scene where Penelope, now a 28 year-old spinster, asks Colin to kiss her because she doesn’t want to die without having been kissed... then ends up thanking him— which happens to be humiliating for our 33 year-old boy because he thinks that she thinks he did it out of pity while he absolutely did not. The man definitely felt butterflies in his stomach... and in other places as well lol. We also have the ICONIC carriage scene where Colin gives Pen’s generous bosoms™ the attention they deserve. This is followed by his proposal. Later on, after the announcement of their engagement, there’s a pretty hot make-out scene on Lady Violet’s sofa. Finally, we have their first time in Colin’s bedroom, after sneaking out of their own engagement party... which leads Colin to push the wedding date forward. At this point, I just love their horniness, especially Colin’s who’s just so freaking amazed by Penelope for more than 300 pages straight (duh! who isn’t ???).

When you say envision, I suppose you mainly refer to the way those scenes will be filmed right ? I’m afraid I don’t have an advanced knowledge in film-making but let me start by telling you what elements need to be depicted. I would love Shonda and Chris to capture the real essence of our boos’ feelings : the yearning, the love, the respect and the guilt (specifically on Colin’s side) in their eyes. The more we move forward throughout the seasons, the more we see different layers of the perceptions of they have of each other, going from a childish idealization/immature ignorance to a sudden realization. A mature one. Penelope goes beyond the facade of the charming devil-may-care guy to meet the seriousness and temper of her significant other. Meanwhile Colin discovers how confident, powerful and attractive this woman is and always has been. It echoes what I’ve written about the importance of the gaze in Polin’s love story in this meta. By the time season 4 hits, man... their heart eyes and eye-fucking will jump OUT XD, all fibers of their beings, burning with need. The fact that this evolution took literally years is very emotionally painful, which is why I find it important to keep the slowness aspect of their relationship before and during their love making. I’m really looking forward a slow build-up toward their intimacy. It would differ from Daphne and Simon who merely shared one hell of a kiss in Lady Trowbridge’s garden then shared their sexy times after they married or Anthony and Siena’s rough sex... In fact, there’s a certain (sweet) ardent tenderness in Polin I like due to the fact that they’re slowly (re)discovering each other, as adults. Since they were both introduced in season 1, the audience will have all the time in the world to notice numerous evidences of the many natures of love they have for one another : from an affectionate and friendly love to a more carnal and enduring one.

Okay so, in terms of filming, with Netflix’s Bridgerton being a show which promotes the female gaze, it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise watching those sex scenes being shot from Penelope’s perspective, like it was the case with Daphne in the first installment of the series. Most of the time, sex scenes in Historical Romance are not gratuitous. Their presence serve an important purpose in a hero/heroine’s journey. In Penelope’s case, they’re here to help her learn to embrace and love herself. In other words, sexuality is synonym of freedom. I don’t know if they’ll show a lot of skin, but I won’t be complaining considering the fact that we’ll have the chance to get a chief kiss treat on screen : a plus size woman in a major successful Netflix period drama getting a love story as romantic and steamy as other more “fit” female characters. No, your weight doesn’t prevent you from being desirable at all. As far as I’m concerned, I haven’t watched a plus-size female character portrayed as an attractive protagonist in a period drama (please if you have, let me know, I can be wrong). Having a beautiful half bare curvy body like Nicola’s being equally filmed like numerous slim actresses will be so inspiring and powerful to watch, especially for (young) women who struggle, like Penelope, to love their body shape which, to them, doesn’t “fit” the “beauty standards”. By showing her female gaze and portraying her as seductive, Pen’s “supposed” imperfections transform themselves into mighty assets, loved and worshipped by our dashing Mister Bridgerton. That’s body positivity at its finest darling ;).

It will be deliciously erotic watching the undressing process being exquisitely slow, garment by garment, while their gaze are all heated and hungry. Their sex/make-out scenes should be tender and passionate, sweet and raw. The lightning, colored by a dark blood orange yellow or a blue depending the locations^^. Moreover, the depiction of the exploration of Penelope’s desire can translate itself thanks to multiple close ups. For instance, I can imagine a few ones on Pen’s fingers gently roaming over the smooth skin of Colin’s firm chest and back/touching his hair right after he removed his shirt. And a disheveled Colin letting his hands and lips making a journey of their own, mapping, conquering the alluring unknown territory that is her gorgeous voluptuous body... kissing her on the places he knows oh too well will give her pleasure (is this me wanting him to go down on her?— um yeah I sure hope it IS! If he doesn’t, trust me imma riot... AGAIN). Even a close up on her face while Colin is performing his addictively pleasing torment will be a marvelous proof of the female gaze. By the way, why not even adding a post-coital scene after their first time ? I can picture Penelope waking up first and contemplate her handsome soon-to-be husband. She’d bring her hand to his face and let it travel all around his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, his neck and let it rest on his heart— making sure that what she’s just experience was real... obviously, Colin will wake up in the process and he’ll take this as his cue to go for another round of sexy times under the sheets.

Showing Pen reaction is essential according to me because she was stuck with the idea that she would never experience the luxury of being loved, giving pleasure nor receiving it... she ended up being happily wrong. Throughout her multiple intimate encounters with Colin, I want her to progressively realizes that she can be an active partner. In the carriage, she knew she had an effect on him, but it’s not until their first time that she actually realizes it. Hence the reason why I WANT the mirror’s introduction in one of their sex scenes. Here’s as a little reminder an excerpt from chapter 18 :

“I want to see you sitting up," he groaned, "so I can see them full and lovely and large [about Pen’s breasts]. And then I want to crawl behind you and cup you." His lips found her ear and his voice dropped to a whisper. "And I want to do it in front of a mirror."

“Now?” she squeaked.

He seemed to consider that for a moment, then shook his head. "Later," he said, and then repeated it in a rather resolute tone. "Later.”

It would be such a shame if the show doesn’t use the incredible potential of this object (/kink). I mean, the symbolism is pretty clear. Penelope has always fled her “ugly” reflection but it seems like Colin wants to show the real her, the beauty that holds every single inch her alabaster skin and the effects they have on him. Thus, I would love to watch a scene where Colin just praises the alluring goddess and siren that is Penelope Featherington. Just imagine! Just IMAGINE the power of this scene : a shirtless Colin sitting behind her on a bed, meeting her gaze in the mirror, his lips touching her right ear, biting and licking the lobe sometimes, whispering all kinda of dirty yet poetic words to her while letting his hands caress her thighs, her hips, her arms, her lovely bosoms™... oof. At the same time, a wonderful and harmonic instrumental music will play in the background and match the melodic partition of shudders, breathes and moans let out by our lovers. I can imagine Luke inspiring himself from his performance in the 2019 short film, Youth In Bed. The way he conveyed the awe and the yearning on his face, in his eyes with his mouth slightly open when he knelt before his partner Shun Yin was just captivating and— and so Colin! I cannot help but bring myself to picture Ethan, the character he played in YIB, in a Polin steamy scene. I cannot unsee this anymore jsksk. I mean, all this gifset radiates this book4chapter18!Colin, you cannot tell me otherwise!

Also, I would love Shonda and Chris to keep Pen and Colin’s cute/emotional pillow talk. One thing I really love in JQ’s books is the concern she gives to her male protagonists about potentially hurting their partner during the act of penetration. Colin is a rake, and what his experience with women taught him is that he needs to be very gentle with the love of his life. It was so adorable seeing him not wanting to harm her and asking her to tell him if he does anything she doesn’t like 🥺. Plus, before actually doing it, Colin and Penelope shared a few kisses and just laid down side by side, confessing their love. Though our boy kept feeling guilty about not returning her love after all these years. He desires nothing but to make up for the lost time and show his love and desire during this special intimate moment. I hope they’ll keep all of chapter 18’s dialogue. It’s just so telling of our boos’ feelings, you see.

All in all, I can’t wait to watch those Polin steamy scenes. As much as I may sound crazy, I want them after two other seasons of pure pining and yearning in order to have a very good payoff. I’m not an expert on depicting intimacy on screen, but I loved so far what Lizzy Talbot, the intimacy coordinator who worked on the show, have done in season 1. Sex scenes in Bridgerton seem very real and dive you in the intimacy of the moment, leaving you all flustered and hot. So probs to her! I have faith in her work and have no doubts about what her and the directors will serve us in future seasons. Though, in the end, I think it’s mostly up to the actors, Nicola and Luke, to see if they’re comfortable filming sex scenes.

If you guys have any suggestions or wishes for those steamy polin scenes, please do share them :) by commenting on this post or by sending me asks! I’d love reading your thoughts/take on this very important matter ;))

#bleulone answers #meta and gush #polin #colin x penelope #bridgerton #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #polin meta #ask #anon #luke newton #julia quinn #nicola coughlan

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hb-writes · 4 years ago

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The Firstborns

A Sylvie Bridgerton Story - 1815

Sylvie (OC) is the eldest child of Hugo Bridgerton, the older sister to George (OC), and a cousin raised alongside the infamous Bridgerton brood. Born in-between Daphne and Eloise, Sylvie has made it her mission to delay her season again and again. Will 1815 be her year?

A/N - I’ve read the books and watched the show, so fair warning there are likely spoilers and it’s also likely a mix of both media because my mind honestly didn’t separate them - it just choose what it wants from the books/ tv show.

---

It was often said that elder brothers could be the worst sort of thing to happen to a young woman of marrying age, but Sylvie Bridgerton had three elder male cousins and could rightfully attest to the fact that they could be similarly problematic.

Sylvie supposed they were essentially siblings, the Bridgerton brood labeled tidily from A through H, because she had been raised mostly by their side as an alphabetical outcast, the elder of the two children born to Lord Hugo Bridgerton, left in the care of her Uncle Edmund at her father’s passing, the responsibility then left to her cousin, Anthony, only a year after that. At least that was the way society dictated it.

Sylvie had always been quite certain it was really her Auntie Vi who was in charge of her and her younger brother, George, though. Or more precisely, Sylvie was quite certain that Auntie Vi was in charge of everything, her Viscount of a cousin included.

But as Sylvie sat twiddling her fingers in Anthony’s office for the third time in less than a week, she was starting to question that certainty.

Sylvie had assessed that her cousin looked rather disgruntled, though she supposed Anthony had simply had that look about him for about a week or so now.

“So, are we to have a little chat or…?”

Anthony had ignored his cousin from the very moment after instructing her to take a seat a little over a quarter of an hour before. He focused instead on whatever was keeping him chained to his desk at this time of night, some paperwork regarding the estate and the family finances.

“If not, maybe you’ll allow me to borrow a book to pass the time?” Sylvie gestured to his brimming shelves.

“Sylvia.”

Anthony set down his pen, eyebrow raised as he interlaced his fingers, settling them on top of the papers before him. He was surprised she’d humored his silence for so long, nearly fourteen minutes when he’d expected no more than three to seven.

“Is my given name truly necessary?” she said, allowing only a moment of silence before continuing. “I suppose from that alone I should gather I’m in some sort of proper trouble?”

Anthony only stared at her and then, despite himself, he sat back in his chair, rubbing his temples and rolling his neck.

If anyone thought raising girls was an easy business, they’d clearly never done it themselves. They’d never met Daphne or Eloise or Francesca or Hyacinth Bridgerton. And they’d certainly never met Sylvia.

It still shocked him a bit, the differences between the Bridgerton girls, his younger sisters and his younger cousin. It was impressive, the way they could each vex him in such creative and distinct ways, their ability to bring him to laughter matched equally by their making him wish he had remained an only child, and entirely cousin-less as well.

On some days, Anthony wondered if every Bridgerton below him in age didn’t actually gather in the drawing-room at an agreed-upon hour to arrange a schedule designed solely for agitating him, deciding who would next take a swing and what technique would be employed. It seemed that Sylvie had been assigned extra vexing duties as of late, though that was not entirely surprising to him. She had always seemed to enjoy it a bit more than the others. And she was bloody good at it too.

“Are you ever not in trouble, Sylvia?”

Her eyes longed to roll, his continued insistence on using her full name bringing her the slightest bit of frustration, because despite all of the evidence otherwise, she did prefer when Anthony wasn’t lecturing her. She actually quite enjoyed his company when he wasn’t scolding.

“On those precious few evenings when you actually do go out, or better yet go to your own home, I find myself in a distinct lack of trouble. No one else deems me fit to be scolded, however—”

“However—” Anthony sat up and straightened his jacket. “—I am seemingly required to do so three...or four,” he said, allowing for the chance they’d find themselves in the same situation the following evening, “nights a week, all because you think a little untoward behavior will allow you to put off your season for another year.”

Sylvie was left with her mouth open, her elder cousin’s words an effective silencer and stunner, finally coming straight to the point after the two of them had danced around it for weeks.

“I—”

“Hear precisely what you are saying, my dear cousin, and will stop all this nonsense at once?” Anthony suggested.

“That’s—That’s not what I wanted to say,” she answered.

“No, of course not. I would never dream to expect as much.”

Sylvie took a breath as she considered her options. She wanted to ask for another year of reprieve. That’s what she had planned for, waiting at least another year before subjecting herself to the same torment Daphne had endured only two years prior.

She was still young enough to justify a delay and she’d successfully done so for two years already, citing a need to finish out a few academic endeavors the first year and an ankle injured in a particularly ruthless game of Pall Mall the next, but she hadn’t postured herself correctly for her cousin to be amenable to a conversation on delaying yet again. But then again, Sylvie hadn’t truly postured herself very well for Anthony to be amenable to her requests for nearly a decade by this point.

“But Georgie—”

“You do not need to concern yourself with matters concerning your brother. The boys will be at Eton come the next fall. They’ll be home for the summers. No matter who you marry, you shall always be welcome to visit him here or at Aubrey Hall, and I’m sure George should like to come to visit you as well.”

Sylvie’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she cleared her throat and regained the ability to form proper words. “Actually Anthony, I had expected that Georgie would be living with me.”

Anthony shook his head, sitting up in his chair. “George will be at Eton. He and Gregory will both be at Eton and then—”

“He is my brother,” Sylvie answered. “My responsibility.”

“I think you’ll find that both you and George are both my responsibility. And that responsibility extends to seeing you settled in a comfortable marriage and your brother receiving a proper education before, when he is ready, he also settles into a comfortable marriage.”

“When he’s ready?” Sylvie repeated. “Why is it that you boys get to marry when you’re ready and we young ladies are simply commanded to join the parade when you men determine it’s the proper time? Why do you get to decide everything?”

Anthony could have been honest and told Sylvie that he wanted them all tucked away into the safety of marriage because he didn’t know that he would be around to see to it if there was a delay.

Or he could have spoken to her from firstborn to firstborn, appealing the fellow eldest child he found in his younger cousin, aligning them through their common thread, and insisting that he only did these things because it was what he thought was best for them, same as she did for the younger ones and George especially.

Or he could have been quite frank and informed her that he had no desire to have multiple Bridgerton girls in season at the same time, though the prospect of settling Sylvie, Eloise, and Francesca down all in one go was enticing.

But Anthony didn’t tell her those things. He offered a much simpler explanation, one which he suspected would allot less room for argument on the part of the cousin who was testing his capacity for patience at such a late hour.

“Because I am Viscount, Sylvia.”

Sylvie released a quick breath and turned her face down to focus on her fumbling fingers as she considered it. Anthony had only uttered four simple words, but there was a whole lot of complicated meaning built up behind them.

Because you are Viscount.

And a man.

And I am nothing.

A woman, and therefore, nothing.

Property.

A dowry.

A machine for use of creating an heir.

Meant to be seen and not heard.

Nothing.

She found it all hard to swallow after her upbringing even though she knew Anthony, and the other male Bridgertons, didn’t truly live by those beliefs. But society did. The ton did. And so the second she entered society, it would become reality, in a way.

Sylvie had never before been discounted on account of being female. As a young Bridgerton girl, she had frequently gone out into the fields tagging along behind her older cousins, playing the very same games as the boys, climbing trees and forging streams. Even once they moved to London year-round, Sylvie had retained a certain amount of autonomy.

And though they often went toe to toe, Anthony had always respected Sylvie’s position as George’s older sister, and he’d always acknowledged the importance of the common ground that stood between them, that of the firstborn sibling, affording her an extra measure of respect that he’d not afford to even Benedict in certain matters. It often came out in shared glances across the room, or their lending one another support with simple nods in response to “Right, Sylvie?” or “Right, Anthony?”

Although they had never explicitly discussed it, Sylvie assumed when she did one day marry, her brother would come to stay with her, assumed that if he were still of a certain impressionable age, George would officially become the responsibility of her and her future husband.

And if she didn’t marry until later in life, until her younger brother was fully grown, or if she never married at all, she was alright with those scenarios as well. She loved Bridgerton House and Aubrey Hall and being surrounded by family, her wild cousins and brother running about and shouting at all hours. She didn’t long for the solitude of marriage. And despite loving children, she wasn’t entirely sure whether she wanted to bear her own.

“But—”

“What could you possibly have to say to argue that point?”

“I’m not going to argue whether or not you’re the Viscount, My Lord.”

Anthony rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment. He rued the day that his cousin learned that she could somehow twist his title into an insult.

Sylvie smiled, considering his silence permission to continue, not that she was truly waiting for it.

“I’m going to argue against this season. Daphne didn’t meet Simon until the season in which she turned one and twenty, and your own wife didn’t have her season until one and twenty, and—”

“And you’re telling me that I should allow you to wait until you are one and twenty?”

“No,” she said. “You, my dearest cousin, are the Right Honorable Viscount Bridgerton, and I am well aware that I cannot tell you what to do. I am merely asking that you consider my humble little request.”

Anthony snorted. “Sylvie Bridgerton? Humble, eh?”

“My ability to be humble is not the question at hand, Anthony,” she muttered. “And neither truly is the time at which my season should take place because... well, your wife has already agreed with me. Kate thinks one and twenty is the perfect age for a first season.”

Anthony’s thumb rubbed at his temple, an entirely subconscious gesture on his part. “My wife has already agreed with you?”

“Yes, the Viscountess has agreed that I should be allowed to wait a year. We had tea this afternoon while you, Ben, and Colin were at the club.”

“Of course you did.”

“She also said that you’ve lost a bet to her and as such, you will have no choice to go along with us.”

Anthony closed his eyes and his nostrils flared before he released a deep exhale. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“Me or Kate?”

Anthony waved a hand in the air. “I’ll let the two of you work that out. Not as if my opinion on the subject matters.”

“So, you’ll tell Auntie—”

Anthony’s booming laugh cut off Sylvie’s words. “No, no, my dearest cousin. I shall leave that particular discussion for you.”

He stood up from his desk then, taking his hat as he stepped towards the door. “Best of luck. Do let me know how that goes.”

#bridgerton #bridgerton oc #bridgerton one shot #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton #sylvie bridgerton

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anntoldst0ries · 4 years ago

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Queen’s Gambit (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC Word Count: 972 Rating: K+ Summary: It’s game time, and both players are equally competitive. Category: Fluff Warnings: None!

A/N: Having watched ‘Queen’s Gambit’ on Netflix, I had a struck of inspiration and created this sweet and short fic, which I hope you guys will enjoy as much as I enjoyed writing it! The story also uses one of my personal experiences - if you read it, you’re going to know which one :) I also have a dedicated Picta edit for this fic, which will be posted tomorrow.

Much love 💜 💜 💜 💜

“Hey, is everything ok?” The genuine worry in his voice made her heart skip a beat. Sometimes she had to pinch herself to make sure this isn't a dream, that Ethan Ramsey actually has a softer side and for some mysterious reason, she's the only one who can bring it out.

The question wasn’t exactly irrational. She’s been sitting in the same position for some time now, her eyes widened. That’s how Ethan found her.

“This was amazing.” Her finger pointed towards the screen, her gaze completely still. “The best show I’ve ever seen.”

Ethan chuckled inwardly. She was unbelievable.

“You say exactly the same thing after every show you watched on Netflix.”

She sent him a murderous look.

“Want to tell me about it?” Thank God he came up with the damage recovery line quickly.

“I have a better idea, actually.” She jumped off of the bed, suddenly reinvigorated. “Do you have a chess board?”

“Chess board? You don’t mean cheese board, right?”

This remark earned him murderous look number 2. One more and he’ll be spending the night on the terrace.

“Yeah, I do. It should be in the spare room, on the bookcase, upper shelves. Do you want me to find it?”

“I’ll manage just fine.”

2 minutes later, she emerged from the room, holding the heavy chess board triumphantly. Having set it on the dining table, she took all the figures out carefully, admiring the sophisticated craftsmanship of the marble objects.

“How beautiful, Ethan.”

“Indeed.”

Had she not been staring at the chess set, she would have known that they meant completely different things. The older doctor was transfixed on her face, eyes sparkling with excitement and the glow that he only saw when they were together.

“I want to play.”

“Why are we playing chess all of a sudden?”

“The show I’ve just finished watching, it’s called The Queen’s Gambit and the main character, Beth, is this genius chess player.”

“I suppose that’s better than the previous one, after which you wanted me to call you ‘my lady’ for a week and bow down instead of saying ‘Hi’.”

“Bridgerton? I am less than impressed by the lack of appropriate manners, my lord. And now, shall we indulge in the ancient game of chess?”

“Do you know how to play?”

“I think I do, but my memory needs refreshing. After all, I am not dating Edenbrook’s best teacher for nothing, right?”

“Suddenly you are not questioning my teaching methods?”

“I never questioned them, Ethan. I have my opinion on them, but I don’t question them. That’s a difference.”

The older doctor set the board up for them, giving her the advantage of playing with the white pieces. Then, ever so patiently and slowly, he ran through the basics with her, starting from the checkmate and finishing on each piece’s movements.

I could listen to him explain the vacuum cleaner user manual and I’d never get bored, she thought to herself whilst trying to decide whether to focus on the words or the movements of his tempting lips.

“This is the rook.” He picked the piece up. “It can move any number of vacant squares horizontally or vertically. The rook also takes part in castling, which I will explain in a minu—“

“Rookie!”

“What?”

“This” - she took the black piece from his palm - “is a rookie.”

“It’s called a rook.”

“Well, I will call it a rookie, if you don’t mind.”

“You are impossible.” He tried to sound serious but stifled a laugh, unsuccessfully.

“Plus, it sort of makes sense, because I also move horizontally and vertically - and always towards the king.” She winked and this playful gesture made him smile. But only for a short while. A few seconds later, his expression changed drastically - it was now laser focused.

“Let the game begin.” The hoarse tone of his voice made her quake, she knew that competitive Ethan Ramsey mode was on. It was so on.

1 HOUR LATER

“Now, correct me if I’m wrong, Dr. Ramsey, but I believe that if I do this” - she picked a piece and hovered it over the board for a moment, before lowering it down painfully slowly - “and play bishop to f5, we have a checkmate?”

His puzzled expression said it all.

“And this, ladies and gentlemen, means our world famous diagnostician has 1 win and 2 defeats on his account.” - she said in the announcer style.

“Beginner’s luck. I demand a rematch.”

“Fine with me. But before you do enter a rematch, I’ll give you three lessons, Dr. Ramsey. First of all, you can’t leave the kingside so exposed, it puts you in a very vulnerable position.” She wished she had a camera to hand, to capture all the amazing grimaces his face was unable to hide.

“Second of all, if that’s how you want to lead your defence, you may want to consider one of the Italian Game variations next time. Like this.” She started moving the pieces around the board skilfully and his jaw literally dropped.

“Last, but not least.” She was now staring directly into his blue irises. “Don’t feel bad about the defeat, you’ve just lost to former junior San Francisco county champion. And you fought hard.”

“I…what? Who?”

“Yours truly.” She pointed the thumbs at herself and smiled gracefully.

“You are pulling my leg.”

“Nope. Call my dad or ask him next time when we’re visiting.”

Damn it. She played him like a fiddle.

Which was, pretty much, the summary of their whole relationship in one sentence.

“Well… that changes everything, Valentine.” He grinned widely.

“What do you mean?”

“I was going easy on you but now that I know who I’m dealing with… I won’t hold back.”

“Alright.” The younger doctor put both of her elbows firmly on the table and interlaced her fingers, gently resting her chin on them. Then, piercing his gaze, she whispered:

“Let’s play.”

If you made it this far, I’m giving you all my love - thanks for reading my rambling 💫💫🙏🏼

#open heart #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfiction #pixelberry

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invisibleinorange · 4 years ago

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A Different Ending | 4/?

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: M Warnings: Only be forewarned that this is an AU from the Adrift saga but Colin actually died in this one, so if he’s mentioned he’s actually gone. Relationships: Benedict Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington (past feelings), Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties), Bridgerton Family Dynamics, Daphne Bridgerton/Simon Hastings Characters: Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton, Additional Tags: Bridgerton, Penadict (do we have a ship name yet?)

Summary: There were some requests for an alternate/Parallel word to "Bridgerton's Adrift" where Benedict and Penelope actually did get married. So this is the result of that peer pressure.

Benedict Bridgerton was hardly a virgin. He’d been with plenty of women through the years who all understood that nothing was going to come of the dalliance. He hadn’t ever been with someone who actually meant something to him. He couldn’t earnestly say that he was in love with Penelope at this point but with every passing day of their marriage, he certainly grew to admire her more.

That admiration was why it was easy to find affection and intimacy in ways that weren’t overtly sexual in nature. They spent their days taking leisurely strolls and leaning against each other while they enjoyed their personal exploits. She’d read to him from whatever book she’d stolen from the library and he’d spend the afternoons sketching away.

In the evenings, they would go to bed together and while neither saw fit to initiate kissing they had progressed to curling into each other. Sometimes, Penelope would curl into his chest and others his arms around her middle. Regardless of the form it took, they would lay there talking until sleep inevitably took them.

It was something they had both come to look forward to. Penelope had never quite felt like she belonged anywhere as much as she did in Benedict’s company. Sometimes it took her by surprise how right it all felt. She hadn’t really thought she could have a happy ending. She’d always thought it something meant for her sisters.

Her life had been so different mere weeks ago and yet it felt like another lifetime ago. She’d thought her heart might never heal after Colin had died, especially when she’d learned that he’d done so thinking she was sore with him. She was actually happier than she felt she deserved though.

“I should probably write something about our honeymoon,” she told him from a desk in their bedroom where she’d taken to writing her latest article for Lady Whistledown.

Benedict saw propped against the pillows. He was dressed but his shirt was undone slightly. His hair was messy because he’d just completed a bit of nap. He gazed over to her affectionately.

Eloise had not wasted any time ending her letters about what was happening at home though not much happened in the short time since they left. Benedict had been pleasantly surprised that Penelope had already worked out how to ensure publication was not stalled in her absence from London though. It was impressive for a woman to be so savvy.

“Well how do you think our honeymoon should be reported?” her asked from where he was sitting. “Are we the vision of newlywed bliss or misery?”

She laughed softly.

“Bliss,” she told him sincerely before scribbling some words on the paper. She smiled before lifting the page, gaze moving toward his as she decided to read the excerpt. “While most of London’s gaze turns to those who will seeking their match in the coming season, this writer is happy to report that the off-season wedding of one Benedict Bridgerton to Penelope Featherington has proven fruitful. Sources report that they have may forsake London all together – as they are particularly fond of their bed as most newlyweds prove to be.”

“It’s true,” Benedict said with a laugh before petting the space on the bed next to him. “I think you should return to bed.”

“As you wish.”

Penelope laughed putting down her article that she’d have to finish later, ignoring the ink stains on her fingers to go climb back into the bed. She moved right into Benedict’s waiting arms, curling into his warm body. He pressed an affectionate kiss to the top of her head.

“I’ve actually been thinking about our future home,” he told her after a moment, eyes closed as he just enjoyed having her close.

“I thought you’d found a few places that might work,” she told him quietly.

“Yes but none are good enough,” he confessed. “I found some undeveloped land in Kensington. It would take a little longer but have someone build us the perfect house.”

“I’m going to be happy as long as we have food and a bed to sleep in,” she told him honestly. “You know that it doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“I know that but it won’t stop me from providing it. I was thinking you could have your own study for your writing and not just for Whistledown,” he told her, happy to encourage your passion. “Most houses would only have one and while we could convert a room to one, we’ll need the room for when we have company or children.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d casually mentioned a future with children in it but it was the first time since they’d been married. It was kind of strange to think about filling a home with them when their intimacy hadn’t quite evolved to the point where there was even potential to children. It was always reassuring to hear them mentioned though because it meant that they would get there.

“You’ll need space for your art too,” she told him after a moment. “If we’re going to go all in on this, we should both have whatever we need to be happy.”

“You make me happy,” he told her honestly, arms tightening around her. His face buried in her hair, a hand idly moved to play with some of her curls. “Whatever you want you’ll get but… the point is that this might mean living in my former bachelor quarters for a little while.”

“I’ve never actually seem it. Tell me about it,” she told him relaxing against him, encouraging him to tell her about what was going to be their temporary home in the coming weeks. Daphne and the Duke had been generous but they couldn’t stay in the country forever.

“It’s smaller without a proper staff,” he told her after a moment. “It’s in Piccadilly near Albany Hall. It’s certainly less grand than the family home but it is private. I kept two bedrooms just in case one of my brothers ended up needing to stay. It’s quite simple though. There is a pretty nice stairwell to the roof though and I’ve been fond of going up there and taking in the city.”

“I can see why you weren’t in a hurry to end your bachelorhood,” she told him with a small smile. “I mean, I couldn’t begin to tell you how many times I wished there to be an escape from my mother’s home.”

“I’d say it was a pretty fair trade,” he told her earnestly. “I’m glad my mother meddled and brought you home to us. I don’t know that I would have convinced you to accept me if she hadn’t.”

“We’ll never know,” Penelope said with a playful smile.

There were almost always charcoals and paper nearby. Benedict had moments where he didn’t feel inspired but he had taken to sketching in the early mornings before the light became so bright that Penelope would be awake to watch him do it.

It was one thing for her to provide commentary when he was sketching inanimate objects or flowers but when he found himself particularly inspired by the look on her face as she slept or the way the fabric of her nightgown clung to her he was scared of her judgment.

His lips tightened as his eyes moved back and forth between her sleeping form and the paper, knowing that whatever he put to paper wouldn’t equal to how adorable she when she having a pleasant dream.

Normally he had enough focus to know when she was about to wake, so he could stop but his focus had been on the shading of her curls when he felt arms curl around him from behind.

Her face buried into his shoulder for a moment before looking up.

He heard her surprised sigh and he braced himself for her to say something negative but she didn’t.

“You were sketching me?” she asked in surprise. Her eyes lit up in recognition of her own form, in the fact that she actually looked quite beautiful in Benedict’s art even when she didn’t see herself as beautiful.

“I’ve been doing a little bit every day,” he confessed. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it.”

“I’m flattered,” she told him, moving to sit in his lap sideways, moving the charcoals from his hand to the table. “You’ve made me look beautiful.”

Benedict raised an eyebrow at that.

“You are beautiful,” he told her firmly.

Their eyes found each other and he expected her to argue it but instead she leaned in and captured his mouth. It caught him completely and utterly off guard and he knew he froze for a second before melting into it. Her lips were soft and desirable.

One of his hands found the back of her head, fingers curling in the red locks. Between the proximity and her kisses, his body was beginning to respond and warning lights began to go off in his head. It would be all too easy to carrying her across the small distance from his chair to their bed and take her. He could literally feel himself getting more aggressive with her. He had to stop himself.

“Pen,” he murmured softly against her mouth, when he forced himself to pull back. He was her husband and there was absolutely no reason why he couldn’t do whatever he wanted but he’d always prized himself on being gentle, patient. In this moment, he wasn’t sure he could temper himself. He needed to step away but it was difficult with her in his lap, especially when he was cognizant of the fact she was still in her nightgown.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked eyes fluttering open, gaze questioning.

He could have laughed if it wouldn’t have been misconstrued.

“You’re perfect,” he told her, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head before gently moving her off him so he could rise to his feel. “—I was just thinking that maybe I should try and find someone to get us some breakfast.”

Penelope frowned slightly from her new standing position.

“You don’t have to go,” she told him.

He wasn’t quite sure how to explain it to her though, especially as his eyes cast over her from the door frame that he’d made a point to get himself too.

“Yes I do,” he said resolutely before disappearing down the hall to regain some level of self-control.

#benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #penelope featherington

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